Conjured (7 page)

Victoria clapped in glee, like a child. “Set? Go!”

Aidan vanished.

The air popped, sucking into the space he’d vacated. Half a second later, he reappeared next to the pool table. He picked up a pool cue, winked at Eve, and then vanished again. He reappeared between Topher and the vending machine.

Still smiling, Aidan jabbed at Topher’s throat with the pool cue—hard, as if he wanted it to pierce straight through his
jugular. Eve felt her entire body freeze at the sudden, unexpected violence of the gesture.

Before the tip touched his throat, Topher slapped his hands together and caught the pool cue between his palms. White-hot sparks leaped from his hands onto the wood. Aidan dropped the pool cue as electricity raced up and down it.

Victoria was laughing.

Eve flattened herself against the mirror. Her mind shrieked at her to run. But the door was beyond the two boys. Glancing at Victoria, Eve saw her transformation: first her body stretched and narrowed, and then her skin puckered into scales. Her mouth opened to expose needle-sharp fangs, and the snake that used to be a girl hissed at Eve.
Who are these people?
Eve wondered.

With his hand engulfed in white sparks, Topher threw a punch. Aidan vanished, and Topher’s fist swept through the empty air in front of him. Aidan reappeared on top of the pool table. “Is that the best you can do, pretty boy?”

“Not by a long shot,” Topher said.

Against the mirror, Eve didn’t let herself breathe. She wanted to melt into the wall so they wouldn’t notice her. This was their game? Watching, she waited for them to drop to the floor, caught in nightmares, ending this. But they didn’t.

Victoria darted across the floor. Fangs extended, she aimed for Topher’s ankle.

He pointed at her, and a bolt of electricity shot from his index finger. Hissing, Victoria curled backward. The bolt missed her and seared the floor, which blackened in a spattered star.

Aidan vanished again. He reappeared next to Eve. Casually, he leaned against the mirror. “Come on, new girl, play with us.”

“I don’t think I like this game,” Eve said as neutrally as she could.

The snake swelled, transforming into the black-haired girl again. She rose gracefully in one movement and dusted off the front of her blouse. “But it’s a delightful game, Evy. We call it ‘Who’s Next to Die?’”

They’re insane
, Eve thought. She glanced at the door. Most of the office was empty, but someone would hear her if she screamed for help, wouldn’t they? Malcolm was out there; so were Lou and Aunt Nicki.

“Aw, how cute,” Victoria said. “She’s looking for a rescue.”

Topher wove his hands back and forth in front of him, and the sparks danced and grew between his palms. “You can’t depend on them. First lesson. He left you to play with us.”

“Don’t be shy, Evy.” Victoria smiled encouragingly. “Each one of us has our specialty—that’s why we were brought here. We’re all special treasures. Prove that you’re special, Evy.” She lunged forward and transformed again while in motion. This time, her torso remained human while her legs fused into the tail of a massive snake. She smiled, revealing snake fangs. She flicked her forked tongue over her lipstick-coated lips.

“She’s poisonous,” Aidan commented, still conversationally. He vanished with a
pop
and reappeared again on top of the pool table. “Use your magic, Green Eyes. Show us what your talent is.”

Eve climbed onto the couch, her back against the mirror.

The half snake, half girl reached the couch. Hissing, she coiled, prepared to attack.

Casually, Aidan picked up a billiard ball, and then another and another. In rapid fire, he hurled them at Eve. She ducked and dodged on the back of the couch. The balls hit the mirror, cracking it. “Fight if you want to live!” he called.

“Come on, new girl,” Topher said. “Prove you won’t be the next to die.” His hands were ashen. White-hot sparks burned on his fingertips. He picked up one of the metal chairs, and electricity danced over it. Fangs wide, Victoria sprang onto the couch, aiming for Eve, as Topher threw the electrified chair at her.

She veered to the side, and the chair crashed into the mirror.

The mirror shattered.

