Hex and Candy

by Ashlyn Kane

  “‘Take Niamh with you,’ he says.” Leo looked at her. “Like you weren’t even there. Rude. Niamh, could I impose? I’ll buy you something shiny.”

  Niamh cocked her head. “I want a whole bag of Christmas tinsel.”

  “It’s October!” Cole protested.

  Whatever, Leo could definitely buy that on Amazon. “Done!” he said. “Let’s go.”

  With the labor shortage, Leo hardly had time to think about Roman, the curse, or Niamh flitting from window to window as he worked. By seven, just an hour from the end of his shift, he started to think Cole had worried for nothing.

  So of course that was when everything went sideways.

  The sun slipped below the horizon as Leo was checking the vitals on a post-op patient. He shivered but figured it was just a random misfiring of his nervous system.

  Then something tapped frantically on the window, and he just about dropped the patient’s chart. When he had his limbs under control, he put the chart down and cranked open the window the few inches hospital regulations allowed.

  “What?” he hissed, grateful for the anesthesia that meant his patient wouldn’t be waking up anytime soon.

  “Something’s happening,” Niamh whispered, hopping nervously from foot to foot. “At the ER drop-off.” She jerked her head.

  Leo followed her gaze to a familiar shiny black sports car and the bottom fell out of his stomach. “That’s Roman’s car.”

  “Find a long-term patient’s room,” Niamh advised, her movements quicker now, obviously agitated. “If they don’t invite him in, you might be protected—”

  But then Roman got out of the car and went to the back seat, where a familiar face leaned against the window, and Leo did something very stupid.

  He booked it for the stairs.

  His tennis shoes squeaked on the floor as he rounded the corner from the patient’s room into the hallway, and he narrowly avoided colliding with an orderly. But then he had a straight shot to the stairwell, where he took the steps three at a time, his heart beating a thousand times a minute, his palms sweating. He hoped against hope as he burst into the ER waiting room just in time to see Roman set the body on the sidewalk outside the hospital. He met Leo’s eyes, and for a bizarre second Leo thought he looked regretful as he melted into the shadows.

  But Leo didn’t have time to analyze Roman’s motives. “Get me a gurney!” he shouted. He hit the door at full speed and dropped to his knees on the pavement, praying he’d find a pulse.

  Jimmy’s skin was cool and clammy, his eyes closed. Leo touched his wrist, not daring yet to check his neck, and leaned down. Had Roman waited too long? Had Jimmy—?

  “Ready?” someone asked, and Leo realized the team he’d called for had arrived. On autopilot, he helped get Jimmy loaded onto the stretcher, and then one of the ER doctors took over.

  “Slow pulse, shallow respiration. Patient seems to be in hypovolemic shock. Start an IV to push fluids and get him started on a transfusion. And get him a CT scan, we need to find out if he’s bleeding internally. Go.”

  Leo went with the team, doing his best to keep calm, to keep Jimmy alive. If anyone was upset that he’d left his floor to help, they didn’t mention it to him.

  His shift went late. By the time Jimmy was stable and the transfusion was done—and a police guard posted, since he seemed to have been attacked—Leo’s eyes were gritty and he was exhausted. He stood under the hot stream in the shower for five minutes, trying to wash away the sight of the neat puncture wounds on Jimmy’s neck and elbow.

  And then he remembered Niamh.

  Shit.

  He dried and dressed quickly, hopping without grace into his shoes. She was probably frantic; she’d told him to try to hide—

  Cole was in the hospital waiting room, ashen-faced, gripping his phone so tightly his fingers were white. A crushing wave of relief washed over Leo as Cole stood, expression pinched. Before he knew it, Leo was throwing his arms around him, sinking into Cole’s embrace as Cole curled his fingers in the back of his shirt.

  “You asshole,” Cole muttered into Leo’s shoulder. “Niamh flew home and told me. I was fucking frantic. No one would tell me anything.”

  “Sorry,” Leo said against the side of his head. “Sorry, sorry, I was with the doctors getting him stabilized, I went into emergency nurse mode. I didn’t think about you and Niamh.”

  “She says you owe her two bags of tinsel now.”

