Page 136 of How to Flirt with a Witch

More and more people sprint by us, heading in the opposite direction.

“What are they—” Hazel begins, and then we see it.

A pack of eight coyotes hurtles toward us, their gray-brown fur ruffling in the wind, their paws thundering over the concrete. Their jaws snap and their heads tilt back as they let out a chorus of “yip-yip-yip!”

“Run!” I shout, pulling Hazel by the wrist.

“What’s happening?” Natalie shouts.

The plush dog swings from my hand as we follow the crowd down the sidewalk, fleeing the pack as fast as our injuries will allow.

“Coyotes!” I shout into the phone.

My heart pounds in my ears, drowning out everything else. The world blurs around me, my lungs burning. It’s as if the curse is a dark shadow looming over us, breathing down our necks, plotting its next move.

“I heard the c-coyotes were aggressive here,” Hazel says between breaths, “but this is—”

“It’s the curse!” I shout. “Natalie, where are you?”

“Five minutes.”

“Fuck.”

Hazel skids to a stop and pulls at a shop door. It’s locked.

I drag her along and pull at the next one. It opens, and we dive inside a packed donut shop.

The coyotes race past, yipping, the noise mingling with pedestrians’ screams.

As it fades, the shop’s soft piano music tingles in my ears.

“We’re—fine—” I tell Natalie, wheezing.

“Just stay safe. I’m going as fast as I can.”

“Question—” I wait until we’re back outside before pulling the phone closer to my mouth. “When a witch curses an object, does she dictate the curse’s effects?”

“What do you mean?” Natalie asks.

“Like, curses seem to have a twisted sense of humor. Playing songs on repeat, haunting the person in strange ways…”

“Oh. A curse has a mind of its own, but yes, it takes on some of the personality of the witch who created it.”

There’s a hole in the sidewalk ahead, and I pull Hazel closer to me so she doesn’t step in itand roll her other ankle.

“So how do you explain why this curse is taunting me with the memory of being dragged by a dog?” I ask Natalie. “Thesesymptoms, or whatever you call them,are very specific—more than in the past. The plush dog, the coyotes, the song… Whoever made this curse has tailored it to me and my history with Wyatt. And how did they manage to create a curse if they can’t do magic?”

She’s quiet. My heart beats faster, my pulse ticking in my fingers.

Beside me, Hazel gasps.

I whip my head around, dreading the next attack.

Her hand is on her throat, massaging it, her mouth open as if to cough.

The whole world grinds to a stop, a chill crashing over me like I’ve plunged into glacial water.

“No!” I cry, lunging for her. The phone slips, and I let it hit the ground. “Hazel!”