Chapter 32 #2
“Uh-uh.” Damien wags a finger at both of us. “The longer you leave this potion sitting around, the weaker it will become. It needs to be taken now.”
“Really?” Horatio asks, turning his head to me.
“Yes,” I confess. “It probably would be better to take it now. Go take a seat.”
He walks into the living area and sinks down onto the armchair. McGruff trots along behind him and curls up by his feet.
“Seems I’m not the only one changing,” I mutter. McGruff seems to have made a new friend. I’d even say he’s developing an attachment to Horatio. Hex it, what a mess!
“How much do you think he needs?” I ask Damien, who’s picked up the coffee cup and is sniffing the contents, wrinkling his nose.
“That smells suspiciously like something they serve up in the dungeons of Hell.”
“I like it.”
He shakes his head in disgust, then answers my question: “Give him a whole glassful of the potion, just to be on the safe side.”
“Doesn’t that seem a bit like overkill?” I say, remembering my worries that this antidote could lead to Horatio hating me.
“Judging by the noises coming from your bedroom yesterday,” Damien hisses at me, “you two have been doing it every possible way. He’s gonna need a large dose of this antidote to counter all the funny business.”
I stick my tongue out at my best friend, then stand on tiptoes to open the cabinet above my head. Fishing out the largest glass I possess, a pint-sized one, I dunk it into the scarlet-coloured potion, filling the glass right to the brim, then pull it out.
I find a tea towel, wipe down the sides, and carry it over to Horatio, presenting it to him.
He stares at the red, bubbling liquid with a lot of suspicion. I don’t blame him.
“And you’re sure it’s safe?”
“99.9%.”
“Terrific,” Horatio says, taking it from my hands.
I sink down onto the sofa opposite him, opening the bag of pastries and plucking out a cinnamon swirl, breaking it apart with my fingers as I watch Horatio. He sniffs the liquid again, then brings it to his mouth and takes the smallest, tiniest sip known to man.
“You have to drink all of it,” Damien commands. “Every last drop.”
“All of it? Is that completely necessary?”
“Probably not,” I say as Damien says, “absolutely!”
Horatio’s gaze flicks between me and my best friend. “Which is it?”
I sigh. “It’s probably best to drink all of it.”
“Okay then.” Horatio squares his shoulders and sits up a little straighter in the armchair. “Here goes nothing.”
He tips the glass back.
For the next few moments, we watch as he glugs the red liquid down his throat.
Glug, glug, glug.
Until every last drop has slid down his gullet. Then he slams the glass down on the coffee table and swipes his hand across his mouth.
We’re all silent. Even McGruff, who’s raised his head from his paws and is peering up at the man sitting beside him.
After several minutes, I ask, “Did it work?”
Horatio stares at me and simply shrugs.
“Hmmm,” Damien says, leaning against the kitchen counter and tapping a sharp claw against his chin. “There was no smoke billowing from his ears.”
“Smoke billowing from my ears?” Horatio snaps, then frowns at me. “You said there were no side effects.”
“That hardly counts as a side effect,” I point out.
“Yeah, but it didn’t happen,” Damien muses.
“Maybe it just hasn’t happened yet,” I suggest.
We both stare at Horatio, watching his ears for any sign of smoke.
Several more minutes pass.
“We must have done something wrong,” I say, wringing my hands together. “I must have mis-measured one of the ingredients, or simmered it for too long, or–”
“No,” Damien says, scowling across the room at Horatio, who is now squirming in the armchair. “It was a perfect potion.”
“Then why hasn’t it worked?” I exclaim in frustration, ready to stomp across the kitchen and throw my potion, my cauldron, and all my equipment straight out of the window. I thought I was good at this. I thought I had one talent, at least. Now I’m seriously doubting all my abilities.
“Yes, why hasn’t it worked?” Damien asks pointedly.
“Ahhhhh,” Horatio says.
“Ahhhhh?” I repeat.
“Ahhhhh,” Damien growls, his eyes flashing at my next-door neighbour who squirms even more.
“Why do I feel like I’m missing something?” I say, swinging my gaze between the human and the demon.
“There’s no reason this antidote wouldn’t have worked,” Damien says, “unless …”
“Unless?” I repeat.
“There was a problem with the original potion.”
“There wasn’t a problem with the original potion,” I say. “It bewitched Horatio into loving me.”
