Illusory

The plane ride was silent. Van sat beside me, alternately looking at me and looking out the window, and every time he opened his mouth to talk, he ended up closing it again a moment later, frowning. If it weren't for Krekkel peeking up at me from inside the small black purse on my lap, eyes still expressive and red in spite of her new form as a black-furred mouse, I likely would've broken down and cried throughout the entire flight. The thought that she might be there for me in the end kept me going. I only hoped that Satan didn't take her from me first.

"We could just use another locator spell," Van said as we stepped off of the plane, his voice uncharacteristically nervous. "We wouldn't even have to talk to Rick."

"I want to talk to Rick," I said simply, my tone strong and emotionless though a frown wouldn't leave my face. "Besides, we don't have a map of Washington."

"We could always buy one," he pointed out. I didn't bother answering him, and we lapsed back into silence as we walked through the airport.

Rick was waiting for us out front of the building, waving excitedly when he saw us. One look at my face wiped all of the enthusiasm from his, and his arm dropped slowly to his side.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly when we approached him, leaning close to me and effectively excluding Van from the exchange.

"Yeah," I said, forcing a smile, "I'm fine. I'm just feeling a bit nauseous for some reason."

"Would you like to lie down, then?" he asked, frowning in concern. "We don't have to go hunting for those books right away."

"I think it would be best if we just got this over with," Van said dryly from beside us, arms crossed over his chest. "The sooner we can get back home and get on with our lives, the better."

"With all due respect, sir," Rick started, leaning away from me to give Van a stony glare, "I was asking Ember, not you. I wasn't looking for your input."

"Well, you got it," Van said with an icy smile. "Now, can we get going? It's a bit chilly out here, and I'd like to move somewhere warmer."

"You won't be warming up any time soon, I'm sorry to say." But the bold grin on his face said that he most definitely wasn't sorry, not in the slightest. "We're walking to my friend's house, and that's a good fifteen minutes away."

"Didn't you bring your truck or something?" Van asked, his nose wrinkled in blatant disgust. "Or could we at least call a cab?"

"My truck is at his house," Rick answered, though I had a feeling that that was a lie, "and there aren't any cabs in this town. Too small. They wouldn't get any business." That part, at least, I believed.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Van growled, pinching the skin between his eyes. "Let's just hurry this up, then. I don't think I can take much more of this crap." My eyes widened just a hair. Crap and fuck? He must have been really, really annoyed today.

"Will do," Rick said with a grin to show off his perfect white teeth, then put an arm gently around my waist and began to guide me along the sidewalk. Van huffed behind me, but his footsteps kept pace with ours.

For a moment, we relapsed into silence. There was only the sound of our steps on the concrete and the bustle of traffic and people around us. But of course, Van couldn't hold his tongue for much longer. I was surprised he hadn't exploded yet from all of his pent-up thoughts.

"Really, though, why didn't you drive to pick us up?" he grumbled, and I could hear a tremble to his voice as he shivered. "If not for my sake, then at least for Ember's?"

"To be honest," Rick started, his grin growing until I thought it was going to swallow his face whole, "I did bring my truck. I just didn't want to give you the satisfaction of being warm, and Ember's tough enough to take a little cold. Right, Ember?" he asked, and I nodded, forcing another smile. It wasn't like I was just out in my little red jacket again...Oh, wait. I was. Dick.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Van snarled again, and I stifled a laugh. Seeing this was almost worth freezing my ass off.

Nothing else was said until we reached a residential area, though Rick did pull my body closer to his on a couple of occasions. I let him, and Van's grunts of annoyance were highly entertaining.

"Here we are," Rick said, his arm slipping from about my waist so that he could gesture to the two-story, powder-blue house that we now stood in front of. "If what my friend says is true, your books should be in here."

"Thank you," Van said, finally regaining his composure, "for bringing us all this way. I think we should go in alone, though. Things may get dangerous from here on in."

"Nonsense," Rick said with a dismissive wave of his large hand. "I think that the two of you can talk this over rationally, and I'm pretty sure my presence will help with that."

Van cringed, but he really had no say in the matter. "All right," he said, a small shrug shifting his shoulders. "If you're sure you want to be involved in this."

"It shouldn't be a problem, really," Rick said, his grin still in place, and headed onto the small porch, the old wood creaking beneath his weight. He knocked on the door, and a shorter man answered, brown eyes filled with annoyance to match his angry frown.

"What do you want, Rick?" he asked, words rushing out and tripping over one another as if he were in a serious hurry. "We're working on the—" At that point, his dark eyes found us, and he stopped talking, eyes wide in surprise. "Oh, hello," he said with an innocent smile full of yellowing teeth. "And who might you be?"

"These are my friends," Rick stated, his smile never faltering, "Ember and Van. There's something they need to talk to you about."

The man frowned in confusion, eyes staring questioningly up at the taller man, but he opened the door further and stepped obediently aside. "Of course, of course. Come in."

Rick went first, then Van, and I trailed along behind them. I nearly gagged as the smell of the house hit me, something like rotting eggs and too-old meat all stirred up in a blender and drizzled over the corpse of a long-dead woman, but I pressed on. Neither Van nor Rick seemed to notice the stench, and I wondered what their secret was.

