Chapter Two

What’s in a Potion?

MILA

Mila’s familiar, Abel Pawington III—or Abby for close friends and family—jumped on the kitchen counter next to where she was working, bristling his whiskers skeptically. “Mila, your magical baking license is expired.” He was using his lawyer tone, Mila noted. “You can’t bake chocolate love muffins.”

“These aren’t muffins. They’re cupcakes,” Mila replied, licking a smear of dark batter off her thumb.

The black cat scratched behind his ear with a paw, visibly unimpressed by her answer. “Different baked goods, same issue.”

“Oh, come on, a little love potion never killed anyone.” Mila kissed the top of his head. “And it’s for personal use only, so it’s allowed.”

“And I’d respect that argument if you were making just one muffin—cupcake, whatever the thing—but it looks like you’re mixing enough dough to feed an army.”

Mila just smirked and kept adding ingredients, throwing in an extra sprinkle of sugar. “I poured too much flour the first time by accident, and I didn’t want to start over or waste the batter. So I just kept adding stuff.”

The mis-pouring might’ve happened a few times, in fact. She had added too much flour to begin with, making the batter too thick, and had had to compensate by adding more eggs and a bit more love potion, but then the batter had become too liquid so she’d added more flour and so on. By the time she’d reached the perfect consistency, she’d indeed whipped enough dough to feed, if not an army, at least half the small town of Salem, Massachusetts where she lived.

But Abby didn’t need to know all the details. Mila scratched the cat under his chin to mollify him. He stood rigid at first, doing his best not to purr and keep his reprimanding fa?ade on, Mila assumed. But eventually, she wore his stubbornness down, and his animal side took over. Purring loudly, Abby bumped his head against Mila’s hand and curled himself against her arm.

Satisfied, the witch let him go and went back to mixing the dark batter in a hot-pink bowl. “You worry too much, Abby. If not eaten, the love potion is going to lose its power by midnight, and I’m not planning on going anywhere tonight, so… no harm done. I’m just going to eat one cupcake and save the rest for the family Christmas meal tomorrow when my pastries will be just regular, delicious, magic-free chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting.”

Abel sighed. “Mila, I know the holidays can be difficult as a single, twenty-nine-year-old witch, but a love potion…? Come on, that’s—”

Mila tapped his head with a wooden spoon, leaving smears of chocolate batter on his shiny black fur. “Don’t say desperate!”

Abel lifted his paw as if his first instinct had been to clean himself and lick the batter off, but then he must’ve remembered the love potion mixed in because he froze with his paw in mid-air.

“Afraid of accidentally bumping into the Siberian Tabby lady next door and losing your mind over a bushy tail?” Mila teased him.

“That lady cat is hateful,” Abel replied indignantly.

“Sour grapes much?”

“Stop teasing me. I don’t like her,” he protested. “You got batter on my fur. Can you get it off?”

Mila rolled her eyes in an exaggerated gesture as if to say “you over-fussy little creature,” but she still wet a kitchen towel and lovingly brushed the minuscule smear of batter off of Abel’s thick head.

Despite himself, she imagined, the familiar went back to purring.

Cat cleaned up, Mila finished mixing the batter and spooned it into paper cases, filling each one carefully with just the right amount of chocolate gooeyness and then depositing each case into a dedicated hollow in a muffin-baking tray. Once she had two metal trays stuffed to capacity, Mila smiled widely at her handiwork. She placed the two trays into the pre-heated oven and set a timer for twenty minutes. While she waited for the base to cook, Mila started working on the frosting.

Soon, the aroma of melting sugar and chocolate wafted deliciously throughout the entire kitchen, mixing with the vanilla spice of the frosting.

Mila hummed to herself as she measured out the powdered sugar and butter for the frosting, whipping them until they turned into a solid, sweet cloud. She set the frosting aside and checked on the cupcakes. They were rising nicely and almost ready.

Soon afterward, the timer on her phone buzzed loudly to signal that the cupcakes were cooked. She took the trays out of the oven and carefully transferred each cupcake onto a cooling rack. She helped the cooling process along by blowing a magical, icy wind over them.

The frosting was next. Mila transferred the creamy vanilla mix into a pastry syringe and squeezed it into buttery curls over the pastries, whispering the final magic incantations as she went—and ignoring the disapproving glances of her cat all the more intently.

Abby’s whiskers kept twitching with worry, while his tail wouldn’t sit still. The cat’s displeasure was as clear as his fur was black. But as Mila finished decorating each cupcake with the white frosting and a sprinkle of silver glitter to give them a festive touch, even Abel had to admit the cupcakes looked perfect. “Those look amazing. I really don’t understand why you gave up baking.”

Mila’s stomach grumbled hungrily, and she reached for a spatula to scoop up the leftover frosting from the bowl. The delicate sweetness melted in her mouth, and a smile spread across her lips. “I gave up baking because I was tired of trying to please everyone else with my creations,” she replied. “But these cupcakes are just for me.”

Mila lifted one to her mouth and was about to bite down on it when Abel yelled, “Stop.”

Mila lowered the cupcake, letting out a frustrated sigh. “What now?”

“You’re about to eat a love potion that will make you fall in love with the next man you see. What if it’s the mailman?” Abel argued, referring to the sixty-year-old, married, balding, slightly overweight man who delivered their post.

Mila shrugged. “There’s no post on Christmas Day.”

“You know what I mean, what if the first guy you see is a total creep, or a serial killer, or someone you already know and can’t stand, or worse, someone who’s already taken?”

Mila smiled and patted his head. “Not how the magic works. The love potion is going to make sure the next man I meet is my perfect match.”

“Yeah, because everyone knows love potions never backfire. Tomorrow is Christmas. Who are you even going to see who’s not related to you?”

Mila stared out the window at the street, glittering with Christmas lights. “I could slip on the snowy curb on the way to my parents’, and a handsome stranger could save me, gently grabbing me by the elbow and preventing me from falling. Our eyes would meet while he held me in his strong arms and the rest would be history.” Mila batted her lashes dreamingly. “Or maybe I’ll meet someone at the Christmas market downtown. My one true love and I will reach for the same pomegranate, and our fingers will brush, sending tingles up our arms. He’ll offer me the pomegranate, I’ll refuse and—”

“You’ve been watching too many rom-coms,” Abel interrupted her. “You’re starting to sound delusional.”

Mila grinned. “Maybe I am. But can you blame me? It’s Christmas, the time of miracles and magic.”

Abel snorted, rolling his eyes, but didn’t push further. Over the years, he had learned there was no dissuading her when Mila had her mind set on something. And she appreciated him all the more for it.

Finally, Mila took a small bite out of the cupcake, then another. The chocolate was rich and decadent, and the frosting sweet and creamy. As she chewed, she felt a warm tingle spread through her body, starting at her toes and working its way up to her scalp.

Abel watched her with concerned yellow eyes as she finished the cupcake. “How did it taste?”

Mila smiled, feeling giddy. “Like a dream coming true.”

Abel rolled his eyes again. “So, what now?”

Mila bent down and kissed his furry head. “Now I’m going to take a bath. I wouldn’t want to stink when I meet Mr. Right.”