AN: Welcome to new followers! Enjoy the 4th chapter in which we meet a certain detective...

Chapter 4

House of Arguments

Blaine knew something was wrong with Kurt the moment he saw the boy emerging from the bathroom the next morning. His clothes were mostly in radiant colours – up until now the Magician would conjure a wardrobe that would match more or less the recipient's taste, so Blaine figured out that bright colours were Kurt's hidden pleasure – however, the goth make up was back.

Kurt threw the eyeliner back to Santana, with whom the pale teenager had struck a weird camaraderie, so Blaine tried to ask her about it against his better judgement. She looked at him in amusement.

"Did you think that he would change his make-up habits just because you prefer him china doll-faced?" Her crooked smile showed challenge.

"No, just... He didn't look like he missed wearing make-up yesterday."

"Blaine, if you are going to say something along 'he looked happier' I'm seriously going to shave off your eyebrows while you sleep, even if it took me a whole night."

Santana looked down at the eye liner in her hand. "He didn't look like he had a lot of practice in doing that," she contemplated. "Probably had his girlfriend do it for him during their make-over dates."

"You mean make-out dates." Blaine corrected her while trying really hard not to picture either option in his head. Damn, it was like going through puberty and discovering himself once again.

Santana practically gleamed with evil delight. "Sure. Why not. Are you going to find him and try being 'friends' again? After all, you just can't stand if someone doesn't immediately like you."

Blaine frowned at the girl and decided that from now on he had to be more careful around her. Santana had a mind equally sharp to her tongue, which could be both useful and dangerous.

"Yes, I'm going to try to befriend him, but that will be so I could help him. I want him to be well prepared for the conversation with the Magician, whenever that will happen."

Santana lost some of her aggressive confidence – Blaine knew it was due to the reminder of the day before and her talk to the shop owner. That seemed to happen more often now and Blaine knew it meant something was bothering her here in the shop.

Still, her voice didn't betray anything was wrong. "If you see him, tell him to try to squeeze his toiletries in the bathroom – we hardly had any space as it was."

"He... uses your bathroom? Are you and other girls alright with it?"

"More than alright to see him emerging only in a towel from the shower," Santana purred cruelly. "At the same time he doesn't even glance at us and the cleaning rota will be even bigger now."

Blaine thought for a moment, before asking in a low voice. "Do you... do you think he might be not totally straight? I know about the girlfriend, but you know... he might be bi, right? I mean, you were the only one to immediately figure me out, so I thought you would know..."

Santana stared at him, slowly blinking. "He's totally straight, Blainey-boy. Now go away – I don't want to be your shoulder to cry on over a hopeless crush." She sank into the sofa she was sitting on and crossed her arms around her defensively. The usually meant she didn't want to disrupted no more.

Defeated, Blaine went to look for Kurt with a lot less enthusiasm than before. His disappointment from the day before returned, which caused him to be more irritated than necessary with Kurt when he saw the newly made up teenager spying on the front of the shop.

Kurt leaned on the wall opposite to the front desk. Behind him hung a massive poster advertising a performance of the fire-swallower Madame Tibideaux. The majority of the image was covered in flames, which created an interesting blazing aura around Kurt's concentrated face.

Concealed behind the manikins dressed in black cheap suits he observed the door like a hawk every time someone would open it and every interaction of the Magician with the customers. Even if the shop owner noticed the blue eyes watching him, he was ignoring them completely – not surprising, considering there wasn't anything for Kurt to see there.

Blaine clenched his teeth. He had told Kurt on every occasion not to get himself into trouble, but the damn boy was a stubborn mule that would never learn. He also shouldn't look that good – long legs in purple jeans crossed at ankles, eyes turning to green from concentrating, elegant profile, silhouette engulfed in the poster fire – Blaine wanted nothing more than to disrupt that perfect image.

