Page 32

Chapter 32

Curse of the Canines

“ H azel, that was meant for me!” I roar, my voice filling the covered porch. “You weren’t supposed to touch it.”

“I—I’m sorry, I—” Her eyes are wide, startled, as she ducks to avoid the sparrow.

There’s a pop! as the lightbulb above us bursts, raining fragments on Hazel’s head. She screams and flinches.

“It’s cursed!” I yank her toward me, my chest constricting. It’s like I think I can protect her, like I can stop all this if I hold her tightly enough.

Hazel brushes bits of glass out of her hair, hissing and shaking out her hands as lines of blood appear on her fingers. “What?!”

Her phone falls out of her pocket and hits the ground, the screen cracking, a web obscuring the photo of the two of us she set as her background yesterday. The music player appears, and “Who Let The Dogs Out?” bursts through the yard at full volume, drowning out the rabid sparrow chirps.

“What the fuck ?” Hazel shouts, picking up her phone and smearing blood on the screen .

“Shit, shit…” I fumble for my own phone, dropping my purse in the process. “We need to get to CSAMM now. ”

“Get to who? Jesus, why won’t this pause?” She jabs her thumb at her phone screen, getting more blood on it.

I punch Natalie’s name, and she answers calmly, her voice low and breathless. “Katie, I’m glad you called. I’ve been—”

“The Madsens delivered a curse to my doorstep!” I shout over the chants of Baha Men. Snatching up the plush dog, I leave my purse on the ground and shove Hazel toward the street. “Maybe Oaklyn, based on the note, or Freddie, based on the dog. We’re catching the first bus downtown. Meet me part way.”

She hesitates for the briefest moment as she absorbs my frantic explanation. “Did you touch it? Who’s we ?”

“Hazel. She picked it up first, so the curse is attacking—gah!” I break off as she stumbles and crashes into me.

“Ow! Dammit.” She groans, limping. “I rolled my ankle on a freaking pebble!”

I wrap an arm around her waist and hold her to my side, my voice quaking. “Natalie, what if we don’t make it?”

There’s a pause that holds an unbearable weight—her mother’s death, their inability to get to her in time, the emptiness in her life since it happened.

The song reaches the first verse, a stab of annoyance pulling me out of my spiral.

“ Fuck !” Hazel screams again, waving her arms to defend herself from the bird.

“You will,” Natalie says, firm and steady. “I just left CSAMM to head to a different curse location. I’m turning around.”

I cling to her reassuring tone, gripping the phone tighter. “Thank God. ”

Hazel gives up on her phone and pockets it, flapping her hands in her signature oh-my-god oh-my-god gesture. “She’s coming with the cure?”

“She’s already in the car.” I keep a tight hold on the plush dog, ready to throw it under the vial the second we see Natalie. It feels cheap and hard, the synthetic fur abrasive between my fingers.

“Is this the first you’ve heard from the Madsens since you left?” Natalie asks on the phone.

“Yes.” Awkwardness curdles in my stomach at the reminder of me leaving. “Have the Shadows seen them since?”

“Funny you mention it. We had a sighting an hour ago. Sky and the others are on it.”

I look around as if expecting to see the Madsens right here. “Where? Near me?”

Hazel and I make it to the bus stop, out of breath. The obnoxious music attracts the stares of everyone waiting.

“North Shore, actually,” Natalie says. “And we were also called out to deal with a high-profile curse at the Convention Centre.”

I furrow my brow. “All this at once?”

“I know.”

Suspicious. Why would the Madsens be on the North Shore while delivering a curse to me in Point Grey at the same time? Not to mention the curse at the Convention Centre… Have they planted several incidents at once? And why?

“Bus, bus, bus!” Hazel cries, relief flooding her voice.

She tugs me closer to the curb as the bus pulls up.

The doors open—and it’s crammed full. Through the windows, teenagers fill every square inch of space. A high school class has apparently decided to use it for field trip transportation.

Everyone ahead of us at the bus stop scoffs and groans as they’re unable to get on.

I push Hazel onward before she can panic. “Keep walking. Natalie, meet us on West 10th.”

