Page 3 of Real

Technically, he’s what was stolen.

Now I understand.

I give Buddy the same kind of smile I give the children I take care of. I don’t know what he is, but he looks scared. “It’s nice to meet you, Buddy.”

“Uh, hello.” His voice is deeper than I expected. It makes me wonder if he’s a man or a boy. His silicone skin is so smooth it’s hard to guess his age.

“The police say Buddy was created with magic,” Steppe explains.

Buddy lowers his gaze to the ground and his shoulders hunch. I don’t think he’s comfortable with that theory. I don’t blame him. Magic is unpredictable and sometimes vicious. Most people don’t want anything to do with it.

“Do we know why he was created?” I ask.

Steppe presses his lips together and glances at Buddy. I can hear the subtext loud and clear. Steppe plans to tell me but not now.

He doesn’t want Buddy to know.

“The police don’t want this publicized,” Steppe says. “They asked me to take him to an isolated location until they can establish whether to treat the situation as a human trafficking case or a theft. The man who claims to own Buddy says he paid for the magic to bring him to life.”

Spells are expensive and not just financially. They all require a personal sacrifice greater than the value of the spell. As a result, once someone has paid the price for a spell, the result of that spell always belongs to them. It’s the law.

I wonder if a law like that can apply to a sentient being. If that’s what Buddy is.

“I can’t go back to Dorian,” Buddy says, his deep voice trembling.

Steppe looks him straight in the eye. “I swear to you that we will do everything we can to prevent that from happening.”

What Steppe doesn’t say is that we’re bound by the law. We have to be, or the government wouldn’t trust us with human trafficking victims. If the police want us to hand Buddy over, we’ll have to.

“Where is Buddy going to stay?”

We don’t have a place here at the sanctuary where he’d be truly isolated. At least not for very long.

Steppe pulls a set of keys out of his pocket and tosses them to me. “One of our donors was kind enough to loan us their beach house for a month. It’s fairly isolated, and it’s in the same police district as his case.”

Buddy’s mouth spreads into a wide grin. Silicone or not, his smile is beautiful. “We’re going to the beach?”

“It’s not a warm beach. The water will be freezing this time of year. But it’s pretty,” Steppe says.

Buddy’s smile suddenly falters. “It seems wrong to go to the beach without Candlewick.”

Candlewick must be the person who was charged with the “robbery.”

Steppe places a hand on Buddy’s shoulder. “We’ll do what we can for Candlewick too, okay? Our best lawyers are handling his case now.”

Buddy looks at Steppe’s hand curiously. He doesn’t seem scared of Steppe’s touch. In fact, he moves a bit closer to Steppe. “Maybe you could take me to the beach instead. I won’t be a bother. I can cook and clean at night and stay out of sight during the day.”

I’ve heard that speech before. The “I can be useful to you” speech. It usually means the patient has come from a place where they were treated as nothing but a servant—a place where no one loved them.

Steppe smiles warmly at Buddy and lowers his arm. “That sounds lovely, Buddy. Really. But I need to do everything I can to ensure that you stay free and Candlewick gets bail.”

Buddy’s plastic cheeks flush pink. That’s curious. I wonder if he has some kind of circulatory system or if blushing is simply an aspect of the magic that makes him appear so life-like.

“I understand. You’re busy. And I’m not… Well…” Buddy turns his head away from Steppe, and the color in his cheeks deepens. I can’t help but feel bad for him. He’s obviously starved for attention.

“You’ll like H. He’s a nice guy. He’ll take care of you,” Steppe assures him.

Buddy turns around and stares at me for a few beats. “You look like a teddy bear.”

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