Conjured (10 page)

She saw a street sign: Hall Avenue. She tensed even more. “You missed my turn,” she said as evenly as possible.
I made a mistake
, she thought.
I shouldn’t have gotten in this car. It’s a trap
. She eased her hand away from his.

“Pizza, Green Eyes,” Aidan said. “Like yesterday. And the day before.”

“Oh.” Eve felt her face flush red.

He was studying her instead of watching the road. She didn’t like how speculative he looked, as if he knew what was wrong. She pointed at a traffic light as it switched to yellow. “Watch the road.”

He sped through the red light.

The black car sped through it behind them.

She twisted in her seat to look backward, trying to see the driver’s face through the tinted window. Savior, enemy, or chaperone?

“You want to lose our tail?” Aidan asked.

He’d seen the car. Eve couldn’t tell from his statement if the car’s presence was normal or alarming, and Aidan didn’t wait for her to decide how to answer. He swung the car onto a side street, roaring past houses and dodging garbage cans.

The black car followed.

Aidan zigzagged through the town, choosing one-way streets that fed into others, until he peeled out onto the main road without pausing at the stop sign. He barreled over the median and reversed directions.

And all of a sudden, a memory bloomed in her mind. A city, at night. She’d been carried through the streets, skyscrapers’ dark silhouettes blotting out the night sky. She’d felt the rapid heartbeat of the person who carried her. His feet were silent on the pavement; his breath was loud in the silence. She’d felt the wind in her face and through her hair. And she’d felt a laugh inside her as they’d escaped …

Eve, without meaning to, laughed out loud.

Grinning at her, Aidan floored the gas.

Keep running
, her memory whispered to her.
Don’t stop!
“Go there,” she ordered. She pointed to a parking lot. The lot was empty, the pavement broken with tufts of withered grass in the fissures. “Left,” Eve said, trying to chase the memory. “And then left again.”

Aidan careened left.

The lot opened onto another street. At the light, Aidan yanked the wheel to the left again. “And we’re behind him,” Aidan said. “
That
, Green Eyes, is why I love you.”

He …
She felt as if her brain stalled at those words. The memory evaporated. Music from the radio pounded in her head. It had to be an expression—just something he said in the moment, right? Her brain couldn’t have forgotten something as momentous as falling in love.

He drove up behind the black car and leaned on the horn. He then pulled around the black car, waved, and drove slowly and sedately to the parking lot of a restaurant with a neon sign that read MARIO’S HOUSE OF PIZZA. He parked and turned off the engine.

The black car parked beside them.

The window rolled down, and Malcolm glared at them.

Unclipping his seat belt, Aidan shot out of his seat and planted his lips on Eve’s. His lips were hard, and his breath was warm. Eyes open wide, Eve didn’t move.

Laughing, Aidan climbed out of the car and stretched. Slowly, Eve got out of the car. She trotted to Malcolm’s window. Before he could speak, she said, “You could have warned
me.” She meant about everything: Aidan picking her up, whatever relationship she had with him, the fact that Malcolm would be following her.

“You asked to come here,” Malcolm said.

“I did?”

“Lou told you it could help, exposure to others.”

She digested that. “What do you think—” Before she could finish the question, Aidan put his hand on her shoulder.

“One slice of pepperoni,” Malcolm said. “Extra cheese.” He rolled the window back up again.

“Come on, Green Eyes. Garlic knots won’t eat themselves.” Aidan trotted to the door of Mario’s House of Pizza. She glanced beyond Malcolm’s car toward the traffic light and the strips of stores. She had, for an instant in the middle of the chase, touched her past.

Maybe exposure to Aidan would help her remember more.

Eve followed Aidan into the restaurant.

Inside, Mario’s House of Pizza reeked of burned bread, like Aunt Nicki’s toast, but tinged with the faint sting of antiseptic, like the hospital. The floor was sticky, the décor was red and white, and the tables were mostly empty.

“Good,” Aidan said. “They’re still here.”