A few more steps and all that Blaine had to do was to place his hand heavily on Kurt's shoulder. The boy gasped, whipping his head toward the curly-haired boy. The visible panic in Kurt's eyes quickly changed to irritation as he looked down at Blaine – it's unfair that he is taller than me while being younger – and yanked Blaine's hand off his shoulder.

"Don't do that again," the pale boy hissed, clearly not wanting The Magician to hear them talking.

"Do what? Making sure you don't do anything stupid?" Blaine whispered his reply as he also preferred their meeting to be private.

"No – I meant the sudden touching. It's creepy."

Blaine only then noticed the goose bumps on Kurt's arms and felt like an immature jerk. "Are you alright, Kurt?"

The taller boy rubbed his wrists and the skin around them. "Everything's peachy. I'm busy though – don't you have someone else to explain things to perhaps?"

So this is how it's going to be? Blaine welcomed the snark as it at least helped him like Kurt less.

"Busy with what? You are not getting out through the front door – it's just going to push you away like last night. Even if someone would op-"

"I know," Kurt interrupted him coldly. "The spell is keeping us away from the entrance even when the Magician is not there."

"How-"

"He told me. He even encouraged me to try it out. Bastard."

Oh... Exactly what Blaine had wanted to avoid.

"He told you to try?" he repeated. "I bet he caught you sneaking then."

Kurt's silence confirmed that. Blaine's blood ran cold. The damn boy didn't know how important it was for him to stay quiet.

"Did he ask you anything?"

"Like what?"

"Kurt, this is really important." He made a gesture to grab the taller boy's arms, but stopped so as to not cause him discomfort. "Remember the first, first time you woke up?"

"Yes?" Kurt's voice followed Blaine's in getting lower and quieter.

"The whole thing about the card trick, the name of the card, temporarily forgetting your own name... It means the spell you were put under didn't work properly at first. You weren't meant to remember any of these – only entering the shop."

Kurt thoughtfully bit his lip and Blaine mentally cursed him for even doing such a simple thing adorably.

"There is also the fact that I knew everyone's – almost everyone's name."

Blaine shook his head. "I don't think that's relevant."

"When did you became an authority on what is relevant and what's not? It happened to me."

Blaine almost smiled thinking how Kurt's face would look in a moment...

"Queen of Spades," he whispered smugly and wasn't disappointed when the taller boy gaped, eyes wide open.

"You... this happened to you as well?" Kurt in excitement leaned closer.

"Yes, but it took me some time to figure why-"

Their conversation was interrupted – it was annoying how it kept happening - by the jingle and heavy steps as the shop was entered by a peculiar patron. At first sight he looked like a common blue collar worker. He had a solid posture, dishevelled coat on him and a round face that might've look kind-hearted if it wasn't for his pale eyes that looked around the shop with the mix of desperation and suspicion.

He wasn't the strangest of the customers walking in, but he had a certain air about him – of hidden intelligence and authority that made Kurt and Blaine pause their conversation and watch as the man walked toward the front desk, while glancing around as if studying the place.

"How can I help you?" The shop owner asked, clearly trying to read the customer in front of him.

"You have lot of kids coming here, right?" The man's voice was calm and commanding.

"...Yes?"

"Well, I'm looking for a few in particular."

The Magician narrowed his eyes. "I don't know what you expected, but we don't do trafficking-"

"Wha- That's not what I meant! Damn it, I keep forgetting..." The man searched in the pocket of his jacket and took out a black, leather object that he opened like a wallet.

"Oh, you are a detective..." The owner tried to put a relieved expression on his face, but Kurt and Blaine knew better.

"He's totally panicking," Kurt smiled with satisfaction, stretching his neck to see better from behind the manikin. Blaine kept pushing him back into their hiding place.

"Hmm... these 'kids'... you think it's about u- some of us?"

The taller boy shrugged. "I hope so, but you guys have been here for a while, right? And I never told anyone where I was going. At least I don't remember it."

Meanwhile, the detective reached to his pocket and took out some wrinkled papers. He plastered the loose pages onto the counter. "Have you seen any of them?"

