Page 6 of Werewolves and Witches AU

Operation Magpie is on.

3

How Hard Can It Be?

Milo

I squeeze the small soft toy in my hand. This little witch on a broomstick keychain used to be Anabelle’s. I found it tucked away in the bag of vintage clothes when I finally made myself go through and sort them. Since then, it’s become a sort of stress toy.

Up goes the little witch on a broomstick. Catch.

Up goes the little witch on a broomstick, again. Catch.

Squeeze. This stuffed keychain used to be Anabelle’s.

Throw. Catch.

Despite Brightview Court already calling to inform me that Ethel made a full recovery by lunch time—before her poker game started—I can’t shed this itching feeling that’s under my skin. There’s something about today. Something other. I need to be here, in my room, but I don’t know why.

Up goes the little witch on a broomstick. Catch.

I’ve been here all day and still can’t figure out what’s guiding me.

Throw. Catch.

The aggressive vibrating of my phone on the nightstand cuts through my fizzing thoughts like unscrewing the cap on a bottle of shaken-up soda, and I drop the stuffed keychain on my face.

Stretching for my phone, I blow out a long breath when it’s Ray’s caller ID on the screen.

“Hey, Miles, I thought you were coming over for dinner tonight?”

I smile softly at my nickname; Ray’s the only person who’s ever given me one. Well, except Anabelle—but Millie-Moo wasn’t really all that great when she would yell it out loud to get teenage Milo’s attention in a crowded space.

“Hey right back, I thought dinner was Wednesday?”

“Yeah, and it is Wednesday.”

“Oh. Shit, sorry Ray-Ray… I forgot.” I roll over, swing my booted feet out of bed, and scrub my free hand down my face where it catches in my septum piercing and scrapes over my stubble. Ugh, I need a shave.

“No worries. Are you… okay? You don’t sound like your usual chaos-gremlin self.”

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I mean, not fine fine. But good. Nothing’s happened.” I search out my little stuffed keychain from in the tangle of sheets.

“Milo… talk to me. Either over the phone, or come around for dinner and let me feed you while you talk.”

I’m so glad I found Ray—he’s the best best friend ever. I slip my finger through the keychain loop and spin it around my finger. It’s not that I can’t tell Ray about this strange feeling that’s cost me the day, it’s more that I don’t have the words to describe it yet.

Instead, I ask, “Do you think I need a keeper?”

There are some shuffling noises through the open line, then the glugging sound of pouring liquid. Wine. The answer to this question evidently requires wine. But also, Ray is older and much more sophisticated than me, the type of man who drinks a glass of wine with dinner just because.

“Did you, by any chance, visit Ethel today?” he ventures.

“Mhm, yeah. We had breakfast together. But I don’t see—”

“You know when she says that, she’s not being condescending, don’t you? She doesn’t want you to have a keeper because you’re not great at adulting…”

I snort out a laugh.