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‘I thought I was the one this film was too scary for?’

‘I’m not scared!’ she whispered back. ‘Just tell me when it’s over, would you?’

‘Why are we whispering? We’re the only ones here.’

‘I don’t know.’ She laughed. ‘Just seemed like I should.’ She made the mistake of peeping at the screen and winced again.

‘Sorry,’ he replied at a more normal volume. ‘I’m starting to think this is a really bad idea. I thought you said you liked horror movies.’

‘I usually do.’ She sighed as the lead was thrown across the screen and slammed into a wall. ‘I just sometimes struggle to leave work behind.’

‘How do you mean?’ he murmured back, barely paying attention to the screen – their conversation was far more interesting than the glowing action ahead.

She glanced at the screen and grimaced again. ‘I can’t help thinking of the damage, and the rehab that will be needed. Like that move… That’s probably a traumatic dislocation and damaged nerves. Months of recovery and physio. Probably surgery too.’

‘I see.’ Jamie nodded as Amrita blew out a low gasp as the fictional fighters clashed again.

Without thinking about it too much, he turned his hand over and lay it on the armrest between them. She looked at him for a long moment, then slowly, gingerly, she rested her fingers against his. He didn’t move. Barely breathed. Then she slowly relaxed, her hand softening against his.

He almost wished the fight scene would last for hours as the film faded into insignificance and his entire focus zoned in on the warmth of her hand. His magic flared, and the previously 2-D images grew extra dimensions with fictional debris and special-effects sparks reaching out from the screen, visible only to his eyes. Smoke wafted across the screen, weaving in with the smell of popcorn, chocolate and melted vaguely-cheese product.

After a few seconds, Amrita looked up and sniffed the air, slightly confused. ‘Does it smell like someone burned the popcorn?’

‘Umm… maybe?’ Jamie swallowed, surprised that Amrita had noticed anything. That wasn’t how these things were supposed to work. She wasn’t from Hudsbury, and as a rule outsiders didn’t sense or understand those types of things. He supposed there was Aiden – but he wasn’t that far from being local, and he was very much the exception.

The quiet, gentle moment between them was gone – and she straightened in her seat, pulling away her hand as if she’d suddenly had second thoughts.

The part of Jamie that didn’t immediately miss the contact wondered whether she’d really smelled burnt popcorn or if somehow – on some level – she was aware of the magic around them. He tried to watch the rest of the film, but he struggled to focus on the screen when he was so hyperaware of her every move and everything that was happening around him. The smoke receded as his magic came back under control, but a rustling noise and snickering chatter from a few rows in front of them dragged at his attention.

What in all spells’ name were they doing here? It was a bloody infestation.

He sensed, rather than heard, them scurrying closer, and surreptitiously helped himself to a handful of popcorn. He stretched, trying to keep the movement casual, and dropped the fluffy, sticky kernels onto the floor in the row behind – hoping it would be enough to placate them and stop any mischief afoot. But it was a dangerous tactic. Within seconds he could feel them glimmering behind him, cheerfully chomping on his shared treats. He hoped that would keep them busy.

It did, but not for long enough. Soon his drink started fizzing and popping of its own accord. He grabbed for it, snatching it up just before it toppled ice and bubbles all over them both. Amrita gave him an odd look.

‘Thirsty,’ he murmured. ‘Sorry.’

She shrugged. It was fine. She was just checking he was fine too. The thought made him smile, and the air around them warmed slightly. Another one of those little signs that something weird was happening. He dropped another handful of popcorn beneath his seat, while pleading with them to go away.

A few rows behind them, he could hear the pixies mumbling and squabbling amongst themselves as they headed for the door, leaving him to try and relax and figure out what was happening in the last few scenes of the film.

He couldn’t deny a sense of relief when he held the theatre door open for her a few minutes later. When he spotted her shiver in the cooler air, he shrugged his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders as they strolled slowly back to his car.

‘You’ll be cold,’ she said.

‘I’m really not,’ he told her honestly, feeling the air around them warm slightly when she smiled. He wondered if she felt it too, or if it was just another Hudsbury thing.

She tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and his magic glitched – taking his brain with it to a baffling vision filled with black and white silk, crisp cotton and sensations he didn’t understand but probably shouldn’t be contemplating.

‘You didn’t hear me, did you?’ Amrita laughed as she squeezed his arm.

‘What? Sorry, no. What did you say?’

‘Nothing important.’ She shrugged. ‘I’d just asked what you thought of the movie. But now I’m far more interested in what you’re thinking.’

‘Nothing much.’ He didn’t know what he was thinking, let alone how to explain it to her.

‘Oh, so “nothing much” is more interesting than me. Thanks. Super flattering.’