Page 69 of Zero Happily Ever Afters

Milo gestured with his arms, weighing imaginary factors in his hands. “One letter set this in motion. A message Theodore had likely been attempting to send since the day he ended up incarcerated.”

“And I helped him.”

“Your manifesta—” Milo bit back the word, realizing the extra intricate layers to my magic we’d recently unraveled. “Your evil-ish persona. Well… Not evil, evil. Like neutral evil, lawful evil? Hmmm. I’ll put a pin in that for later. Basically, your persona guy helped. Unintentionally. A smidge. The teensiest trickle. To something that Theodore would’ve likely maybe possibly kind of accomplished even if he hadn’t crossed paths with the chimera.”

Milo lied. Badly. He’d prevented every potential of Theodore seeking aid from outside the MDC the day he’d locked that warlock away, the thoughts poorly hid behind cheesy lyrics to some of Milo’s favorite songs.

But the chimera had required Theodore’s assistance to escape from the Doppler’s grasp and the confinement of the MDC himself. All he had to do was pass along a single message for Theodore in exchange. I ground my teeth. Of course something as innocuous as sending a letter would bring about utter devastation. It was Theodore Whitlock.

“Get out of your own head.” Milo squeezed me into a tight hug, drawing me from my thoughts and the inner core of my mind, and back to the bed where we rested together semi-awake after screwing.

Milo had literally kicked me out of my own mind. Sort of. Despite the amusement I carried for that, I dwelled on the horrors my magic had inadvertently brought about. Sure, the Doppler was the worst of me, but he was still me. Some tiny piece of my faults all stacked together.

“How does Theodore even know The True Witch?” I asked. “The Celestial Coven?”

“No idea.” Milo shrugged. “My guess is it’s like the Make-A-Wish Foundation but for serial killers.”

I struggled against his embrace, annoyed and anxious and feeling completely unworthy of any affection.

“Everything will work out.” Milo was unrelenting in his hold and still whispering secrets about his plan inside my inner core. “Theodore won’t have access to his branch. I’ve got guilds that’ll clear every ounce of demonic energy in a ten-mile radius when the day comes. I’ve got enough enchanters, Global Guild forces, and coven mates of the highest caliber. Seriously, Gladiatrix could probably drop every baddie single-handedly. But I don’t wanna gamble any losses, so we’re moving in as a small army.”

“How can you predict what Theodore will do? What any of the inmates will do?” I recalled how the dampeners of the MDC blocked Milo’s clairvoyant insight, which proved to be a double-edged sword. The warding prevented those incarcerated from using their own magics, but it also cloaked them from magics outside the facility. “Have you considered reaching out to the MDC? Moving Theodore?”

“Wow. That never occurred to me, especially with how the wheels of bureaucracy move super quickly.” Milo rolled his eyes so dramatically, I almost confused it for an intense vision. “Pretty sure if I file a petition with the state, they’ll set up an emergency meeting within six to eight weeks. I’ll express the urgency, and they’ll reject my proposal. I’ll get an email aboutan option to appeal. They’ll respond to my appeal three to four months later, probably with a rejection.”

I scowled. “Guessing you’ve been down this route before?”

“Lemme tell you how the state rejected my proposal about reinforcing the standard demonic energy repulsion enchantments across the city. The inquiry I made to help facilitate events during the Night of the Fiend Massacre.” Milo made a face, this dumbfounded, unamused expression. “They sent me the rejection letter six months after the incident. The incident where I’d already saved Chicago from the fiend massacre. Well, not me personally. Obviously, I worked with a lotta amazing witches. But I mean, I was the one who organized the entire thing. Juggling hundreds of variables. Basically, cementing myself as a truly badass bitch.”

“And so humble,” I teased.

“I can be humble.” Milo nibbled on my ear, rousing me from my sleep as he finished sorting visions, finished revealing his plan, finished resting up from round one and craving more of me. “Maybe you can give me some humble pie.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

Milo ran his fingers down the sides of my torso, delicate and teasing, then squeezed my butt with a firm grip. “Well, how about some humble cake.”

I glowered. “You just told me about how you’re planning on fighting a group of warlock extremists—”

“Witches,” Milo clarified because, of course, the Celestial Coven would only be deemed warlocks once convicted of a crime.

“Whatever.” I huffed. “You’re putting together a precarious mission to infiltrate the Metropolitan Detainment Center filled with thousands of incarcerated witches and warlocks to stop a coven bold enough to attempt such a thing so they can free a psychopath…and you think I’m aroused?”

“I mean, my cake-eating can get you there.” Milo made a goofy grin, ignoring the weight of the world that lay before him, the mission that held so many variables. “Look, the Celestial Coven has four pillars. The True Witch and three others who I’m mostly prepared for. As for Theodore Whitlock…I would sooner die than allow the shadows of his ominous presence to ever loom over Chicago or anywhere bright and beautiful in this world.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.” My eyes watered, turning Milo’s minxy expression blurry.

“You know what might make me feel better?” Milo blinked, making a sappy, pleading face as he pouted his lips. “Since I’m basically going into war and all that…”

“I swear to Christ, if you say cake!”

Milo nuzzled the crook between my neck and shoulder, burying his face in my skin. “You’ve got such a good cake, though.”

I smiled a bit as the memory fizzled away, and I found myself drawn back to the stress of the present, wishing I could linger in that memory forever, wishing I could skip past the fear I had for Milo’s current mission, wishing I had more to offer him than my quiet support while here at the academy showcase.

Straightening my posture, I tied my hair back into a messy half-up bun, and I did my best to focus on the opening ceremony taking place in the auxiliary gym. It’d taken nearly the entire morning since Headmaster Dower insisted on the formality of traditional introductions. It boiled down to a cotillion-esque charade where each student was announced and then had their magic, accolades, and rankings listed. She wanted to introduce every single second-year student, all 599 of them. I yawned and attempted to focus since the headmaster had finally reached my homeroom, starting the introductions with their coven formation first.

I rolled my eyes when Ben Dover’s Coven was announced. Despite the contempt I held for that damn name, the hilarity of it conjured bubbling laughter from the audience. So much so that the joyful emotions radiated in waves that rocked against the shores of my anxiety, washing away my fear like it was nothing more than a sandcastle on the beach.

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