The Magician only gazed at the photographs printed out with text underneath – he knew the faces on them very well.

"It's us! It's us!" Kurt clasped his hands. "Let's go closer so we can check if everyone is there!"

"No!" Blaine violently grabbed the troublesome boy's sleeve. "You really don't want to be near the Magician when something doesn't go his way."

Kurt sighed. "Okay... but still – it's some hope that the investigation led this guy here!"

"Or he's just checking randomly." Blaine crossed arms over his chest. He believed for so long that there was no escape from their prison that he didn't want to open himself to any hope just yet.

"I can't say I've seen them," The Magician's voice dripped with sympathy.

The detective visibly sagged, the hope fading away from his face added to him. He reached for the papers to take them back and his fingers ghosted the photo of a fair skinned teenager beaming at him.

"Even so, we can't let him leave with nothing!" said the real version of that boy.

Blaine paled at the sight of Kurt's face – focused, sparkly eyes and eyebrows frowning with determination – and knew, just knew that the boy was going to do something crazy. Before he could do anything to stop it, though, Kurt surged forward and shouted.

"We are here! We are all here!"

Then, like a chain of events - the Magician heard the shout and while he had enough self-control not to react strongly to that, his face twitched. The detective stilled – did he notice the tick? – and for a moment both men stood there quietly, measuring each other.

"I'll come back later, perhaps. Some of the kids disappeared a while ago, but that one-" he poked the photo on top- "is very recent and he might yet show up."

"I wouldn't want you to trouble yourself." The Magician's voice all politeness and servitude. "I will call the Police the moment I'll see that young man or any others."

The detective shook his head. "It's not a problem – I'm going to do the same with every business in this town."

"Well, good luck then, detective...?" The shop's owner extended his hand that was firmly captured in the visitor's grip.

"Burt Hummel."

"Right... detective Hummel." The Magician glanced at the stack of photos. "I see your reasons now."

Burt murmured something and moved toward the door. The Magician watched as he left the shop and then firmly walked towards two hiding teenagers.

Kurt's eyes widened and Blaine guessed that he could finally spot something that hinted the existence of the two dimensions and the workings of the spell - warped floor pattern, dimmed colours around the shop owner as he neared.

"Boys... do you know who that was?"

Both Kurt and Blaine flinched at the man's tone.

"A Police investigator looking for us," Kurt answered.

The Magician narrowed his eyes. "Yes... and he was already going to leave when you decided to try to get his attention. Not that it would work."

He studied for a moment the pale rebel. "I think you've had your time to adjust. You will stay here at the front until the evening, so you don't have any more influence on your family. After closing you and I will talk."

Blaine, who had been quiet until now, spoke quickly.

"No, no... It's too early! I can-"

His hand was squeezed by Kurt. "It's okay, Blaine."

The shorter boy looked up, surprised by Kurt's sudden tenderness when just a moment ago they had been arguing, but the boy had already turned his head away.

Blaine knew it was stupid, the need to protect Kurt from what each of the resident kids had gone through and safely survived. However, part of him knew that the private conversations with the Magician were making changes in them – irreversible tears and holes in their minds.

"Kurt, just..."

The boy halted and looked at Blaine for a moment, his face a mask while he directed a small nod at the shorter boy. Their eyes connected and Blaine was sure that whatever would happen, Kurt would keep the secret about their cards.

Kurt had never felt quite as terrified as during those few hours he spent sitting in a chair by the front desk, next to the Magician with his false kindness, watery shrewd eyes and spider fingers. Kurt shuddered from the memory of their touch on his shoulder.

After the initial revulsion Kurt decided to use the time spent at the front to continue his observations. However, the smirk on the Magician's face told him, that his 'investigation' wasn't very secret and having Kurt so close was to show that there was simply nothing for him to find out.

Soon Kurt grew tired of trying to find anything useful to him and was looking through the sale products on the front desk. They were trinkets, little tricks easy to understand by every child.

