Conjured

by Sarah Beth Durst

  Eve shook her head. Aidan called her “Green Eyes,” but she didn’t want to think about him. She was safely inside Zach’s house, away from him, away from the agency, away from anyone who knew who she used to be. She peered at another photo, a little girl on a swing. The girl was so clearly laughing that you could almost hear it through the picture. A boy—Zach, much younger—was behind her, also laughing. Sunlight was caught in his eyes. “That looks like a happy memory.”

  “My sister.” Zach’s voice was flat. “She died when I was eight.”

  “Oh.” Eve was aware that she was supposed to say more. But her mind felt blank. He stared at the photo for a long time, as if he were trying to memorize the way her curls flew into the air with the wind.

  “You’re right, though,” Zach said at last. “That day was happy.”

  Side by side, they looked at the picture.

  Zach broke the silence. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  Maybe, she thought. She could have dozens or none. Her stomach felt as if it were squeezed tight. She couldn’t remember one happy day or horrible day with her family, at least not with any certainty. “I live with my aunt.”

  “Right. I know.” He looked as though he wanted to ask more. But he didn’t. “Come on. Back porch has chairs you can actually sit on, as opposed to the living room, which is designed solely for Victorian women in corsets.” He tugged on her elbow, and she followed him to an enclosed porch at the back of the house. The porch had windows on all sides, as well as three skylights. Flowering plants hung from each corner, and a fan turned overhead, stirring the warm air. Most of the windows were open. Screens kept the bugs outside.

  Behind them, Zach’s mom appeared with a tray holding two tall glasses filled with yellow liquid, lots of ice, and little plastic swords that pierced slices of lemon. “Lemonade?” she said brightly. She laid the tray down on a wicker table.

  Zach sighed again. “Thanks, Mom. You really didn’t have to.”

  His mom patted his cheek. “I like to. Don’t deny me this.” She scurried back inside and shut the door behind her. A stained-glass sailboat hung on the door. It swayed from the motion of the shutting door.

  “Your mom …” Eve stopped. She couldn’t say what she was thinking—that he was lucky to know his mother. She wondered if her own mother missed her, and she wished she could miss her mother. She couldn’t ask what it was like to have a mother. I’m broken, Eve thought. Empty pieces were rattling inside her. She thought again of the forest. She remembered she’d felt safe when she’d been carried through the trees. Whoever he was—father, brother, uncle, friend—he had made her feel safe.

  “I don’t want to talk about her,” Zach said, again in that flat voice. “Let’s talk more about you, okay? How did you discover you can … you know? Does anyone else know?”

  “My aunt knows. And her friend Malcolm.”

  “The guy who drops you off, right? Large, African American man with legs the size of sequoia tree trunks? Looks like a bodyguard, right down to the leather jacket and the shades? Probably knows six kinds of martial arts and carries a knife in his socks?”

  “It’s a gun.”

  Zach’s eyes widened. “I can never tell if you’re serious or if you have the most awesome deadpan delivery of any person alive.”

  Eve shrugged and looked out at Zach’s backyard. It was perfectly manicured. The grass was brilliant green like the front yard and looked as if it had been combed so that all the blades bent in the same direction. Flowering bushes framed the yard, and a patio with a table and chairs was in the center. Gardening supplies were artfully stacked in another corner. Everything had its place. Its precision reminded her of a hospital room. She shuddered and looked away. To hide her reaction, she took a lemonade and sipped it. The tartness felt like a pinch on her tongue. She set the glass down again.

  “So, what can you do?” Zach asked. It was the same question Victoria had asked her. But unlike Victoria, he didn’t stop there. Questions tumbled out of his mouth as if they were in a hurry to escape him. “How much magic can you transfer at a time? What are its limitations? What fuels it? Is it innate? Is it powered by something? Powered by kisses? Are you a succubus sucking my life force?” He sucked in a deep breath and then blew it out. Eve couldn’t help smiling. “Yay! A smile, at last! Eve, what you have, what you can do … it’s wonderful, amazing, incredible, worthy of a smile! And so are you. Even if you are a succubus.”

