LEO parked under a huge oak tree on a quiet residential street lined with small but well-kept Victorian bungalows, each in a different color. Number 4 was pink with pristine white gingerbread trim. For a second Leo just stared at it and wondered how he’d gotten here. Three months ago he didn’t know witches existed. Now he was bringing one pizza.
He hoped Cole liked pineapple.
He hoped Cole wasn’t secretly a serial killer who was going to push him into an oven and bake him.
Aside from being pink, Cole’s house looked like all the others on the street. It didn’t seem particularly witchy. Except—was that a fairy circle in the lawn? Was that a real thing? And were those bones hanging from that wind chime under the willow?
This was a bad idea. Leo could live with the curse.
Before he could turn around, though, the front door opened and Cole smiled at him. “Good, you’re here. I’m starving.”
He didn’t look like he was about to throw Leo in the oven, but he was making serious heart eyes at the pizza box. Between that and his T-shirt—it sported two bananas and the slogan you’re so appealing—Leo was disarmed. “No cursebreaking on an empty stomach?”
“No anything on an empty stomach. I get hangry. No one needs to deal with that.” Cole stood to one side and gestured Leo into the house. “Come on in.”
Well, into the lion’s den. Maybe.
The house looked normal on the inside too. Nice hardwood floors, framed photographs on the walls. Sure, there was a broom leaning against the wall by the front door, but that was probably just coincidence, right? Cole tidying up before entertaining a client?
Dealing with the paranormal was a lot easier when Leo just had to eat a lot of red meat and leafy greens.
Cole took the pizza and led the way deeper into the house, the lights coming on as he walked, illuminating his path. Leo screwed his courage to the sticking place and followed, casting around for any kind of opening conversational gambit. So, how long have you been a witch seemed like it might be insensitive.
Fortunately Cole took the problem out of his hands. “So, how long have you been playing on our side of the fence?”
Maybe it wasn’t so insensitive. Or maybe Cole was just blunter than a rubber mallet. “I met Roman at the beginning of June. So… three months ago, give or take.”
“Roman,” Cole repeated, raising very judgmental eyebrows. But he sounded somehow satisfied, as though Leo had confirmed something for him, potentially about how guys named Roman weren’t to be trusted, judging by his next words. “Of course he’s a Roman. No self-respecting obscure would have a name like Paul or Richard. Roman.” He shook his head. “It’s like they want people to know.” He sighed. “Roman. All right. And Roman was…?”
“Vampire.”
“A vampire.” Cole flipped open the pizza box. “Pineapple!” he exclaimed. “Brave choice.”
Leo fought the urge to fidget. “I thought, you know, the candy store….”
“Good guess!” he said cheerfully, pulling a pair of plates from the cupboard. “Nature’s candy, right? Excellent on pizza. Perfect complement to the salt.” He paused. “You’re not one of those heathens who eats pizza with a fork, are you?”
“Not unless I’m eating it while wearing a suit.” Leo liked casual eating, but he liked his suits more.
Cole passed him a plate. “Sensible. You want a beer?”
And not have to be dead sober when he explained his predicament? “Please.”
They sat at the kitchen table, Leo with his beer and Cole with a glass of milk. “Hate to let you drink alone, but I’ve had a rule against mixing magic with alcohol ever since Mom accidentally turned a garter into a scorpion at Cousin Julie’s wedding.”
Leo paused with a mouthful of pizza, then slowly resumed chewing. “Is that something you have to worry about?” he asked after he’d swallowed. He couldn’t imagine that. Never being able to cut loose and just relax, always needing to be on guard.
“Nah. Mine’s not an active power. The worst thing I’d probably do is disenchant somebody’s makeup glamor. But it pays to be cautious.”
Leo took a healthy swig of liquid courage. He hoped it wasn’t rude to ask, but Cole seemed fairly open. “So how does it work, exactly? You say you don’t have an active power, but your mom’s is. Are there people who can do both? Like more than one thing?”
Cole waggled his head, tearing a paper towel from the dispenser in the middle of the table. “It sort of depends. You know how there are some people who are just good at everything? Good-looking, captain of the football team, 4.0 GPA, and somehow you still don’t hate their guts?”
Leo had frozen guiltily with his slice of pizza halfway to his lips and his mouth open. Cole might as well have been reading from his high school yearbook.
Cole groaned. “Okay, presumably you’re familiar with one of those individuals. Magic is kind of like that. Some people are kind of good at a lot of things. Some people can only do one thing really well. Sometimes they can only do one thing and are still kind of crap at it.”
“So which category do you fall into?” Leo tried to guess. “I mean, there’s the cursebreaking thing and… whatever you did with the lights, right?”
“What I did with the lights?” Cole repeated. Milk lined his upper lip in a ridiculous mustache, which he mostly wiped away with paper towel. Then he grinned. “You mean the motion sensors?”
Oh. Leo maybe should have thought of that. His ears burned. “So much for that 4.0 meaning anything.”
“Eh, don’t feel bad. Brave new world and all that. No, I have a couple other abilities, but nothing major. When I was a kid, my family thought I was a muggle.”
Leo stared. “Wait, muggle, that’s an actual term you use?”
“Nah, but when Harry Potter got big, we started to use it. Raises fewer eyebrows and everyone knows what it means. Mundane’s the proper word, but it’s, well….”
“Mundane?”
“Exactly.”
“So your family thought you didn’t have magic?” Leo prompted. This seemed like a story he wanted to hear.
“Let’s just say they decided it was a good idea for me to learn a muggle trade, just in case.”
And he picked making candy. Not exactly the most lucrative endeavor, but it was sweet.
Cole wiped a bit of sauce in the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “What about you?”
Leo blinked. “I’ve always been a muggle.” He thought he’d been clear on that point.
“No, I mean, do you work?” Cole made a face. “Is that gauche? I don’t do a lot of small talk outside of sugar-adjacent subjects.”
Oh, right. “I work at the hospital. Nurse. I got off shift an hour before I went to see you at the store.” The twelve-hour days had been a bear to begin with, but he was used to it now and couldn’t imagine working the kind of job he had to do five days a week instead of three or four.
On reflection, no wonder he’d thought pineapple on pizza was an acceptable risk. His blood was probably 60 percent coffee right now. And that beer was going to hit hard too. It had been a long week.
“You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?” Cole asked as Leo set his beer farther away from himself. He didn’t need the temptation.
“Not on purpose. But I’ve worked just under fifty hours in the past four days.” And now that he didn’t have the adrenaline rush of worrying someone was going to think he was a lunatic for believing magic was real, he was going to crash.
Cole set down his pizza crust and dusted flour off his hands. “Gotcha. Well, let’s get to it, then.”
All at once, Leo’s apprehension came rushing back. “Just like that?”
Cole shook his head and stood, a self-deprecating smirk twisting his features. “Come on. I’ll show you where the real magic happens.”