BOOM!
A crater opens in the porch, black smoke rising as the mat and the wood beneath it disintegrates to ash.
“I think that did—ow!” I flinch as something else strikes the back of my head.
“Go!” Natalie shouts.
We scramble onto the porch and stop at the crater.
“Open the door with magic,” I say. “Don’t touch anything.”
Neil raises his hands, his face tightening with concentration. “It won’t budge.”
My skin prickles so fiercely in the presence of magic it’s like I’ve rolled in stinging nettle. I grab Natalie’s hand and pull her onward. “This way. Something’s wrong here.”
We edge along the broken porch, the crater smoldering, while branches try to punch through our shield. The lake water stirs like a storm, waves reaching for our ankles.
At the side door, Natalie lifts her palm, and it blasts open.
Sky nudges me. “Nice work, Katie.”
I take one step, then freeze.
Multiple curses tug at me from different directions. I focus on the closest one—coming from near my feet. I crouch, concentrating onthe pull inside me. Gumboots… Umbrella…There. The black doormat practically screams “grab me!”, which is exactly why I don’t.
“This one’s also cursed,” I say, pointing to the mat.
Natalie opens a second vial and slaps the amber substance onto it.
“Damn, Katie,” Neil says. “You’re good at this.”
The praise takes me aback, and I smile awkwardly as I cover my ears.
The mat explodes, and I lead the way inside, crossing the threshold of the Madsens’ vacation house.
We step into a kitchen that hasn’t been updated since probably the 1970s. The tug gets stronger, my pulse throbbing in my neck. I scan every appliance, fists up, searching for more explanations for the magic rampaging around me. My spine tingles like someone is watching us.
A gust of wind passes over the house, making it creak. I shiver. Branches thrash and squeal against the windows. Beyond them, a blanket of white fog creeps closer over the black lake. My next breath comes out in a puff, the temperature plummeting.
“What’s happening?” I ask, my voice wavering.
A crackling sound makes us all flinch. My gaze snaps to an ancient boombox in the corner of the living room.
“Oh no,” I whisper as the static morphs into music, dropping us into Céline Dion’sIt’s All Coming Back to Me Now.
Natalie whips out a vial. “Who touched something?”
Everyone else raises their hands to prove their innocence. But pain ripples up my arms, and I hiss, shaking them out as they turn red and blotchy. Bumps rise on my skin like a hundred mosquito bites. Or hives.
Crap.Looks like I’m the lucky target.
“Uh…” I say as the hives begin to itch.
All gazes turn to me, and Natalie sucks in a breath. We both check to see if I brushed against anything, but I’m only standing on linoleum.
The song escalates. Shit, is it building up to something? What’s going to happen when the chorus hits?
“Can you sense what it’s from?” Natalie asks urgently.
