Pushing back my braid and taking a deep breath, I step carefully toward the front door as if I’m approaching a bear den—and a creak tickles my eardrums. Every tree and bush shifts with me, like a cat swishing its tail as it gets ready to pounce. Pine branches reach out like grasping fingers, and the lake slaps the shore more insistently.
My steps falter. “I thought witches had to actively control objects,” I whisper. “Is Sophia here?”
Everyone stops.
Sky takes a vial out of her utility belt and pops the cork, the noise filling the glade. She pours a burgundy powder into her palm, raises it to her lips, and blows. The powder lifts into the wind and drifts toward the house.
“Tracking dust,” Natalie explains, her voice at a murmur.
I nod. Nobody else speaks as the dust spreads across the front yard, where it glows silver for a moment before flickering and dying. Only a small patch remains suspended in the air, the last to flicker and die.
“One occupant,” Sky says.
A pause. Nobody seems to be breathing.
“Let’s hope it’s Dad,” she adds, scowling as she slides the vial back into her belt.
Natalie eyes the shifting trees, which are still moving far too much for the lack of wind. “Skilled witches can do enchantments so objects respond on their own. Another reason her abilities are concerning. She’s had magic for a short time but is already more proficient than…uh, most witches, to be honest.”
I adjust the gauntlet and make a fist, wondering how useful this thing will be if an entire forest attacks me. Wouldn’t be the first time I got into a fight with a tree, given all the hiking misadventures with my sisters growing up. “There must be a safe way in that the Madsens use, right?”
“Or it only lets them pass,” Sky says. “Like how our suites are sealed to everyone but the occupant.”
Natalie moves closer, her shoulder brushing mine. “We can handle the killer plants for long enough to get by. It’s the other stuff I’m worried about. You focus on finding the curses, okay?”
I nod, my heart pounding. I can feel their pull already, like hooks in my chest.
I look at each of the witches surrounding me, gathering courage. “Ready?”
They flank me, and we advance.
It’s like we’ve hit a trip wire. Pine branches snap toward us, their sharp needles about to draw blood.
“Go!” Sky roars, and the air comes alive with a charge. Loose strands of my hair float around my face as the witches create a shield of swirling debris—leaves, rocks, sticks, dirt.
We sprint forward, my heart slamming into my ribs.
A fern snaps at my legs like a piranha. I leap around it. A pinecone whips at my face like a bullet, and I raise the gauntlet, deflecting it with atwang!
I’m about to hop onto the wraparound porch when instinct pulls me to a stop. Gasping, I fling out my arms to block the others. “Wait!”
“What is it?” Hayley asks.
The sensation crawls up my limbs and across my back. My fingers twitch, wanting to reach for something I can’t see. “There’s a curse, but it’s…” I scan the porch—the floorboards, the wooden bench, the white front door…and faded brown welcome mat.
My heart stumbles. “It’s the mat.”
Natalie follows my gaze. “Positive?”
Something sharp stings the back of my neck, and I hiss, lifting my hand to it. Probably a pine tree with excellent aim.
“Nat! Hurry up, dumbass!” Sky grunts as she and the others continue raising shields to block the attack.
“Okay, okay!” Natalie uncorks the vial and draws out the contents. The shimmering amber substance morphs in the air before she sends it downward. It hits the mat with a wetslap, where it spreads like syrup.
She yanks me backward.
A hiss. A spark.
