Conjured

by Sarah Beth Durst

  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 me. What we had was real. You care about me. You know you do! I’d be a rotten hostage if you didn’t care. You have feelings. You are real!”

  She now stared at Zach. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help it.

  “You’ve made yourself real! Maybe you didn’t start out that way. Maybe you weren’t born. Maybe your childhood was crap. Well, guess what? My childhood was crap too. After Sophie died … I was just someone else to blame, another person who wasn’t watching, who wasn’t careful enough, never mind that I was a kid too. My existence was only a reminder of her absence. But it doesn’t matter what happened in the past or what other people think of you in the present. What matters is who you are. And you … you’re amazing, Eve! You created yourself! He didn’t make you. You did it! You formed yourself! And that’s extraordinary.”

  The doll couldn’t stop staring at Zach. He doesn’t lie, she thought.

  “Enough,” the Magician said. He sucked in the doll’s breath, and the doll felt herself rise into the air. She floated to the circle and was lowered into the center. Knife still at Aidan’s throat, the Magician levitated him as well, laying him near the doll.

  “Eve, listen to me,” Zach said. “The roses in the bookshelves, the painting with the real water, the books that flew around us, the way we flew … Remember how it felt.” She did remember. She’d loved the way it felt with their arms around each other, rising into the air. That had been real. What she’d felt … what I’d felt had been real.

  “I said, enough.” The Magician flicked his hand toward Zach, and a scrap of cloth plastered itself over his mouth, silencing him. But it didn’t block Zach’s eyes. Zach was looking at me exactly the same way he had when I wore the body of a beautiful human girl, instead of a cloth face with green marble eyes. He was looking at me as if he saw me, all of me, as if I were real and whole and unbroken. I saw myself through his eyes.

  I saw me.

  As the Magician knelt beside Aidan, I said, “You must miss her. You must feel some sadness, some regret, some human emotion. I do. I miss her.”

  He positioned Aidan’s body within the chalk circle.

  I continued. “I miss the way she used to brush my hair, strand by strand, while she told me stories. I miss how she’d make the marionettes dance. Do you remember our life together? We lived in a forest for a time under the trees, and we watched the acrobats swing and twist in the air. And we lived on a pier in a harbor. You’d use the magic in me for beautiful things: to change both of you into seabirds and fly out over the waves, to make the rain dance as it fell, to grow hundreds of roses in an instant … Your shows were pure joy, and your audiences loved you, but your performances weren’t for them. Every one you did, every bit of stolen magic you used, was for her; everything was always for her—to make her happy and to keep her safe. Because of how she made you feel. Safe. Strong. Magical.”

  He wasn’t listening.

  He had to listen.

  I thought of the Storyteller—how she could command the full attention of any audience with the tone of her voice. “Once upon a time, there was a boy who was afraid.” I said it in the way the Storyteller would say it, drawing on her memories of how to weave a tale. “He was afraid of dying, of hurting, of being weak, of being powerless, of being helpless, of failing, of humiliating himself, of being alone, of growing old, of never being safe … and the fear ate him inside.”

  The Magician drew the knife, but he moved more slowly, as if the air had thickened.

  “And once upon a time, this boy met a girl who knew how to steal strength from others as they died. But though the boy and girl stole the magic, the magic wouldn’t stay inside them. So the girl, who had become a woman, knitted a doll to hold the magic. This doll was made of cloth for skin, button eyes, thread for her mouth, and yarn for her hair. At first, the doll was like all other dolls, limp and lifeless. But as the magic poured into her, she began to wake up. She learned to breathe. She learned to see. She learned to hear. One day, she learned to move. Another, she learned to speak. And last, she learned to think and very, very slowly to feel. And while this happened, you were learning not to feel. With each death, you died a little inside, until you forgot why you were doing this—that it was for her, to be with her, to be alive with her, to be safe with her and special for her. And she was doing it for you, to be together without fear. She sent me away to protect you. She tried to kill me so you could be together …”

  The Magician was crying.