In one corner, Topher and Victoria had staked out a table. The table was for eight, and three of the empty seats had used paper plates, napkins, and cups in front of them. Topher raised his hand in a half salute, half wave. Victoria looked up from her book and tossed her hair, clearly broadcasting that she’d registered their arrival and was unimpressed.

Aidan curved his arm around Eve’s waist and deliberately patted her butt. Eve froze, unsure if this was a common occurrence or new, and also unsure what reaction was expected.

Topher’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. Aidan strolled to the table as if nothing unusual had happened. He parked himself at the table and swept aside the used plates with his arm.

Feeling Victoria and Topher’s eyes on her, Eve approached the table more slowly and slid into a seat next to Victoria. She wondered when and how they’d switched from trying to kill her to wanting to eat with her—and when and how Aidan had started to say “love.”

“Sorry we’re late,” Aidan said to Topher and Victoria.

Victoria studied her. “You missed Nicholas, Melissa, and Emily. But that’s okay—they weren’t worthy of joining us anyway.”

“Oh.” Eve filed those names away in her head as Victoria and Topher exchanged inscrutable looks. Eve wondered how many others like them there were, as well as the wisdom of allowing them to meet. If they were all in WitSec, wouldn’t it be safer to be separated? Again, a question she couldn’t ask.

Aidan smiled broadly, and then he planted a kiss on the top of Eve’s head. “One slice of mushrooms and peppers? Like usual?”

“Like usual,” Eve echoed.

Victoria snapped her book shut. “Well, then.”

Whistling, Aidan sauntered toward the counter. Eve watched him walk away, so sure of himself and who he was. She envied
that confidence in a rush of jealousy so acute that it felt like a thumb shoved into her solar plexus. She turned back to Victoria and Topher to find them staring at her.

Both of them plastered smiles on their faces at the exact same time.

Eve twisted the corners of her lips upward in what she hoped resembled a smile. She was grateful that she’d sat on the side of the table closest to the door. She’d only have a few seconds’ head start if she had to run.

“So … how are things with you and Aidan?” Victoria asked. Eve noticed that her eyes looked more human than they did before. The whites were wider, and the pupils were rounder. Her irises were still golden.

Eve shot a look at Aidan. At the counter, he winked at her and blew her a kiss. He then turned and spoke to the man at the cash register. She assumed he was ordering, but she couldn’t hear his words. “Fine,” Eve said vaguely.

“He’s going to be insufferable now,” Topher said to Victoria.

“Only if this works,” Victoria said.

Can I ask what they mean?
Eve wondered.
Or am I supposed to know?

Topher called to Aidan, “Get an order of garlic knots!” At the counter, Aidan waved. He talked more to the man at the cash register, then pulled out his wallet to pay.

“What made you late?” Victoria asked. “Or am I prying?” Beside her, Topher smirked, and Victoria elbowed him. His smirk half vanished.

“I had work,” Eve said.

“You”—Topher leveled a finger at her nose—“shouldn’t be working so hard at that library. You should be spending time with us instead.”

Eve tried to remember agreeing to spend any time with these people. She couldn’t.

“Besides,” Topher continued, “books lie.”

Victoria whacked his shoulder with her book. “Philistine.”

“Beyond the misuse of your time, if you spend too much time with the locals and their literature, you’ll end up with vocabulary exclusive to this world,” Topher said. “Case in point, ‘philistine.’ You need to be in a world with certain historical facts for that word to exist.” He stretched his legs out and propped them on one of the empty chairs. “And most worlds differ so dramatically that that kind of historical overlap isn’t even on the table.”

“But that’s why it’s so fascinating! All the differences reveal the minute and not-so-minute differences between related realms,” Victoria said. “Seriously, Topher, you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy the interrealm equivalent of the regional-dialect-comparison conversation. You know, the grander version of: some say ‘soda’; some say ‘pop.’ Some call it a ‘bubbler’; others a ‘water fountain.’” Victoria made air quotes as she talked in her mocking lilt. Eve tried to keep her face blank. She wondered if this conversation would have made sense if she had all her memories.

