Page 86 of How to Flirt with a Witch

I stop. “Oh my God.”

It’s here.

Invisible ropes tug me to the right. When I turn my head in that direction, my heart skips.

I follow the sensation, brushing my fingers along the rows of fish food.

“Feel something?” Sky asks, her words tinged with disbelief.

I nod, scanning each item on the shelves. A thrill pulls me onward, desperate, like I’m about to miss a deadline.Hurry. Take it.

“Somewhere…” I bend down. My pulse races, rushing in my ears as my body responds to the curse.

“It’s an aquarium decoration.” My voice comes out urgent, my movements frantic.

I rummage in a metal basket of items, fingers poking through synthetic coral, grass, hollow logs, shipwrecks…

My gaze lands on a figurine, and I suck in a breath, not touching it. “This is it. This thing is cursed.”

Sky bends closer to peer at it. Her lips flatten into a grim line. “In more ways than one. What is that, an astronaut?”

“A scuba diver.” And a hideous one at that, with its plastic sheen, chipped orange paint, and dented helmet.

“Oh. Right.” She straightens up. “Well, I can see why it’s been here a while.”

She moves to take it, and I grab her wrist, stopping her.

“What if the curse is strong?” I ask.

“It probably is. But we have to touch it to make sure this really is the object.” She reaches into her utility belt. “As soon as something weird happens, we’ll nuke it.”

I nod, glaring at the little figurine. “I’ll do it. You just focus on using the vial.”

There’s a tense pause as I meet her gaze.

She pulls out a vial and nods firmly. “Ready.”

My heart is beating out of my chest, both from the curse’s effects and the thrill that I might have finally proven myself.

I can’t wait to see Natalie’s face when we tell her.

Steeling my nerves, I reach into the basket. I hesitate, take a breath, and pick up the scuba diver.

The moment my fingers close around it, the lights flicker as if there was a power surge. Birds squawk.

“They’re heeere,” someone says.

Sky and I freeze, staring at each other with wide eyes.

Then the same voice says, “Hello, pretty bird. Pretty bird.”

I let out a huff of laughter. It’s just a parrot—one who can perfectly mimic a line fromPoltergeist, apparently.

“Well, you did it, Katie,” Sky says, shaking out her arms as if to get rid of a chill. “This thing is cursed as hell. Let’s—Jesus Christ!”

She grabs my arm and pulls me away from the shelves. A furry wave surges out from beneath them, dozens of beady eyes glinting in the fluorescent lights. Rats, a writhing mass of them, skitter past—whether escaped from cages or feral, I don’t know.

As we dance out of the way, the speakers overhead crackle, and “Stayin’ Alive”by the Bee Gees blares throughout the store.