What made Kurt eyebrows rise were the tricks consisting only of instructions on how to do it. Well, so even the dumbest person could be a stage magician, Kurt thought as he flipped through the magician's bread-and-butter – cards that were somehow altered with little markers or could be flipped and folded into another card altogether.

Sometimes he would hear or catch a glimpse of some of the other prisoners – although never Blaine - but none of them would come closer and even when Kurt assured the Magician he just wanted to use a bathroom, the man pointed at the door behind him with a knowing smile – a bathroom for patrons.

The closer the evening came the clearer it became to Kurt that while he had great displeasure in watching the Magician up close, the man had examined him as well. He started to control himself better, but wondered if he had already done something that the shop owner would use against him later. He tried to remember what others had mentioned about this infamous 'talk', but everyone had hardly spoken more than a sentence what it was about.

Still drowning in his thoughts, Kurt hadn't realised the terrible day was coming to a close until he heard a key clatter in the lock. The Magician was closing the door slowly, as if relishing in the anticipation of what would soon happen.

When the ageless face turned back to Kurt, the teenager felt his stomach grumbling. He hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast, but he would rather starve than ask the Magician for anything.

"I think it's time, no?" The man walked back to the desk, the artificial lights dimmed in his wake. By the time he was at the counter they were surrounded by darkness. The only source of light was a small fin de siècle stained-glass lamp on the desk.

Gesturing for Kurt to remain seated, the Magician pulled his chair from behind the desk and hauled it to the front, to sit facing the rebellious teenager. With one sweep he cleared the middle of the counter between them and then pulled out a deck of cards from his pocket.

Kurt was thankful to Blaine for warning him and to himself for keeping calm as he managed to hide that he recognized the card deck. It wouldn't hurt, though, to make sure the Magician wouldn't get any ideas.

"Is that a tarot deck? Are you going to read my future?" Kurt teased – very proud that there was no tremble in his voice – even though he knew these were the playing cards.

"I don't do tarot," The Magician wrinkled his nose as if that would be way beneath him. "It only suits the fortune tellers at village fairs – to be told the future by cards." He opened the box and pulled out the thick stack. "The true power lies in you telling the cards what future you want."

The man shuffled the cards with the grace of a casino dealer. Kurt felt his stomach rumble again and hoped that no matter what game they were going to play it would end quickly, so he could grab something to eat soon.

The Magician started to lay out the cards. Despite his earlier objections they started to look like a tarot schema. The long fingers were so quick that Kurt couldn't see what cards were underneath, but the Magician stopped with two cards placed top up – the Ace of Hearts and the King of Hearts. Kurt kept his face steady as he recognized the same design of the card from the trick that got him here.

The magician suddenly spoke.

"Okay, we need a test first. What is your name?"

Kurt hesitated for a moment – he didn't want to be caught up in another spell – but the Magician's eyes shone too dangerously to be ignored. Besides, he found himself wanting to answer.

"...Kurt."

"Kurt who?"

"What do you mean? Just Kurt."

The questions continued.

"Do you have parents?"

"I live with my dad."

"Hmm... What do you call him?"

"'Dad', of course."

"What does he do?"

Kurt tilted his head questioningly. Was that a trick? How was he supposed to know what was he doing now. Normally it would be watch TV and smuggle unhealthy food in, but now he was probably worried about his son.

The Magician nodded with a small smile. "What happened before you came here?"

Kurt wasn't sure how much he was supposed to remember before the 'pick-a-card' part, so he decided on a different approach. "I didn't want to go to school that day and I... didn't exactly want to go back home."

"And why was that?"

Kurt looked down on the table and his eyes were drawn toward the King of Hearts. The stern look of the person printed on it looked vaguely familiar, including the disappointment etched on its face.

"We had an argument that morning."

"Oh..." The shop owner's curiosity was piqued. "Try to remember more. Where was that? What was your father wearing? What started this? What weather was outside the window?"

