With his hand stretched out, he stands at the centre of the bedroom. I can only see his blazing eyes inside the black silhouette of his body, wild and furious.
I stare back wide-eyed. I’m suspended several inches off the ground. My pulse races through me as my feet scramble uselessly for the floor below it. My breath fights its way through fear and confusion, as I struggle to understand how any of this is possible. I start to feel hot, my lungs screaming for air.
My eyes drop to his chest, which is rising quickly, almost in effort. He’s too far to be certain, but I think I see doubt flicker across his rage-filled eyes. As the anger seems to fade, he lowers his hand, and I slide down the wall, crumbling to the floor. He turns his back, leaning against the fireplace as if nothing unusual happened at all.
“What?” he growls, his voice barely human.
This is probably the moment I should carefully consider my next move, but instead the next thing that comes out of my mouth is, “I wanted to see you.”
At these words, he turns back around, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to read my mind.
“See me?” he asks, still watching me intently.
I take a step into the room.
“You aren’t afraid?” he says, tilting his head slightly.
“Why would I be afraid?” I ask.
“Because of this,” he replies and raises his hand again.
The door slams shut behind me. I try hard not to flinch, but I admit, my fingers twitch at the sound.
“You think slamming doors is scary?” I taunt.
The corners of his mouth lift, and the expression on his face is more terrifying than anything I’ve seen so far. He takes one step closer, hand raised, and I can feel my throat constricting as his fingers squeeze the air in front of him. If I had to guess,I’d say I’m three meters away, but I can’t be sure since I’m a bit distracted by my inability to breathe.
As I feel the blood rush to my head, I can’t come up with a single reasonable explanation for how he could possibly be doing this. I try gasping for air, but an invisible grip closes tighter and tighter, almost gently, around my throat. Just as I’m starting to feel light-headed and embarrassingly close to fainting, the grip lets go. I hold onto my knees, letting the air rush back into my lungs in big gulps. My brain feels electric once the oxygen rushes back in, and the feeling is almost euphoric.
“You truly aren’t frightened…” The words linger between us as he crosses his arms in front of his chest.
When my vision straightens and the world no longer spins, I take another step forward. “Are you a magician?” I ask.
He lets out a mirthless laugh. “Human, is there something wrong with you?” He looks at me as if I’m the only impossibility in this room.
“Yes.” I take another step.
He looks at my feet when I do.
“Are you?” I ask again. “A magician, I mean.”
“I am something far worse.”
“Something I should be scared of?”
“Terrified,” he says earnestly, leaning back on the mantle.
“I’m not. Does that disappoint you?” I stop at the centre of the room.
“I find it…intriguing.” He approaches, starting to circle me slowly, watching me too intently.
“I’m never scared,” I confess.
“Why?”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” I say, trying to stay still under his scrutiny.
“You could die.” He lets the words hang in the air.
