Page 125 of Hexed Up

“Wait,” my mum calls out to me as McGruff comes flying into the house and skidding to a halt by my feet. “How long will it take you to get home? On the transport public?”

I suppress a smile. “Public transport,” I correct her. “I don’t know. It’s a Sunday, probably about three hours.”

“Three hours!” she cries. “That’s far too long!” She takes a step closer to me and lowers her voice. “Why don’t you transport there?”

I clip the lead to McGruff’s collar, stand up and look at my mum.

“Because I don’t have my licence, Mum, and that would be illegal,” I say, slightly shocked she’d even suggest it.

“Hmm. Just a moment.”

She hurries back down the hallway to the kitchen – I can hear her rifling through cupboards – and then she’s back again, holding out a jam jar full of sparkling dust.

“Concealing powder,” she explains, holding it up to me. “It will conceal your actions from the authorities.”

“Yes, I know what it does, Mum, but it’s highly illegal. How on earth do you own this?”

She lifts her finger to her nose and taps the side. Then she opens the lid and sprinkles some over my head.

“Go on then, off you go. Go get your man.” She smiles at me.

“But I’m hopeless at transporting,” I remind her. “I failed the test multiple times.”

“Molly, you’re a brilliant witch. You can do it. Just take a deep breath, close your eyes and imagine where you want to go.”

I jump forward and wrap her in a hug, kissing her cheek, and then I do what she says. I take a deep, long inhale through my nostrils, blowing that breath out through my mouth, closing my eyes and picturing the hallway of Heatherley Court.

And then –pop– I’m there.

Chapter Thirty-Four

I grin. I did it. I actually did it. I transported to the place I intended to reach.

I yelp in delight and fist-pump the air. McGruff looks up at me like I finally lost my mind.

“Oh, come on,” I tell him. “You know I’ve been trying to do that for years and years and years.”

A spark of hope ignites in my belly. I can’t help feeling this is a good sign.

“Okay, Buster,” I tell him. “I think the next thing I need to do is something I have to do alone.”

I unlock the front door, usher him inside, close it again, and then – straightening out my T-shirt and my skirt and running my fingers through my hair – stroll across the hallway and knock loudly on Horatio’s front door.

Nothing.

Silence.

I knock again, and when there’s still no answer, I lean my ear against the door and listen. There’s no sound from within Horatio’s flat at all, and I sigh with disappointment.

There’s an impatience buzzing all the way through my body. I can’t wait. I need to talk to him. I need to talk to himnow.

I try to think where he could possibly be on a Sunday. He doesn’t go to the gym on Sunday. And he visits the supermarket on a Saturday. So where else could he be?

And then it hits me.

The Heath.

It’s another beautiful, glorious summer’s day and the Heath is the place to go if you need to think things through.