Mika would have been immensely gratified to hear this, had she been there, but it looked like her double bluff had not hoodwinked Ian.

“She’s a real witch,” he insisted.

“How the hell can you possibly know that?”

“I have excellent observation skills. Just watch part of the video.” Ian wiggled his phone like he was dangling a lollipop in front of a toddler. “A minute. That’s all I ask.”

Jamie’s glare stayed firmly in place, but he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against his desk to look over Ian’s shoulder. Gleeful, Ian tapped the screen and the video started to play.

The woman on the screen looked like she was in her late twenties or so, and was pretty in the way most people with bright eyes and merry smiles are pretty. Jamie narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out what had caught Ian’s attention. Nothing about the woman seemed out of the ordinary. Her hair was a very dark brown, long and curling loosely around her bare shoulders. Brown eyes, large like a doe’s and framed by thick black eyelashes, blinked cheerfully out at them from a dewy face that had been dusted with some sort of sort of shimmery powder, presumably to make her look more otherworldly. She obviously wasn’t white, but it was hard to pinpoint her ethnicity beyond that: her skin was a peachy, browny, goldeny something, but maybe that was the glitter. The name at the top corner of the video, @MikaMoon, didn’t offer any answers, either.

“The secret,” she was saying, her smile full of mischief, “is to harvest the moonlight at exactly two minutes past midnight.” Her accent was English, but he couldn’t pin it down to any one part of the country. She held up a bowl of liquid silver. “Take a tiny spoonful of the harvested moonlight,” she went on, stirring the silver substance with a glass spoon that tinkled pleasantly against the sides of the bowl, “and add it to your cauldron.”

As she emptied a spoonful of the supposed moonlight into a cauldron, tiny sparkles drifted up from within, dancing in the air like fireflies before fading away.

“And there you have it!” she said triumphantly. “The perfect potion for a wounded heart.”

Ian paused the video. Jamie looked at him in confusion. “Was I supposed to be impressed by the special effects she added to the cauldron? The nonsense about a wounded heart?”

Ian scoffed. “The cauldron? No, I’m not interested in the cauldron. She’s what interests me. Don’t you see it? She’s practically aglow with magic.”