Conjured

Looking into his warm eyes, I wanted to. And then I realized that I had already decided to. By coming to his house, by soaring into the sky with him, I had involved him, and he deserved to know at least as much as I did.

Taking a deep breath, I told him everything as we flew high above the houses and trees: about the agency, about the other worlds, about my visions, about the case. I watched his face as I talked. His cheek twitched. His lips were pressed together. His eyes were open so wide that the skin around them stretched. I didn’t know his expressions the way I knew Malcolm’s. I didn’t know if he believed me, or if he wanted to drop me from the sky now that he’d heard it all.

“Oh,” he said.

I didn’t think I had ever seen him truly speechless before.

“And you want me to rescue you?” he said at last.

“I didn’t know who else …” An idea burst into my mind. “Patti.”

“The librarian?”

“She has two extra eyes.”

“Extra eyes?” he repeated.

“She knows how to keep herself safe. She’ll know what to do.” She’d have answers! I was sure of it. “Just let’s go there. Please?”

The wind shifted as we changed directions. We flew in silence for a while, with the wind curving and swirling around us. The sun, thin through the clouds, warmed the air.

Lips against my ear, Zach said, “You have no idea how many dreams I’ve had about flying. Except I’m in a Superman cape or have falcon wings, instead of being in the arms of a gorgeous girl, which means this moment totally surpasses every dream I’ve ever had.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a nice dream.”

“Ever?”

Arms around each other, we drifted over the roof of the library. “Maybe I just don’t remember them. Given a choice, though, I’d rather remember what’s real.”

“No, no, you need a few good dreams. Like flying, or blasting into outer space, or winning a gold medal.” Breathing in more of my magic, he lowered us down behind the library. “Or spending the afternoon with someone you lost.”

As soon as my feet touched the ground, the feeling of peaceful floating vanished. Wind rustled the branches of the trees. Leaves slapped together. I tried the door handle. Locked.

Zach knocked on the door, loudly. I cringed at the sound. “Zach …,” I began, intending to tell him we could walk through the wall.

“You told me your truth; let me tell you mine. Sophie was my sister, the girl on the swing from the photo that you saw.” Zach didn’t look at me. “She … she fell in the middle of the night. She hit her head too hard, and she didn’t wake up. It was an accident. A stupid accident. The stairs were smooth wood. Her slippers had no tread. The lights were off. But she had bruises on her arms—she’d been learning to ride her bike. And she had scabs and cuts—she’d played hard at school. And so the police investigated. They claimed we were lying, that it wasn’t an accident, that one of us had … It took a court case to end it.”

“And that’s why you don’t lie?”

“Yep.” Zach knocked again. “And why, in a twist of irony, my mother has become the raging alcoholic that they thought she was, my father has developed a temper he can’t control, and my home is now poisonous to live in.” He knocked harder, as if he wanted to punch the door.

I put my hand on his arm. “Zach …” I didn’t know how I was going to end the sentence, but I knew there was something that I was supposed to say, something comforting or wise.

Before I could think of the words, the door swung open.

I jumped backward, ready to dive into the woods. Zach reached toward me—to protect me or stop me, I wasn’t sure. But it was only one of the librarians, the one with tattoos on his neck. He scowled at us. “You know there’s a front door.”

“Thanks.” Releasing me, Zach clasped the man on the shoulder. I hurried inside. The staff room all seemed normal: piles of books on all surfaces, labeling equipment on the floor, a half-eaten lunch on the table. The odor of tuna salad wafted across the room, overriding the smell of dust and printer toner. But my skin itched as if someone were watching me.

The librarian plopped down at the table and shoved the uneaten half of the tuna fish sandwich in his mouth. Zach lingered as if he wanted to talk to him, but before Zach could speak, I yanked him out of the staff room and into the main library.

“You don’t think he—” Zach began.

Covering his mouth with my hand, I shuttled him into one of the rows. His breath felt soft, tickling my palm. “I don’t know who to trust, and marshals could be anywhere.” I lowered my hand. “We need to reach Patti’s office without being seen. Any ideas?”

“Oh yes, I have ideas.” Zach’s eyes were alight, and he was grinning broadly. “Kiss me.” He hooked his arm around my waist and drew me closer. I breathed magic into him through the kiss. He released me. “It might not—”

Suddenly, I felt as if fists were pummeling me from the inside out. I fell to the floor. Zach lay writhing beside me. In a few seconds, it was over.