  “But you killed her instead.”

  The knife slipped from his fingers and clattered on the floor of the wagon. The Magician dropped his face into his hands.

  Seizing the moment, Aidan flailed his body. His forehead touched mine, and with a pop, we vanished. We reappeared beside Zach. Leaning forward, I pressed my embroidered lips against Zach’s and breathed all the magic I could into him.

  The yarn that bound us dissolved into smoke that swirled through the wagon.

  Free, I sprang to my shaky cloth feet and plucked an empty box off the string. I opened the lid. Using magic, Zach sent the box sailing toward the Magician.

  As the Magician raised his tear-streaked face, the open box hit him in the chest.

  He vanished inside it.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Without looking at Zach or Aidan, I fetched a cloth and began to scrub at the chalk circles and symbols. Aidan caught my arm, the cotton in my elbow squishing under his grip. “That’s evidence,” he said.

  I yanked my arm away. Bits of fiber flew in the air. “The boxes are evidence. The body parts are evidence. I am evidence. These are instructions for how to do what he did. No one sees this.”

  Zach grabbed another cloth from the Storyteller’s bag of scraps and began to scrub beside me. His lips were pressed together into a thin line, and he scrubbed with such ferocity that he looked as though he wanted to wear through the floor as well.

  “But you can’t—” Aidan began.

  “You lied to me.”

  Aidan winced. “I thought it would be the best way to win your trust. You’re remarkably unsusceptible to my manly charm, Green Eyes. And you already trusted the WitSec agents. I thought I had to trump that.”

  “You could have told me the truth,” I said. Beside me, Zach obliterated another set of symbols. Nearly all traces of the ritual markings were gone.

  “You didn’t like me,” Aidan said, as if this were inexplicable. “You wouldn’t have believed me. As you may or may not recall, when we did tell you the truth, you didn’t believe us.”

  “Whoa, back up,” Zach said. “What truth?”

  “The truth that she is special,” Aidan said, looking only at me. “And we value her. Regardless of how the trial turns out, she will be safe with us.”

  “Who’s ‘us’?” Zach demanded. “Who are you?”

  “He had a badge,” I said.

  “What badge?” Zach asked. “Did I miss something? Obviously I did. I was stuck in a box. What did I miss?”

  Aidan shrugged with fake modesty. “I persuaded a few people that I could be useful here. Namely, Lou and Malcolm. Lou seems to think he controls me, and Malcolm … well, he knows I want to keep you safe. Our interests align, at least in that respect. They loaned me the badge.” He bent to pick up the box with the Magician inside, but I scooped it off the floor faster. I clutched it to my chest.

  “Notice how he’s avoiding the key question,” Zach said. “Let me say it very slowly. Who are you, and what do you want with Eve?”

  “I want her help,” Aidan said simply. He faced me, his eyes earnest. “My home … my country … we’re at war. A nation on our north
ern border wants to topple our government, destroy our culture, and claim our resources. They’ve invaded twice, and we’ve fought them back twice. But thousands have died. And I believe—I know—we are losing.”

  “So?” Zach said. “I mean, I’m sorry, I am, but what does that have to do with Eve?”

  “Two years ago, I left school and enlisted,” Aidan said. “I used my power to help my country … but when word spread about a serial killer who was targeting the young and powerful, I was ordered to let WitSec hide me.”

  Zach crossed his arms. “Okay, so you’re a war hero in hiding.”

  Aidan ignored him and focused on me. “I was also ordered to recruit others with power to join our cause.”

  “Victoria and Topher,” I guessed.

  “Yes. And I was ordered to find a weapon—the killer’s power source. My superiors were certain that WitSec had it. And they were right.” Aidan flashed his brilliant smile at me. “I found you.”

  I felt cold. “I don’t want to be a weapon.”

  “Would you rather be dead?” Aidan asked. “After the trial, they’ll kill you. Or they’ll try. If you agree to work for my government and to help us win the war, then we will ensure that WitSec can’t hurt you.”

