His wand was somewhere in Emilie's room. Ciaran had been sure that he'd put it in his back pocket when he was getting dressed, but it wasn't there now so it must've fallen out. It certainly wasn't here with him, so that was the only place it could be.

If there was a god, his wand would have rolled under her bed. Not that Ciaran believed in said god, but his mother did and that had to count for something, didn't it?

He could hear the exchange of voices by the bedroom door, how the talking became laughter which became more serious talking. Not good. It occurred to Ciaran in this moment that he was standing in a room (that wasn't really a room) where the only escape was a door which would guarantee him a face to face meeting with Emilie's father; basically, was a coffin.

A coffin that smelt of rubber and talcum powder, but still a coffin in the sense that it was a box meant for a dead man.

He could only hope that Emilie's dad was terrible at hide and seek.