Conjured

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.

Chapter Five