Chapter 56
Miles hummed quietly to himself as he picked at a fingernail.
She sat beside him and studied his face, slack and cold. What was wrong with him? Why was he being this way?
“I’m not one of them. And it was a spell I cast on Rill,” she repeated. “Not a hex.”
“I guess we remember it differently.”
A sick feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. “Why are you being this way, Miles? What’s going on?”
He leaned back on one elbow, his gaze roving the crowd before them. “You came looking for me, so why don’t you tell me?”
She concentrated on keeping her voice steady. “I think the spell I did was wrong. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done it.”
He got a weird look on his face, then turned away from her. “Why would you say that? I thought we agreed. Rill slept with your mother when she was a minor. He’s a fucking pedophile.”
“Miles.” The sick feeling in her stomach was hardening into a knot.
He shrugged. “Why are you telling me this, Ingrid? Tell your Goddess or whoever. Or go back home and reverse the spell. If you can.”
He turned back to her. His eyes were cool and blank. It was a look she’d never seen. Miles always had that innocent, eager to please, puppy-dog appearance that lit up his whole face. Now she felt like she didn’t recognize him at all.
She clenched her jaw, willing herself not to shout at him. Or to burst into tears. “Are you mad at me?” she asked.
“So what if I am? Why would you care? You have plenty of new friends.”
“Miles, stop being like this. If you’re mad at me, say so.”
He was quiet for a moment. “No, I’m not mad at you. I would be afraid to be mad at you.”
Her mouth opened then shut. “Afraid? Why?”
“Of what you’d do to me.”
She shook her head. “I would never do anything to you. You know that.”
Now he turned to her, gazing at her fully. “Do I?”
“Of course, I’m sure. Miles. You know I would never … I don’t even think I have the ability. Come on. You know.”
“What do I know?”
“That it’s not all me,” she said hotly. “That you sometimes like to help me out. With the spells.”
He studied her face for a moment, then let out a harsh laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She tilted her head. “You do. Miles. Boney told me everything. About Scoot at Peregrin. That you set the fire at the marina.”
He was shaking his head. “I had nothing to do with that.”
“Miles, it’s okay. I’m not mad at you. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, I do—”
“I haven’t done anything for you, Ingrid,” he said evenly. “It’s you. All you. All your magic. Your spells. You’ve done it all. Alone, start to finish.”
Ice filled her veins, raising goose bumps all over her body. “Miles, I don’t understand.”
He regarded her coldly. “What I don’t understand, Ingrid, is why you’re chickening out after how far you’ve come. After everything Sailor’s done for you and everything you’ve learned about her family.”
“I’m not chickening out—”
Miles appraised her coolly. “I saw you two dancing.”
Ingrid froze. “Miles—”
He blew out air through his lips and shook his head. “I knew he was going to do something like this. I bet he really laid it on thick, didn’t he? I bet he told you you were beautiful and said you two could work something out on the side.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You think you’re so hot because Boney sleeps with you.
Because Cas has a crush on you. But you’re not.
You’re just a circus freak to them. They want to sleep with a witch, Ingrid, because they think it’s kinky or something.
And Rill. Jesus, you gotta know it’s just some disgusting fetish to him, trying to get you …
to whatever. He went after your mother and your grandmother, that sick fuck.
And now I guess he’s going for the grand slam—”
“Shut up!” Ingrid yelled. “Shut up!”
“Don’t go to him, Ingrid,” Miles said in a low voice. “Don’t do it.” His eyes were locked on her, and she felt suddenly as if she was standing before him naked. Stripped of any pretense or lie.
“But Miles.” Her voice was a plea. “Don’t you see? It will fix everything.”
Then, in some imperceptible but real way, his face changed. It was as if he became a stone replica of the Miles she had known and loved. He was a stranger to her now.
Fear coursed through her. A deeper fear than she’d ever known. “Miles, please. I’m begging you—”
“What?” he snapped, eyes flashing a warning. “What are you begging me for, Ingrid? What do I have to give you?”
“Please … just stay away from Rill.”
They locked eyes.
He stood.
“Miles.”
He turned away from her and sauntered into the street, backlit by the fairy lights and the throng of dancing people. He was leaving the party but not headed back to the house. He was headed up toward Broughton Street. Back to town. But he’d left his jacket on the steps.
She grabbed the coat and ran to him. “Miles!”
He turned back, his face hard again, and stiffly took the jacket from her. “You better run home and undo your spell before all hell breaks loose,” he said. “Before he changes his mind about you.”
He walked away. All she heard was the DJ’s music—a Drake song now—and the screeching of the drunk, dancing guests.
A faraway siren, coming from down by the Riverwalk, wailing on its journey to someone in need of help.
She felt the sudden absence of air in her lungs, and dully wished the ambulance was coming for her.
She reached for something to steady her.
There was nothing around her, so she clasped her own hands.
But they were wet. Tacky from Miles’s jacket. It was too dark to see what the substance was, but she recognized the smell. The scent of copper.
She looked across the square, over at the Loeffler mansion.
Its newly washed walls gleamed in the dark, its windows glowed.
She looked back at the dancing crowd. Everyone was doing a line dance now.
She caught sight of Sailor at the lead, in her grandmother’s dress, shimmying beside Jude.
He had one arm around his bride and with the other was waving his jacket over his head.
Scoot was standing nearby, beside a gray-haired man Ingrid didn’t recognize.
Maybe her lawyer. Her hand was on his arm, her lips close to his ear. Rill was nowhere to be seen.
Oh no. She looked at her hands again just as light flashed from someone taking a picture with their phone. Her hands were streaked with blood.
No, Miles …
She sprang up from the temple steps and, skirting the edge of the square, she sprinted in the direction of the Loeffler house.
Running up the front steps, she threw open the door and stepped inside.
The front hall was dark. Shadowy and still.
So different from the wild celebrating taking place just steps away.
She shut the door carefully behind her and walked quietly through the two drawing rooms to Rill’s study.
She pushed the door open.
One lamp burned on the far end of the room, making the room look dramatic, like a scene set up for a movie. On a small table beside a leather wing chair, she saw an uncorked bottle of wine and two filled glasses.
She glanced around the room. “Rill?” Her voice sounded small and scared.
There was no answer.
She walked to the table. Looked at the glasses. “Rill, I’m alone. It’s safe.”
She looked out the large bay window, noticing the odd way one panel of curtains was pushed back against the wall. She walked around the end of the tufted chesterfield and felt her legs buckle under her and her vision swim.
It was hard to believe what she was seeing.
The horror.
The curtain had been snagged, caught and held by one of the two bodies that lay on the floor, draped over each other, face up, in the shape of an X.
A bloody X, as two thick rivers of blood ran from each of their heads, splitting into two branched waterfalls that splashed over their skulls and pooled on the rug beneath them.