Illusory

The plane shifted with a disconcerting squeak as I stepped through one of the holes in the wall and onto the singed carpeting. "It's not going to blow up," I told myself with obviously feigned confidence. "If it was going to blow up, it would have done it already." Another step forward brought another creak, and the next step brought a third. "Maybe I'll just fall through the floor instead," I muttered, though I pressed on in spite of my paranoia.

I headed through the curtain into what had been the economy-class area of the plane, creeping further and further back until I reached, beyond another flimsy curtain, the flight attendants' station. There were bits of food, packaged and otherwise, and bottles of water scattered all over the floor and counter, cupboard doors hanging open, and, to my delight, a few two-level metal carts pushed off to one side. I cleared a few pieces of debris from one of these carts and untangled it from the rest, then wheeled it out of the room. Getting it out through the hole in the wall proved to be a bit of a challenge, as the charred floor was too rugged for the wheels to cross easily, but I managed it.

"Oh, well, this is going to be a problem," I muttered as I stopped the cart beside Van's unconscious body. The cart was maybe two feet long, two feet wide, and Van was approximately four feet longer than that. I stared at the man for a moment, then at the cart, then back at the man, and I nodded to myself decisively. "I can work this."

I slipped my fingers underneath his armpits, gripping them tightly as I tried to haul him off of the ground. I struggled to get him into a sitting position, grunting and grimacing and all around sounding like a dying cow all the while, then I struggled some more attempting to get him into the air. "I can't even do a whole push-up without cheating," I panted, getting his ass a whole three inches off of the ground. "What the hell possessed me to try this?" I lifted him another two inches, then another inch, but my arms gave out before I could make it any farther, and Van dropped to the ground with a thud and a puff of dust from the dirty ground.

"Oh, shit," I said, dropping to my knees in the dirt beside him. "I'm sorry, Van!"

"Do you need some help, miss?" a deep voice suddenly asked from behind me, and I spun on one knee to find the source. It belonged to a tall black man, taller even than Van, who was frowning at me as if I'd just killed someone. He stood before a small, red pick-up truck, and I wondered how I hadn't heard him pull up. "Miss?" he repeated, and took a cautious step forward.

"Ah, yeah," I said nervously, lurching to my feet. I brushed my dusty hands off on my jeans and forced a smile. "My friend here has been hurt, and I was just trying to find a way to get him back to town."

The man's dark brown eyes slid to the half-tree that still lay at the edge of the woods, and his frown deepened. "Why didn't you just call somebody?" he asked, taking another slow step forward. He seemed to think that I really had killed someone. "I'm sure you have a cell phone. All young women have one these days."

I scoffed, affronted. "Excuse me, sir, but I'm not all young women. Besides, would I even have been able to get a signal up here?"

"More than likely," he answered, taking yet another step toward me. "Now," he went on, his tone just a bit more patronizing, "just tell me what happened, and I'll decide whether or not to call the authorities."

I scoffed again, hands on my hips. "The authorities? Do you think I'm the one who did this to him or something?"

"Well, you're the only one out here," he explained gently, though he held his hands out in placation as if he thought I'd snap and attack him at any moment, "and you appear to be trying to get rid of the body."

"The body?" I scoffed again, resting my hands on my hips and scowling at him. "He's not dead! He's just hurt. Something attacked him in the forest when we were trying to get to Merriclaw."

"You're the two who were lost in the forest, then?" His posture relaxed slightly, and his hand drifted away from what I assumed was a gun tucked away beneath his scuffed leather coat.

"Uh, yeah," I answered, a bit surprised. "How did you know we were out here?"

"One of the passengers from that plane," he said with a jerk of his head toward the wreckage, "said that two survivors had taken off into the woods. She said that we should probably go find you."

I sighed, relieved. "Oh, good. Thank you so much for coming for us." My hands slid from my hips, my posture relaxing into a less defensive stance. "I told him that we shouldn't go, but he never listens to me, and look what happened."

He grinned, showing off a set of perfect white teeth that made me just a little bit jealous. My teeth weren't totally fucked, but they weren't nearly as white and straight as his. I made a mental note to ask him who his dentist was later. "When he wakes up, you should tell him that. Maybe he'll start listening to you more often." He approached us now, calm as could be, as if he'd never assumed that I was a killer.

