The Bakewell was well and truly gone by the time I heard the door close and Dawn's feet approaching the living room.

'She gone then?' I asked, trying to appear nonchalant. She might be my apprentice, but she had a way of telling me off that left me feeling well and truly chastised. It didn't help that I was still absolutely head-over-heels in love with her. As such, her approval was something I needed. It was quite pathetic really. I just hoped that in time I might find someone I cared for.

'Yeah. She drew this,' she held up a piece of paper as she spoke, 'it's a picture of her missing friend.'

Like any pictures drawn by a seven-year-old it was somewhat sketchy; more of a concept than a full-blown piece of art.

'Umm, its a monkey, with a horn on its forehead, wings, a ...' I squinted, 'fez?'

'Yup. He wears a tweed jacket as well.' Nothing in her tone gave away how she felt about the whole thing.

'Right. You do know that imaginary friends are, well, imaginary?'

'Most people would say that about Fae, Magick, and Shapeshifters.'

'Most people would be wrong, but imaginary friends just don't exist.' I crossed my arms, hoping that doing so would add some finality to the matter.

'He exists to Cass. She was very, and I mean very, emphatic on this. You sure there's nothing in the books about imaginary friends?'

Positive,' I paused, thought, 'well, pretty positive. Nothing in the books that I've used, and certainly nothing in the course books you're studying.'

She winced, then tried to cover it up with 'yeah, well that doesn't mean that there isn't a book about this. Or that it's an area of Magick that people have forgotten.'

Bugger, I thought, that's a valid point.

'Or that adults don't study because once they've grown up they think that the friends were imaginary,' I said.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

'Yeah,' she nodded, plonking herself down into a chair, 'and most kids would just think that if their friend was no longer there, that they'd imagined them in the first place.'

'I bloody hate metaphysical concepts,' I said, reaching for another slice of Bakewell. 'Okay, let's say, for the moment, that Cass is telling the truth? How the hell are we going to find something, or someone, that we as adults can't see?'

'Well, that's easy, we just go and speak to someone that can see them.'

'What, kids?' I snorted, spraying a few crumbs around for good measure.

'Don't be daft, we can't put kids in danger, the Merlins would gut us! No, we speak to people who have the Sight, see if they can see them. If they can, then we can try and get one to guide us. 

I slid a bit further down into my chair, slowly chewing on a piece of almond as I thought it through. No way was I going to suggest that we spoke to Cass' nan, she sounded like a fucking nightmare and, even worse, a gossip. No, this was going to have to be a contract job. Get someone from within the Magical Community who had the Sight and wasn't going to take the piss whilst destroying our reputation. Maybe someone on the fringes of the Community.

'Why don't we speak to the O'Learaigh?' asked Dawn.

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to shut out the world and the roaring in my ears at that name. Myself and the O'Learaigh had a history that went back years. A history that I'd managed to not think of for years. It was a memory that I liked to forget, much like I was playing The Game.

'The Game,' I said with a grin. 'Sorry, just thought about that.'

'Bitch! I hadn't thought of the damned thing for bloody weeks!' Reaching into her pocket she pulled out her phone and started typing on it with a somewhat gleeful vigour, 'Beth's going to bloody hate me when she gets this text!'

'Err, okay. Tight, but okay. Shall we get back on track?' she nodded, still typing, a small smile on her lips. 'I need you to handle the O'Learaigh, tell him it's your Mark, a test that I've set you. One that you think I want you to fail. He'll be more than happy to help you then.'

O'Learaigh was a member of the Folk. In his case, a member of the Fair Folk. Not fair as in Elves mind, but Fair as in dodgems and rigged shooting ranges.  I'd once had to carry out a Mark on a few of his people and he'd born a grudge ever since.

'Seriously, you're giving me this as a Mark?' her eyes goggled at me as she leant forward, phone forgotten.

'No, you're still an apprentice. The Merlins would come down on you like a ton of bricks. I just need you to tell him it's your Mark. He ... dislikes me. Intensely. It would be easy for him to believe that I've set you up to fail or that I'm pushing you too fast. 

'Oh,' she slumped back into her chair, 'gutting.

'Fuck off woman, you know what the rules are. Anyway, you'll have to appear as though it's your Mark, do all the running around, boss whoever gets the job and so on. Plus, you'll earn serious kudos in his eyes. Despite his failings, he's a bloody good contact or even friend to have.'

She brightened up at that, and started to type furiously on her phone again, 'Yeah cool. Let me just ruin Beth's day and we can go and meet him.'