Page 23 of Bewitched (Hexes and Fangs: Holiday Editions #1)

The ‘Sweet Cauldron’ is a spectacle of sugar and shadows today, where the scent of strawberry and caramel drift through the air like an enchantment.

Every inch of the shop is designed to delight and is decorated to spook—glass jars filled with blood-red licorice and the sizzling blood-suckers, shelves stacked with pumpkin-shaped marshmallows, and cauldrons brimming with sour-gummies that sting the tongue like a mischievous bee spell.

The ceiling is covered with tattered black fabric, like remnants of a forgotten spell, swaying ever so slightly when the door opens.

Real cobwebs stretch across the corners.

From the beams, skeletons dangle on thin wires, their hollow eyes seeming to follow anyone who dares to enter.

Every customer has a story—a witch child who insists on the biggest candy bar, an old warlock reminiscing about the candy worm from past decades, a teenager ghost sneaking in front of the vampire grandma.

Two days until Halloween.

The neon sign flickers, casting funny shadows on the pavement and the jack-o’-lanterns in the window seem to glow just a little brighter than they should.

Inside, the shelves tower like haunted fortresses, stocked with chocolate bats and licorice twists coiled like witches’ spells.

I turn the sign to ‘Closed’. The air is thick with the scent of sweets, but there’s an unsettling stillness—no cheerful chatter, no rustling of candy wrappers.

Only the quiet hum of the old refrigerator and the occasional creak of floorboards, as if someone—or something—is still browsing the aisles.

The animatronic skeleton by the counter, meant to entertain customers, twitches sporadically, as though aware of something unseen.

I cover the jar filled with fake severed fingers, jelly eyeballs and candy bones.

Turn off the fog machine hidden behind the counter, which releases wisps of mist that creep along the floor, curling around the base of the shelves like ghostly whispers.

I walk to the back of the shop. The cauldron sits heavy, its iron surface cold to the touch.

I gather the wood, stacking it neatly beneath the basin.

A tattooed arm stretches to my left, and lights the wood, watching as the flames flicker to life, licking at the base and sending warmth creeping up the heavy metal.

"What are you doing here?"

"Good to see you too, nightshade." He stands up and starts pacing around the room, examining assorted bottles.

I pour in the first ingredient—one cup of sugar.

I use a thigh bone to scrape against the sides as I stir, coaxing the sugar to melt and bubble.

The femur is clean, obviously. The scent of caramel begins to unfurl into the air, rich and sweet.

One and a half cup of honey and one cup of spiderweb.

They melt into the mixture, thickening into something smooth and glossy. But sticky.

"What’s this?"

"Love potion." I sprinkle in 1/2 teaspoon of the citric acid and the edible glitter. As the mixture thickens, turning glossy and velvety, the steam rising from the cauldron carries the warmth around my hands.

"So you cheat. Sneaky, sneaky little witch." He leans on one of the counters.

"I have special customers." I pour one cup of water and ⒈／⒋ cup of berry juice and let the mixture boil.

"How did it end up into the candy?" He slides his hands into his pants pockets.

I remember following the same steps before the chaos started.

I know everything by heart. Every single ingredient.

The cauldron was bubbling, thick swirls curling into the air.

I reached for the berry juice, but my fingers—I was distracted by a sudden yell—close around the wrong bottle.

A single drop spilled into the mixture, shimmering pink, not red as it used to, dissolved into the candy like it was always meant to be there.

But then, the scent shifted—suddenly warmer, richer, intoxicating in a way no ordinary flavoring should be.

The bubbles rise slower, almost dreamily, the mixture growing thick as if resisting the bone spoon.

The steam curling from the cauldron no longer drifted aimlessly but reached, stretched, curled into a heart.

The mixture gleamed with an unnatural shimmer, luring the eye, making the heart beat just a little faster when eaten. I had no idea.

"Accident." I unseal the blood bag, and Nox focuses his eyes on it. Carefully pouring the fresh blood into the cauldron, I look over at Nox, being busy with taking out a cigarette. With a swift toss, I send the bag to him. I begin to stir at once, mixing diligently to prevent any clogs.

"Thanks." He laughs and tastes the blood from the satchel. "What the fuck?" He spits out.

4.The Reverse Love Potion. I added nightshade tincture, bloodroot poison, holy water infusion and garlic extract to the blood, because they all have a long history of medical and toxic uses.

Not THAT poisonous for vampires. Believed to only paralyze them.

Adding extra hawthorn, or vervain could kill. Inserting witch laugh.