I laughed lightly. "Yeah, maybe."

He carefully scooped Van up, then turned his attention to me. "Do you think he'll be okay in the back of the truck? I didn't think I would be bringing an unconscious person back, so I didn't think to bring a car instead."

"I guess so," I said with a shrug. "Should I sit with him, just in case?"

"If you want," he answered, starting for the truck bed, "but he'd probably be all right on his own back there. He won't feel a thing."

I considered it for a moment, wondering if I should enjoy a nice, warm ride in the cabin of the truck or suffer in the bed of it just in case something went wrong back there. "I can't just leave him back there alone," I finally said, grabbing my back pack from where it lay a few feet away from the cart. I noticed that Van's bag dangled from a branch of the half-tree that wasn't resting against the ground, and I wondered how Van had managed to think of that during a fight for his life. I sure wouldn't have. I pulled it off of the tree, eyeing its little hollow suspiciously.

"Suit yourself," the man called, and I heard the truck start with a rumble then a purr. "Just hurry it up a bit. It's getting colder by the second." I nodded and jogged to the truck, throwing the two back packs over the tailgate before hauling myself over. The man began to drive before I'd even gotten situated, and I began to regret my decision before we'd even started back down the path.

-?-

We pulled up to a small, cabin-like building at the edge of the woods, which I discovered continued for miles in either direction. A pair of men rushed out of the building for Van, and the man that had saved us circled around to the back of the truck to help me down. I refused his offered hand, however, and lowered myself from the truck's back with surprising grace.

"Thank you again for coming for us," I said with a smile as I turned to face him.

He awkwardly dropped his hand to his side and returned the smile. "It was no problem, really. It's what I get paid to do."

"Well, you do it well," I said with a sheepish laugh, and he let out a patronizing laugh of his own. "By the way," I began suddenly, "who's your dentist? You have the most beautiful teeth I've ever seen."

This time, he uttered a real laugh, and I wondered just how stupid I sounded. "Why, thank you, ma'am. I see a man in Merriclaw, actually. Andrew Marks."

"I'll have to look him up sometime. My teeth aren't the greatest, as you can see," I said, pulling the bags out of the back of the truck and slinging one over each shoulder. They hit my back, and I cringed. I'd completely forgotten about my injuries. "Ow."

"Are you all right?" the man asked, and I turned back to find his beautiful teeth hidden by a frown.

"Ah, yeah," I said with a forced smile. "I just fell in the woods and took a few rocks to the back."

"Do you want me to take a look?" he asked. "There might still be something in there, and I'm sure the wounds are going to need cleaned out, anyway."

"Sure," I said, carefully pulling the bags away from my back. The cuts continued to ache, though it had dulled a bit from the initial sharp sting. "I mean, if you don't mind. I don't want to waste your time."

"It's all right," he said, and his smile returned, though he didn't show his teeth this time. "It's no trouble. If you'll just give these to me," he said as he took the bags from my hands, "and follow me inside." He threw them over his shoulders and led the way into the cabin-like building, and I couldn't help but imagine the muscles rippling beneath his coat in those broad shoulders…

"Right this way," he said after a brief trek down a brightly lit hall, gesturing to a door on the right. I offered him a quick smile, then slipped through the door. The small room I entered was just as brightly lit as the hallway and carpeted with the same dark, forest green. There was a plasticy counter of a slightly lighter shade of green against the far wall, a few chairs with worn gray cushioning against the wall to the right, and a long metal table in the middle of the room that glinted harshly in the fluorescent lighting. All in all, it was kind of creepy, but at least it was warm.

"I'm Rick, by the way," he said as he shut the door behind me. "I thought you might like to know who came to your rescue in the woods," he added teasingly, grinning at me while dropping the bags onto one of the chairs.

I smiled in return, though I was careful to keep my less-than-perfect teeth hidden. "I'm Ember."

"Ember? That's an odd name. I think I kinda like it," he said laughingly. "Now, I'm going to need you to take your coat and shirt off and lie down on the table for me. I won't look if you don't want me to."

