Page 53 of Curses and Casualties
“Coffee,” she croaks, making grabby hands at the pot.
I pour her a cup, noting how her hands shake slightly as she takes it. “You OK?”
“Peachy,” she says, but her sarcasm lacks its usual bite. “Just feel like there’s a fucking magnet in my chest pulling me north. No big deal.”
Georgia and I exchange worried looks.
“Maybe we should—” Georgia starts, but Scarlett cuts her off.
“I already know it’s the mate pull, OK? I figured it out yesterday, but I didn’t want to admit anything.”
“Do you want to…I don’t know—talk about it or something?” Georgia asks.
Scarlett immediately shakes her head. “No point. I’m not interested. He’s an ass. And I’m already dealing with one of those where my love life is concerned.” She gestures to where the Alpha’s bite still exists. “Besides, we’re finding that witch today. Period. I’m not into discussing alternatives.” She drains her coffee in three gulps. “Where’s Ethan?”
“Checking the car,” I say. “Making sure we’re ready to move.”
As if summoned, Ethan appears in the doorway. His eyes immediately find Scarlett, concern evident in every line of his face. “We’re good to go. Amara’s protection charms are still active on the vehicle.”
“Great. Let’s get this show on the road before I decide to sprint north like a fucking compass needle,” Scarlett says, already heading for her gear.
Twenty minutes later, we’re loaded up and heading deeper into the mountains. Georgia’s fangs finally retract about ten minutes into the drive—apparently, the motion sickness did what willpower couldn’t. She’s still flexing her fingers, marveling at her normal human nails. “Oh, thank the heavens,” she mutters, hugging her regular hands to her chest.
“Thank the moon goddess,” Scarlett reminds her. “She’s the one who released her hold.”
“Thank you, moon goddess,” Georgia parrots, making dramatic bowing motions.
“Two days travel,” I remind everyone. “The Stonecrest Falls Coven should be near Crescent Lake.”
Georgia holds up the map, tilting it from side to side as she studies it. “God, I wish we had a proper smartphone instead of the burner. I’d love to see what this place looks like on google maps.”
“Your old job is showing,” Scarlett teases from the backseat. “Were you one of those people who made their own spreadsheets for vacation?”
Georgia’s cheeks flush. “No, but I’d annotate my hiking maps. Just in case.”
“Adorable,” Scarlett croons. “If the geologist stuff doesn’t pan out, you could always be a tour guide for the supernaturals.”
Ethan gives a rare laugh. “Human tourists would never survive it.”
The drive north is easy at first, all wide dawn-lit valleys and the lazy motion of river fog dissolving beneath the sun. But the closer we draw to our destination, the more the landscape skews from typical Pacific Northwest into something older, moodier, almost enchanted. Trees seem to lean toward the road, theirtrunks twisted by time or magic. Moss drips from branches like green lace, and even the air feels charged—wet and cold and humming with anticipation.
“Anyone else getting the haunted forest vibe?” Ethan asks.
“Absolutely,” Georgia answers, nose pressed to the window despite the chill seeping through the glass. “See that ridge? That’s a drumlin—subglacial hill. You only get those in places where old ice sheets crushed everything flat, then left the weird moraine stuff behind as they retreated. This whole glacier valley must have been under, like, a mile of ice.” She sounds almost giddy, and for a moment it’s easy to forget the doom, the curses, the wary clutch of fate around our necks. It almost feels like we’re just driving north for a hike.
But then, abruptly, Scarlett lets out a sharp, ragged sound. “Stop the car!”
“What’s wrong?” I’m already slowing down, pulling toward the shoulder.
“I don’t know. I just—” She cuts off with a gasp, doubling over. “Fuck. It hurts.”
Georgia reaches for her, but Scarlett flinches away. “Don’t. I might... I don’t know what I might do.”
I can smell it now, a wild edge to her scent, the way her wolf is fighting to surface. This isn’t just discomfort anymore. The mate bond is demanding acknowledgment.
“Scarlett, look at me,” I use my alpha tone, hoping to ground her.
Her eyes snap to mine, and they’re more gold than hazel. “I can feel him,” she whispers. “He’s in so much pain. Why is he in so much pain?”