Eve swept her arm over her head and then out, and the shards flew through the air like knives toward Aidan, Topher, and Victoria. As they broke from the wall, the remaining bits of the mirror fell away to reveal a hole in the wall. Eve glimpsed Malcolm and Lou standing on the other side, watching them from a room beyond. Malcolm’s fists were clenched, and he was glaring at Lou.
A one-way mirror
, she thought.

And then the inevitable vision claimed her, and she collapsed.

I touch the stripes of moonlight that crisscross my skin. Silver, dark, silver, dark
.

The box tilts, and I slide to the side. I brace myself but it’s not enough, as the box shifts the opposite way and then back again. My flesh feels tender from banging against the walls, and I wrap my arms around my chest and curl tighter into a ball
.

Sometime later it stops, and I lie still. I smell burned popcorn and urine. Outside, I hear the tinny music of the carnival. And then voices
.

“She’s broken.” A woman’s voice
.

“
She’s perfect.” A man
.

And then I am outside the box—the box is the size of my palm, and I am restored to my true size. I feel dirt and patches of grass under my back. Neon lights blink above me, words that I can’t read because they are reversed and twisted. They blink out and don’t return. It’s black. After a while, I see stars
.

I watch the stars and then realize they are on a string. They’re not stars at all. They’re boxes dangling from a silk ribbon, like charms on a necklace. Inside them, I see faces, shrunken within their tiny cages. I reach out my hand toward them, and they scream
.

“Shut her up,” a voice says. The same man? Maybe. Maybe not
.

A hand clamps over my mouth, and I realize that I am the one who is screaming. My throat aches, and I fall silent. The hand is gnarled and soft like a slice of withered fruit. It smells sour. I know this smell. I relax against the hand
.

“Once upon a time,” the Storyteller whispers in my ear, “a man wanted the stars. And he wanted them with such an awful want that it ate him from the inside.”

With her hand on my mouth, I watch the magic boxes swing back and forth. The boxes are decorated with jewels. Sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds. Each edge is gilded in silver, and each clasp is unique—on one, the clasp is curved in the shape of a cat; on another, it’s split into branches of a tree. Within the boxes are eyes. Blue eyes, brown eyes, black eyes, cat’s eyes, red eyes, all watching as the Storyteller lifts me into her arms
.

I see her face—and she is young. Her cheeks are smooth. Her wrinkles have been washed away. Her eyes are clear, with ivory whites and brown irises, as if her old milky-red eyes were glasses that she removed. Her hair is silk-soft and black. Only her hands are still old. She places one of her hands over my eyes
.

I am again within a box. This time, I am carried for far longer. I knock from side to side as if being tossed from hand to hand. I see moonlight through the slats of my box. I see sunlight. And then I see moonlight again
.

I hear the click of the lock, and the lid of the box is pried open
.

“
She’s broken.” A woman’s voice again. Familiar, soothing
.

“
She’s perfect.” Again, a man. Familiar, frightening
.

I squeeze myself tighter into a ball as he reaches in to touch me
.

Eve’s hands were wrapped around a glass of orange juice. She blinked at the pulp that swirled in the orange. Aunt Nicki was talking as she buttered toast. “… doesn’t matter. If Lou says jump, we fetch the trampoline. You
have
to try harder.”

She didn’t remember coming into the kitchen, sitting down at the table, or drinking the orange juice. She didn’t remember anything since the cafeteria and her last vision. Her hands tightened around the glass.
Calm
, she told herself.
Stay calm
. She looked out the window. Outside was bathed in pale yellow, as if it were morning.

“Are you even listening to me?” Aunt Nicki asked.

The clock over the refrigerator said 7:05. She swallowed. It was hard to breathe. Her lungs felt constricted, and the air in her throat felt as if it had hardened. It
was
morning. It had been late afternoon at the agency. She’d lost all her memories of last night, plus any memory of what she’d done since she woke—everything since her last vision.

