Conjured

Eve felt Malcolm squeeze her shoulder as if to reassure her—or warn her. “I have a report to file for Lou,” he said. “I’ll be back in an hour. Eve …” His face tightened, as if he wanted to say something and then changed his mind. “I will be back.” He exited before Eve could formulate a reply other than Don’t leave me with these people.

Plastering a smile on her face, Eve took a step backward toward the door. She thought of the look on Aunt Nicki’s face and the red light in the hall that had emptied out the agency. She shouldn’t have said she could handle this, at least not without clarification. It wasn’t at all comforting to think that this was Lou’s idea, not Malcolm’s.

The boy with the purposefully tousled hair left the pool table and strode across the cafeteria with his hand outstretched. “I’m Aidan. You must be scared. This is all so different, and Mr. Strong Silent Type—”

“His name is Big Scary Agent Man,” the girl corrected.

“—didn’t explain much, I bet, when he extracted you from your home and family.” Aidan clasped Eve’s hand. She started to shake his hand as Malcolm had taught her, but Aidan twisted her wrist and kissed the back of her hand. His lips felt cool, like water.

The black-haired beauty on the couch spoke again. “Aidan, quit flirting with the new girl. You’ll scare her off, and I need someone new to talk to. The last batch of innocents bored me to tears. Really, they need to set higher standards—he only targets the best of the best.” She uncoiled herself and laid her book, a slim volume with the title Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, on the couch. She crossed to Eve but didn’t offer to shake hands. “Except for your eyes, you could pass for my sister. The younger one, not the dead one.”

Up close, Eve could see her eyes were golden, the color fading into the white so only thin crescents of white framed the gold. Her pupils were like black lightning strikes in the center. She had lion eyes. Or snake eyes. Not human eyes.

Eve tried not to let any reaction show on her face.

“I’ve chosen the name Victoria,” the snake-eyed girl said. “I think it has flair.”

Aidan continued to smile. “I’m Aidan, as I said, and that’s Christopher, though he prefers to be called Topher, which is idiotic but we tolerate it.”

Topher still lounged against the wall. “I choose to be less generic.” He had clean-cut hair and a chiseled jaw, and wore a V-neck sweater and khaki pants. He could have stepped out of any magazine in the agency lobby. “‘Topher’ is sophisticated yet casual.”

“‘Topher’ is a douche,” Aidan said.

“Enough.” Victoria waved her hand lazily at the boys as if she were a queen silencing peasants. Topher tipped an imaginary hat at her in response.

“Excuse us. We love meeting people like us. You’ll have to forgive our enthusiasm.” Aidan’s voice was lazy and smooth. He didn’t seem enthusiastic. None of them did. The girl regarded Eve as if she were a potentially interesting specimen, and the other boy wore a sneer that bordered on hostile.

She found her voice. “That’s … fine.” People like us?

Aidan smiled again, as if they were already firm friends. “Of course, we can’t ask the usual nice-to-meet-you questions, like where are you from and who is your family. That wouldn’t be appropriate here. Rules, you know.”

Eve nodded, grateful for the rules. She wouldn’t have to explain why she couldn’t answer simple questions like where she was from.

“But you can tell us a few choice tidbits,” Victoria said. “Such as, what can you do?”

Eve thought of the birds on the wallpaper and the change to her eyes. Once, she’d caused a forsythia bush to bloom out of season. Another time, she’d lit a candle in Malcolm’s office without matches. She didn’t think she could talk about any of that. “I have a job at a library. I think that means I can alphabetize.”

Aidan laughed. He had a cascading chuckle that filled the room. At least she’d succeeded in making one of them laugh, though it didn’t seem to help. The air still felt stifling, and the room felt crowded with just the four of them.

“Harsh,” Topher said. “They’re making you work? Oh, tell me she doesn’t come from peasant stock. Does she smell like a goat? I can’t abide goats. Filthy garbage-eaters.”

“I don’t work, at least not for them.” Victoria examined her nails and frowned at one. Her nail polish was infused with glitter. “You should have made that clear when you arrived. They are required to ensure that we’re comfortable. Proper treatment was established decades ago, long before our case.”

“It’s fine,” Eve said, thinking of Zach. She’d liked talking to him. Words seemed to tumble out of his mouth. She’d also liked being within walls of books. There, she’d felt as close to safe as she could remember. Here … she didn’t.

She shot a look at the clock, but only a few minutes had passed since Malcolm left. Aidan noticed her gaze. “You’re right, Eve,” he said. “We should start our game before we run out of time.”