The Time Hopper

Illusions

I jabbed the knife wildly towards him. I wasn't holding it right, I knew that much from Sam's lessons, and I wasn't exactly aiming, either. I didn't risk looking directly at him lest he freeze me again, so it was more a desperate stab in his general torso area that I guided through my peripheral vision. 

A blur of movement, a sick smile, and then agonizing pain shot through my wrist. Horrified, I screamed, forgetting his powers and looking face first towards him so I could see what had happened. Somehow, in the space of a few heartbeats, he had twisted the knife from my white knuckle grip, turned it on me, and driven it through my wrist and into the table. I screamed again, feeling sick and dizzy and full of panic as my other hand wrapped around the hilt of my knife. 

"Don't pull it out, you'll bleed out in seconds rather than minutes." Obsivian told me, taking a leisurely sip of wine as the puddle of blood grew and began to drip in a steady stream to the white marble floor. I gasped in air, unsteady and in so much pain I wasn't thinking straight. 

"Help me!" I begged. Obsivian took another sip before talking, loud enough to overpower my whimpers and ragged breathing. 

"You see, my dear, attacking me does not work. It will only make your stay with me that much more unpleasant. I do not wish to cause you permanent harm, but if you force my hand I will. Now, are you sorry?" No permanent harm? He'd impaled me! I wanted to scream at him, curse him to hell and back, but the pool of blood was growing at an alarming rate. 

"Yes, yes, I'm sorry!" I spat out. He tilted his head in acknowledgement. 

"Very well." He snapped his fingers once and the pain in my hand vanished. I didn't even blink my eyes, but somehow the blood vanished and my wrist was whole again, not a mark on me. The knife was under his far hand, on the table, blade clean. Even the table bore no mark. 

My breathing was still coming in ragged gasps as I cradled my wrist close to my chest, running my fingers across it. There wasn't even a phantom pain, but I knew what I had seen, what I had felt, didn't I? 

"What was that?" I gasped out, not able to tear my eyes away from the spot where the wound should have been. 

"Just an illusion, my dear." He told me, but I didn't believe him. I shook my head, mouth opening and closing wordlessly before I managed to swallow and choke something out. 

"No, no. I know illusions, I know how to recognise them, that was real." I stuttered out, squeezing my wrist over and over again, expecting blood to start pouring out between my fingers any second now. 

"Not illusions like mine, you don't. My brand of magic is rather unique." I knew that he had powerful magic, special to him, but Mr Consequences had never told me exactly what. 

"Then how do I know that this is real?" I demanded, cradling my wrist. I glanced up just long enough to see his wry smile. 

"You'll just have to trust me, my dear." He clicked his fingers and a servant hurried forward from seemingly nowhere, setting a steaming cup in front of me, filled with an amber liquid that smelt... like home. "Chamomile tea. It'll help soothe your nerves."

"I know." I whispered hoarsely, trying not to cry in front of him as the scent triggered long buried memories. 

"My wife, your grandmother, may she rest in chaos, used to give it to your father when he became upset as a small child. I assume, by your reaction, that he did the same for you." I nodded, swallowing around the lump in my throat. I gazed at the drink, but no mood to pick it up. 

"Drink up, Sadie. We need to talk, and I need you calm enough to listen." 

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