Chapter Twenty-eight

Brooders and Broomsticks

MILA

The next morning Mila had contrasting feelings about seeing Riley. On the one hand, she was relieved today would be the last day she’d be forced to spend with him. On the other, she was devastated for the exact reason.

Especially when she went to open her door and found him on her porch as spine-tinglingly handsome as ever in his dark clothes and equally unsettling black eyes. Only this time, he was also holding her broomstick in his hands.

For a moment, Mila forgot her woes and grabbed the broom from his outstretched arms, holding it like a dance partner and twirling it around with her along the porch.

Then she laid the broomstick against the outer wall of her house and instinctively hugged Riley. “Thanks for bringing Clarabella back.”

He remained rigid in her arms at first, but she gave him a couple of extra seconds until he engulfed her completely in his warmth. His hands wrapped around her waist and settled on the small of her back.

“You named your broom Clarabella?” he whispered, his lips brushing the top of her head.

She pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Why? You keep a nameless broom? That seems awfully mean.”

He smirked down at her. “Brooms are not sentient.”

“Says who? Clarabella and I had many a conversation while up in the starry sky.”

Mila was well aware she should let go of him. Instead, she did just the opposite. She dropped her head back in the nook of his shoulder and squeezed harder. After all, today was the last day she had with him. She might as well enjoy it and suffer through it while it lasted. “But thank you for bringing her back.”

He dropped his chin on top of her head and started stroking her hair in a regular rhythm. “The weather has cleared, and I thought you might miss flying.”

Mila kept her face hidden in his chest as a million thoughts assaulted her. Had Riley somehow sensed that he wouldn’t be driving her around after today, that this was their last day together? He was the son of the most potent seer on the east coast, after all. Maybe some of his mother’s power had rubbed off on him.

Whatever the reason he had to bring the broomstick back today, Mila was all the more grateful. It’d make reaching the DMJ for her appointment with Judge Templeton later today much simpler, especially since she was wearing pants—much more appropriate clothes to fly. But it also made letting go of Riley that much harder.

“Hey,” he said now above her head, his voice laced with gentleness and perhaps a hint of regret? “I thought you were supposed to turn me into a toad, not that I would turn you into a koala bear.”

Mila couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from her chest and spilling out into the open air. “Don’t you like koala bears, Riley?” she asked with a smile, feeling his hands stilling in her hair as she pronounced his name.

“I love koala bears.” The stroking resumed. “But unfortunately, we still have an attempted murder to solve.”

Using every last ounce of her willpower, Mila let him go and pulled back.

“I believe we do,” Mila said, trying to sound as focused as possible. “Let’s go grill our last potential suspect.”

Riley draped an arm over her shoulder, and they walked down her driveway side by side, like Mila imagined a couple in love would do. If only their love was real and not a byproduct of her reckless potion-making.

As they drove toward Mr. Sheridan’s house, Mila spent the entire journey stealing glances at Riley. At his chiseled features, sharp jawline, and pillow lips she’d no longer see, no longer kiss, trying to memorize every square inch of his face.

She tried to keep the sadness at bay, but a raging panic was overpowering every sense of relief she’d initially had at the thought that their brief, unsettling acquaintance would soon be over.

Too soon and not nearly soon enough, they were pulling up in front of Jacob Sheridan’s house. He lived in an apartment complex made of three-story buildings with beige wooden siding and small brown balconies.

Mr. Sheridan was in unit 2B and came to open the door soon after Riley’s first knock.

“Ah, yeah.” He didn’t seem surprised at finding two law enforcement agents on his doorstep. In fact, the next words out of his mouth were “I was wondering when you’d show up. Took you long enough.”

Was he confessing? Or was he just being flippant?

Mila studied Mr. Sheridan, taking in his slicked-back white hair and shiny suit. She couldn’t get a read on him, but something about his demeanor made her uneasy.

Riley stepped forward, his badge held up in front of him.

“Mr. Sheridan, we’d like to ask you a few questions regarding the attempted murder of your former partner, Mrs. Blackwell,” Riley said, his voice calm but assertive.

The man nodded and opened the door wider. “Come on in, then.”

He was the first of their persons of interest not to offer them any refreshment. And just as well. Similarly to Riley with their first suspect, Mrs. Princeton, Mila couldn’t wait to get this interrogation over with. Mr. Sheridan was a truly unpleasant man who gave her strong, icky vibes.

But was he a killer or just an insufferable, rude, old grump?

“Mr. Sheridan—” Riley started as soon as they were seated in his living room.

But the man interrupted him with a raised hand. “I know what you’re about to ask, but I didn’t do it. I love Josephine. I want her back. I don’t want her dead.”

“Mr. Sheridan, were you aware that Mrs. Blackwell is in another relationship at the moment?”

The man jumped up on his couch. “Why? You know who it’s with?” But before Riley could respond, the man continued. “No need. I’m pretty sure I already know it’s that MacNeil backstabber.”

The name sounded familiar to Mila, and she did a quick search of the notes on her phone. “You mean George Harrison MacNeil?”

“Yeah, just the ruffian.”

Riley gave her a quiet nod, letting her take the lead. “He’s in your Buraco club, right?”

“Unfortunately.”

Mila kept scrolling her notes. “But aren’t he and Cherry Knox in a relationship? We saw them at the hospital together the other day visiting Mrs. Blackwell.”

Mr. Sheridan puffed out his cheeks. “Oh, I bet the old hag would love to get her spiky claws into MacNeil, but he only ever had eyes for my Josephine. I’m pretty sure he’s the one who stole her away.” The note of visceral pain in the man’s voice sounded genuine.

Mila still didn’t like him very much, but she was also starting to believe he had had nothing to do with the poisoning.

“Are you sure nothing is going on between Mrs. Knox and Mr. MacNeil?”

Mr. Sheridan gave her an empty stare, shaking his head. “At this point, I’m not sure of anything.”

Riley and Mila thanked the old man and took their leave, stopping to regroup outside his building.

“I don’t think he did it,” Mila said.

“Neither do I,” Riley agreed.

“So, what’s our next move?”

“I think we need to pay Mr. MacNeil a visit, see if he truly is Mrs. Blackwell’s new boyfriend, and if that leads to something else.”

***

Only when they got to Mr. MacNeil’s house, he wasn’t home. They waited him out, sharing a sandwich in Riley’s car, no naughty heating provided. But when the evening started to fall and Mr. MacNeil still hadn’t shown up, Mila had to ask Riley to bring her back home.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “But I have an appointment, and I can’t be late.”

Riley seemed to struggle for a second not to ask with whom or what the appointment was about, but in the end, he simply nodded and drove her home in silence.

When he stopped in front of her house, he had no idea how momentous the goodbyes were. That this would be their final act.

He simply turned to her, not even killing the car engine, and said, “Same time tomorrow, Bennet?”

She just nodded because words escaped her. And she was afraid that even if she managed to talk, she’d just implode and start all-out bawling, which wouldn’t be ideal if she wanted to keep her plan to free Riley of her forced proximity on the down-low.

Before she could change her mind altogether and grab his beautiful face to kiss him and never again let go, Mila exited the car and ran up her driveway.

Maybe it was best that he didn’t know what was happening. Best that he didn’t get to ask questions or look sad or even have a say in her decision.

Mila slammed into her front door, using magic instead of her keys to fling it open, and got inside, away from him, away from her stupid feelings.

Gargoyles, her high school potion teacher really must’ve been the worst judge of academic talent for almost failing her in his class. If the heart-wrenching intensity of her pulse now was any indication of her abilities, she’d turned out to be an excellent potion maker.