Page 39 of Real

The swirls of light fuse together and form a blob. That blob sprouts what looks like wings. The wings are wide and elegant. Next, a long neck protrudes from the center, and two slim lines extend down into spindly legs. It looks like a crane made entirely of light.

“For this reason, once our light fades, it’s completely gone.” The bird dissolves into sparkles and falls to the ground in a glittering heap. The impact is silent, and the illusion melts away.

A ball of flame appears in Einar’s hand, illuminating his face. “Our illusions even fade on the security cameras the NYPD have strategically placed throughout the Den of Dreams. Video footage of our conversation won’t show the illusions I made for you or any of the other illusions you see tonight. Only what you and I physically did and said.

“Technically, the security cameras are here to protect our guests, but they also protect us. If you claim anything violent happened to you in the Den of Dreams, it will be easy to prove you wrong. It will also be easy to prove if you harass any of our employees. If you are looking for a place to make trouble and get away with it, I suggest you look elsewhere.”

A great swath of blue light bursts from both of Einar’s hands and swirls around him before silently crashing to the floor and spreading around us like water filling the bottom of a tub. The only place on the floor that isn’t covered by Einar’s blue light is where our feet are. I lift my foot to touch it with my toe, but Einar’s light withdraws from me.

“While we entertain you, we have a few rules. The first is to look but never touch. Touching an Illusor’s light is an intimate act. There are some of us who enjoy sharing that intimate act with clients—you can purchase private illusions with them on the second floor—but most of us prefer to share that intimacy only with our mates. This is the most important rule, and if you fail to follow it, you will be kicked out immediately, regardless of what you paid to join us this evening.”

That’s when I realize this speech isn’t specifically for Timothy and me. We didn’t pay anything to get into the Den of Dreams. This is something every guest gets to hear.

“The second rule is that you are not allowed to bring valuables into this space. This is not because we don’t trust our employees but because people have falsely accused us of robbing them before. If you have any valuables on you at all, you must walk across the street to where an ice dragon shifter has lockers for rent. Our employees are not allowed to enter that space, and because the police track our every move, we can prove that none of them walk over there to steal your things. I request you do this now before we walk into the Den.”

Timothy pulls out his wallet. “This is the only thing I have that’s worth anything. Would you keep it safe for me while we’re here?” He hands it to Einar.

Einar takes the wallet. “This isn’t something I offer other guests, but I will do it for you. The third rule is that you must be respectful. If we say we don’t want to create a specific illusion for you, you must respect that. And if we say a particular illusion must be purchased upstairs, you must respect that too. You are not allowed to demean or belittle us in any way, and you are not allowed to be rude to the other guests either. Are you willing and able to agree to these terms?”

I nod.

“You must say it out loud. This contract is being recorded.”

“Um, yes. I am willing and able to agree to these terms,” I say.

“State your full name.”

“Buddy Gray.”

Timothy verbally agrees to the contract too. There’s another section about safety and the Den’s limited liability before we can move on. Einar must have put guests through this spiel many times before, but he’s patient and thorough anyway. When he reveals a second door at the end of the darkness, I’m disappointed he doesn’t follow us.

“Take off your hood, Buddy. Everyone will want to see your beautiful face,” he says as I open the door.

I turn back to him and pull my hood down. “Thank you, Einar.”

He yanks up his blue eye mask so I can see his face in its entirety. “Welcome to the Den of Dreams, skatten min. I hope it’s everything you wished for.”

17

H

We enter what looks like a forest. Thick, tall pine trees stretch high above us, and I can smell their scent. I hear the chattering of birds as they flutter in front of us and grasshoppers singing off in the distance. Even the floor underneath my feet is made of soil. I grind into it with my toe, and I leave an impression in the dirt.

This is not what I was expecting. Surely, the birds and grasshoppers are sound recordings, and the pine scent is artificial. They couldn’t put a forest smack dab in the middle of New York City. But didn’t Einar say we weren’t allowed to touch the illusions? Is this dirt real or some intimate part of an Illusor’s light? How do we know? What are we supposed to do if we can’t walk on the ground?

A curvy woman with long blond hair and elf ears approaches us. She’s wearing the same blue eye mask as Einar, but the rest of her wardrobe is quite different. She’s sporting leather armor and has an axe strapped to her back. “Welcome to the Den of Dreams, skatten min. I’m Astrid. It’s very good to meet you.”

She called Buddy “skatten min” too. What does that mean?

“We’re just waiting to see Skatt,” I explain.

The woman smiles at me politely, then turns her attention back to Buddy. “Wednesdays are slow at this hour. Right now, you’re my only guest downstairs. What would you like to see? I can take you anywhere.”

Buddy looks back at me.

“Where do you want to go, Bud?”

He thinks about it for a moment. “Rixton. At sunset.”

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