  Leo shuddered in his arms, not caring who saw. People hugged in ER waiting rooms all the time. No one would begrudge him this. “I will buy her a damn case.”

  They stood like that until Leo could bear to let go a little, but even then Cole only pulled back far enough to look Leo in the eye. “How is he? Jimmy, right?”

  “Hypovolemic shock,” Leo said grimly. “He lost a lot of blood, but we think he got here in time to avoid organ failure.” He raised a hand to his face to rub his eyes and realized he was shaking. His eyes stung. “Shit.”

  “I think I better drive you home.” Cole put an arm around his shoulders and turned him toward the door. Leo leaned into his warmth, surprised when Cole took his weight without bending. “Come on. Did you eat?”

  Leo tried to think. He’d had an energy bar or something a couple of hours before his shift was supposed to end. He didn’t know how long ago that had been. “Not really.”

  “Soup,” Cole said decisively. Then, “Oh.” He reached his left hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out the ever-present candy bag. “Have one of the red ones.”

  He should have known Cole would medicate him with candy. Leo took one and popped it into his mouth, expecting peppermint. Instead it tasted of spiced apple cider, notes of cinnamon and maybe nutmeg and clove. It made him feel warm too, like he was snuggling under a blanket on the couch rather than being escorted out of the hospital. It was a simple thing, but it made his throat tight. “Thank you.”

  On the way home Cole stopped at a drive-through Tim Hortons for soup and steeped tea and, after a sideways glance at Leo, a chocolate-glazed donut.

  “Do you think…,” Leo started when they were home, seated at the kitchen table. He’d changed into a pair of Cole’s too-small sweats, mainly for the comfort of wearing Cole’s clothes.

  Across from him, Cole met his eyes steadily, nudged his foot under the table. “What?”

  Leo dropped his gaze to his soup, unsure how to phrase his question. He didn’t want to make excuses for Roman. He was long past that. But something didn’t add up. “I saw Roman drop Jimmy at the ER. But what I don’t get is why. I mean, unless vampires can develop drinking problems, I guess. Is that a thing?”

  “I don’t know enough vampires to say, but I imagine if it’s in human nature to do things to excess when you’re mortal, that doesn’t just go away when you give up sunlight and vegetables.” Cole frowned. “Obviously he wasn’t like that when you were dating?”

  “No! He said he only needed to drink a few mouthfuls every week. There’s no way he would’ve needed to do that to Jimmy. Certainly not twice,” Leo said, warming to his subject. “And if he was going to turn into the kind of vampire who takes too much and leaves his victims barely clinging to life, why take him to a hospital and risk getting caught?”

  “Huh.” Cole considered that, toying with his paper cup. He’d finished his tea already by virtue of the fact that he’d ordered it with enough cream to make it tepid. “I don’t know. And this wasn’t your regular shift—it’s not like he knew you were working, right?”

  “Not unless he’s got the hospital phone lines tapped or something.”

  “So presumably this wasn’t some weird scare tactic.”

  “Yeah. But what, then?” Leo shook his head. “I mean, wounded pride is one thing. The curse was well designed, but the idea of it seems sort of… impulsive. And it didn’t actually hurt anyone, blue balls notwithstanding.”

  Cole snorted. “A reputable source tells me those aren’t a medical issue.”

 
Leo blinked innocently. “So you’re saying I don’t need further treatment?”

  “Well,” Cole backpedaled. “I mean, an ounce of prevention, right? Just because there’s no evidence to say—”

  Leo nudged his foot under the table, and he shut up. “What I’m saying is, either he’s escalating into very dangerous territory, or we’re dealing with something else entirely.”

  Cole sighed. “Now there’s a cheerful thought.” Then he stood and went to the pantry, removing items seemingly at random and setting them on the counter.

  Flummoxed—surely Cole wasn’t hungry; he’d presumably had a regular dinner and he’d also eaten half Leo’s donut—Leo said, “What are you doing?”

  “Protection spell,” Cole said grimly. “I have one on the house already, but another layer can’t hurt. And you need an amulet. I should’ve made one weeks ago.”

