Conjured

Aidan opened the passenger door. “Your chariot, Princess of the Perfect Pores.” He executed an elegant bow. “Get in. I’m starving, and everyone’s waiting.”

Climbing into the passenger seat, Eve wondered who “everyone” was, and whether they planned to try to kill her again. She looked once more at the lot and then the library.

Patti watched her from one of the lobby windows.

Aidan hopped into the car, turned on the ignition, and cranked up the radio. She felt the beat of the bass drum thump through the seat and into her thighs. “Ten points for each pedestrian; fifteen for the cyclists,” he said over the music.

She kept her face impassive, as if his statement made sense.

“It’s a joke. Hit them; rack up points. Like a video game. Really, you should try to absorb some of the local culture. It’s fascinating stuff.”

Eve fastened her seat belt as he slammed his foot on the gas. His tires squealed as he peeled toward the street. He slammed on the brakes at a stop sign as a woman walked her dog across the street. The woman glared at him as he inched forward, and he smirked. “Never can impress you, can I?”

“Her or me?”

“Don’t play dense, Evy. It doesn’t suit you.”

“What does suit me?” she asked.

“Me, of course.” He flashed a dazzling smile at her. Reaching over, he took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. He held her hand so easily that she was certain this was not the first time he’d done so. Eve felt the muscles in her body tensing as if they were braiding themselves together.

It was easier to swallow the loss of stretches of nebulous memories than to face the absence of a single specific memory. Aidan, holding her hand. Zach, shelving books beside her.

As he drove with his other hand, he played with her fingers, running his thumb across her knuckles. His hand knew hers. She looked away, and her eyes fixed on the side mirror—a black car with tinted windows was behind them.

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 decor 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