Conjured

Grabbing a fire extinguisher from the wall, Aunt Nicki sprayed the flames with white foam. The fire died, and the foam soaked into the carpet.

“Is he …,” I began.

“I don’t know,” Zach said.

Both Malcolm and Aunt Nicki approached. They stood over the doll Aidan, tranquilizer guns aimed at him. “Turn him back, and we’ll see,” Aunt Nicki said.

Zach took another breath from my lips, and Aidan’s porcelain face and hands softened. His cloth skin smoothed into human skin. His chest shuddered, and he began to breathe.

Malcolm shot him with a tranquilizer dart.

“Bet that felt good,” Aunt Nicki said to Malcolm.

“Reasonably satisfying,” Malcolm agreed. The two of them dragged Topher and Aidan into the elevator with the still-unconscious snake Victoria. Aunt Nicki stabbed the close button and then stepped back out into the corridor. The doors slid shut.

I realized I was still clutching the stuffed monkey.

“You’ll need to be quick,” Aunt Nicki said to me. “And random. Don’t go places you’ve been before. Stay away from anything familiar.”

I gawked at her.

Her mouth quirked. “That’s the Eve I know and love. Always quick with the thank-you. Don’t overflow with emotions. I don’t want to get weepy.”

“I don’t understand.” Were they truly going to let me go? Even Aunt Nicki? Sure, she’d said it was my choice, but their job … the agency … the trial … Lou …

She rolled her eyes. “At least you’re consistent.”

Malcolm holstered the tranquilizer gun and wrapped me in a bear hug. I leaned against his chest, letting his arms fold around me. “Be careful.”

My eyes felt hot, and it was hard to swallow. “I’ll … miss you.”

“Me too,” he said softly, barely loud enough for me to hear, and then he released me and shoved me toward Zach. “Kiss the boy and go.”

I turned to Zach. “How did—”

“I told them the truth.” Zach took my hand and brought it to his lips. His eyes were bright. “You’re real. Turns out, though, they’d already decided that. The two of them have been planning this since the trial began.”

“Yeah, this is all very nice, but you need to leave now.” Aunt Nicki made shooing motions with her hands. “Kiss the boy and knock us out.”

“What?” I asked.

“Make it look like we tried to stop you,” Aunt Nicki said. “I’m not going down for you if I don’t have to. You’re Malcolm’s case, not mine. And he deserves a better fate than the agency’s censure. If you care about either of us, then kick our asses. We’ll take care of explaining Aidan, Victoria, and Topher.”

I kissed Zach, and then he flicked his hand. Both of them flew backward across the hall. Aunt Nicki hit the door, and then slumped onto the floor. I didn’t know if she was feigning unconsciousness or if she truly was. Malcolm grunted but stood.

“Try again,” I told Zach.

Zach caused vines to burst out of the wall and wrap around him.

We kissed again. And then we ran through the wall. Guards were on the other side. We changed our shape. Two times, three times, as we plunged through the second and third doors. Wolves. Birds. Mice. And then dragonflies. We flew into the ventilation system, careened through the air-conditioning ducts, and then shot into the silver room.

Inside the room, we changed into ourselves.

Hand in hand, we walked through the silver walls.

And I am, for the first time, free.

Epilogue

There isn’t a carnival tent, but the audience comes anyway. Zach and I had written in the sky with wisps of clouds, inviting them, and we’d used fireflies at night to guide them. And so they come, whispering and laughing, through the forest, trampling the ferns and ducking under branches, to see the magicians.

Our stage is the base of an oak tree. Fireflies collect around the stage, defining the edges. The audience sits beyond it on moss and roots and rocks. They wait, and from behind the tree, I can hear the buzz of their anticipation. Zach squeezes my hand.

“Ready?” he says.

“Ready.” I kiss him. For a moment, I don’t hear the audience or the wind in the branches or the chirp of the cicadas. His arms are warm around my waist, and he tastes like the strawberries we shared for dinner, fresh from a field on another world.

Hand in hand, we walk around the tree. Our audience is small: twenty or so, but word will spread. Tomorrow, more will come, and then more the next night. We’ll leave before word of us can spread too far.

I begin with a deck of cards. I shuffle them fast from hand to hand. The cards arc through the air, landing neatly in my palm. I have practiced this, and I have some skill at it, which both surprises and pleases me. I toss the cards in the air as high as I can toward the branches, one card after another in rapid succession.

Zach steps in front of me as if to catch the cards—and the cards transform into paper birds and fly up, up into the tree branches. The audience gasps and then claps.