  Leo watched in fascination, wondering what ingredients Cole had set out—whether he had these things on hand all the time or had bought them special. “I thought you said you don’t have an active power.” He’d had to have Kate charm his EpiPen to stay the right temperature, since he kept leaving it in the car. Leo had given him a hard time about that, but Cole was stubborn.

  “I don’t.” Cole rummaged in a cupboard and pulled out a beat-up round-bottomed metal—a cauldron. He pulled out a cauldron. Just casually, from a cupboard where you’d keep any other pot. Leo wondered how he’d missed it before. “But any witch can cast a basic protection spell if they know the ingredients. Not much talent involved.”

  Cole poured ingredients into the cauldron, working by feel rather than with any measurement system Leo could see. “So how is this spell different from the one you already have?” If he was going to be caught up in this world, he might as well learn as much as he could about it.

  “The existing one’s more of a… warning?” Cole picked up something that, when he tipped it over, smelled like sulfur. “The broom by the front door is a low-level charm against mischief—always bristles up, otherwise it’s unlucky.” Something in the cauldron made a whoomph noise, and a little smoke rose. It was purple. “Mostly it lets other obscures know a witch lives here and they shouldn’t mess with them.”

  Leo cocked his head. “But couldn’t that also invite trouble? What if someone didn’t like witches or wanted to use your powers for evil?”

  “Use my powers for evil? Really?” Cole rolled his eyes. “You have a dimmer view of humanity—mundane and obscure—than I do.” He uncorked a vial of something and the cauldron made a bubbling noise, despite the fact that Cole hadn’t actually added anything to it. He put the cork back in. “Anyway, there’s a protection spell around the house that’ll make a hell of a noise if anyone comes here with ill intentions. It won’t do much but wake me up—well, me and the rest of the neighborhood. And the exterior lights will come on.”

  “I suppose that would scare off most ne’er-do-wells.”

  Cole snorted, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You sound like my grandmother.” Then he sobered and tossed a bunch of dried lavender into the pot, stems and all. “This one will go farther—it will actually repel those who come with malice in their hearts.” He looked up and lifted a shoulder. “Sorry, I sound like a textbook.”

  “No, no, I’m enjoying the lesson.” And watching Cole work helped take his mind off less pleasant things. He imagined watching Cole make candy would have much the same effect. “How come you haven’t cast this before now?”

  “Hasn’t been a need.” Cole finished off whatever he was doing with a handful of down feathers, then started putting the ingredients back in the pantry. Leo supposed he was lucky he hadn’t accidentally put eye of newt in the artichoke dip the other night. “Besides, this isn’t exactly going to be pleasant.”

  Before Leo could ask what he meant, he took a knife from the block on the island, closed the fingers of his left hand around it, and sliced.

  “What are you doing?” Leo jumped out of his seat, the chair skittering across the floor as he reached for Cole’s hand.

  Cole dropped the knife and warded him off with his right hand, holding his left over the cauldron and squeezing, his face pinched. “I told you, it’s not pleasant, but it’s a necessary evil. So to speak.” The mixture in the cauldron had turned to some kind of gray dust, with no trace of any of the individual ingredients.

  “Will you at least let me clean it?” Cole had cut himself deeply. “I want to make sure it heals properly.”

  “When I’m done,” Cole said. “Meanwhile, can you grab the lantern by the back door and light it? I’ll need you to hold it as we walk the perimeter of the house. We could use a flashlight, but….”

  “But?” Leo prompted.

  Cole lifted the cauldron in his uninjured hand. “But you’re totally geeking out about this, so why not go whole hog? Besides, I think I’m out of D batteries.”

  So Leo dutifully lit the lantern, holding it aloft so Cole could see what he was doing as he reached into the cauldron with his bleeding hand and spread the ash in an unbroken circle around the house. Somehow, despite the wind and everything Leo had ever observed about dustlike substances, the line remained solid.

  “Almost done,” Cole murmured, seemingly to himself. As the line he was spreading connected with the other end at the back door, it glowed briefly before disappearing.

  Then Cole said, “Oh, wow. Yep. That was dumb,” and wobbled a little on his feet.