I shrugged as I slipped my now-ruined wool coat off. "I don't mind, really. It's not like I'm going to be completely naked or anything." And honestly, even if I were going to be completely naked, I probably still wouldn't mind it. "Unless you want to look away. Do whatever makes you comfortable." I smiled and dropped my coat onto the nearest chair, then slid my shirt off over my head. I let out a soft hiss of pain as the fabric brushed against my wounds, creating a much sharper pain than I'd expected. "Ow," I muttered, dropping my purple T-shirt on top of my coat.

Rick winced. "Ouch. That does look nasty."

"Really?" I asked, my voice laden with pained sarcasm. "I thought it was quite lovely, myself." I crawled carefully onto the table, hissing again when I felt the sharp chill of the metal against my skin. "Why is this thing so cold?" I grumbled, the dull ache in my back driving every hint of agreeableness from me.

He chuckled. I was surprised that he hadn't become annoyed with me yet. "Sorry about that." I heard him step closer, then I felt his warm hands against my back, his touch smooth and light. "Now, let's see what we've got here," he murmured to himself, and I instantly felt a pain like a knife stabbing into my skin.

"Ow," I grunted, and he winced apologetically.

"Sorry," he said. "I have to make sure there's no rocks or other debris lingering in the wounds." He pried open another cut, and I let out another low grunt of pain. "Luckily, it looks like they're all pretty empty." Several more wounds were opened, more than I thought I had, and he said, "There. They're all looking pretty good so far. I'll just give them a quick cleaning just in case, then I'll stop torturing you."

"Thank you," I said with a soft laugh. "I would much appreciate that." He passed before by face, my cheek pressed against the cold metal of the table, and smiled, though he said nothing. He opened a drawer, shuffled around in it for a moment, then returned to the table.

"This is going to burn a little bit, but it shouldn't last for long," he warned, then I felt something cold and wet against my skin. I bit my lip when the burning started, a burning much more severe than the pain his inspecting my wounds had caused, and I did my best not to cry out.

"A bit?" I said, my voice strained. "A bit? You're a liar." He laughed, a low, deep, throaty laugh, but said nothing else. I felt a cloth gently brushing against my injuries, and I promptly went back to biting my lip, wondering all the while if that had been his plan to shut me up.

After another minute or two, the pain subsided to a smaller, duller ache than before, and I sighed in relief. "Is it over?" I asked. "Am I done now?"

He chuckled again, and I pushed myself to my knees on the table, taking that as a yes. "Was it really that bad?" he asked. I heard another drawer open, then some more rummaging, and I watched as he moved around at the counter.

"Not quite that bad, but definitely bad enough." I slid my legs out from under me and plopped my butt onto the table, my feet dangling a few inches above the floor. "Can I put my clothes on now?"

He glanced back at me, smirking over his shoulder. "If you want to, but I'm not complaining."

I smiled. "If it wasn't so cold, I'd consider," I said, sliding off of the table and walking over to where my shirt and coat still lay on a chair. I picked my shirt up, grimacing at the blood and dirt that had stained the purple fabric beyond salvation. "Actually," I started, turning toward him, "do you maybe have something that I could wear for a while?"

"Don't you have something in your bag?" he asked as he shut the drawer.

"Nah," I said with a sad sigh. "We weren't supposed to be here for long. All I have are some extra pairs of socks and underwear and all of my electronics."

"You didn't bring an extra shirt, but you brought an extra pair of…underwear?" He eyed me curiously, an eyebrow arched, and I felt my cheeks begin to burn as they so often did when I became uncomfortable.

"I frequently try to seduce my friend," I blurted. "Don't question my oddities."

He buried his face in his hands, and his shoulders began to jerk violently from what I assumed was silent laughter. My face felt like it was on fire now. "I'm sure I can find something," he said after a moment, his laughter obvious even though his words were muffled by his hands. Still covering his face, he left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. His uncontrollable laughter reached me through the thin wood, however, and I buried my face in the dirty shirt I held.

"Oh, God," I muttered. "I am such a spaz."