A crow swoops down and drops a pine cone on Hazel’s head. She cries out and throws her arms up.

“Got it,” Natalie says.

Hazel and I continue hobbling down the sidewalk on two bad ankles.

“I feel sick,” Hazel says, breathing hard. “I might throw up.”

She’s scratching the back of her hand compulsively, reddening the skin.

I slap her hand away before she can draw blood. “What are you doing?”

“I’m itchy!”

“Well, which is it? Are you itchy or nauseous?”

“Both!” she wails.

“As long as you can still breathe,” I murmur.

“ Excuse me ?” she cries.

“Nothing. Keep going.” My mind reels like I’ve snagged a whale on a fishing line. I’m scrambling to understand what this all means, ears ringing, pulse throbbing in my neck. “Natalie, don’t you think it’s weird that all this stuff is happening at once?”

“Yes. But we’ve had busy days like this before.” In the background, cars honk and tires screech, and she exhales sharply.

“But a lot of witches have left the building just now, right?” I ask.

“You don’t have to worry. The Madsens can’t get into CSAMM. The building could be entirely empty and still perfectly secure.”

“Because you need earth magic in order to pass through the steam clock?”

“Exactly.”

I chew my lip, a theory rolling around in my brain like a hot potato. Freddie was hinting at something big—something to turn the tables. What else could it be? “Natalie, I think the Madsens have gotten a hold of earth magic.”

A pause. She’s either in the middle of breaking a traffic law or thinking. Likely both. “Well, we know Oaklyn has her dagger—”

“No, like… fully. So they can do what you do.”

“They can’t. Not without the means to neutralize a curse and process the stone.”

“Or capture feral magic.”

More silence. I look around vigilantly, scanning for danger.

“Why this song ?” Hazel sobs, jabbing her phone screen again to no avail. Her hands are redder than a moment ago, hives blooming across her skin like she’s having an allergic reaction.

“Even if they somehow acquired pure earth magic,” Natalie says, “only one of them could possess it.”

“And that’s all it would take,” I argue, yanking Hazel out of the way of an oncoming cyclist. “Freddie mentioned the steam clock entrance when we were talking. He seemed convinced that things were about to change and he was about to set magic free. What if he can do earth magic? He’d be able to get into CSAMM, wouldn’t he?”

“He would, but… There’s no way. He was probably just screwing with you.”

Hazel jerks to a stop, pulling me with her. “Um…”

A woman sprints toward us down the sidewalk, fear tightening her expression. As she pushes past, two more people race after her.

My blood turns to ice. This cannot be good.

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 it and 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. “These symptoms , 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!”

She sinks to her knees, wheezing like she’s trying to breathe through a straw.

“Slow breaths,” I say. “Stay calm. Natalie, hurry!”

Her shouts rise from my dropped phone, but I can’t take my hands off Hazel. I tip her head back, trying to help her get more air.

“Oh my God—” I don’t know what to do. Would CPR work? The Heimlich maneuver as if she’s choking? An Epi-Pen to open her throat like in an allergic reaction? Would anything that isn’t magic help?

Hazel meets my gaze, her eyes wide and terrified. She spasms as she tries to get oxygen.

Pedestrians gather around, asking if they can help, asking what’s going on.

“Call 9-1-1!” a woman shouts.

“She’s choking!” cries another.

Hazel sinks further down, her lips turning blue. I hold her head, dizzy with panic. My knees hit the hard, cold concrete, the plush dog that did this to her squashed beneath my legs .

“No, no…” Denial spills from my mouth, my hands scrambling across her face and neck, searching for a way to save her. We need a doctor, a nurse, anyone.

A stab of pain shoots through my own chest. My eyes burn. This is my fault. She’s paying the price for my mistakes. I should’ve known the Madsens weren’t done with me.

Her eyes roll back.

“Hazel!” I shriek.

I bend to give her mouth-to-mouth. It’s the only thing I can think of. I pinch her nose and pull her jaw down, closing my lips over hers and blowing.