  Zach put his arm around my cloth shoulders. As a doll, I was smaller than he was, and his arm draped down, enveloping me. “I don’t trust him,” he declared.

  “He’s still so innocent,” Aidan marveled. “Tell me, Green Eyes: Who exactly would you trust? Can’t trust your maker.” He pointed at the Magician’s box. “You ran from WitSec, so I doubt you trust them. Face it, I am your only reasonable option. Come with me, and we will keep you safe in exchange for your cooperation.”

  “And Zach?” I asked. “Will you keep him safe too?”

  Aidan hesitated. “He belongs in his own world. He said it himself—you’re the special one, Evy.”

  “You want to use me, like the Magician used me,” I said.

  “It’s not the same! Our enemies are like the Magician. Unscrupulous. Evil. You’ll be able to save hundreds, potentially thousands, of lives—”

  Zach snorted. “By being a weapon?”

  “For a just cause!” Aidan said. “Yes, we will use your power against our enemy. Yes, some people—evil people—may die. I won’t lie to you. War isn’t pretty. But with your strength … we could win, end the war, stop the violence, save the day! Eve, you’d be a hero to millions. Please, Eve … consider it. And be ready when the moment comes.” He then fetched a cloth and wiped away the final symbols on the floor with a flourish, as if he were making a point.

  I didn’t know what to think of that decision and the possible future he offered. But I knew I was done with the past. Holding the Magician’s box, I surveyed the wagon, my home and my prison. The candleflame in the lantern flickered, causing shadows to dance over the bottles, bones, and boxes. “I want to leave.”

  “The marshals are outside,” Aidan said. “Ready to take you to the trial.”

  “Outside? I thought that was a bluff! They’re really …”

  Zach’s eyes bulged, and his face tinted pink. He looked as if he wanted to explode. He gulped in air like a fish. “And they didn’t help because … why? You were nearly killed! I was … And there was help outside?”

  “As soon as I obtained proof that Eve was here and that this was the right magician, I was to pop out and signal for help. An impenetrable wagon was not part of the plan.”

  “You had a crappy plan,” Zach said. “You could have been killed.”

  “It was a risk I accepted,” Aidan said.

  “I could have been killed!” Zach said. “She could have been killed!”

  Aidan tilted his head and smiled his dazzling smile. “Seems to me your plan had flaws too, library boy. Yet you chose to come as well. You weren’t forced. In fact, I believe the agency tried enthusiastically to prevent you. And when Lou realized that he couldn’t stop you, he gave you the tool you’d need to succeed.” He nodded at the box. Aidan’s words made sense. Maybe he wasn’t lying anymore.

  The box in my hands felt like a weight. “I want this to be over,” I said.

  “Then let’s end it, Green Eyes.” Aidan held out his hand to me. I ignored his hand and instead took Zach’s. His fingers closed tightly around my cloth fingers. Aidan lowered his hand, and I thought I saw his expression twist … but no, the smile was plastered on his face again. “You really do have green eyes. Don’t you want to change back to human before we go out there?”

  “This is who I am. What I am. Anything else is a lie, and I’m done with lies.”

  Zach and I walked to the door. He released my hand so I could unlock it. I cradled the Magician’s box under my arm. As I ran my fingers over the swirls in the wood, I heard the familiar click, click-click-click. The door swung open, and weak sunlight filtered inside. I looked back once more—the bottles caught the sunlight and cast colored shadows across the boxes, skulls, and feathers. I held the box containing the Magician tighter, and then the three of us stepped outside.

  Guns were trained on us. On either side of me, Aidan and Zach raised their hands as if in surrender. I didn’t. I was holding the box tightly in my cloth hands, clutched to my chest. The guns were held by agents in flak jackets—Malcolm, Lou, Aunt Nicki, and dozens of others that I didn’t recognize. Behind them, in a semicircle, I saw the acrobats and contortionists and animal trainers from the carnival. Squeezed between them, a kid ate a caramel apple, as if this were just another part of the show.