  He took her hand. She let him. Her hand was awkward in his, as if his fingers weren’t sure how to encompass hers. It didn’t feel like holding Aidan’s hand; it didn’t feel practiced. Zach cradled her hand in both of his, and his hands shifted from position to position.

  “Don’t be afraid, Eve. Not of this. You can be afraid of spiders or snakes or airplane crashes or a zombie apocalypse … but don’t be afraid of yourself.”

  He was right. She’d come here so she wouldn’t have to be afraid. She looked out at the perfect lawn and tried to think of this house as a sanctuary. For one afternoon, she didn’t have to be afraid of Aidan, the case, her magic, or her visions. Of course it wouldn’t last, but for the space of a few moments, she could feel free.

  “Eve?” Zach asked, a little hesitantly.

  Eve looked into his warm, brown, hopeful eyes. She felt as if she were looking straight into his heart. She wondered if this was what it felt like to fall in love. She had nothing to compare it to. But she knew that more than anything else, right this moment, she wanted to make him smile. “Do you want to try to make it rain?” she offered.

  She watched delight spread over his face.

  “Think of rain,” she ordered him. And then she kissed him. For that moment, it felt as if the rest of the world melted away. She let go of her worries, fears, memories, questions, all of it. She was conscious of the taste of his lips, the feel of his breath, and the soft smell of his skin.

  She heard Zach’s mother say, “Oh my!”

  Eve and Zach sprang apart.

  His mother stepped onto the porch carrying a tray of sandwiches, enough for six people, but she wasn’t looking at Eve or Zach. She laid the tray on the table next to the lemonade. “It wasn’t supposed to rain today. I’d better pull in the patio chair cushions.” She scurried outside as the first drop of rain hit.

  “Whoa,” Zach said.

  Rain fell fast. Drops hit the slate patio like bullets.

  “Good thing I didn’t think of a tornado,” Zach said.

  Eve agreed.

  “You’ve never done this before?”

  She shook her head, and then she jumped as her pocket buzzed and trilled. She pulled out the cell phone and stared at it as it shook and sang in her hand. Zach reached over and pressed the Talk button. She felt her face flush, and she put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Are you safe?” Malcolm asked in her ear.

  She looked at Zach. “Yes.” She meant it. With him, she felt completely safe.

  “I am coming to fetch you now,” he said. “Stay exactly where you are, keep away from windows, and don’t ever, ever do this again.” She heard a click, and the phone call ended.

  “Your aunt?” Zach asked.

  She shook her head, staring at the silent phone. She’d never heard Malcolm sound like that, as if he were radiating anger.

  “Big black guy with the gun in his sock?”

  She nodded.

  “Are you in some kind of trouble? I don’t mean only right now. I mean, you look out the window a lot. You’re jumpy. I just … Are you safe?”

  She flinched at the repetition of Malcolm’s question, and suddenly she didn’t feel so safe anymore. The porch had windows on three sides. The flowering bushes could be hiding anyone.

  Rain pelted outside. Zach’s mother raced toward the porch, holding an array of pillows to her chest. Zach got to his feet. “I’d better help her.”

  Eve didn’t move. Rain smacked the roof, loud as a hammer. She’d been stupid to come here, stupi
d to involve Zach. Zach shielded his head with his arms and ran outside to fetch more chair cushions. His mother dumped her batch of cushions inside and then ran back into the rain.

  As they finished, Eve heard the squeal of tires from the front of the house. Seconds later, the doorbell rang. “Oh!” Zach’s mother said. Her makeup ran down her cheeks, and her hair was flattened against her face. Her blouse was plastered to her skin, and her pants were stained with rain. She hurried to the door, poking at her hair to try to fix it. Eve heard the door open. “Yes?”

  A deep voice answered in a familiar rumble. Eve stood. Without meeting Zach’s eyes, she walked toward the voice, through the hallway of family photos.

  Malcolm towered in the front doorway. Rain streaked his face and plastered his coat to the muscles in his arms. He fixed his eyes on her, but he addressed Zach’s mother.

  Behind her, so soft that only Eve could hear, Zach said, “You didn’t answer me. Are you safe?”

