Page 40 of Real

She grins. “Good choice.” With the flip of her wrist, the pine tree to the right of us disappears, revealing a white platform large enough for a few people to stand on. She steps onto it and holds out her hand. “Let me do a bit of housekeeping.”

We follow her onto the platform. The second we’re standing on the white surface, the forest and trees are gone. We are suddenly in a large white room with a dirt floor and a pole poking up at the center. It sprays something into the air, and I smell brewing coffee.

“Sorry if you don’t like coffee, but the scent cleanses your olfactory senses.”

I can still smell the citronella on Buddy, but the pine scent is no longer detectable, even for my wolf shifter nose.

Light floods from Astrid’s fingertips, but it isn’t like Einar’s light. Some of it is thick and opaque, and it’s all different colors coming out at once. The dirt floor lowers and disappears beneath a huge grate. There’s a grinding noise that goes on for a while, then the floor is filled with a lighter, different kind of dirt.

I think that’s sand. Real sand.

Astrid spreads her light above the sand in thick strokes of pinks and purples, then comes the ocean. The first wave crashes into us in complete silence, until the sound system catches up with the illusion. The second wave comes toward us just as the hum of the ocean fills the air around us.

I glance over at Buddy to see the wonder in his eyes. He grins from ear to ear. “This is amazing!”

Astrid smiles. “It is, isn’t it?” Her hands are lifted and moving around like she’s conducting her own orchestra.

“Can we walk on the sand if we’re careful not to touch the water?” Buddy asks.

“Of course.”

As I step down onto the sand with Buddy, the thick, salty smell of the ocean fills my nostrils. For a moment, it’s easy to forget we aren’t in Rixton, and the seagulls flying overhead aren’t real.

Fear rushes through me. Astrid really could make me believe anything was real. I remind myself that there are cameras, and Astrid’s every move is being tracked. I’m ashamed at how easily I understand why Illusors are treated the way they are.

Their power is scary.

Buddy isn’t afraid, though. He outstretches his arms and spins, letting out awhoopinto his imaginary Rixton. I’ve never seen him so happy and free, not even when we were making love.

He sits down on the sand and pulls off his shoes and socks, wiggling his little plastic toes playfully. “C’mon, H. We could go for a walk on the beach, just you and me.”

He hasn’t called me H since I told him my real name. What is going on here?

I sit and take my shoes off too. I don’t want to ruin his happiness. When I stand up, Buddy holds out his hand to me and says, “Can we pretend like we’re mates? Just for a few minutes? I know it’s stupid, it’s just—”

“Yes.”

This whole thing is pretend: the beach, my name, our relationship. In this fake space, Buddy skips next to me and can’t stop grinning. That’s when I realize why Buddy feels so safe.

This morning he told me he wasn’t real. I think he really believes that about himself. Here, he doesn’t have the pressure of needing to be real because nothing is. Here, he has the permission to just be.

“Oooo, I wonder if Astrid could make us a log cabin with a roaring fire, and I could curl up and snuggle in your lap,” Buddy says rapidly. “We could pretend I was pregnant with your pups and we were a family. That would be even more perfect than this. Hold on.” He lets go of my hands and goes sprinting back to Astrid.

I hold back the tears burning at the edge of my eyes. That’s Buddy’s ultimate fantasy? To be cuddled in my lap and pregnant with my pups? I ache to change the world for Buddy. To give him all the love and affection he deserves. Dorian doesn’t deserve him.

What if I killed Dorian? Would Buddy be safe then?

I’m not a violent man. I’ve never gotten into a fist fight. But isn’t it Buddy or Dorian at this point? Why should Dorian get to live?

Astrid talks to Buddy for a few moments, and another Illusor steps onto the platform. This woman isn’t curvy like Astrid. She’s all strong muscles and wide shoulders. She’s wearing leather armor too, but thick, opaque light flows from her fingertips and winds around her body until she’s wearing a scuffed-up pair of jeans, a flannel shirt and some hiking boots.

“Come onto the platform, and I will make you a log cabin, skatten min,” she says.

The Illusors have a word for Buddy. They are not surprised by his appearance. The word they call him is similar to Skatt, the name of the man we are here to see—the man who claimed to know how to help Buddy.

Is Skatt an animated doll too? Or was he before he became flesh and blood? Is that how he knows what to do?

Buddy and I climb onto the platform. We are suddenly in the white room again. The floor grinds as the sand lowers. This time, a thick, wooden slab slides along the floor, covering the grate underneath. It takes me a moment to realize there are slabs coming from both sides of the room. When they connect, the bang echoes.

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