“I-” I started. My voice hitched with emotion.
A moment passed, Rose and I both silent.
“You’re not acting.”
“I’m… I don’t know,” I said. I did what I could to get my voice under control. Fuck, fuck… couldn’t afford to let something slip, to show my distress to the Behaims and Duchamps.
“You’re drowning in glamour,” Rose said. “The act is becoming real.”
“O-okay,” I said. I was unnerved at how much I sounded like a little boy, when I wasn’t putting on the act.
“Hey, you wanted a partnership? This is your partner telling you to get out.”
“I can’t leave right away,” I said. I cleared my throat, then said “As soon as I’m able.”
I wasn’t able to keep the full tremor out of my voice.
“Soon, Blake. If it’s rooted deep enough in you to sway your emotions, it’s going to be hard to change. If the glamour breaks it’s going to hurt.”
“Okay,” I said.
“And don’t layer anything on top of it, or you’ll have to dig deeper to get to ‘Blake’.”
“O- okay,” I said. “No more changing?”
I turned my head. I could hear the siren, trace it back to the cars… and see the cars arriving.
“That look on your face. They’re here?” Rose said.
“The ritual might have finished,” I said, whispering the words. “That took too long. It’s still taking too long.”
“Did you feel the ritual finish?”
“No. But I’m not feeling much of anything, outside of that room. Is Granny’s- grandmother’s house safe?”
“Let me get back to you on that.”
Then Rose was gone.
I left the phone where it was, covering up the connection with glamour. That wasn’t using glamour on me, right? I descended downstairs.
There was no chanting.
The quiet was eerie.
There was a pounding knock on the door. I jumped.
I was physically shaking. I felt nauseous.
Why the fuck did it feel like I was vulnerable to everything? Giving too much blood had spent far too much of myself, June had chilled me even through the protection of the circle, I’d totally fallen for Laird’s trap…
The knock came again. I could see police officers circling around the house through the bay window in the living room.
A moment later, there was a knock on a window at the side of the house.
Behaims and Duchamps emerged from the back room as a group.
I still had the hair. Where had I put it? The boy’s hair… I’d had it in my hand.
I found it in one pocket, with the paper goblins, sensed the connection, and found the boy.
He was taking the same path I had. Back room to kitchen to living room. I ducked into the hallway and headed towards the dining room, so we were at opposite ends of the house. Being seen at the same time and place as him would be disastrous. More than just about anything else.
At the same time, however, it meant I was moving in the general direction of the incoming Behaim and Duchamp family members, I was shaking, I was about five seconds from bursting into tears, and I looked guilty as fuck. Try as I might, I couldn’t tap into the stuff I was supposed to know, about hiding guilt and acting normal.
Worse, I still couldn’t lie.
I came face to face with the woman I’d nearly shoved into the circle.
Well, face to bellybutton, but the point stood.
They loomed around me. Doubly imposing for the size difference.
Think, Blake Thorburn, I thought. Fucking think.
“Are you mad?” I asked, in a hushed whisper.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“The police came, and it’s because of me,” I said. I felt the tears welling out. “I almost knocked you over and ruined everything.”
Both statements true, but not as connected as I was implying.
“Police?” Laird asked.
“I saw them outside the window,” I said.
He brushed past me, his wife and Sandra Duchamp in tow.
I very honestly thought I might throw up, I was so…
What the fuck label did I stick on this hot mess of emotions that were filling my six year old frame?
So discombobulated?
“The police aren’t your fault,” the woman said.
I nodded.
I stepped back to get out of their line of sight as Laird opened the door.
“Mark,” he said. “What’s going on?”
“Chief Behaim, sir. Listen, something’s come up. It’s awkward.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t want to make a fuss, especially not with your family here, but-“
“There’s been another accusation?” Laird asked.
“No, sir. Not exactly. It’s more serious than that. If you come with me, I can explain.”
“Explain now.”
“We’ve been led to believe that a crime was or is in progress.”
“Where?”
“Here, sir. Please understand, we’ve got to do this by the book. All indicators suggested we needed to act immediately, which is why you got us.”
His own police officers, arresting him?
I suppressed my smile, best I could.
“I think I see,” Laird said. “Can I ask-“
“Sir? If you could please come with me right away, without any questions? The RCMP has been called, but I need to bring you into the station, without delay.”
“No delays,” Laird said. “Alright.”
“We’ll also need to see… Sandra Duchamp?”
Peeking, I saw Sandra momentarily purse her lips, then nod. “I’ll come.”
“And, with permission, Nathan and Ed are going to take a look through the property and talk to a handful of your guests.”
“Mark, we were having an engagement celebration.”
“I understand, sir. But…”
Mark trailed off.
“But you’ve got to treat me like a suspect,” Laird said. “I’ll be very interested to hear the background to this when it’s all cleared up.”
It took a minute for Laird and Sandra to get ready. Two officers came into the house as they got jackets and boots on.
I caught Sandra gesturing at people I couldn’t make out in the living room. A moment later, I could see the spirits around the cops being manipulated. Distracting the cops.
Two girls, roughly my age, or the age I was supposed to be, passed through the kitchen to the back room.
There was no way to control this. No way to really counteract the cover-up.
I watched Laird and Sandra leave, saw the cops head in the direction of the room with the circle.
A murmur ran through the collected group.
“The Thorburn boy?” a man asked.
“Very likely,” another Behaim practitioner commented.
“Is it okay? The circle?”
“They’re the best of the new generation, when it comes to glamour,” a Duchamp matron said. “Not to worry.”
“So… does that make this two points for Thorburn?” I heard someone ask.
“I think it’s safe to say it’s two points. Another point in this department, and he’s earned three. A great deal more profound.”
A point for me… but the ritual?
The murmurs quieted as the door opened. Another officer.