  Leo put an arm around his waist and helped him to a seat on the back porch bench. “I take it this is why you don’t do this often.”

  Cole leaned against the trellis. “This wouldn’t happen if I had an active power,” he half slurred.

  Leo blew out the lantern and set it and the cauldron on the counter in the kitchen before returning for Cole. “Come on. You need hydration and first aid. Luckily for you, I know a nurse.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  WASHING the ash out of his cut hurt, though having Leo play nurse took some of the sting out. So did the ice-blue mint he took from his stash—an analgesic he usually kept on hand for the times he burned himself making candy.

  “Those things aren’t addictive, are they?” Leo asked, pulling on a pair of latex gloves as they sat at the kitchen table. He reached for a sterile cotton pad and the bottle of rubbing alcohol.

  “Nah. Magic.” Cole lifted the shoulder of his uninjured hand. “I mean, I guess long-term effects on the brain probably haven’t been studied by scientists or anything. But I’ve never heard of anyone getting addicted. Maybe just to the candy.”

  “Sugar addiction is real,” Leo agreed, his fingers gentle on Cole’s wrist as he turned the palm up. The magic didn’t numb everything, so it still hurt when Leo gently pressed on the flesh to make sure there was no ash left in the wound.

  Though Leo was careful, the rubbing alcohol made Cole grimace, the harsh scent stinging his nose.

  “This is pretty deep. You should probably have stitches.” Leo raised his eyes to Cole’s face. “And maybe ask the nurse for advice before you cut your hand for a damn blood sacrifice next time. The outside of your arm would’ve been better. You’ve seen too many dumb movies.”

  Cole flushed. He would have liked to say he’d picked his hand for a good reason, but in truth, he hadn’t thought about it. He’d never done this sort of protection spell before—or any other kind of blood magic. “I guess I’ll have to suffer.” His stomach lurched a bit as Leo sterilized a needle, and he looked away out the window just as Niamh flew in.

  She didn’t say anything to Leo—apparently he was still on her shit list—but she cocked her head at Cole. “Really? You cut your palm?”

  Leo snorted quietly but said nothing, just adjusted Cole’s arm so it rested comfortably on the throw pillow he’d borrowed from the couch. “Try not to look. I’ll be as gentle as I can.”

  Cole bit his lip and kept his eyes on Niamh, thinking about the other thing he needed to find. Something that would protect L
eo when he wasn’t home with Cole. Cole had never heard of an amulet so powerful that it would actively repel anyone who sought to do the wearer harm, but certain trinkets would grant some amount of luck when it came to evading such people. The problem was that most required an item of some significance—heirloom jewelry worked best, since it could usually be worn inconspicuously, but Cole didn’t have any, and he wouldn’t ask Gran. Items made by the spellcaster could also work, but Cole doubted any of his candies would stand up to the magic he’d need to put inside them. They’d probably melt and Leo would get a sugar burn.

  “Cole?” Leo prodded.

  Cole looked over without meaning to and saw that Leo had finished the stitches while he’d been thinking. Seven tiny, precise lines down the center of his palm. That gave him an idea.

  “Do you have anything better than Polysporin?” Leo asked.

  Actually, Cole did, somewhere in the back of his fridge, provided it hadn’t spoiled.

  It hadn’t, and Leo applied some of the salve to Cole’s cut before carefully wrapping his hand in a layer of gauze. “There,” Leo said, and finished the whole thing off with a kiss to Cole’s knuckles. “Finished.”

  Cole wanted to get started on his amulet idea, but before he could say as much, Leo yawned hugely, and Cole followed suit. Perhaps that could wait until morning. After all, they’d be safe here. “Bed?” Leo asked hopefully.

  “Yes, please.”

  It had been a long time since Cole had shared a bed with a partner on a regular basis. He wasn’t sure he’d ever done it with sex completely off the table. He thought it would be strange, brushing his teeth next to someone else, crawling into bed with them, making room in his sleep routine for another person. And it had been, a bit, the first day or two—he had double sinks in the master bath, but their elbows bumped while they brushed, and Cole liked to read the news in bed on his phone before he went to sleep, but Leo made grumbly noises at the light.