---=Chapter 49: Seeing Through Illusions---=

After checking the safety on the shotgun was off, I gripped the handle of the door and took several quick breaths to hype myself up. I turned the doorknob, used my shoulder to smash it open, and bull-rushed in, bringing the gun up to my shoulder as I sped forward.

Nobody was waiting to ambush me on the other side of the door, which didn't mean I was alone. The pool water sloshed in agitation, and the two men standing guard over it shook their heads as though to clear their minds before reaching for their guns. Their motions were identical and in near unison.

If I had a voice, I'd have been screaming as I aimed my gun and pulled the trigger. The sound was deafening in the tile room, sounding more like a bomb than a gunshot. Shot splattered across the pool's surface in tiny eruptions of water, leaving the gunmen—well, the other gunman—completely unharmed. Either my aim was terrible, which was entirely possible. Or I was still seeing illusions.

Dammit, Sori, why did you tell me seeing through illusions was easy?

Illusion or not, I didn't regret the shot. I flared my prepared glamour. I hadn't really been able to use my emotional illusional on more than one target so far. Mainly because each glamour needed to be attuned to my target with empathy. I suspected the terror glamour was different, at least in this context. Anybody scared of getting shot should be susceptible to my fear aura.

That said, mindless drones probably wouldn't be affected by emotional glamour of any sort, so I still made sure to target the dolphin.

Sori, it better not have been bullshit that Hands is the dolphin. I thought while trying to imagine how this situation might seem to him.

Hands knew what guns were; after all, he'd had me shot to death. I visualized the burning force of being struck by a bullet, the crimson red of blood in the water, and the terror of brutal destruction.

I felt absolutely no connection.

Then, I projected the cold and dark closing in on all sides. It was the sensation I'd felt each time I'd died. Finally, a whisp of blue light zipped from my head into the pool and made a connection to the dolphin.

In that moment, I got the briefest insight into the creature.

Born into captivity, Hands had heard the other dolphins echo stories of the ocean and the unfathomable black depths that hid unknown monsters. Dolphins could hold their breaths longer than people, but it was still measured in minutes. They could see with echolocation, but that would just make the endless fathoms of the ocean seem even more dangerous. Just as people had a natural fear of the dark, Hands, at least, had a natural fear of the depths, the depths that eventually claimed almost all dolphins. The death I'd felt again and again echoed sympathetically with Hands's instinctual fear of the cold, dark press of the ocean depths.

I pumped my gun as the moment passed and juked to the left as the two possible illusions opened fire.

If the goons and their bullets were illusions, they were convincing. If they weren't illusions, it didn't seem my fear aura was affecting them. They stood in firing positions, legs spread, two hands on their pistols, unmoving from their spots in front of the pool. Their gunshots were almost as loud and more continuous than my single shot. The biggest indication that they might be illusory was the fact that I hadn't been hit yet.

Unlike me, neither goon was running for cover or trying to evade my shots, which could be another indication they weren't real. Then again, what use were puppet-guards that ran?

Two shots left till reload. Even if I ran out of shells, I'd have options. I couldn't afford to think they weren't real. Hands's main threat came from his goons. So long as I took them out without dying, I should be able to deal with the dolphin. Just draining the pool should leave him in trouble.

I ducked around some shelves holding various bits of equipment. It was far from bulletproof, but the concealment and deflection were enough to let the goons empty their clips without striking me. My ears rang from the echoing cacophony, so I didn't hear their guns click empty, but the bullets stopped coming, and I took my chances.

I came charging out from behind the shelves at the men reloading their guns. I didn't wait till I saw the whites of their eyes, but I got close enough I was pretty sure I wouldn't miss and pulled the trigger. The closer of the goons went staggering backward, half-thrown, and splashed into the pool.

One shot till reload. Which was fine; my target was right in front of me. I cocked the shotgun and ejected the spent shell.

Before I could line up a shot, the second goon, moving calmly and steadily, loaded a new magazine into their pistol, aimed, and fired, striking my vest twice and throwing off my aim.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

My breath huffed out of me, and my chest felt like I'd been hit by a car. I folded forward, and my shotgun went off while pointing at the tile. The deflected shot was joined by tile shards, slicing into the goon's pants and legs, sweeping his legs out from under him.

Silently screaming my pain, fear, and revulsion, I hurried forward, pulling my weapon back to use the sharpened barrel as a spear.

Hands's magic-man form burst into existence between the downed man and me, but for once, I understood what Sori meant. I knew he wasn't real—believed it wasn't real. My mind rejected the cognitive dissonance and dismissed the illusion as irrelevant.

I squeezed my eyes shut, not to shut out the illusion, but so I didn't have to see myself spear the man as I brought the point down.

Before I made contact, water erupted next to me, and something slammed bodily into me.

I crashed into the ground and rolled, my weapon clattering across the floor. Hands had leaped out of the pool and fallen onto me. I still didn't think he was full-grown, but he weighed as much as an adult man.

The collision sent me careening away from my attacker, and I scrambled to get my limbs beneath me. My left arm screamed at me in protest as I put my weight on it to get to my feet. I barely managed to keep myself from falling back to the floor, but the arm didn't seem like it would cooperate further.

Adrenaline had me looking around wildly for the goon. Hands might have caught me off guard, but I wasn't worried about him now that he'd left the pool.

It was a mistake.

I spotted the goon convulsing on the ground by the pool, having some kind of fit. His gun was abandoned nearby. Things had gone to shit, but it hadn't gone any worse than I'd expected; better, really.

Or so I thought until Hands smashed into me again.

I saw a blur of motion out of the corner of my eye and felt myself getting body-slammed a second time.

This hit wasn't as brutal, but I still smacked hard into the tile. My injured left arm ground grotesquely as I tried to catch myself, momentarily making my vision fuzz white in agony.

When my eyes cleared, Hands stood over me, looking almost like a mini T-rex. He was balanced on two beefy arms, each leading to strong-looking hands. His tail was lifted off the ground, and his back was arched, raising his open mouth to the height of a man. His head was bent forward and twisted so he could see me in a display of flexibility I wouldn't have guessed from a dolphin.

He was glaring at me. "These are mine." His illusory voice said.

Even knowing it was an illusion, I could still hear him. Besides, the sound might be an illusion, but the sentiment was real.

I tried again to get to my feet, and he spun, his tail whipping around and smacking against my injured arm, sending me reeling.

I huffed out a breath in another silent scream as I rolled across the floor.

I could hear the slap of wet palms on tile as he ran toward me.

My hand closed on one of the dropped pistols.

I began to aim a shot when an arm snaked around my neck and pulled me backward, costing me my line of sight on Hands. It was the injured goon. He had an arm around my neck, his other hand slapped against my forehead, something hard pressed between his palm and my head.

I struggled to get eyes on Hands, the pistol lifted in my good hand.

I got off a single shot before a hand slammed my wrist to the tile, and one eye of the dolphin glared into my eyes hatefully. His other hand slammed down as a fist on my stomach, his whole weight behind it, leaving me gasping and gagging for air.

"I told you, there's nothing for you here. Your recklessness and ignorance are only outmatched by your arrogance. But fine, if I must, I'll educate you on your error."

I felt a searing heat against my forehead where the goon's hand pressed something hard.

Is it a memory crystal? Is Hands going to show me a visualization? Why does it burn?

The glaring eye of the dolphin held my gaze as I struggled, and I felt the world around me begin to shudder. Everything became an indistinct blur. Sensation vanished. First went the pain, then the pressure, then all awareness of myself and the world around me, until all I knew was the dark eye of the dolphin piercing my soul.

---=

--=-