It had been worth a try, I supposed. ‘Sure. Whatever you say.’ I added a smile to show him that I was on his side but he was no longer watching. Instead, his attention was caught by something out of the window.

‘Brilliant,’ he said under his breath. ‘Just bloody brilliant.’

Before I could crane my neck to see what he was talking about, the door to Armstrong’s trailer opened and a man strolled in wearing the most extraordinary set of clothes.

Trevor Bellows. Even if I hadn’t recognised his face, his outfit would have given him away. He had on a long purple robe that didn’t look a million miles away from the outfits the Order geeks wore, except their robes didn’t generally include embroidered stars. Perched on top of his head was a conical witch’s hat with an artfully crooked tip. Frankly, I was surprised that he wasn’t carrying a broomstick. When I saw what he was holding in his arms, however, my mouth dropped open.

‘Greetings and salutations,’ Bellows said with an oddly squeaky voice that didn’t match either his attire or his demeanour.

Brutus purred.

Armstrong’s eyebrows flew up. ‘Is that a cat?’

Bellows pushed his spectacles up his nose and flashed the director a smile. ‘There’s no pulling the wool over your eyes! Why, yes.’ He held Brutus up in the air. If I tried to do that to him, I’d lose an eyeball. ‘This is indeed a cat. I need a familiar to help me with my spells and this is the perfect creature.’

I stared in astonishment as my cat delicately licked Bellows’ hand as if to show his admiration for all the world to see.

‘Where did you get it from?’ Armstrong enquired.

Good question. Bloody good question.

‘It was fate,’ Bellows said smugly. ‘When I woke up this morning, he was right there on my doorstep. Cats can sense powerful magic, you know. He was obviously drawn to me.’

I reached out one hand towards Brutus. I was going to throttle him. His head whipped towards me and he hissed.

Bellows turned to me, a glint in his eyes as he looked me up and down. Something about his expression made me feel rather grubby. ‘He doesn’t like you,’ he proclaimed. ‘Don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault you don’t have magic like I do.’

My fingers curled into tight fists while Brutus looked away from me and head-butted the so-called witch’s chest in apparent adoration.

‘Who are you anyway?’ Bellows enquired. ‘I thought all the contestants were being kept away from here until filming starts.’

‘This is Ivy Wilde,’ Armstrong said. I didn’t think I was imagining his sudden hint of glee.

All suggestion of friendliness vanished from Bellows’ features. His eyes narrowed as his gaze continued to sweep me up and down. ‘You’re blonde,’ he said.

My mouth twitched. ‘Why, yes, I am.’ How … astute of him to notice.

He sniffed. ‘And messy.’

I crossed my arms. If I looked like I stuck my pinkie in an electrical socket then that was my business. ‘I had a late night,’ I said stiffly, biting back the urge to turn his elbows inside out. It would do the magical investigation no good if I offended the show’s only magical consultant.