I forced myself into action after sulking for a moment, throwing my ruined top into the trashcan that stood to one side of the row of chairs with a sad farewell and considering doing the same to my coat. But it's wool, I thought as I lifted the dingy garment into the air. These things don't come cheap. But as I stared through the rock-sized holes in the back of it, I knew that there was no salvaging it. Even if the blood and dirt came out, there was no chance in hell of fixing those holes.

"Maybe Van would be willing to fix it," I murmured. "He knows lots of silly spells like that."

"Will this be all right?" Rick asked, and I spun to face him. His eyes dropped to my chest, barely hidden by my lacy black push-up bra, but I admired the quickness with which he forced his attention to my face.

He was holding up a black T-shirt with the words AC/DC: Back in Black written in white across the front. It looked much too big for me, but I nodded, dropping my ruined coat onto a chair. "That'll work," I said, pulling it from his hands and slipping it over my head before he could take another peak at my cleavage. "I don't even like AC/DC."

"Sorry," he said, smiling. "It's all we've got."

I shrugged. "Better than running around in a bra, I guess. Thank you."

"Not a problem," he said with a quick nod. "So, if I may ask, what are you and your friend doing all the way out here in Washington? Most people avoid this place at all costs."

"We…uh…" I stopped and looked up at the ceiling, trying to fabricate a damn convincing story. "We…have family out here," I finally blurted, returning my eyes to his face. "He has family out here, I mean. Mine is in Florida."

He cocked an eyebrow in a way that told me he knew that I was lying, and I shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Are you sure that's why you're here?" he asked. "'Cause he's muttering something about stolen spell books next door, and he sounds pretty damn sure of it."

I went cold. "Stolen w-what?" I stammered. "I have no idea what he could possibly be talking about."

He shrugged, calm as could be. "It makes sense. Some of the passengers on the plane said they thought they heard him shouting nonsensical words. One of them even thought it sounded like Latin. And then, magically, the plane slowed down enough that the impact didn't kill everyone. Not to mention the random fireballs that they swore had taken the plane down in the first place, and the strange words he used to put the fire out." I could only stare at him, stunned, and he just smiled. "It's pretty obvious, isn't it? He's a magician."

"How do you…?" I trailed off, eyeing the man skeptically. So few people knew about the existence of real magic that I just couldn't believe that this one random stranger, the first one I'd talked to in Washington even, had managed to guess what Van was based on just a bit of broken testimony and the mumbles of an unconscious man.

His broad shoulders shifted in another shrug, and his smile had yet to falter. "I've met my fair share of magicians. There are more out there than you might think."

"Are you…?" I once again trailed off, looking him over as if I could spot some sign that he'd worked magic before.

He laughed heartily, as if the mere notion was the funniest damn thing he'd ever heard, and waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, no. Not me. I've never tried any of it, and I never plan to. I just happen to know some people."

"Do any of those people seem like the type of person who would, perhaps, steal a whole slew of spell books and travel across the country with them?" I asked hesitantly, offering him a small smile that I was sure came out as more of a wince.

"Maybe," he said, frowning, "but I can't really say for sure. My magician friends aren't exactly my favorite friends."

"Do you not like magicians?" I asked, cocking my head. He spoke so casually of them that I couldn't imagine he felt any form of ill-will toward them.

"No, no," he said quickly with another wave of his hand. "It's nothing like that. I just find that we have very little to talk about, they're so obsessed with their craft. It's easier to talk to people who have the same interests as me: work, sports, and a good alcoholic beverage every now and again."

"Oh, yeah. I don't blame you. Van's not even into any of the heavy stuff, and he still never leaves the house unless its for spell-casting purposes." I looked to the door, frowning, as I remembered that he was in this building somewhere, unconscious and probably alone. "Is he doing all right?"

"Yeah," he answered, following my gaze to the open door. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." But I was sorry that I'd completely forgotten about him in the presence of a new man. "There's nothing wrong with him besides a few cuts and bruises and a bit of exhaustion. He wore himself out in that forest, fighting off whatever it was that attacked the two of you." When I looked at him, panicked, another lie bubbling up on my tongue, I found that he was staring at me, his eyebrow once again arched in that way that said, "I know you're lying."

"That's good," I said, looking quickly away from him and trying to avoid the obvious question. "I was worried that he had something internal going on or something."

