He could smell the magician now, and she smelled of meat. Sweet meat, not unlike the occasional steaks his dad would grill on warm summer evenings. Owen stood up to just below her chest. She leaned forward and her face was inches from his own now.
Her lips were moving, half-silently, but the words she was saying were unintelligible. Then she stopped and smiled, presenting Owen those white teeth with streaks of magenta lipstick now smeared across in parts. A new dose of fear shot through him, but it felt completely pointless. He still had no control of his body.
“So, birthday boy, what is it you’re wishing for the most today?”
Her breath was just as sweet smelling as the rest of her, but there was a hint of musty staleness emanating from the back her throat.
Deep down inside, Owen knew