“Just walk me through that day once more,” Damien instructs me.
“Why?”
“Humour me.”
I sigh and explain exactly what I’d been doing, how far I’d got in brewing the potion, how I’d gone about doing it, all the different ingredients I’d added, and what had happened right up until the point it exploded and Horatio had inhaled a great big lungful of the love potion fumes.
“So you never added the moth wings?” Damien points out.
“What?”
“The moth wings. You never added them.”
I sink back into the sofa and close my eyes, recalling step by step what I’d done that day. My eyes snap open.
“I was just about to add the moth wings when my doorbell rang, and then the potion exploded.”
“The moth wings are a key ingredient,” Damien says. “Without them, the potion simply doesn’t work.”
I stare across my living room at the man sitting in my armchair, and my mouth falls wide open.
“The love potion didn’t work,” I say.
“The love potion didn’t work,” Damien confirms.
I jump up to my feet and glower down at the man in front of me. “You made all that stuff up – about feelings and needing to be near me! You lied to me!”
“No, Molly. No, I didn’t lie.”
“But the potion didn’t work, Horatio. So of course you lied,” I say, my voice rising as anger begins to build in my stomach, drowning all those nuisance butterflies. “Was this all just a game to you? A way to get me into bed?”
He’s a serial seducer. There are women coming in and out of his flat all the time. Am I simply another conquest to him?
And while this had all been a game of cat and mouse to him, I’d lain awake nearly every night worrying about the ethics of messing about with a man under the influence of my potion.
I’d been pulling my hair out about the possibility of being found out by the witching authorities.
I’d even gone as far as making a mental list of the things I’d pack in my bag for a stay behind bars.
Horatio jumps to his feet too.
“I didn’t lie, Molly. I’ve never lied. I have feelings for you. I had feelings for you. I’ve always had feelings for you.”
I take a stumbling pace away from him, peering up at his face in utter astonishment.
“What are you talking about, Horatio?”
“Molly, I’ve been in love with you for months. Months and months and months.”
“No,” I say slowly, shaking my head. “That isn’t true. You hated me. I drive you round the bend, remember? You’re always knocking at my door with complaints or nagging at me when we bump into each other in the hallway.”
“I was just trying to find an excuse to talk to you.”
I stare at him, completely lost for words. All the thoughts are scrambling in my head, everything I thought I knew rearranging itself.
“You were horrible to me because you wanted to talk to me?”
“I didn’t think I was being horrible, Molly. I’m sorry for that. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“But I’m not your type. In fact, I’m the exact opposite of your type.”
“Molly, you are very much my type.”
I shake my head. “I’m messy and chaotic and disaster-prone.”
“Molly, you’re creative and spontaneous and brilliant – just damn brilliant. And I’ve been trying to hang out with you for months!”
“Then why didn’t you ask me out?”
“You never seemed interested and I didn’t think I was your type. Too dull.”
“You’re not dull, Horatio,” I mutter. Or grumpy or anal or all the things I thought he was. But that just makes the lying all the worse, doesn’t it? Because I didn’t think he was a liar. A liar just like that last rotten boyfriend.
“This thing with the potion happened,” he continues, “and you kind of convinced me that it had worked. That it had made me fall even more in love with you. I just didn’t tell you that I was already in love with you.”
“You lied to me,” I repeat.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “But, Molly, it doesn’t change anything between us. I still have feelings for you. And I think you have feelings for me too. This has been the best fortnight of my life. The happiest. And I think we could be happy together.”
Helpfully, Damien makes some gagging noises from the other side of the living room.
I spin to face him. “Are you still here?”
He gulps and disappears with a pop!
Then I turn back to Horatio.
“Molly, I–”
“No, Horatio. No. I can’t do this right now. I’m too confused. I didn’t think you were a liar. I thought you were better than that. I need some space. Some time to think.”
“Right,” he says, taking a step away from me and plunging his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “Right. Of course. Of course you do. Maybe we could talk about this later then, when you’ve had some time to think.”
“I’m not making any promises,” I say, shaking my head. “Just please. Please just go.”
He nods, the sadness in his eyes heartbreaking. But I can’t think about that now, not when he’s betrayed my trust.
When he reaches the door, he hesitates and turns back to me.
“I really am sorry, Molly. I messed up everything.”