"Why do you need that?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "I'm a teenager now. I should be allowed some privacy in my home."

"That is what the door is for, bud, and you know I always knock. Well, mostly. Besides, what would you have to hide, huh?"

Kurt fought the embarrassing blush creeping up his neck. Judging from the teasing tone his father probably thought he wanted to freely explore internet porn, or smuggle a girl to his room. The teenager wondered how fast the teasing would change into anger if he would just admit he didn't want his father to walk into his room and discover his collection of various gay magazines or to see the interesting websites he was researching. Kurt's room was supposed to be his safe place and he didn't want to worry all the time if there would be any visible hint betraying his secret.

"I'm not hiding anything. I just want to be comfortable, but I see you don't trust me!" Kurt knew the attack would be the best defence.

"I trust you, son, but if you feel uncomfortable with anything you need to talk to me instead of isolating yourself from me. We're supposed to be a team!"

Kurt almost shouted that he actually 'played for the other team', but instead he said the second worst thing.

"We haven't been really a team since mom!"

"And what did he do then?" The Magician's voice buzzed in his ear. It sounded genuinely curious.

"I was already running late for school, so I just left."

Kurt continued his story with how he wanted to avoid the school jocks and ended up walking whenever his legs would lead him. The Magician seemed interested in these 'jocks', but said he would leave it for another time.

"Would you change something about that morning with your father? Perhaps apologize?"

Kurt knew that even without his last comment their morning would end up in disagreement if he wasn't honest.

"I might have actually come out as gay to him."

As soon as he was speaking these words he was transported back to that morning, to the living room at his home. His dad from the vision stood frozen, so he probably had heard that confession. Kurt looked down at the warm-coloured carpet and waited for the verdict, response - anything. He couldn't help but hoping that maybe it would be okay. Maybe his dad would learn to at least tolerate him, even if he would tell him to hide it from anyone else – and Kurt would hide it, because he only needed this one person in front of him to accept him.

"No, you are not gay."

Kurt felt tears in his eyes and they stung too strong to be just the part of the vision. His dad's reply didn't sound like denial, but like a command.

"I wish I could switch it off just like that, but I can't," Kurt said, still focused on the carpet. "And it's not like I'm going to sing who I am standing in the middle of this city, so-"

"I don't have a gay son," his dad paraphrased and Kurt understood the implications. Then, as if he couldn't bear to be in his child's presence any longer, his father turned to leave the room. Kurt knew it might be his last chance to fix this. Maybe if he could explain... and promise that he would just squash that part of him for the time being and most importantly he wouldn't bring any boys home.

"Dad!"

Kurt tried to stop him by grabbing his shoulders. He looked at his dad's face pleadingly.

And then he screamed because it was blank – only skin stretched evenly over the oval of his dad's- no it couldn't be him – head.

He stepped back slowly, pondering if he should run away from this... creature.

He heard a door opening behind him with a strange jingle and a voice.

"You can escape through here."

That sounded like a wise idea, so Kurt turned around in a flash and all but jumped through the door.

Kurt moved back to the back area like through a dream. It was really late and he felt exhausted, but also extremely hungry, so instead of feeling his way to his sofa he opened the 'staff office' door to pick something up from the fridge. He didn't expect to see the light seeping from under the kitchen door so late and almost went back – he wasn't sure he could handle seeing anyone now – but his stomach rumbled in mutiny. He took a deep breath; thinking he would just go inside, eat quickly and run to sleep, but when he opened the door that plan instantly got forgotten.

At the table sat Blaine, seemingly awake only thanks to the book he was reading, a big plate filled with sandwiches and salad laid out next to it. The curly-haired boy looked up and attempted to smile, but soon his face was filled with concern.

Dropping the book he surged toward the door. "Oh, Kurt."

Kurt closed his eyes and allowed the warm arms to wrap around him. After the vision he really didn't want to cry, but stupid Blaine with his stupid worrying was melting all his defences now and Kurt sobbed, breaking down.

next chapter: House of Duets