“Keep still,” Max snapped once more.
“No, wait, what's happening?”I couldn't deny the sensationsanymore. I wasn't in the lounge room. I was on some pastureland, infull sunshine.
Problem was, I didn’t remember walking here.
Fear started to twist its way around my gutonce more.
“Calm down, Chi,” Max's voice changed – becoming soft, becominggenuine.
I let myself be led along by his voice,let it soothe me, calm me like a gentle caress running from myshoulders down my back.
It must have distracted me longenough, becausea second later, I started tohear crackles. That indistinct static sharpened, and I heard avoice – deep, rumbling, powerful. It took me a second to realize itwas Max's voice. But Max was still chanting. Yet somehow, therewere now two of him.
I seriously wanted to open my eyes now,but Max did not give me that chance. Suddenly, I felt him leapforward and clap a hand over my eyes. The move wasn't exactly hard,and yet his determined grip gave me the distinct impression that hehad no intention of removing his hand until this wasdone.
“What are you—” I began.
“Just trust me,” he said.
… Trust, ha? That was a hell of an askcoming from him. Or at least, that's what my cynical mind pointedout. The rest of me? It allowed itself to be lulled by thatrumbling tone, by that soft pressure around my face andforehead.
I started to feel magic. Which was saying something, as before several days ago, Ihadn't known magic existed. But thedistinct sensations now rushing through my body could not bemistaken for anything else. They were wholly different to ordinaryfeelings. Hotter, faster, more powerful. And so goddamninvigorating. They pressed down from Max's hand,darting into my jaw, rushing over my lips, gushing down my throat,and sinking through my chest until they made it to my shoulder andpoured down my arm to my hand.
If Max hadn't been there, I wouldhave sprungto my feet. Heck, I would haverocketed into the air.
Instead, I shunted back against the cushion,overwhelmed by what I was feeling.
And yet, I could not be distracted fromthe distinct sense of a grassy meadow beneath me, a beautiful bluesky above.
So this was Max's magic, ha? Hishome?
Far away on the edge of hearing, I swear Iheard something – hoof beats. Someone calling. Someone shouting.Someone—
Suddenly, Max jerked his hand back. Hecleared his throat, and I heard him take several stepsback.
I didn't dare opened my eyes.
In fact, I waited there until I heard himclear his throat. “It's done, you can open your eyes now. Get up,go have a shower, change your clothes, get something to eat,” headded.
Wow. What a difference. He’d gone from gently placing his hand on my face, to snapping at me like I was an unrulyteenager who needed to be brought into line.
I opened my eyes and swiveled them towardshim.
Of course, hehad his arms crossed. And of course, hisexpression was completely neutral with just a hint of mean. “Ihealed you,” he said.
I was about to snap, “well done,” in asarcastic voice, when I brought up my hand.
My jaw dropped open. No, I hadn't suddenlytransformed into one of those cartoon characters from the 50s. Butyes, my jaw still did drop open.
Because my hand? It was healed. I had caught several glances of it before I lay down. It had beencompletely blistered, red, charred. A sickening mess.
Now? Sure, it was still a bit red, andthere were still a few blisters, but as I experimentally opened andclosed a fist, I realized it was almost completelyhealed.
I was not the kind of person you couldsurprise easily. Because even if you managed to surprise me, Ialways kept my poker face. But my poker-faced suddenly took a backseat to my utter shock.
“How,” I tried to struggle through a dry throat, “how the hell didyou do that?”
For a fraction of a second, a satisfiedsmile spread across Max's face – then he controlled it. “Magic. DoI really have to state the obvious?”
I didn't snap back. Couldn't. Because,hello, I’d just been transported to some grassy pasture somewherewhile the Scottish fairy had healed my third-degreeburns.
I sat there, staring at him.
It took a while for it to becomeuncomfortable, took a while for him to snort. “What? This is all ittakes to make you speechless. I'll have to rememberthat.”
I’d never paused long enough around Max toassess his reactions. Even though my job as a fake fortunetellerpretty much required me to read people day in, day out.
Now as I struggled to find thebreath to put my surprised thoughts into words, Iwatched. And I realized he wasbeing defensive. Notrude – okay, he wasbeing rude. Buthe was only beingrude because he was trying tohide something from me.
I felt my eyebrows knot together and press hard on my eyes. “Just what are youexactly? What kind of magic was that? And what was with the pastureand hooves?”
His eyes pulsed wide. He tried to hide it– and he managed to do it quickly. But it wasn’t quickenough.
My eyebrows pressed even harder over myeyes. “It was kind of like,” I paused as I tried to ascertain whatI was thinking, “It was kind of like I was back somewhere,” I said.Why I’d said the word back, I didn’t know. It wasn’t as if pasturesand horses only existed in the past, and yet I had the impressionthat the scene I’d just felt had been old. Very old.
If Max had looked defensive before, it wasabsolutely nothing to what happened to his face now. It stiffened,his lips drawing in until it looked as if he would swallow them.“You saw that?”
“No, I felt it, heard it…. But what was it?” It was a testament to how surprised I wasthat I was checking my indignation and anger at thedoor.
I suddenly blinked, the move sopronounced, it was like I was a theatrical actor.
How the heck had I known that I’d justbeen transported back to Scotland? And I did know
