Chapter Eleven

Hex Me, Hex My Life

MILA

Mila woke up in her bed feeling well rested, yet somehow believing she shouldn’t be that restored. Next, she tried to remember how she’d gotten into bed. The last thing she recalled was being in Riley’s car, and… oh gargoyles, all the events of the previous night came crashing down on her.

Mila looked down at herself. She was still wearing her civilian uniform from the night before. She sank deeper into the pillow, bringing her quilt over herself until her entire face was covered, and she groaned.

The mattress shifted at her feet. “Hiding under the covers won’t change what happened,” Abel said.

She freed her face from the blanket and stared down at her feet where her familiar was methodically licking one of his paws and passing it over his ear.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, and even the simple wishing sounded passive-aggressive.

Mila knew she was going to regret asking, but she did anyway. “Do you have any idea how I got into bed last night?”

Abel paused his licking and studied her with intent yellow eyes. “A certain tall, handsome inquisitor carried you inside in his arms.” Mila’s pulse picked up speed. She had feared as much. “Then he put you into bed, gave you a pill, and went on his way.”

“An entire pill?” Mila asked remembering their conversation about the time-stretch pill. “He didn’t break it in half first?”

“I’m a cat. I can see in the dark. He gave you the entire pill and then left.”

“And you let him drug me?”

Abel shrugged. “I figured Inquisitor King is still DMJ and wouldn’t slip you anything funky. Why, what did he give you?”

“A time-stretch pill,” Mila said absentmindedly, finally understanding why she was feeling so rested after just a few hours’ sleep and also wondering just how crappy Riley was going to feel in comparison after giving her the entire pill. “But we were supposed to share it.”

Abel kept quiet. He just stared at her with a Cheshire grin.

“What?” Mila asked self-consciously.

“Someone has a crush,” the cat teased.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mila threw the quilt off her legs and got up. “I don’t like Riley.”

The cat hopped off the bed and brushed himself against her legs. “So, it’s Riley now? No longer Inquisitor King?”

He was teasing her.

“You’re a wretched, wretched animal.”

Mila picked up Abel and held him close to her chest, burying her face into his soft fur while he purred contentedly. “I can’t have feelings for him,” she muttered under her breath.

“Whatever you say, boss,” Abel said, still amused.

Mila sighed. She knew that if she let herself fall for Riley, it would only end in heartbreak. He sent off anti-relationship vibes so strong that if he tried any harder, they’d tsunami the hopes of any woman even remotely interested.

She didn’t even have to ask if he was single to know that he was.

Mila shook her head, trying to rid herself of these thoughts as she got dressed for the festivity. She had to focus on the day ahead and the pain it would be to explain to the entire family why she’d gotten herself and her sister arrested on Christmas Eve. Juniper was bound to be still murderous about the whole affair. Kevin, her brother, would tease her to no end. Her dad would deliver an hour-long lecture on the dangers of misusing magic. And her mom would just worry about the state of her mental health for resorting to love potions to find a partner—but on the bright side, Mama Bennet would probably at least refrain from bugging Mila about being the only unmarried one of her children. Yay. Small victories.

The day hadn’t properly started yet, and Mila already couldn’t bear it. But she had to find some way to make it through the holiday and then move on with her life.

She went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of coffee. Nothing would jolt her system better than a little caffeine.

After she showered and finished wrapping the last presents for her family, Mila still had a little time left. On impulse, she grabbed her knitting irons and a spool of black wool and began weaving a beany in the armchair next to the fireplace.

Able jumped on the armrest next to her. “What are you making?”

“A beanie.”

Abel studied her handiwork. “Isn’t it a little big for you? Even your head is not that thick.”

“It’s not for me,” Mila replied noncommittally.

Abel dropped, resting his head on his front paws—the human equivalent of propping one’s chin over one’s hand. “And who might it be for?”

“Ri—Chief King.”

“Christmas present?”

“No.”

“Then why are you making him a hat, Miss I Don’t Have A Crush?”

“Because the man can’t keep a hold on his mind, and I’m tired of having to listen to all his mental nonsense.”

The shrewd expression was wiped off Abel’s muzzle. “You share a telepathic bond?”

Mila shrugged. “I know it’s unusual, but we—”

Abel didn’t wait to hear the rest. He jumped off the armchair and trotted over to the bookcase at the back of the room, using his paw to pull down a book before starting to read it.

Mila shrugged. Her familiar reading and ignoring her was a far better option than him asking uncomfortable questions. It suited her just fine. She finished knitting Riley’s beanie, enhanced it with an incantation to shield the wearer’s mind, and then went to get dressed for the dreaded meal at her parents’ house.

She was about to head out of the house, laden with bags of presents, when Abel called after her, “Mila, hold on. I have to talk to you.”

Mila shifted one of the heavy bags in her arms to have a better balance. “Sorry, but that will have to wait. I can’t be late for lunch on top of everything else.”

“But I have something really important to tell you.”

“Okay, shoot.”

“You need to sit down for this.”

“Sorry, don’t have the time so”—she shot him a wicked grin—“unless you want to accompany me to my parents, it’ll have to wait.”

“Gargoyles spare me.” Abel made a disgusted face. “And have all the little witchlings pull on my tail all day long? No, thank you. I’ll skip.”

“Then we’ll talk later, or I’m going to be late.”

Mila got out of the house and let loose a string of swear words at not finding her broomstick on the porch. “Stinking pumpkins, blasted trolls, cursed cauldrons, and bleeding ghosts.”

The broomstick was still in the impound. Darned dragons and festering faeries, turns out she was going to be late no matter what. Stinking gargoyles, hexed harpies, and pox-ridden goblins.

Mila let out a frustrated growl and headed down her street, readying herself to walk all the way to her parents’ house in hexing December, in hexing Massachusetts, with hexing snow hexing everywhere. She almost slipped on a patch of iced-over curb and thought, hex me, hex my life.

Mila steadied herself, took a deep breath, and plowed forward, cursing all sorts of magical creatures in her head the entire way to her parents’ because what other choice did she have?