Page 51 of Hexed Up

“We witches have never been into devil-worshipping and baby-roasting and all the other awful things people have said about us over the years.” I frown. “It’s just the usual prejudice and bigotry people like to spread about people who are different.”

“But you are friends with a demon,” he points out.

“A reformed demon,” I counter, “or reforming. It’s hard for demons to resist creating a little bit of mischief, but Damien’s perfectly harmless.”

Apart from his shoplifting antics.

“So no necromancy or hexing?”

“None at all. Probably some boring board games, perhaps a round of tennis, and if we’re really lucky a brisk country walk.”

“Good, I love a board game.” He strides up the steps towards the entrance, a suitcase in each hand, leaving me and McGruff to scuttle after him.

The heavy oak door swings back as we approach revealing the interior of the lobby – much more ordinary-looking than the outside of the hotel – in fact it looks like every other hotel lobby.

Horatio’s shoulders relax a fraction, although they tense right up again, both suitcases tumbling to the floor, when the air pops and my mother appears in a swirl of face powder and perfume.

“Molly, dar–” my mother starts, then freezes when she registers the man in front of her. She stares at him as if he was the one who just appeared out of thin air. Horatio stares right back.

I step forwards, taking my mum’s arm in my hand and shaking it a little.

“Mum, this is Horatio, my,” I swallow, willing my cheeks not to pinken or my eye to twitch, “boyfriend. Horatio, this is my mum.”

“I wasn’t expecting him to be quite so …” She keeps right on staring at him.

“Quite so?” Horatio says, holding out his hand for her to shake.

“Tall,” she says, recovering herself and squeezing his hand. “The men Molly usually dates are much shorter and, well … so lovely to meet you and we’re so pleased you could join us.”

“Thank you for having me,” he says, flashing her one of his smiles.

My mum blushes in response, something I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her do, but then McGruff goes and spoils the moment by jumping up at her, demanding his fair share of attention.

“Oh no, you didn’t bring this little ball of nuisance, did you?” she says with disapproval, as I drag him away by the collar and she brushes down her trousers, removing invisible dirt from her legs. “Couldn’t you have left him at home?”

“No,” I say, “he does need feeding and walking.”

My mum points a loaded finger at my dog and gives him her trademark stern expression. “You are to behave today. Now go out to the gardens and don’t cause any mischief. I’ll call you inwhen it’s your dinner time.” McGruff whines in response and scampers off.

“Was that necessary?” I mumble. I’m not a fan of bewitching animals. It’s what I never do.

“It’ll keep him out of trouble.” My mum returns her attention back to Horatio. “Perhaps the two of you would like to get settled upstairs. Your room is number 15, second floor. We’re meeting for drinks in the drawing room at seven.”

“Where the murderer will be revealed,” I say in my best theatrical voice.

My mother huffs. “Please wear something smart, darling,” she says, examining my outfit with disapproval before leaning in to kiss the air by my cheek and then promptly vanishing.

“She seems–”

“A lot!” I sigh.

“I was going to say nice.”

He lifts the fallen suitcases and we climb the wide staircase up to the second floor, following the corridor until we find the fifteenth room.

“We never got a key,” he says, stopping in front of the door.

“Oh, it’s okay. The room will know it’s us.” As I say the words, the door clicks open and we step inside.