Page 38 of Real

Timothy gets out his wallet and shows them his license. I unwind my scarf and unhook my face mask, exposing my nose and mouth for the guards.

They look at each other meaningfully. The one on the right says something in a different language, and his companion slips inside the first metal door. The tracker on his right ankle rings with every step. It’s not really loud, but it’s not quiet either. It must be horrible to go through life with a tracker like that.

“We were invited here. Someone said they could help Buddy,” Timothy tells him.

The man smiles. “It’s okay. We were told you might come, but you are a bit early. Sven is going to check to see if you can enjoy the show until Skatt can see you.”

Timothy slides out his debit card. “I can pay.”

“No. You are our guest. I’m Einar, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

Timothy holds out his hand. “My ID says Timothy, but my friends call me H. It’s nice to meet you too.”

The man doesn’t extend his own hand. “Illusors do not shake hands in greeting. We nod to each other like this.” He lifts his chin slightly.

Timothy mimics the chin lift.

When I do the chin lift too, Einar’s whole face lights up. “Very good. I hope you choose to stay. I have not painted my hands yet if you are still seeking someone to wind your life around.”

I’m not sure what that means. Is that some kind of Illusor bonding ritual? Why is Einar mentioning it to me?

The door next to him opens. “See? Here he is, batting his eyelashes for Buddy.” The second guard has come back with a companion.

Einar laughs good naturedly. “You can’t blame me. He’s truly breathtaking, no?”

Breathtaking? Me? My cheeks heat up. I’m not used to someone talking about me like that.

The new man looks me up and down. Not in a polite way like Einar. This man’s gaze is far more calculating. “He wears the bite of the shifter. He’s already taken.”

I bring my fingers to Timothy’s bite. It’s wrong to be so pleased that this man thinks I’m already taken. Timothy isn’t bonded to me, but he leans in closer as if our hands and feet aren’t already fused with duct tape. The movement feels like a claim, and it fills my heart with warmth.

“I’m H. It’s nice to meet you,” Timothy says, lifting his chin.

The man pauses, clenching his jaw, before returning the chin lift. “Geir. Do you need help getting rid of all that tape? Looks awkward for you.”

“Give them a break. They just want to feel safe.” Einar’s tone is clipped and tense now.

“So you think it’s okay for them to assume they aren’t safe around us?”

Einar shakes his head. “No, but Skatt warned us he’d think like a tom. Be patient.” Einar opens the door. All I can see behind him is darkness. Then he takes a step inside, and just like the other guards, Einar’s tracker rings. He gestures for us to follow him.

Timothy and I move in tandem.

Geir crouches and pulls our pant legs up to expose the duct tape that secures my left leg to Timothy’s right. “What is this?”

Einar looks down at the layers of tape. I know without him needing to say anything that I should be ashamed of what we did. I just don’t completely understand why.

“It was just to stay safe,” I try to explain.

Einar gives me a strained smile. “Would it be all right if you took the tape off? I swear to the Lights nothing will harm you inside these walls.”

I turn to Timothy. “Can we? I don’t think they’ll hurt us.” I know I don’t have a lot of experience in the world, and maybe I’m being stupid, but I don’t think I want to judge the Illusors based on what other people say about them, even if that’s what Timothy chooses to do.

Timothy reaches into his back pocket and gets out a small pocketknife. He bends over and cuts the tape between our ankles. I watch silently as he rips it off his skin and mine, taking some of his leg hair with it. He stands up and points the knife at our hands next, silently asking me if he wants to separate them too. I smile at him. There’s still concern in his eyes, but he slices the tape down the center, peels it off, and stuffs it into his pocket.

Einar’s face softens with relief. “Thank you, H. That means a lot to me.” He opens the door wider, and we follow him inside. When the door closes behind us, the room is pitch black.

“They say light magic isn’t real,” Einar tells us. Five small points of light appear at his fingertips and extend into yellow lines. “On a molecular level, it doesn’t exist. Scientists have tried to study it, tried to trap it, tried to turn it into something they could control, but they can’t. According to them, what you’re seeing only exists in your mind.”

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