Conjured

Backward and forward. Their lips were almost touching, and she breathed with him as their feet danced. They rose into the air, spiraling up as they danced, and they swirled between the books and the roses and the pond on the wall.

She tried to remember … Maybe, yes, maybe I know this … The touch of his hand on her back. The feel of air beneath her shoes. This was familiar. Yes!

She could smell roses in her memory … But they were strewn on a stage. A woman in black and white scooped them into her arms and then waved to the audience. In Eve’s memory, the woman had no face. Eve’s feet faltered.

“What is it?” Zach asked. “What’s wrong? You liked this before. Said you never expected to have made a memory as nice as this. You said that. Remember?”

“I can’t.” She shook her head, as if she could shake the faceless woman out of her memory. “Stop. It’s not helping. Let’s just … stop.”

Gently, he kissed her again, and they drifted down. She felt the carpet under her feet. Around them, the roses began to close. The vines withered and crumbled into dust. The painting stilled, and the water evaporated.

“Oh, don’t stop,” a voice drawled. “He still needs to serenade you or produce a marching band from his pocket.”

Aidan.

Within the wall of books, Aidan lounged against a bookshelf as if he’d been there for hours. He hadn’t changed since her last memory of him. His hair still dusted over his eyebrows, his lips were still curved in a mocking smile, and he was still lovely.

Zach stepped in front of Eve, as if to protect her. “You must be Aidan.”

Aidan tipped an imaginary cap. “And you must be Zach. Kudos on your dedication to getting the girl. Seriously, animated painted swans?”

“You aren’t welcome here,” Zach said.

“It’s a public place. By definition, everyone is welcome.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you.” In front of Eve, Zach crossed his arms, as if attempting to channel Malcolm.

Aidan raised his eyebrows and then looked at Eve. “Eve, does your aunt know what kind of shenanigans you’ve been up to? I hope you’ve been sensible enough to hide it from her. For one thing, she’d be appalled that you fell for this sappy, maudlin mush. For another, if she knew you’ve been transferring your magic to a civilian … How much else have you told him?”

Eve opened her mouth and then shut it.

“Aww, you don’t remember, do you, Green Eyes?” Aidan said, ignoring Zach.

Eve felt as if her blood had turned cold. She couldn’t imagine that she’d told him about her memory losses, though of course she couldn’t remember if she had or not.

“But I’m not here about your extracurriculars. We have much more serious matters to discuss.” Aidan held out his hand, as if he expected Eve to take it. “Come on.”

“Don’t,” Zach said to Eve. “You told me you were warned not to trust him.”

Aidan mimed being stabbed in the chest. “I’m wounded to the quick! Who would say such a dastardly thing about me? Of course you can trust me, Green Eyes. We’re on the same side. This boy … He doesn’t even know there are sides. You think it’s a game, don’t you, local boy? Who can win the girl? Believe me, there’s a lot more at stake.”

Stepping in front of Zach, Eve blocked him. “You’re the one who plays games.”

“It was a test,” Aidan said, “as I have explained to you … and as you have forgotten. A test that you passed with flying colors.” He stretched out his hand again, palm up. “Come with me, and this time, I will explain everything. And more.”

“Everything?” Eve asked. If he had answers …

His smile broadened like a shark in view of a school of fish. “And more,” he promised.

“Eve isn’t going anywhere with you,” Zach said.

“Cute. But naïve. I see why you like him, Green Eyes. There’s such a sweet innocence about him. But it’s time to put away the toys. There are grown-up matters to attend to now.”

“You can’t—” Zach began.

Aidan vanished.

Eve suddenly felt hands on her shoulders.

“Oh yes, I can,” Aidan said.

And the library and Zach vanished around her.

* * *

White.

And then red.

And then white, red, white, red, until Eve’s vision cleared and she saw that she faced a wall of red-and-white checkered wallpaper, mirrors, and plaster sculptures of women in draped dresses. Aidan’s hands were tight on her shoulders. She yanked away and fell forward. She caught herself on a table with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth, paper napkins, plastic cups, and menus.

“Easy there, Green Eyes,” Aidan said. “Takes a bit to adjust.”

The floor swam at her feet. She steadied herself on the table. She inhaled the smell of pizza and heard the bustle of people in a kitchen—the clanging of pans, the closing of ovens, the sound of knives on plates.

Straightening, she turned to face Mario’s House of Pizza. All the tables were empty except one. Topher and Victoria had staked out a round table tucked against the walls in the corner. It had three chairs. Seeing them, Victoria rose and dragged a fourth chair to the table.

“Take me back,” Eve said to Aidan.

“I told you,” he said. “It’s time to talk.”