Chapter Thirteen

What Do Witches Put On Their Bagels?

MILA

Mila’s Christmas was proving worse than her most pessimistic projections. For starters, the Witchly Herald had published a story on the elementary school poisoning, including details about the involvement of a love potion. The paper hadn’t named names, but Salem was a small town and by noon, anyone in the neighborhood knew that the Bennet sisters had been arrested the previous night and why—much to their mother’s chagrin.

The most humiliating part was that everyone knew it had been Mila who had brewed the love potion. Juniper was happily married to the perfect wizard. She’d have no reason to resort to magic tricks to find love.

As expected, the entire family had an opinion about the matter. Her dad was convinced that using their powers for unethical purposes would mark them forever and corrupt their souls. Her mom was more focused on Mila’s emotional well-being and questioning why she couldn’t find a man on her own without needing to resort to extreme measures —her words—like love potions.

Juniper wasn’t speaking to her. The silent treatment was her sister’s punishment of choice.

Mila’s only bearable relative was her brother, who kept teasing her affectionately, dropping the odd wizarding joke when the atmosphere at the table became too tense.

Mila slumped lower in her seat, eyeing the food in front of her with a lack of interest. The meal felt interminable. Her mother’s cooking was usually delightful, but today everything tasted bland and unappetizing. All Mila wanted to do was to get out of there and go home, but she couldn’t leave. At least not until Riley came to pick her up, giving her an official excuse to flee the family gathering.

A community service sentence was as ironclad a reason to leave as they came. But that was still a few hours away.

So, Mila adopted the survival strategy of being as inconspicuous as possible, keeping quiet in her corner and joining the conversation only when addressed directly by someone, which still happened way too often.

When her uncle started a conversation about the dangers of misusing magic, Mila was ready to pull out her hair.

“Uncle Edwin.” Kevin diverted his attention, coming to Mila’s defense. “What do witches put on their bagels?”

The entire table turned to face Kevin, shifting the bullseye away from Mila.

Her brother waited for another heartbeat before delivering the punchline, “Scream cheese.”

Everyone laughed, but still, Mila couldn’t take it anymore. She excused herself from the table, pretending she had to go to the bathroom, and went outside for some fresh air instead. It had started snowing, and snowflakes were swirling down from the sky, thick and fast. The wind had a bite, but the cold felt refreshing on Mila’s hot cheeks.

Too soon, she had to go back inside.

At least by then, the desserts—bone-chip cookies, broomstick brownies, and midnight ice cream—were already being served. Mila skipped them even if broomstick brownies were her favorite.

Soon afterward, the entire family moved to the living room to exchange presents. Mila had gone all out like every year and had bought her relatives thoughtful gifts she knew they would appreciate—a new cauldron for her parents, a rare spell book for Kevin, a set of magical herbs and roots for Juniper, and the new Luna the Lucky Witch Doll that Willow wanted so much.

But not even the expression of unadulterated joy on her niece’s face as she opened her present could cheer Mila up.

This would go down as the worst Christmas in the history of lousy holidays, and that was fine. Mila just wanted the day to be over and to forget about the love potion, the arrest, and her family’s judgmental stares.

Just then, the doorbell rang, and Mila’s heart fluttered in her chest. Could it be Riley already?

And why was her heart fluttering at the idea of Chief Inquisitor King waiting at her door, ready to torment her some more with his unbearably good looks and closed-off personality? Or worse, his unsettling thoughts about her mermaid hair. Well, the beanie should solve that, at least.

She scrambled to her feet and quickly made her way to the door, but her mother beat her to it.

And if Mila didn’t know better, she’d say Mom was swooning at finding the chief inquisitor in all his towering might and scarily sexy dark looks on her doorstep.

“Merry Christmas, Mrs. Bennet,” Riley was saying. “Sorry to intrude on your celebration…”

Mila’s mom squeaked, she literally squeaked, as she replied, “No trouble at all, Chief King. Would you like to come in? Have some dragon scale tea or a toadstool infusion?”

Riley briefly looked over Mrs. Bennet’s shoulders right at Mila, and, at the subtle but panicked shake of her head, he unleashed a smile on her mother that Mila was sure would shed a few years off the poor woman’s life.

“Thank you, Mrs. Bennet, but I’m afraid I don’t have time,” Riley said, his tone professional but gentle. “I’m here to pick up Mila.”

At the speed of light, Mila was by their side, putting on her coat, scarf, hat, and gloves and kissing her still-stunned mom on both cheeks, saying, “Love you, Mom. Talk soon…”

Mila stepped out into the cold winter air without waiting for a reply, letting out a sigh of relief.

She waved back at her mom and followed Riley down the already-coated driveway while the snow kept on falling.

About halfway down, he tilted his head at her. “That bad, uh?”

“You have no idea.” She couldn’t help the wide smile that split her face at seeing him again.

They walked in silence for a few moments, the only sound the muffled crunch of snow under their boots. As they made their way down her parents’ street toward his car, Mila stole glances at Riley, and a few times, she caught him staring back at her with an unreadable expression that suited his enigmatic personality perfectly. He looked ruggedly handsome but also weirdly more approachable than he had yesterday. Probably because he wasn’t trying to put her in jail and throw out the key like he had the previous night.

When they finally reached the car, Riley opened the door for Mila, his hand hovering over the small of her back as she climbed into the passenger seat, grateful for the warmth it offered. Today he was driving a different car from the official police vehicle they’d rode in yesterday, and Mila couldn’t help but notice how impeccably clean and organized his— personal ?—car was. So neat it looked as if he had just driven it out of the dealership that day.

Riley closed her door and circled to the other side, claiming the driver’s seat and making the cabin of the car feel immediately ten times smaller than it had a second before.

Then he put the car into gear, and just like that, they were driving away. At once, he started reciting through The Wizarding Code of Conduct in his head.

Mila chuckled and said, “Please pull over.”

Riley glanced sideways at her before training his eyes on the icy road again. “Why?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not about to turn you into a toad.”

She reached out and squeezed his arm. The gesture was meant to be reassuring. Instead, it caused a tingle to shoot up Mila’s arm, and she immediately let go. And if the way Riley was crushing the wheel in his grip, his knuckles almost white, was any indication, he’d felt the spark, too.

Still, he flipped the blinker and parked the car on the side of the road, turning to her expectantly.