“No one says ‘bubbler’ in any world,” Topher said.

“You are in the heartland of ‘bubbler,’” Victoria said. “Soak in the ‘bubbler.’”

“I hate the people here.” Topher scowled at the other customers. There were only three other occupied tables. Across the restaurant, by the window, a woman coaxed her three children to eat their pizza without stripping off the cheese. Their faces were smeared with orangish grease. In another corner, an older couple ate sauce-soaked sandwiches. The man stared out the window as he ate, and the woman continually checked her phone. The last customer was a middle-aged man in paint-stained jeans who had folded a piece of pizza in half and was shoving it into his mouth. Eve wondered what people in other worlds were like.

“They are pigs,” Victoria said prissily.

One of the kids tossed his pizza on the floor and began to cry, a bleating sound.

“Sheep,” Topher corrected.

Aidan laid a tray on the table. He slid a slice of mushroom and pepper pizza in front of Eve. She had no memory of eating that kind of pizza before. The mushrooms resembled dried slugs. “At least no one here is trying to kill us,” Aidan said.

“Yet,” Topher added.

He’d said it so casually, as if death could stride through the door any second and order garlic knots. Eve felt as if the grease-tinged air had turned rancid. Her eyes slid to the door, and then to the black agency car with the tinted windows. She hadn’t thought … Of course she’d known that Malcolm and Aunt Nicki were her guards. She’d known she was in WitSec for her protection. All the security cameras. All the guns. But to hear out loud, tossed off in conversation, this easy talk of death …

Topher suddenly grinned. He rubbed his hands together, and sparks danced over his palms. “Let’s have some fun with the sheep.” Stretching back, he slapped his palms on the wall. The lights in the pizza place flashed.

“Cut it out, man,” Aidan said. “I still have two slices cooking.”

“Why don’t you go electrify the urinal again instead?” Victoria suggested. “That seems to be suitably juvenile for you.”

“If ‘juvenile’ means ‘hilarious and awesome’ in the local dialect, then yes, you are correct,” Topher said. “But I’ll quit if you fetch more Tabasco sauce.” He picked up a nearly empty bottle and waved it in the air. He then uncorked it and chugged the remaining sauce. A shudder ran through his body, and he shook it off like a horse shaking its mane. “Fantastic stuff. Must remember to pack a case for home.”

Eve’s stomach churned, but not from the sight of the sauce. She tried to will it to steady.
Don’t be sick
, she thought.
Hold it together
. She tried to breathe evenly. In and out. In and out. Malcolm had said “he” was still out there, and Patti had been concerned about security. She shouldn’t be so surprised. She’d just had so much else to think about. Lately, it felt as if her thoughts were swirling and bubbling inside her. She didn’t remember feeling like this before, but then, given her memory …

Aiden draped his arm around her, and Eve flinched. “Green Eyes, you okay?”

“You are looking greenish beyond your eyes,” Victoria said. “Not an attractive shade.”

Eve licked her lips and coughed. Her throat felt as if sand had been poured down it. She thought of what Topher had said
and clung to the word “home.” “After this is over … after we testify … can we go home?”

All three of them looked at her.

“Testify?” Topher asked carefully.

“We aren’t witnesses,” Victoria said, “despite the agency name.”

“But I thought …,” Eve began.

“All the witnesses are dead,” Aidan said. His voice was kind. She looked at him, into his eyes, which suddenly looked more serious and sad than she’d thought he could look. He stroked her cheek and brushed her hair back behind her ears. With pity in his voice, he said, “Didn’t you know? We’re merely likely targets.”

“He only kills the best of the best,” Victoria said. “The young and the strong.”

“And that,” Topher said, “is why we have to stick together.”

Victoria smiled at her as if they were friends. “Strength in numbers.”

Aidan brought Eve’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Together.”

An hour later, Eve knocked on the window of Malcolm’s car. He rolled down the window. She handed him a slice of pepperoni.