Conjured (5 page)

Inside wasn’t much better.

Bright lights filled the hall and reflected off silver-and-white walls. The air tasted stale. She didn’t think she’d ever noticed that before, but it felt like chalk on her tongue. Outside tasted damp. Home tasted mildewy. The library tasted like warm dust.

“Let her lead,” Malcolm said.

“Lead where?” Aunt Nicki asked.

“Out,” Eve said. She counted her steps—twenty-five to the elevator. She pushed the up button, then stepped inside when the elevator opened. Malcolm and Aunt Nicki scooted inside after her as she pressed five.

“Five?” Aunt Nicki asked. “But that’s—”

“Shh,” Malcolm said.

“Out,” Eve repeated. She was certain of it.

The elevator doors slid open. Eve strode forward, trusting instinct or memory to lead her. She turned left and then right. She halted in front of a massive steel door.

Two armed guards on either side shifted as they watched her. She touched the elaborate gears of the lock.
Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this isn’t …
Malcolm flashed his badge. So did Aunt Nicki.

The guards twisted wheels on either side of the door, and Malcolm punched numbers into a keypad. The steel door rolled open. Eve hesitated for an instant and then walked inside. Immediately she felt the coldness suck against her
skin. She walked through a blank corridor toward the next door.

Malcolm placed his hand on a pad. It scanned his palm, and the door slid open. The next door required a combination code, which Aunt Nicki entered. The fourth set of doors was guarded again. One of the guards radioed for permission, which was granted.

As the last door slid open, Eve prepped herself.
This is it
, she thought. She could feel it, her destination. Malcolm gestured for her to proceed, and she strode forward.

Inside … it was empty.

She halted in the center of the room. Spinning, she looked in all directions. The room was vast, with a silver ceiling far above them. The walls were bare silver, smooth and cold. The floor was spotless white. Except for the door they’d come through, the room was featureless.

All the certainty drained out of her, flushed away. She started to shake again. This wasn’t … She didn’t know this place. Or at least she didn’t remember it. It was just a room, an empty room.

The two agents watched her.

Eve circled the perimeter of the room. Her reflection followed her, crisp on the silver. She saw no reason for this empty room to be guarded, and she didn’t know why she’d been so sure this was her destination. This … this was nothing.

“You were expecting a big breakthrough, weren’t you?” Aunt Nicki said to Malcolm.

Eve felt empty inside, as empty as the room.

Malcolm held his hand out to Eve. “Come with me.” He sounded tired and sad. “There’s still time.”

“Not much,” Aunt Nicki said softly. “Not much.”

Eve crossed the room and took Malcolm’s hand. His hand was warm, but she felt cold inside and out.

Eve let the agents lead her out of the silver room. On her right, Malcolm cupped Eve’s elbow gently. On her left, Aunt Nicki gripped Eve’s upper arm so hard that Eve could feel each fingernail denting her flesh, as if Aunt Nicki’s nails were coated in steel instead of wine-red nail polish. Eve felt numb inside, as if every ounce of energy had been drained by her failure.

As she and the agents exited, Eve saw that the security guards were staring at them. Both Aunt Nicki and Malcolm ignored the guards, but Eve stared back. One guard flinched and looked away. Surveillance cameras swiveled to record them as they passed through the other doors. The second set of guards did not react.

Aunt Nicki stabbed the elevator button with her index finger. In silence, Eve watched the numbers flick up to five. The doors slid open, and the two agents shepherded Eve into the elevator. Pivoting in sync, they flanked her, and Malcolm
pressed number three. The elevator doors slid shut. Neither agent looked at her.

The elevator lurched downward, and tinny music echoed. Eve listened to it and pictured a carousel, shrouded in fog. A memory? A vision? Neither?

Aunt Nicki said to Malcolm, “Lou is going to rip out one of your balls.”

“So long as it’s not the right one,” Malcolm said. “Right one’s made of steel.”

“He’ll rip it out, pickle it, and display it at the holiday party between the poinsettias.”

The music swelled. A thin, sour flute squeaked the melody. Eve tried to think of something, anything, to say to the two agents, especially to Malcolm, who had believed in her.

“Man of Steel Balls or not, Lou has your kryptonite,” Aunt Nicki said. “You can count on it. Whatever it is, he’ll have ferreted it out. It’s his modus operandi.”

“She is my sole concern,” Malcolm said. “He knows that.”