  I must have looked strange to them, even compared to the circus performers. A living doll. I wondered what they thought, if they even knew who or what I was. Holding up the box with the Magician, I said, “He’s here.”

  Malcolm lowered his gun.

  He walked forward. His eyes were fixed on the box. He doesn’t recognize me, I thought, and I was surprised at how much that thought hurt. Approaching me, he held out his hands. My grip on the box tightened, and the fabric of my fingers strained. I didn’t know what the agency planned to do with him—or what I wanted them to do with him. One twist, the Magician had said, and you could crush a box in one hand. One twist, and he would never hurt anyone ever again. As if this thought were visible in my eyes, Malcolm stopped. He didn’t touch the box. He looked down at me. As a doll, I was much shorter than he was. “Eve.”

  He knew me! Even like this …

  “He’ll stand trial,” Malcolm said quietly. “He will be held accountable for what he has done. Your testimony will make it possible.”

  “Did you let me escape?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Because you needed more evidence? Because you needed me to stop him? Because you couldn’t find him without me?”

  “Yes,” he said again.

  “I could have died.”

  He nodded.

  “Zach could have died. Aidan almost did.”

  He looked down at his feet.

  “You were supposed to keep me safe,” I said. “And Aidan too. You were supposed to keep everyone safe. It’s your job. It’s who you are, who your past made you.”

  Malcolm half smiled. It was a sad smile. “I can’t keep you safe from yourself. It’s true we let you escape, but stopping you would have required deadly force. Lou … tried to salvage the situation.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “Pieced together clues from our notes about your visions, plus you and the boy were spotted several times by our contacts as you passed through their worlds. But finding the carnival took longer than we wanted. There are many worlds.” He looked up at me, met my green marble eyes. “I wanted to keep you safe, if that counts for anything.”

  I didn’t know if it did or not, but I handed him the box.

  “Thank you,” he said. “We will talk more back at the agency. I am … glad you’re alive.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

  I watched him carry the box to a steel briefcase. It was lined with
foam inside, cut to fit the box. They were prepared for this, I thought. I was a pawn who had been moved across the chessboard. Malcolm’s strong hands were trembling as he laid the box inside. He closed the lid. The snap of the clasps echoed in my ears.

  “Now what happens?” Zach asked softly in my ear.

  I shook my head. I didn’t know.

  Behind us, other agents swept into and over the wagon. It was photographed, and then the items inside were carefully collected, each sealed into its own plastic bag or jar and labeled. Yellow tape was stretched around the site, and the carnival workers and patrons were pushed back behind the tape. Outside the tape, the agents began to interview the contortionists and the acrobats and others. A few tried to drift away but were corralled back for their turn. I saw several of them point to me as they were interrogated.

  Aidan joined a cluster of agents around a computer—they’d set up a makeshift workstation under a white tent, a command center. Lou took Malcolm aside and spoke in low tones that I couldn’t hear. When Lou finished, Malcolm nodded and looked over at Aidan as if something had been decided. For the first time, I couldn’t read Malcolm’s expression. I gripped Zach’s hand with my cloth fingers. His hand felt damp with sweat that seeped into the fabric of my palm.

  Lou strode toward us. “Zachary, our medics would like to check you out.” He nodded to a woman in a doctor’s uniform. She beckoned three assistants to join her. “Afterward, we’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “He stays with me,” I said.

  The doctor spoke calmly, as if I were a wild horse that needed soothing. “He’s been hurt. He may have internal bleeding. We need to be certain that his injuries are superficial.”

  I hadn’t thought about his injuries. Of course they should check him. “You’ll bring him back to me?”

  “You should check her too,” Zach said at the same time.

  The doctor looked at Lou and then at me—my cloth skin, my marble eyes, my thread mouth. Carefully, she said to Zach, “She doesn’t need human medicine.”