Chapter Nine

Not Another Fascinus Pic

MILA

Once the disrememberance team discovered that Mila was the witch who had brewed the love potion, they put her in charge of concocting an antidote. Then she’d have to administer it to all the human attendees of the recital who had eaten a cupcake and consequently fallen in love with the most improbable matches. While the rest of the disrememberance team would focus on those humans who had witnessed magic they shouldn’t have.

Antidotes sucked. For one, they stunk. Then they took an excruciating amount of precision to brew properly, and patience truly wasn’t Mila’s forte—she’d almost failed potion class in witching school exactly for that reason. And then there was the fact that antidotes were time-sensitive, and the longer it took from the time the potion was consumed, the less effective they turned out—with the added risk of lasting damage. Hence why she had to be extra precise but also super fast.

Nevertheless, even Mila recognized she was the best person for the job. Magic had a way of recognizing itself, and antidotes brewed by the same witch who’d created the initial potion were tenfold more potent than if another witch or wizard made them. So, Mila really had no choice.

She’d tried to give her love life a little boost, and now the Cosmo was punishing her. And the worst part? She had no one to blame but herself.

She could still hear Abel’s warning words, which she’d chosen to ignore, in her head. Her familiar had warned her about the risks, and she’d still taken them. Why? Because Mila had reached the point where the idea of having to go on another Spellbinder date had her so nauseated that she’d rather resort to a potion as a last-ditch effort to find love outside of a dating app. And yes, if you’d been on enough Spellbinder dates, you’d agree with her. She didn’t need to receive another unsolicited Fascinus pic, thank you very much. Mila had received enough phallic charm images to last her a lifetime.

But the dating pool as a witch was limited. Mila had already tried dating a regular guy once, a non-wizard. He was sweet and charming. Had she been an ordinary gal like him, they’d probably be married by now. But she wasn’t. She was a witch, and by the end of their first month together, she already had to disremember him so many times she feared that if they kept on dating, he’d get some lasting brain damage.

Taking all that into account, making a love potion had still looked like a reckless move, but the alternative had seemed, at the time, even more daunting. Now, not so much. If she’d listened to her familiar, now she could’ve been in bed curled up with a book, or sleeping, and not have a criminal record.

Oh, Abel was going to have a string of I-told-you-sos so long, she’d be listening to them until the day she turned eighty. But at least now her familiar was at home and cozy—Mila had asked Juniper to give him a lift from the police station—probably warming his paws in front of the fire. Contrary to her, who was stuck at Willow’s school for the entire night brewing the smelliest antidote.

Mila could feel the exhaustion already seeping into her bones. Being stunned was no walk in the park. And neither was having to deal with Tall, Dark, and Stuck-up and all his sexy thoughts.

But Mila didn’t have time to think about that right now. She needed to focus on the practical aspects of getting herself out of this mess of her own creation. And the first step was to erase any trace of her unfortunate love potioning.

After procuring all the right ingredients from the magimedic team, Mila had to spend an incredibly stressful half an hour bent over a cauldron, trying not to inhale too much of the stinky fumes as she brewed the antidote. It was tedious work, but she couldn’t mess it up. Lives were at stake, after all.

But that was nothing compared to what came next: actually administering the antidote to the affected victims.

Antidotes didn’t taste any better than they smelled, and a concoction whose sole purpose was to rid its drinker of amorous feelings? Well, it was bound to be truly disgusting. Add that antidote-takers couldn’t be left alone for fifteen minutes after having drank the remedial potion, and Mila spent the following four hours alternatively coaxing and cajoling the victims to drink the antidote and then keeping them company while they rode out the effects.

Like with drunks, she got all kinds of lovesick types.

Some were embarrassed, some were angry, and some were just plain sad. The worst ones, though, were the whiny variety for whom Mila had to put on her best sympathetic face and pretend she was interested in listening to their sob stories about their magically induced, unrequited love. It was exhausting, but it was her responsibility. At least they hadn’t asked for this.

As the night dragged on, the gym emptied out as people got cured of their woes of the heart and had their memories selectively readjusted afterward.

But at least not the entire night had been a waste. While she listened to the lovesicks complain about their lives, Mila had gathered enough intelligence to pinpoint at least three suspects for the attempted murder of Mrs. Blackwell.

That knowledge put a spring in Mila’s step as she crossed the gym. Even though the night had been long and tiring, she’d made some actual progress on the case, and she couldn’t wait to share her findings with Mr. Big Cop. But as Riley spotted her coming and their eyes met across the basketball court, his expression told her he was less than thrilled to have to deal with her again.

He didn’t seem angry, per se, but there was definitely a coolness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. So, the fun times they’d shared in the car were over, and it was back to him playing bad cop. Unbidden, an image of what Riley would look like playing bad cop in bed invaded Mila’s mind. She pictured herself naked and handcuffed to a bed while he towered over her, his expression stern and unyielding as he teased and tormented her with pleasure. The thought was so unexpected she didn’t even think to guard it.

Oh gargoyles, she hoped with all her soul that he hadn’t received a mental image of that very inappropriate sexual fantasy. But Riley’s brows knitted so close together in such a formidable scowl that Mila felt certain that he had seen something . And then he looked at her, eyes dark and fathomless.

She was so busted.