The elevator lurched to a stop, and the doors opened. Eve saw drab brown walls. A plaque directed visitors to the reception desk. “I remember this place,” Eve said. She meant it as a peace offering—at least her mind hadn’t utterly betrayed her.

“Fantastic.” Aunt Nicki shoved Eve forward into the hall.

Malcolm strode past her, and Eve trailed after him. She did remember the third floor. She’d spent days here before they’d moved her to the house on Hall Avenue. She knew the blue
carpet, worn in spots and patched with duct tape. She knew the fake plants, brilliant green and coated in dust. Several office doors were shut, but a few were open, and she saw file cabinets and chairs, framed diplomas on the walls, family photos and coffee mugs on the desks—all familiar.

Eve stopped outside Malcolm’s office. A brass nameplate was nailed next to the door: MALCOLM HARRINGTON, US MARSHAL. A red, white, and blue flag on a toothpick was wedged into the top of the nameplate. She touched the flag.

“You put that there,” Malcolm said.

She nodded. “It was on a cake.”

“Yippee-ki-yay. She remembers desserts.” Aunt Nicki pushed past Eve into Malcolm’s office and flopped into the desk chair. Head back and eyes closed, Aunt Nicki spun the chair in a circle.

The cake had been served at a party for Malcolm. Red, white, and blue frosting. Vanilla inside. He’d brought Eve a piece with the toothpick flag on it, and she’d eaten it in his office curled up in one of the worn leather chairs. She’d saved the toothpick.

“You’re in my chair,” Malcolm said to Aunt Nicki.

“You won’t be able to use it for a while,” Aunt Nicki said. “You are about to be spanked.” She dropped her feet hard on the floor to quit spinning, but she didn’t open her eyes.

Eve heard footsteps in the hall behind them. She started to turn to see, but Malcolm propelled her into the office. He shut the door behind him. “You shouldn’t take such glee in this,” Malcolm said, again to Aunt Nicki.

“I take zero glee.” Opening her eyes, Aunt Nicki looked at Malcolm. Her expression was serious. “I know as well as you what’s at stake.”

Eve wanted to ask what was at stake, but before she could, Malcolm knelt in front of her. “It will be okay,” he said. “No one blames you. You shouldn’t be afraid.” She hadn’t been until he said those words. Now, her heart thumped faster and her throat felt tight. Across the office, the door was thrown open. Rising, Malcolm blocked Eve, but she saw around his elbow. A bald man in a gray suit with suspenders filled the doorway. His tie was loose, and his scalp had a sheen of sweat that reflected the fluorescent lights. This was Lou. He was a foot shorter than Malcolm and a foot wider, but he seemed to loom over the office. Eve shrank back.

Lou spoke, his voice mild. “Agent Harrington, are you trying to give me an aneurysm?”

Malcolm straightened. “No, sir.” His voice was as sharp and crisp as a salute.

“Because my wife—you know, the doctor with the fancy degree—demands that I cut out all stress from my life,” Lou said. Listening to his voice, Eve began to shake. She knew his voice. Oh, yes, she knew it deep, the way she knew the pulse in her veins and the breath in her lungs. “Already cut out red meat, red wine, sausage, and bacon. And you know how I feel about bacon. There’s no other food with a scent more perfectly designed to trigger the appetite than bacon. You could pump the smell of bacon into a room full of vegetarians after a veggie-burger-eating contest, and every one of them would
crave cooked pig before the end of an hour. So explain to me exactly why you are rendering my no-bacon sacrifice moot by giving me an aneurysm.”

“I took a calculated risk,” Malcolm said. “It was mine to take.”

Lou’s voice was still as soft as a cat’s purr. “If we lose her, we lose the case.”

Eve had heard his voice in the background while medical equipment beeped in rhythm with her heartbeat. She’d heard it when she’d woken with tubes shoved down her throat and her skin feeling as if it had been burned from her bones. Even though she wasn’t in the hospital anymore, Eve felt her heart thump fast and wild like a chased deer, and she retreated from him and his soft voice. She bumped into a table, and papers spilled onto the floor.

In one smooth movement, Malcolm scooped the papers back onto the table and guided Eve to the closest leather chair. “Breathe,” he said. “Deep breaths. In and out.”

She looked into his warm brown eyes and obeyed. Breathing, she sank into the chair. She wished he were next to her all the time, reminding her to breathe, making her feel safe. She kept her eyes fixed on his, trying not to see Lou looming behind him.

