Illusory

Chapter 11

When I woke up the next morning, it was to the sound of my phone vibrating obnoxiously on the mahogany nightstand next to my bed. I slid my hand onto the table, my fingers wriggling around in search of the source of that evil noise. They finally closed on it near the middle of the stand, only an inch from the digital clock that read in red, evilly bright numbers: 7:47. I should not have been up yet.

"Hello?" I grumbled groggily into the receiver without even bothering to check the caller ID, rolling onto my back and rubbing at my eyes.

"I think I might have found out who took your books," came a deep, thunderous voice that could only belong to Rick. He sounded excited, almost proud of himself. "One of my magician friends recently stumbled upon an entire collection of dark texts and powerful light texts. There's no way he could afford to buy them, so he has to have stolen them from someone."

"Do you have any idea what the titles are?" I asked eagerly as I sat up on the bed, much more awake than I had been only a second ago. "Or maybe one or two of the spells that they contain?"

"I haven't made it quite that far yet," he said, his voice losing all of its cheer. He sounded almost dejected now, like I'd crushed his entire spirit with that single question. "I only caught wind of this information this morning."

"Well, why don't you check it out some more, then called me back later?" I suggested, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and letting my feet rest on the shaggy red carpeting. It was cold against my feet; I already missed the warmth of my blankets. "I don't want to fly all the way down there and find out that he really did just happen to come by a few good books."

"Will do," he said, and I could almost hear him nod through the phone. "Hey, ah..." He lowered his voice, whispering now as if someone else might be listening in. "Next time you're in town, do you think you might want to go get a drink with me?"

This took me by surprise. I stopped mid-stretch and said, "Well, sure, I guess. I mean, if we have the time. We'd only come up there for business purposes, so..." I trailed off, and he seemed to understand where I was going.

"Oh, yeah. Of course." His voice had returned to its normal volume, and he cleared his throat loudly. "Well, then, I'll give you a call once I find out more, and we'll just see what happens."

"Sounds good," I said with a light laugh, a smile on my lips that I thought would never leave. "Be careful."

"Will do," he said, then hung up.

I flipped my phone closed and grinned down at it as the screen faded to black. It was only 7:49 in the morning, I'd only been up for two minutes, I hadn't seen anyone in person, and I'd already had my day made. "Sweet."

Quickly, I brushed my teeth and my hair, threw on a pair of faded blue jeans and a cute black top, twisted my hair into a tight braid over one shoulder, then made my way down the stairs, a slight skip to my step. I felt like singing or doing a little dance, but I restrained myself. Van was already going to question my never-ending smile; I didn't need to give him more to ask about.

"Good morning," I chirped pleasantly upon entering the kitchen. He was sitting at the stainless-steel center island, a cup of black coffee next to an open book before him. He glanced up just as I leaned down to give him a light, friendly peck on the cheek. "Whatcha readin'?" I asked as I glided to an overhead cabinet. Coffee cups clanked against one another as I pulled free a mug of my own, and Van watched me with an eyebrow arched in a mixture of confusion and suspicion.

"Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter," he said, and I turned to him with my own look of confusion.

"Don't you usually read real history books?" I asked, recalling the many times I'd walked in on him reading biographies about presidents or memoirs about the Holocaust or stories about any of the many wars that had happened since the beginning of mankind. I don't think I'd ever seen him with anything that was even slightly fictional.