Page 18 of How to Flirt with a Witch

“Let’s head to the Mexican restaurant over there,” Mo says, pointing.

Suddenly, a buzz ripples overhead, snapping the market’s vibrant colors into darkness. People cry out, their voices rising over each other. I stop walking, blinking to try and adjust my eyes.

“Power’s out,” someone beside us murmurs, the echo of those words carrying on the wind as everyone comes to the same conclusion. Shouts, screams, and ghostly “wooo” noises erupt as some people decide this is a good opportunity to scare their friends.

My heart beats faster.Another coincidence?

I don’t like this one bit. I need to get back to my basement suite so I can call Helping Paws, and fast.

Andrea’s hand on my bag gets heavier, like she’s tightened her grip. “The restaurants will have to close,” she says. “Let’s head back to fourth.”

People take out their phones, and we join a throng of silhouettes shuffling toward the road. Even the traffic lights are out, the power outage far-reaching.

By the time we get to 4th Avenue, we’re all quiet. I’m hungry, socially drained, and the doll weighs more on my arm with each passing minute.

“I’m going to head back to my place,” I say. The others will catch a bus heading back to UBC, so I point across to my stop. “I’ll see you—”

“Whoa!” Andrea yells and pulls me back by the strap she’s holding. My backpack jolts against my shoulders, tipping me off-balance.

Clayton swears and jumps back.

I regain my footing and follow their wide gazes down to the road. A black snake slithers past, right where I was about to step. It’s got to be as long as a car.

“What the hell?” Johnny exclaims.

“It must have escaped from somewhere.” Mo looks around as if to find the owner running after it with an empty cage.

I stare after it, a chill settling deep inside me.Oh no, no, no… Get home. Get home now.My mouth is dry, my voice shaky. “I—I have to go. Thanks for inviting me—”

“Look out!” someone shouts, and before I can turn my head, they slam into my shoulder, knocking the wind out of my lungs.

In my periphery, a cyclist wobbles, skids, and regains his balance—and I land hard on my butt, the unforgiving concrete sending a stab of pain up my back.

“You okay?” someone asks.

I blink, disoriented, and catch my breath. Did I justfall over?

My hands sting where I caught myself on the sidewalk. Gravel is embedded in my palms, and I’m definitely bleeding.

Heat rushes into my face as Clayton and Johnny haul me back to my feet.

“Thanks,” I mumble, too mortified to meet anyone’s eye.

“Asshole didn’t even look back,” Clayton says, glaring after the cyclist.

“Some luck we’re having tonight, huh?” Andrea says bitterly, crossing her arms.

“No kidding,” Mo says.

My embarrassment gives way to cold terror as I dust myself off, my palms stinging and my breaths coming faster.

I clutch the bag with the doll inside.Rebecca.

What have I done?

The hairs on the back of my neck prickle. My pulse quickens. These aren’t coincidences—they’re connected. I don’t understand why, but Iknow this is a chain of consequences. And I’m about to find out just how far the chain goes.

Certainty slams into my gut like a second bicycle: I might have just made a huge mistake.