  Eve didn’t answer. I’m supposed to be, she thought, looking at Malcolm. She thought of Aidan and the hesitation in his voice as he’d answered that question.

  “You might want to learn how to lie,” she said at last.

  Chapter Ten

  Eve ducked into Malcolm’s car. Rain spattered inside and beaded on the dashboard. Outside, it pounded the windshield. As Eve fastened her seat belt, Malcolm slammed her door shut. He then climbed into the driver’s seat, squeezed the steering wheel so hard that she saw the veins in the back of his hands, and started the ignition. Eve watched the muscles in his cheek twitch as he backed out of Zach’s driveway.

  “You could yell at me,” she suggested. “Seems to make Aunt Nicki feel better.” She remembered Aunt Nicki shrieking at her once when Eve had tried to fetch the mail alone. Eve tried to identify when that memory was from and couldn’t. One of the lost weeks? If she could reclaim those memories …

  He backed onto the street and put the car in drive. Across from Zach’s house, a black SUV pulled up and parked. Twisting in her seat, she watched a man in a suit step out of the car. He was pelted by rain as he strode toward the house. “Who’s that?” she asked. “What does he want with Zach?”

  “That’s not your concern.” Malcolm drove, a little too fast, away from Zach’s house through the rain. Puddles sprayed as he hit them.

  Yes, it was her concern. It was her fault! She’d brought trouble to Zach, exactly as Patti Langley had warned her—she’d caught him in her storm, both literally and figuratively. “If the agency hurts Zach in any way, I won’t cooperate with the case.”

  Malcolm slammed on the brakes. The car squealed to a stop in the middle of the street.

  “You don’t make threats.” His voice was quiet. She shrank against her seat. “You don’t know how many have died. You don’t know how they died. They were cut to pieces. Carved like drumsticks from a turkey. And each piece was kept in its own box until the ritual was complete.” He turned back to the road and continued to drive. “You will cooperate, and we will catch him.”

  Eve’s mouth felt dry. She nodded. She tried to push the image of severed body parts out of her mind, but couldn’t. Her hands clutched each other on her lap. “That … that’s the case? My case?”

  He drove in silence as the rain pounded the car.

  It wasn’t like him to talk like this—the cold tone, the tight anger. At last she said, “You’re just trying to scare me.”

  “Yes!” He hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “You need to be scared!”

  Eve stared at him. She’d never seen such an expression on his face, contorted as if she had stabbed him. His breathing was hard and fast.

  “Don’t risk yourself,” he said. “Please. Stick to the established schedule. Stay with agency-approved people. Inform me immediately if there are any changes in your status. Please, Eve. I can protect you from everything but yourself. Do you understand?”

  His voice caught on her name, and she had a sudden thought: He cares about me. She wanted to reach out and touch his arm, to reassure him or apologize or … she didn’t know. She’d never had thoughts like these before. Besides, he was driving, and she didn’t know how he’d react. So she only nodded.

  Malcolm parked the car, breathed in deeply, and put on his shades. He then stepped out of the car into the rain, checked up and down the street, and crossed to her side. She unclicked the seat belt and climbed out. One hand on her shoulder as if he expected her to bolt, he guided her into the house.

  Inside, Malcolm dumped her in the doorway to the living room. He then stalked to the kitchen without a word.

  Eve stepped into the living room. A puddle formed around her shoes. Damp, her clothes stuck to her skin. She remembered Aidan saying once that “drowned rat” was not her look.

  Aunt Nicki rose to her feet—she’d been sitting on the couch. Aidan, who had been by the window, vanished in a whoosh of air. He reappeared next to Eve, wrapped his arms around her, and folded her in against his chest. Aunt Nicki raised both her eyebrows at this.

  Two hands on his chest, Eve pushed him away. He staggered back. “I only … I’m just glad you’re all right,” Aidan said.

  “I’m fine,” Eve said.

  Walking in a full circle around Eve, Aunt Nicki inspected her. “I assume Malcolm read you the riot act about never doing that again?”

  “He hinted that it wouldn’t be acceptable,” Eve said dryly.

  A cabinet slammed in the kitchen, and they all flinched.

