Page 117 of Hexed Up

“Yeah,” I admit.

But still I don’t add the additional mugwort.

Another two hours later and we’re both satisfied that the potion is ready.

“Are you gonna go and get him then?” Damien challenges, placing his hands on his hips as if he half expects me to refuse. Which I do.

“It’s two in the morning, Damien. I can’t wake him now. And also, I’m struggling to stay awake.” I yawn and rub my eyes. “It’ll have to wait until the morning.”

“I want to be here when it happens,” he says.

“Why?”

“To make sure you actually do it.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I don’t trust anyone.” He points his finger at me. “Call me in the morning.”

And then, with apop!he’s gone.

I stagger back to my bedroom, opening the door to find it smells of Horatio’s aftershave and sex. A lot of sex. I fall into bed, not even bothering to remove my dress, yank the sheet up over me, and fall asleep dreaming of all the delicious things we’d done the night before.

I wake to the door buzzer and the yapping of my dog. I turn over, moaning, and peer towards my alarm clock. It’s 9 a.m. on a Sunday. This feels familiar.

It takes me a minute to remember all the events that have happened over the last few days – the exploding love potion, the fake dating, the enormous amounts of sex, all culminatingin a day spent brewing a love potion antidote. I peer down at my body, realising I’m still wearing yesterday’s now crumpled clothes, groan, and speed off towards the door.

I find Horatio and McGruff on the other side, waiting for me. Horatio has a cup of coffee and a bag of pastries.

“Wanna join us on our Sunday morning walk?” he says. “Or are you still in the land of nod, sleepyhead?”

“It is still an ungodly hour of the day, Mr Shaw,” I point out.

“And yet you’re already dressed.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Not quite.”

I usher them both inside, helping myself to the coffee in Horatio’s hand and taking a large gulp. I used to hate this stuff, but I’m definitely developing a taste for it.

“I actually wore these clothes to bed,” I confess, placing the coffee cup back on the counter.

“Why?”

“We were up late brewing the potion.” I point towards the cauldron on top of my stove. “Took us all day and most of the night.”

“Wow,” Horatio responds. “Maybe you did deserve a lie-in this morning.”

I shrug. “I’m up now.”

Jeez, as well as a coffee lover, am I also becoming a morning person? What has happened to me?

I walk towards the potion, prise off the lid, peer down, and take another sniff, pleased to find I’m still satisfied with my work. Horatio joins me, and McGruff sniffs around our feet.

“That’s it?” he asks. He sniffs too. “Doesn’t smell too bad – although it looks revolting. Are you sure you actually brewed a potion and didn’t just drain a body?”

“We’ve discussed this before, I’m a witch, not a vampire.”

He looks up at me, his blue gaze meeting mine. “Is it going to do weird stuff to me? Does it have any strange side effects?”