Malcolm kept his eyes on her as he said to Lou, “I’d like to discuss this elsewhere.”

“You think she understands?” Lou asked. He’d ordered the surgeries, she remembered. He’d said when it was enough or not enough. She heard him in her memory, clear in the haze.
He’d never spoken directly to Eve, only to the doctors and nurses. Remembering, Eve gulped in air. She’d spent days, weeks, in that hospital room.

“Yes, I do,” Malcolm said. He fetched a computer tablet off his desk and handed it to Eve. “I’ll be back soon,” he told her. She heard the reassuring promise in his voice. “You can look through the photos again.”

She ran her fingers over the dark, cold screen of the tablet as she watched Malcolm follow Lou out of the office. Picturing the operating room, she wanted to call him back—
don’t go with him!
—but she didn’t move or speak. She saw Malcolm’s silhouette through the beveled glass window. And then he was gone.

“What’s Lou going to do to him?” Eve asked.

“Flay him, fillet him,” Aunt Nicki said. “Since when do you care?”

“I care.” Saying it out loud felt like a jolt of electricity through her body. She shouldn’t care. But she did. She wanted to shoot out of the chair, chase after Malcolm, and make sure he was safe.

Aunt Nicki snorted. “Look at the faces if you care so damn much.”

Eve looked down at the screen, a dark mirror. Her own green eyes stared hollowly back at her. The left side of her face was obscured by the glare of the fluorescent lights. She thought she looked like a ghost staring out at herself.

He’d said to look through the photos again, but she didn’t know what he meant. She had no memory of this tablet or any faces. She felt as if a fist were curled inside her stomach. She
could remember a piece of cake but not this, the operating room but not level five, this office but not her home before it.

Aunt Nicki shoved her chair back and stood. Without a word, she stalked around Malcolm’s desk. Leaning over Eve, Aunt Nicki tapped a button on the tablet, and it flashed on. A photo of a teenage girl appeared. She had sour lips and hostile eyes underneath a rainbow of eye shadow. Aunt Nicki slid her finger across the screen and a new face appeared, a teenage boy with a single braid in his hair. He had dark skin and black eyes, and he wore an embroidered gold shirt. His expression was serene.

“Should I recognize them?” Eve asked.

“Never have before,” Aunt Nicki said. “But let’s be optimists and say sure! Your best buds, all in high definition. You used to share lunches, have sleepovers, trade homework answers, play truth or dare, borrow one another’s clothes.”

Eve slid her finger across the screen the same way Aunt Nicki had. There were dozens of photos, all close-ups. Half were male, and half were female. Most looked to be Eve’s age, or close to it. She tried to conjure up memories to match the photos, but she felt nothing as the faces flickered past. “You’re lying.”

Aunt Nicki leaned in close. Her face was inches from Eve’s. Her eyes bored into Eve’s. “Prove it. Prove you’re worth all he did to find you, all we are risking to keep you. Remember them.”

In the photo on Eve’s lap, a girl wore a smile with crooked teeth. She had freckles on the bridge of her nose, and antlers that sprouted in the midst of her limp red-brown hair. Eve studied her and shook her head. She didn’t know her.

Eve slid her finger to bring up a new face, a sandy-haired boy with a pointed chin. Next, a boy who needed to shave. He wore a black chain around his forehead. Next, a girl with a pale-green face. She had pearly scales on her neck. Next, a gangly teen with the face of a Doberman on his bony shoulders. And then back to another human face, a girl with jet-black hair and sorrowful eyes. Frozen in their photographs, the faces stared out at her with accusing eyes.
Know me
, their eyes seemed to say.
Remember me
. But Eve didn’t. She scanned through face after face, one after another, as Aunt Nicki returned to Malcolm’s desk. Green eyes, brown eyes, red eyes, cat eyes, black eyes, milky eyes, blue eyes. Her hand shook as her finger slid across the screen, summoning more faces of strangers. “I don’t know you,” she whispered at the screen. “I don’t know you!”

A hand caught her wrist.

Her hand was gently lifted up, her fingers lifted from the screen. Eve raised her face to look up at Malcolm. She didn’t read any blame in his eyes. Just pity.

Eve swallowed hard once, twice. Her throat felt thick.

He touched her cheek with one finger. He studied the damp remnant of a tear as if it were a jewel glittering in the fluorescent light. Eve touched her own cheek. She hadn’t felt herself crying, but her skin was damp.

In a hushed voice, Aunt Nicki said, “Is she …?”