Now You See Me

Twenty-One: Sea Magic

A warm hand touches my face in the dark, and Chris slides into the bed behind me. He's pressed flush against my back as it's only a single, and the sudden wave of heat makes me shudder.

"What're you up to?" I murmur, still half asleep. I turn over when the bedside lamp flicks on, and blink at his worried expression. He doesn't look like he's been to sleep yet, even though the alarm on my bedside table reads two in the morning. "What's wrong?"

"I...I want you to meet my mum," he says, "When we get back home."

"That's cool. I'd like that," I say, smiling, even though I can't understand why it couldn't have waited until morning. But Chris relaxes like I've just relieved him of the blame for a murder, and doesn't climb back out of the bed like I expect him to. He shuffles under the covers and wraps his leg around my waist before burying his nose in my hair. "You're cuddly tonight," I remark, craning my neck but only getting a view of his shoulder. "Has something happened?"

He doesn't respond, just fidgets so much the duvet almost falls onto the floor, his leg disappearing from my waist.

I turn over when he lets go of me, to find him back on top of the covers.

He's naked.

"Why've you taken your clothes off?" I ask him groggily, propping myself up on one elbow and frowning at him. "Are you into stripping now or something? Is that what you're trying to tell me? Because I don't think I'm okay with that."

Even though it's dark - the lamp is behind him - I see him roll his eyes. He scoots forward and grabs me round the waist, and since I'm already half asleep again, I don't resist as he flips me over and drapes me on top of him.

"No offence, love, but I preferred the mattress," I mumble.

"I can't sleep, D," he whispers, and grabs my lower lip between his teeth, pulling my face closer. His hips twitch, and I finally get the message.

"Really? At two in the morning?" I ask him, and he at least has the decency to look sheepish.

"I've been up all night thinking about what your mum said," he murmurs, as his hands travel down my back and start to pull off my pyjamas. They land in a heap on the floor. "And she's right." My brain is getting fuzzy and I don't really remember what conversation he's talking about. "I don't wanna be scared anymore, D."

-

"I don't mean to sound rude, Mr Smith," Leia said, as I stumbled into reception zombie-like after skipping breakfast, "But you look awful."

"I figured," I muttered, and finally noticed the man sitting on one of the couches. He instantly made me uneasy; he was pale, gaunt and dark-eyed. His black hair shadowed his eyes and cheekbones, giving the impression of a living skull. He wore a pinstripe suit, well-polished leather shoes, and a terrifying scowl.

Lucien, Marilyn's Maker.

I had been told to expect him today, after I gave Leia the voodoo doll with my hair on it from Marilyn's room, but seeing him was still something of a shock. It was the first thing today to pierce the shell of numbness I'd been stuck in since last night's flashback.

"She has not returned," Feila announced with a sigh, sweeping into the room behind me and moving to stand beside Leia. "There's no sign that she has been here at all for the last twenty four hours."

"Ze girl frequently tests my patience in zat respect," Lucien muttered, somehow managing to make a French accent sound threatening. "Never here when it matters. May I see ze item?"

Leia produced the doll from nowhere and I shuddered at the sight of it. At my side, Courtney squeezed my hand and I resisted a startling urge to hug her.