Page 13 of Oracles Always Win

“Jake?Youokay, honey?”Sallyasked.

“I’mfine.”Idid not sound fine.

“Because…”Shenodded toward the imaginary man who wasnotstanding beside her. “Aren’tyou going to say anything?”

Ilet my gaze slide pastSallydown the bar.Theonly thing between her and the wall was my illusion.Shepointed right at the man who didn’t exist.

"Myfriends andI," the guy said, drawing my attention back to him. “Weheard this was the place to come for a drink.”Hegestured to two other exceptionally large and good-looking men who were grabbing one of the tables at the far side of the room.

Whythe hell would my imagination conjure up friends for my fantasy guy?

Mychest tightened asIgot a better look at one of the men who’d come in withMr.HornyDude.Irubbed my eyes before looking again.No, it couldn’t be.Sittingat the table was an athletic-looking guy with sun-bleached blond hair hanging down past his shoulders.AndIbet it’d look like it was billowing if the guy was, you know, riding a horse… or something.

Thelong-haired man caught me looking at him.Anaffable smile lit his face as he waved at me.Theother man at the table seemed entirely too normal, all things considered.Hehad short dark brown hair and a close-cropped beard, which accentuated his jawline.

Wait…Hadthe normal-looking guy just gone blurry around the edges?

Isnapped my attention back to the man who wasnotreal andnotstanding at my bar.Ibit the inside of my cheek.Painshould jolt me back to reality, right?Nothingchanged.

Thatdidn’t mean…

No.

Iwasn’t seeing this for real, wasI?

Thatwas impossible.

Peopledidn’t have horns.

Unlesshe had implants.

Iwas sureI’dseen some late-night documentary about body modifications during the last year whenI’dtried binge watching television.Ionly did that for a month or so beforeIlost interest and decided it was impossible to watch everythingI’dmissed.

Istill turned theTVon occasionally, but even then,Iavoided anything to do with magic.IdoubtedI’dever shake the lingering memories of my mother’s anxiety over those types of shows.Butdocumentaries?Thosewere fascinating, even the ones claiming that every mind-blowing feat of engineering onEarthwas thanks to aliens.

Butthis guy didn’t look the type to get horn implants on his head.

Iwas so confused.

Noneof this made sense.

Hewas a figment of my imagination.I’dbeen painting his face for almost a year.Iknew the dips and hollows of it better thanIknew my own.Icould paint his face in my sleep.Ihad,in fact, painted it in my sleep.Overand over again.Hewas a fantasy.Imaginary.Madeup.Notreal.

Icouldn’t imagine someone into real life.

Theworld didn’t work that way.

Thenagain, what if it was only the hornsIwas imagining?HadIseen him before and my brain fixated on him, a real person, without me realizing?ButifIhad seen him before, why didn’tIremember it?

“Ah,Jake, honey?Areyou going to serve the man?”Sallycoaxed.

Well, that settled that.Sallydefinitely saw him.Whichbegged the question, how on earth was he standing in front of me instead of just existing in the pictures under my bed?

Wait.

Didthat mean…?

HolydaVinci.