Conjured

The clock over the trash can ticked. 7:10.

“Can I ask you a question?” Eve asked Aunt Nicki.

“I don’t know. Can you?” Aunt Nicki shot back, then winced. “Sorry. I have a little brother. It’s reflex. Go ahead.”

“Say there are two boys …”

“You’re asking a relationship question?” Aunt Nicki looked up from the toaster. Her eyes were doing their bullfrog impression again, Eve noted.

“You prefer kissing one of them, but the other insists you should be kissing him,” Eve continued. “Which one should you continue to kiss?”

Still staring, Aunt Nicki sat down hard in the empty chair. “You’re seriously asking me this. You aren’t asking about … Never mind.”

Eve wrinkled her nose. She smelled a hint of burned bread. “Your toast is done.”

Aunt Nicki waved her hand at the toaster. “It just started. That’s crumbs from yesterday’s toast.”

“Is it going to catch fire?”

“Crumbs are small. Besides, the char adds flavor. So these two boys …” Aunt Nicki folded her hands in front of her on the table. Eve had the sense that she wanted to take notes. “You’re kissing both of them?”

“Not simultaneously,” Eve clarified.

“I should hope not,” Aunt Nicki said, and then she considered it. “Though that could be interesting … A-a-a- and that kind of statement is exactly why I shouldn’t babysit children. You should not be kissing two boys at the same time.”

She sounded so emphatic that Eve felt a grin tug at her cheeks. But she wasn’t sure she should laugh at a woman who brought her gun to breakfast. Currently it was tucked into an embroidered leather holster that looked as much a fashion accessory as Aunt Nicki’s layered fake-pearl necklaces.

“You said you’re enjoying kissing one of them?”

“Is that unusual?” Eve asked. “I thought that was the point of kissing.”

Aunt Nicki shook her head. “I cannot believe we’re having this conversation.”

“Would you rather I ask you why Aidan thinks I’m not a witness? And why he, Victoria, and Topher don’t have memory losses and I do? And why I can’t use magic without losing consciousness but they can? Or should I ask what the case is about? Or where I’m from? Or why I know some things but not others, like ‘bread’ but not ‘bagels’? Or why I don’t know what you want me to know? And what happens if I do remember? What happens if I don’t? What then?” She said it all in one breath and then sucked in air. The air tasted burned.

A coil of smoke rose from the toaster, and Eve coughed. Aunt Nicki popped out of her chair and bustled over to the counter. She dumped the toaster upside down over a plate. Her toast, plus a shower of ember-like crumbs, fell onto the plate. “I think that’s a record for number of words spoken by you at once.”

“But you aren’t going to answer me.” Eve didn’t have to phrase it as a question. She knew it was a fact.

“You should kiss the one you like kissing,” Aunt Nicki said. “Don’t kiss the other one.”

“Okay.” Eve sipped her orange juice. “Thanks.”

Aunt Nicki stared at her again. “You’re welcome.”

At 7:30 a.m., Eve stuck the key she’d found on her dresser into the lock on the library door and was mildly surprised when it worked. The door slid open. She hoped it was a sign that today would go well.

Behind her, Zach charged up the stairs. He had a paper bag—bagels, she guessed—in one hand. He skidded to a stop next to her. “Hey,” he said casually, as if he hadn’t been running to catch her.

“Hi,” Eve said.

The library doors slid shut and then open again as Eve and Zach continued to stand, staring at each other, in sight of the sensor. She knew what they were both thinking about: the kiss, the flying.

A black car pulled into the library lot and parked under a tree, the same one as yesterday. No one got out of the car. She suddenly felt exposed. The library was tucked away from the street. Trees blocked the view. With another glance at the black car, she ducked inside. Zach hurried in with her, and the door slid shut again behind them. Eve wished she could lock it. But no, this was a public place. A WitSec-approved place, she reminded herself.

Inside, the library was quiet. Shadows were layered in a pattern on the floor. Eve headed for the light switches and flipped them on.

Everything looked the same as yesterday.

Good, she thought. She wanted routine. Nice, safe, boring, wonderful routine.

Zach fetched the overnight book-return bin and then opened the bagel bag. “Breakfast?” he offered. She accepted the everything bagel. Seeds rained on the circulation desk, and Eve bit into it. She still didn’t like it. She ate it anyway. This is what I need, she told herself. Normalcy.

Zach didn’t eat his.

“You don’t want it?” Eve asked.

“All I want is to kiss you again.”

“Oh.” Eve wiped her lips with a paper napkin, cleared the crumbs from the desk, and straightened a few books on a cart. “You want to kiss me because you want to see if we fly.” When he didn’t answer, she looked at him. “You don’t lie,” she reminded him.

“Just think! If I’m right and we’re, you know, magic together—”

“We’re not,” she cut in. Or at least he wasn’t. He couldn’t be. He was from this world, and Malcolm and Aidan had both said there was no magic in this world … unless they’d lied, but she couldn’t think of any reason for them to lie about this.

“I didn’t hallucinate,” Zach said. “Yes, I read a lot. Watch a lot of TV. Play a few video games if I think the story line is worth it. But I’ve never had a problem separating reality from fantasy.” He held up one finger. “One kiss. If we don’t fly, I leave you alone.”

Eve shook her head. Malcolm had told her not to do magic outside the agency—plus she didn’t want to lose consciousness here. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Aha! You didn’t say it didn’t happen!”

“Zach …”

“Worst case, we hit the ceiling. Bash a few light fixtures. Plummet from the ceiling. So we’ll kiss over carpet just in case. Or, ooh, we can make a landing cushion out of the pillows from the chairs in the reading room!” Grabbing her hand, he yanked her out of the lobby and through the reference area. He hit the lights for the reading room, an octagonal wood-paneled room with chairs in every corner. Zach began to toss the chair pillows into the center of the room.

“I don’t think …,” Eve began.

“Cannonball!” He jumped into the air and landed on his butt on one of the pillows.

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. His joy was infectious.

He stood up, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Flying isn’t the only reason I want to kiss you. You are all I think about. You are exactly what my life has been missing. You are what I have always wanted. You are magic, with or without the flying.”

“But you’d prefer with the flying.”

“It would be a cool bonus, that’s all I’m saying.”

She laughed again.

He crossed to her, close without touching. “Say no because you don’t like me that way. Say no because you didn’t enjoy kissing me. But don’t say no because you’re afraid.”

She looked into his eyes, his warm, wonderful eyes, and wondered if she could trust him. “You don’t know what I’m afraid of,” she said softly.

“Then tell me. And I’ll tell you why you shouldn’t be scared.”

It was such an innocent statement, said by someone who didn’t know fear. His innocent fearlessness was beautiful, and she wanted suddenly to feel that fearlessness too. Stepping forward, she put her arms around his