Just then, the door swung from its half-open position to fully open, slamming against the wall in the process. "Ember!" Van cried, his dark eyes wildly searching the room for me. The moment they found me, I found myself caught up in his arms, his sigh of relief tickling the edge of my ear. "Oh, Jesus. Finally. There you are."

I was taken aback for a moment by this outright show of affection, but I quickly gave into it. My arms slid around his waist, and I asked, "Why didn't you just ask someone where I was? Wouldn't that have been easier than looking all over the place for me?"

He laughed sheepishly, his arms slipping from around my waist so that he could step back and look into my smiling face, and I allowed my own arms to drop dejectedly to my side. "I guess I panicked a bit."

"Just a bit," I teased, beginning to look him over. There was a bandage on his cheek where a small cut had been, and I could see many more white bandages peeking through the holes in his dirty suit. Why hadn't he been offered something else to change into? Or at least taken the suit jacket and dress shirt off until he could get to his bag? He could walk around topless, unlike me. "By the way, this is Rick, the guy who helped me get you to this place," I said with a gesture toward the man, who stood silently near the door, arms crossed over his chest.

Van turned to him, offering him the cool but friendly smile he reserved for business and pleasure that felt like business. "Well, thank you, Rick. I'm Van, Van Tamerlane," he said, and held a hand out to the man.

Rick took his hand and returned the smile with one that was nothing like the ones he'd been giving me all day, barely any warmth to it at all, and I wondered why. "Rick Carlisle. It was really no problem at all."

Their hands parted after a single brief shake, and Van's smile remained plastered on his face. "Would you like any payment for your time? I'm sure you deserve something."

"No, no, it's all right," he said, and his eyes slid to me, his smile becoming more genuine. "Meeting Ember was payment enough."

I felt a light blush beginning to heat my cheeks, and something in Van's smile changed. It became more forced, just a tinge colder. "Is that so?" he drawled. "Well, then, I guess we'll be on our way." He turned to me, and the sudden darkness of his expression startled me, though I said nothing. "Are you ready to go?"

"I thought we could stay for a while," I said, frowning. "We've got time. Besides, you're hurt, and Rick knows —"

"We really should be going," Van interrupted, something to his tone that told me not to argue. "We've wasted enough time here already."

My eyes flicked to Rick, who watched the exchange much too intently for my liking, and I sighed. "Fine. I guess there's really no point in staying."

Rick's face blanked of expression. "Would you like a ride somewhere? I'm sure you have business here."

"No," Van replied dryly, then turned from the man to look at me. "We should head to the airport," he murmured.

"The airport?" I asked, mildly surprised. "Why? We just got here, and we haven't found —"

"Things here are a bit more complicated than we originally suspected," he said shortly, an intensity to his gaze that made me shift uncomfortably.

"Would you like a ride to the airport?" Rick broke in, and I turned to find him smirking at Van. "It's not far from here, but I doubt you'd want to try the walk." It was an obvious jab at our failed trip through the woods, and Van's face tightened.

"Actually, I think we can make it this time," he said casually, though his visage was anything but casual. "Which way should we go?"

"Straight down the road to the left," Rick answered, smiling as if he'd just won something. "It's just a bit outside of the forest. You should have no trouble spotting it once you're out."

"All right," Van said with a hard smile. "Thank you very much." He jerked his bag from where it lay on the chair, turning his gaze to me. "Let's go, Ember," he said tightly, then started out of the room without waiting for a response.

"Here's my number," Rick said in a hushed voice, moving closer to hand me a small slip of paper. It looked like it had been part of a bottle's label at some point. "Call me when you get a chance. You can tell me about those books, and I can do a bit of snooping around Merriclaw to see if I can find them for you."

"Really?" I asked, surprised. "You'd do that for us?"

"For you, yes," he said, grinning down at me with his pearly white teeth.

"Ember?" Van called impatiently from down the hall.

"Thank you so much," I said, smiling widely up at him. "I'll talk to you when I can." I tucked the piece of paper away in a front pocket, slid on my ruined wool coat, and slung my bag over my shoulder, grinning at him the whole time. "Really. Thank you!" With that, I left the room, hurrying to catch up to Van. And I already knew that I wouldn't be telling him a damn thing about this.