"The living room is just through here," the short, yellow-toothed man informed us as he led the way down a dimly lit hall and through an abnormally narrow doorway. The smell in this room was even worse, like lavender had been sprinkled over the blend of rotten eggs and old meat covering the woman's corpse. I surmised that this man was probably the type who thought that a bit of Lysol would make any bad smell better. "Please, have a seat," he said with a gesture to the dark blue couch. It looked to be in pretty good condition, the cushions clean and no damage to the upholstery but for a gash along the side beneath an arm rest.

Cautiously, I lowered myself onto the cushion furthest to the right with my purse resting carefully on my lap, and Van and Rick plopped down unconcernedly to the left of me, Rick in the middle and Van at the other end. Their sitting brought up a gust of air that carried with it a strong breath of lavender, and I wondered what the little man had done to this couch. He sat on the armchair across from us, forcing a smile at us over the low, scratched coffee table between the two pieces of furniture.

"What is it you needed to discuss?" he asked, the same forced cheer to his voice that filled his yellow-toothed smile.

"My books," Van answered flatly, not one for beating around the bush. "The ones you stole from me. Where are they?"

The man's eyes widened, flicking to Rick in surprise. "Books?" he said as his eyes drifted back to Van. "What books?" It was obvious that he was lying, however, shown by the way he swallowed audibly and allowed his hands to begin fidgeting on his lap. His fingernails were chipped, and his hands were caked with dusty dirt. My eyes narrowed. What had he been doing?

"You know what books," Van snapped, eyes narrowed in a particularly hot, piercing glare. "Just hand them over, and we'll be on our way."

"Rick," the man started, his worried eyes moving to his friend's face, "why did you bring them here? You know we can't give those books back. We need them to—"

"Relax, my friend," Rick sighed, his smile still immovably in place. He turned his attention to me, then to Van, and he said, "It seems we have some explaining to do."

"What?" Van asked, and I frowned at the back of Rick's head. Something didn't feel quite right here.

"I'm sorry, Van," Rick said, resting a large hand atop Van's shoulder, "but this has all been a trap to get you away from the public and into a place where we can kill you that much more easily."

"What?" Van asked again, and I saw panic mix with the anger in his eyes.

"Fulgur," Rick said in an almost matter-of-fact tone, and Van's body jerked violently as a jolt of electricity ran through him from where the man's hand touched his shoulder. The shock ceased after a moment, and Van's head lolled against the back of the couch, his eyes closed. I hoped he was only unconscious.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Rick said calmly, smiling as he turned to me on the couch, "but it had to be done. We couldn't have him interfering with all of our plans."

"W-what about me?" I stammered, hands trembling on my lap.

"If you promise to say and do nothing to fight us, we'll let you leave here alive," he said, and he continued to grin charmingly down at me. "We have no reason to kill you as long as you don't hurt our work. I'll even pay for your flight home if you don't have any money of your own."

"But...Van," I whispered, chest tightening as fear and worry fully gripped me. He looked dead, lying there like that…

"He's gone," Rick snapped, the anger in his usually gentle voice startling me so badly that I actually jumped in surprise. "Forget about him." His voice gentled, and his smile returned. "You have no reason to worry about him now. He's gone. If you'd like to hear more of our plans, we could always discuss them over drinks, if you'd like."

He'd just killed my friend, my business partner, my crush — if he really was dead, anyway — and he was...asking me out on a date? I suddenly regretted not savoring the dinner Van had made for me, the carefully made lasagna and the carefully lighted candles. How could I have been so cruel to him?

"I...I don't know," I stuttered, biting at the inside of my cheek as my panic began to deepen further and further. "This is just...This is a lot to take in all at once." My eyes flicked to Van, and my chest tightened further.

"I guess it is," Rick said with a hearty laugh. "And I guess it would be silly to waste time telling you about all of it. I would just have to erase those memories before you left, anyway."

"Are you going to erase my memories of...of this?" I asked, and my eyes moved to Van again. I could feel tears threatening to leak out, but I held them back.

"More than likely," he answered, his smile fading to be replaced by an expression of boredom as he looked around the room. "I'll replace them with the memories of an accident or something that killed your friend." His eyes moved back to my face, and his smile was hard, cold. I shivered. "Do you have any preferences as to which accident I supplant?"

"N-no," I stammered, horrified at the mere thought of choosing the lie that went into my mind.

"Suit yourself," he said with a shrug, pushing himself to his feet. He turned his attention to the short man still sitting on the chair across from us. "If he wakes up, kill him, but I'm thinking he's already dead." He gave Van's leg a nudge with the toe of his tan boot, then laughed and strode out of the room, heading away from the entrance and deeper into the house.

"Yes, sir," the man grumbled once Rick was gone. His eyes darted to my face, and his fidgeting began again. "Don't try anything," he warned me, though I could hear fear clear as day beneath his forced intimidation. "I don't want to have to hurt you."

I stared at him for a moment, silent as I carefully chose which path to take here. I could either obey his words, pretend that I was actually afraid of him, or I could attack him and raise hell throughout the entire house. I wasn't sure how many other magicians there were in the building, though, and there had been one that had almost taken Van out back in the forest. My eyes flicked to the man, lying lifelessly across from me on the couch. I was so relieved to see his chest rising and falling with slow, even breaths that I nearly cried out, but I refrained. If Van was alive, maybe we had a chance of escaping. Maybe I would get the chance to apologize.

I turned back to the short man, looking him dead in the eye with an ice-cold smile, and I chose my path. "That's too bad, 'cause I have no problem with hurting you."