Potions & Proposals

by Kate Callaghan

all twenty-four families sat around the table: the Sundurns, Crawfords, Rodriguezes, Emerys and Larks,

Magical Family's

Peter didn’t need to know the reason he called Lucinda pumpkin, his favourite type of pie. Her hatred of the fruit only played in his favour. He loved how her irritation caused her to blush, highlighting the cluster of freckles across her nose.

“If you can’t beat them, join them,”

“She’s my fiancée,” Benedict announced.

Don’t even think about it. She’s mine. Always has been, and always will be.

“The town itself can burn.” He leant forward, pointing to the door. “But the women in the next room mean a great deal to me. If anything happens to them, or anyone brings them any trouble, then no sanctuary in this world or the next can help them.”

“I love Taylor Swift! This is my song!” Peter turned up the old CD stereo. Faye stifled a laugh, clearly never having seen a Grim dance to the queen of pop. Benedict didn’t know her well, but it was the first time he’d seen her smile. “Forgive him – the dead don’t get tired.” Benedict wished his brother had an off switch, but oddly, Faye didn’t seem to mind.

“You want me, Lucinda. I don’t know why you continue to deny what you truly desire.”

“My life’s not worth more than yours,” she said softly, resting her hand over his heart. “That’s where you’re wrong, pumpkin,” he murmured, so low she barely heard him. Suddenly, one of his hands was cradling her cheek, and butterflies filled her stomach. His gaze was intense as he brushed a thumb over her lips. “I never expected you to worry about me.” Is it the spell making me feel like this? Lucy found she didn’t care.

“We should wait until we do the curse-stripping potion. I need to know what you feel for me is real and not because of some stupid switch.”

“Lucinda, darling! You look fabulous, although I’m not sure why you’re dressed as your Great-Aunt Belinda?” Gwendoline said, eying Lucy’s harshly straightened hair. “I’m not. I’m meant to be Morticia Adams,” she said,

“Can you guess who I am?” He arched a brow. “Mine.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know how I feel about others seeing you look this good,”

“My only regret is not realising how I felt sooner, not telling you how much I wanted to take you to that damn dance, not kissing you by the lake when you gave me Greko. If you agree to be my wife, then I won’t have any other. You bewitched me, body and soul, long before any spell or potion,”

“Our elements may never return, our ancestors may reject our desire to be together, but Lucinda Hawthorne, I swear in this life and the next. I am yours.”