Conjured

hair and green eyes with this boy in a pizza parlor. In the photo, his arm was draped around her.

“I haven’t seen her,” the Magician said.

Aidan turned to the doll. “And you?”

The doll stared at the box. The boy was inside it. Zach, she thought. The Magician held the box in one hand, fingers curled around it, about to tighten. “She isn’t here,” the doll lied.

“But you’ve seen her?” Aidan asked.

“Come inside and we’ll talk,” the Magician said. His smile was frozen on his face. Don’t hurt him, the doll thought.

Smiling broadly, Aidan said, “I’d be delighted.” He followed the Magician up the cherry-red steps to the door of the wagon. The doll wanted to scream at him to run, to hurl magic at him to stop him, to scream for help with every bit of air trapped in her cotton body.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she followed Aidan and the Magician with Zach’s box inside. By the time she stepped over the threshold, there were two boxes in the Magician’s hands, and Aidan was gone.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The magician drew chalk circles on the floor of the wagon. He hummed to himself as he added symbols and runes. Dully, the doll watched.

He rocked back on his heels and studied his work.

The doll looked away. She counted the mirrors inlaid in the wall. Each button-size mirror reflected a part of a bird skull or a corner of a box, or a piece of the Magician himself—an elbow in one, a swirl of cloak in another, a bit of his beard in a third.

She heard the click of a clasp and looked back at the Magician. He held one box in his hand. The lid popped open, and the sides fell apart. Zach tumbled out onto the floor. He moaned as the Magician trussed him in bloodstained yarn.

“Eve, that was …” Zach stopped as he saw the chalk circle. His eyes widened, and he struggled against the yarn. “No! Are you going to kill me? Eve, is it me next?”

The Magician dragged him to his usual cot and tied him to it. Zach twisted and flopped. “Hush,” the Magician said. “I don’t harvest the powerless.”

Zach exhaled, and then his breath caught. “But it is someone. You’re going to kill someone. Here. Now. I can’t be here. I can’t watch this. Please, put me back in the box!” His voice rose higher, panic-infused. The Magician tightened the yarn. “Eve … you have to stop this!” Zach said. “Make him stop.”

The doll looked away. Strands of her yarn hair fell over her face, and she wished it could hide her, block her sight. She wished her eyes would close.

“She cannot,” the Magician said. “She must breathe in the last dying breath. There is no other way to harvest the power. If I do it, the magic will fade and be wasted. If she does it, the magic lasts. It’s simply a fact.” He placed another box in the center of the circle. He unhooked the clasp, and the sides fell open. Aidan huddled on the floor, curled into a ball, holding his knees to his chest.

“You!” Zach said.

Instantly, Aidan vanished.

The Magician laughed. “Splendid!”

Aidan reappeared by the door.

He vanished again and reappeared next to Zach. Aidan’s hand clapped on Zach’s arm. He disappeared with him, and then reappeared in the same spot. The doll heard the air pop and felt it whoosh through the wagon.

He tried again. And again.

The Magician’s eyes were alight. “We don’t have this in our repertoire. Such strength! Oh my dear …” His eyes dimmed as if he’d suddenly remembered that the Storyteller was gone. With a sigh, he leaned in toward the doll and sucked in a breath. When Aidan charged at him, he deflected him with a wave of his hand. The Storyteller’s leftover yarn then wrapped around Aidan’s body. “She would have found you to be an exquisite addition. In fact … you do look familiar. You aren’t from this world, are you, boy? We hunted you once before.”

“Talk to me, library boy,” Aidan said. “Why can’t I pop out of here?”

“I’m guessing the wagon functions like the boxes. Probably made of the same material. Magic can’t penetrate it—which means no teleporting out. Or blasting out. Or walking through walls. Please tell me you brought the cavalry.”

“Very observant,” the Magician said to Zach. To Aidan he said, “I’m sorry to tell you, but escape won’t be possible. Please know that your magic will be put to good use.”

“A fleet of marshals and law enforcement from multiple worlds is waiting to descend on this wagon,” Aidan said. “Surrender yourself, and it’s possible they’ll show you some leniency. If not … you’re surrounded. Escape won’t be possible for you either.”

“It will be, once I have your magic.” The Magician spoke gently, as if to a child.

“If I can’t teleport from within this box, then neither can you,” Aidan said. “You’ll be arrested as soon as you step outside. Do yourself a favor, and turn yourself in.”

The Magician sucked in another breath from the doll’s mouth, and then he transformed himself into an identical match to Aidan, right down to the cocky smile. “They won’t arrest you.” He then transformed himself back.

Aidan vanished and reappeared again, still bound in yarn. He struggled at the yarn, straining against it. But the threads did not even stretch. The doll leaned her head against the wall and wished she could change into stone and never feel again … but it wouldn’t work. She’d still feel. She didn’t think it would even help to die. The Magician could still use an inert doll, and besides, she wasn’t truly alive to begin with.

“Where’s Eve?” Aidan asked.

The Magician didn’t answer. He was absorbed in preparing the chalk symbols.

“Behind you,” Zach said.

“The freaky doll?” He twisted to look at the doll, and he struggled harder. “He changed her into that? Eve? Eve, is that you?”

“He changed me back to who … what … I am,” the doll said. “Eve doesn’t exist. She never existed. I’m not her. I’m not real.” Silently, she added, I don’t deserve to be real.

“You are Eve,” Zach said. “You may have started like this, but you became Eve!” The doll shook her head, lolling it on her limp neck. That had been a dream, a delusion. This was her reality. “Remember the day we first met? I made a bad apple joke. I told you I wanted to kiss you. You sat in the lobby and read books I picked out for you. Remember the everything bagel?”

The Magician flicked his hand, and Aidan was knocked off his feet. The yarn wrapped tighter, shackling him to the floor in the center of the chalk circle. He vanished and reappeared again.

“Tell her memories,” Zach told him. “Remind her that she’s real. First time you kissed. The moment when you knew she was perfect for you, when you knew you didn’t ever want to be anywhere else but with her, when you knew she was your escape and your salvation and your chance at something more.”

“I don’t …,” Aidan said. “I can’t …”

“She’s the one with the magic. Your life depends on her,” Zach said. “This is not the time to be squeamish about … what did you call it? Oh, yes … ‘sappy maudlin mush.’ Help her remember she matters!”

Aidan disappeared and reappeared behind the Magician. He tried to knock into him, but the Magician was prepared. Sidestepping Aidan, the Magician levitated the ritual knife to Aidan’s throat.

Aidan didn’t move. “I don’t have any memories because I lied. We were never together. I knew she’d lost her memories. I manufactured a relationship so she’d trust me.”

The doll swiveled her head to stare at him.

“Okay, that’s the opposite of helpful. Wait … really? It was only me?” Zach’s face lightened. “Eve, listen to