She was wearing a pale-purple T-shirt and jeans—different clothes from yesterday. This shirt had a picture of a bird on it. She didn’t remember putting it on, but she must have. She must have slept, woken up, showered, and dressed. Aunt Nicki snapped her fingers underneath Eve’s nose. “You have work at seven thirty,” Aunt Nicki said. “Pretend to care.”

About to reply, Eve looked at her, and the words died in her throat. Aunt Nicki’s black hair was cropped short above her ears, and her face was a deeper tan. Slowly, afraid of what she’d see, Eve twisted in her chair to look at the rest of the kitchen. Dishes were piled on a drying rack, enough to have been used for multiple meals. A collection of cereal boxes lined the counter. A half-eaten loaf of bread was shoved on top of the refrigerator. Photos were stuck to the fridge—more of her and Aunt Nicki. One of them had Aidan, the blond boy from the agency.

She crossed to the fridge. With shaking fingers, she eased the photo out from under a “Remember to Recycle” magnet. She and Aidan were next to each other in a booth. A pizza was on a checkered table in front of them. Both of them were smiling, and Aidan’s arm was draped around her shoulder. She put the photo back on the fridge. She straightened it, shifted the magnet, and straightened it again before she finally stepped backward and inhaled.

Aunt Nicki was watching her.

“I …,” Eve began. She didn’t know how to finish the sentence. “I need to get ready for work.” She fled the kitchen for her bedroom. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against it.

She saw little differences. Her sheets were rose-striped under the quilt instead of blue, and a stuffed monkey was propped up on one pillow. She’d never owned a stuffed animal as far as she knew. Leaving the door, she crossed to it and picked it up. The monkey’s head flopped to the side. Clutching the monkey, she examined the rest of the room.

The birds were still missing from the wallpaper. She checked the top drawer—still there. But the other drawers were full of socks, underwear, shirts, and sweaters. She opened the closet. A few skirts and pants hung from hangers, and a few pairs of jeans were piled on a shelf. There was a mesh hamper half-full of dirty clothes that she had no memory of wearing. Eve closed the closet and hugged the monkey.

She hadn’t forgotten a few hours. She’d forgotten days. Maybe weeks.
Bouts of short-term memory loss
, the doctors had said. Her mind had betrayed her. Again.

She started to shake so hard that her knees caved, and she sank to the floor. Closing her eyes, she tried to summon up any memory of the time between when she’d collapsed at the agency and this moment. Just one conversation. Or one breakfast. Or one sleepless night. She must have done
something
—the photo of her and Aidan with the pizza proved that. She remembered every detail of the moments before the vision: the white-hot sparks on Topher’s fingers, the lazy smile on Aidan’s lips, the flat stare of Victoria’s snake eyes. Victoria’s eyes had been golden. The billiard balls had been purple, blue, and red. The cafeteria had smelled faintly of pepperoni pizza and coffee, and the air had tasted stale, pumped in
through the air-conditioner vents. She could resurrect every moment in her mind, including the vision of the silk ribbon with silver-edged boxes that shook as the wagon was pulled over bumps, cracks, and potholes in the road. After that … there was nothing. A blank, empty swirl in place of her memories.

Eve heard the door to the house open and shut. She listened to heavy footsteps in the hall. Outside her door, Aunt Nicki greeted Malcolm. Eve knew she should stand, but she felt as if the weight of the lost days held her to the floor. How many days? Or was it weeks? Months?
Weeks
, she guessed. Judging by the clothes and the trees outside, it was still summer. She could stand, open the door, and ask Malcolm … but she couldn’t face the sight of his eyes, of the disappointment she’d see there.

A knock on the door. “Ready, Eve?” Malcolm called.

No
, she wanted to say. But then she remembered the door had no lock. He could open it. She peeled herself off the floor and called, “Coming!” She laid the monkey on the pillow and crossed its arms so it looked as if it were defying the world, and then left the room.

Malcolm waited for her in the hall. Eve pasted a smile on her face, but he only glanced at her and then headed out the door. She followed him out of the house.