The air doesn’t go anywhere. It stops like it’s hit a wall, refusing to fill her lungs.

“Hazel!” My voice tears out of my throat, broken, sobs rattling my chest.

I can’t lose her. Not Hazel. My best friend, my other sister, my anchor. Since high school, she’s been the one person who’s stopped me from descending into loneliness. Before her, I was adrift with no sense of belonging—a ship without a rudder, floating aimlessly in a sea of awkwardness. Who will I be after her? Will I ever be the same without my bestie to balance out all my weaknesses, my shyness, my lack of purpose?

Her face turns deathly gray. She’s unconscious, not responding to my cries or movements.

Panicked shouts mingle together, the sky darkening as people swarm us to see what’s going on. But nobody can help. Nothing can be done. Their cries only make this more real.

I’m out of ideas. The world closes in around me, a hollow, rushing noise filling my ears. Everything spins.

Distantly, footsteps pound over the concrete. A strong hand grabs my shoulder, pulling me back.

The plush dog rips out from under me .

Which can only mean…

My heart misses a beat. Natalie?

I don’t take my eyes off Hazel. I can’t. Her blue lips, her gray face…

There’s a hiss . A spitting sound, like a rogue firework.

BOOM!

An explosion rattles the world, debris peppering my shoulder and head. Dust fills my mouth, making me cough.

Beneath my ringing ears, people scream. Footsteps scatter. Smoke billows, the tang stinging my nostrils.

Silence descends.

Not daring to let myself feel relief, I shake Hazel’s shoulders and tap her cheek. “Wake up! Please!”

She doesn’t move.

I bend and give her mouth-to-mouth again—and this time, the air goes down her throat. Her chest inflates, and when I sit back, it deflates again.

I watch her, my eyes burning, holding her cold face between my hands. “Come on!”

Don’t be too late. Please.

Abruptly, she sucks in a rattling breath, her eyes flying open. She coughs, thrashing on the concrete. “Coyotes—Baha Men—”

“Hazel!” I choke out. I throw my arms over her, burying my face in her neck. “This was all my fault. Have I told you I love you?”

Natalie slides her arms under Hazel, picking her up. “We have to go. Get in the car.”

I let go and scramble to my feet, tears flooding out as she carries Hazel to her vehicle. The people who gathered around shout protests—an ambulance is on the way, after all—but there’s no time to explain, even if we could.

Weak in Natalie’s arms, Hazel rubs her face with trembling hands, coughing and breathing fast. “C-can I go home now? ”

“Yes. You can and you should.” I open the passenger door of Natalie’s car and meet her eye, making a silent request to leave Hazel out of this mess.

Natalie nods, easing her into the seat. “Katie and I have to deal with this, but I’m going to give you my keys, and I want you to drive back to Katie’s place.”

Her voice is calm for Hazel’s sake, but I can hear the tension underneath.

Hazel blinks. “Oh. No, I can help—”

“Don’t even .” A purple butterfly flaps past my nose, and I bat it away irritably before getting into the back seat. “You’re going back to my place, and you’re going to put Ethel in her kennel and prepare to flee if you have to.”

Hazel splutters. “Excuse me?”

“Drive, Natalie,” I bark as she gets into the driver’s seat.

She punches the accelerator, and we leave the confused crowd behind, whipping into traffic so fast that several cars honk.

My hands are shaking. Beads of sweat roll down my temples, and my heart is beating so hard I can feel it against my ribs.

“You both okay?” Natalie asks. Her dark eyes find mine in the rearview mirror. Her nostrils flare, a muscle working in her jaw.

I hesitate, then nod. Hazel is alive, and that’s what matters.

My eyes burn as I try not to think about how that could’ve ended. But beneath the terror, something white-hot sizzles through me. My breaths heave in and out. I glare out the window at the passing cityscape, my nails biting into my palms. The urge to hit something is overwhelming—to inflict pain right back.

I might not have magic or a pack of coyotes, but I’ve got something better: the stubbornness of an Alexander and a complete lack of self-preservation. The Madsens nearly murdered my best friend, and for that, I’m going to get revenge on every one of them.