The kid was a good partner… possibly the best Blake had ever had. And Blake was going to make sure the kid survived, unlike so many others before him.

The door splintered apart, shredded from the middle out by steel. Blake looked at Simon.

“Hands where I can see ‘em, now, now, now,” one of the officers screamed.

“You shouldn’t’ve come back to your hotel room, Mr. Blake,” a voice from the hallway intoned.

“He’s got something in his hands!”

“Open your hands, open your hands!”

Blake did as he was told, the translucent pill bottle falling to the floor.

“What is that?” one of the officers asked.

“Mescaline,” Blake replied. “It alters the time-perception of those who take it…”

“Where’s this Simon, Mr. Blake,” one officer asked.

“Wasn’t the kid there? I thought he was standing there?” another muttered.

“When a magician takes mescaline, he can actually warp time, you know,” Blake continued.

“What is this?” the voice from the hallway asked.

“A trap,” Simon said, standing behind the man dressed in black.