  “You’d think he’d be at least a little pleased,” Aunt Nicki said. “Sneaking out with a boy is a very normal-teenager thing to do. I hope you at least made out with the boy.”

  Eve felt her face flush.

  “I’ll talk to Malcolm. You talk to him.” Aunt Nicki pointed to Aidan. Snorting in what sounded suspiciously like a laugh, Aunt Nicki headed for the kitchen, leaving Eve alone with Aidan in the living room. Eve studied the carpet, the coffee table, the mantel, the wall.

  “Can we … talk?” Aidan asked.

  “I’d rather not.” She wished she’d kept walking down the hall and into her bedroom. She wished she’d gone farther away than Zach’s house. She wished she hadn’t let Malcolm bring her back.

  “Then I’ll talk. You’re special, Eve. You have to know that. You make me crazy, worrying about you all the time …”

  “Why?” She looked at him. He was running his fingers through his artfully tousled hair. She noted that he had dark smudges under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept. She didn’t know why—she hadn’t been gone for more than an hour. “Who am I to you?” she asked, and then she took a breath and asked a question that she knew Malcolm wouldn’t want her to ask. “Who are you to me?”

  “You really have to ask that?” He looked hurt.

  She should continue to lie about her memory, play along with whatever people dropped on her. “I do,” Eve said firmly.

  Aidan walked to the mantel as if to look at the fake photos of her. Eve suspected he didn’t want to stand near her anymore.

  “Who are you?” Eve asked.

  He ran his fingers through his hair again. “Rules.”

  “Forget the rules. Why should I trust you?”

  “Because I care about you, Eve.” He held out his hand, as if expecting her to come to him. She laced her hands together in front of her and didn’t budge. He lowered his hand. “Because you are the first thing in this world of vacant people, tasteless food, gravity-bound structures, and flaccid entertainment that I have found interesting.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Since she hadn’t crossed to him, Aidan came to her. “Or if you don’t like that answer, then try this: because I’ve lost people. People I care about. In my world, there’s a war …” His voice cracked, and for the first time, Eve thought she was seeing through his smiling facade. Then he controlled himself again. He clasped her hand and drew it to his heart. “You are the answer to a prayer. You are the treasure that I have been seeking. You are the prize that
I am destined to win.”

  “That’s nice.” Eve wormed her hand away from his.

  “I can be your knight in shining armor. I can make you happy. I can make you safe. I can make you whole, if you let me.”

  Eve opened her mouth to say he couldn’t—she was broken with pieces missing, except that she didn’t feel broken anymore, thanks to Zach.

  “But you found someone else to do all of that. Tell me about him, Evy. Who is this human boy who caught your eye and captured your heart?” He caressed her cheek and then curled his fingers in her hair. His hand tightened into a fist. “What can he do for you that I can’t?”

  “He can make me fly.” She pulled away, and several strands of her hair, still knotted around his fingers, yanked out of her scalp. She spun away from him and ran to her bedroom.

  “Evy!”

  She shut her door and leaned against it. She scanned the room—the only other door led to a closet, and the window was locked with a padlock. And she realized she’d spoken the truth. She’d flown with Zach—and she hadn’t had a vision.

  He’d fixed her. He’d cured her.

  She didn’t have to be the broken girl anymore, afraid of herself, afraid of what she could do, afraid of what was inside of her.

  She strode to her dresser and opened the top drawer. “Go back,” she told the paper birds. “Be as you were.” Eve felt wind in her face as the paper birds fluttered in the drawer. They rose out in a spiral. Backing toward the bed, she watched them dive and soar around the room before flying toward branches in the wallpaper and settling against them. She saw a bird melt into the paper—before she pitched backward, unconscious.

  The Magician has a black felt hat. He flips it off his head and tosses it up and down his arms and across his back. He throws it into the air, and I can’t see it against the glare of the stage lights. He catches it, plunges his hand in, and pulls out a bouquet of tissue roses, held by the severed hand of a girl. The hand is rigid and bloodless.

  The audience laughs, but it’s a tinny sound, as if it were an old recording. It cuts off abruptly. I can’t see the audience from where I lie, wrapped in stage curtains like a shroud, but I see a girl step onto the stage.