Page 22 of Hexed Up

“How can you have that much money lying about the place? I thought you were in banking! Or is that code for drug dealing?”

“I have it in the flat in case of an emergency.”

“Oh my goodness, are you one of those men who has a rucksack packed with emergency supplies and a shovel in case of an apocalypse?”

“We only just came out of a pandemic. It’s perfectly logical to be prepared for another world emergency. You don’t knowwhat might happen next,” he says. “For example you might be poisoned by a witch and her demon buddy.”

“Hey,” Damien lifts both palms, “the poisoning was nothing to do with me.”

“But you are her partner?”

“Are you asking me if we’re sleeping together?” Damien asks.

Horatio shifts his weight from one foot to another and I assume he is.

“Ewww,” Damien and I say in unison.

“He’s like my brother,” I say.

“She has breasts!” Damien points towards my cleavage and I pull at the neckline of my dress.

“Here,” Horatio says, ignoring us both and shaking the money in Damien’s direction. “Here is the money needed for the ingredient.” And why does that elicit a teeny pang of disappointment, all those butterflies from earlier dropping to settle heavily in my belly? Mr Hottie is obviously pretty darn keen for this potion to be reversed if he’s happy to hand over his money to a creature he considered entirely fictional twenty-four hours ago. “Do you need to count it?”

Damien peers over to me in desperation. He wouldn’t know where to begin with counting pound notes if his immortal life depended on it.

“You really don’t have to do this. This is my fault. I’ll find the money from somewhere, or we can just wait until the store gets some back in stock.”

Damien shakes his head. “Apparently there’s a current worldwide shortage. Some accident at a witching school in Bulgaria has sucked up all supplies.”

“Cyclops’ eyeball!”

Two thousand pounds! I could ask Prim for a loan.

“Seriously,” Horatio says, thrusting the cash into Damien’s hands. “It’s fine.”

“Great,” Damien says, snatching the money before I can argue again. “I’ll have the ingredients in no time. Catch you later,chicas. And remember, no funny business.” His eyes flash and his voice lowers to a menacing growl that has McGruff shaking, “I have my eye on you, Mr Shaw.” His tail cracks through the air and then he’s gone.

“Shit! That was …” Horatio says, the golden colour drained from his face.

“He’s just messing with you. He’s never actually harmed any of the men who have fucked me about.”

Although, that’s not strictly true. He did scare the last cheating, lying boyfriend so badly the dude took himself to A&E convinced he was having a heart attack. He wasn’t – it was heartburn. Still, it was immensely satisfying.

“I’ll pay you back,” I say, wondering how exactly I will.

“Don’t worry about it.” He slides his hand through his hair. “So no,” he adopts Damien’s very English accent, “hanky panky, huh?”

“I’m afraid not. This friendship will have to remain platonic.”

“No benefits?”

I shake my head. “You’d probably regret it once the potion wore off.”

“I wouldn’t,” he says.

And why does that have the stupid butterflies rejuvenating and causing a frenzy once again?

Chapter Eight