Victoria whacked his shoulder with her book. “Philistine.”

“Beyond the misuse of your time, if you spend too much time with the locals and their literature, you’ll end up with vocabulary exclusive to this world,” Topher said. “Case in point, ‘philistine.’ You need to be in a world with certain historical facts for that word to exist.” He stretched his legs out and propped them on one of the empty chairs. “And most worlds differ so dramatically that that kind of historical overlap isn’t even on the table.”

“But that’s why it’s so fascinating! All the differences reveal the minute and not-so-minute differences between related realms,” Victoria said. “Seriously, Topher, you can’t tell me you don’t enjoy the interrealm equivalent of the regional-dialect-comparison conversation. You know, the grander version of: some say ‘soda’; some say ‘pop.’ Some call it a ‘bubbler’; others a ‘water fountain.’” Victoria made air quotes as she talked in her mocking lilt. Eve tried to keep her face blank. She wondered if this conversation would have made sense if she had all her memories.

“No one says ‘bubbler’ in any world,” Topher said.

“You are in the heartland of ‘bubbler,’” Victoria said. “Soak in the ‘bubbler.’”

“I hate the people here.” Topher scowled at the other customers. There were only three other occupied tables. Across the restaurant, by the window, a woman coaxed her three children to eat their pizza without stripping off the cheese. Their faces were smeared with orangish grease. In another corner, an older couple ate sauce-soaked sandwiches. The man stared out the window as he ate, and the woman continually checked her phone. The last customer was a middle-aged man in paint-stained jeans who had folded a piece of pizza in half and was shoving it into his mouth. Eve wondered what people in other worlds were like.

“They are pigs,” Victoria said prissily.

One of the kids tossed his pizza on the floor and began to cry, a bleating sound.

“Sheep,” Topher corrected.

Aidan laid a tray on the table. He slid a slice of mushroom and pepper pizza in front of Eve. She had no memory of eating that kind of pizza before. The mushrooms resembled dried slugs. “At least no one here is trying to kill us,” Aidan said.

“Yet,” Topher added.

He’d said it so casually, as if death could stride through the door any second and order garlic knots. Eve felt as if the grease-tinged air had turned rancid. Her eyes slid to the door, and then to the black agency car with the tinted windows. She hadn’t thought … Of course she’d known that Malcolm and Aunt Nicki were her guards. She’d known she was in WitSec for her protection. All the security cameras. All the guns. But to hear out loud, tossed off in conversation, this easy talk of death …

Topher suddenly grinned. He rubbed his hands together, and sparks danced over his palms. “Let’s have some fun with the sheep.” Stretching back, he slapped his palms on the wall. The lights in the pizza place flashed.

“Cut it out, man,” Aidan said. “I still have two slices cooking.”

“Why don’t you go electrify the urinal again instead?” Victoria suggested. “That seems to be suitably juvenile for you.”

“If ‘juvenile’ means ‘hilarious and awesome’ in the local dialect, then yes, you are correct,” Topher said. “But I’ll quit if you fetch more Tabasco sauce.” He picked up a nearly empty bottle and waved it in the air. He then uncorked it and chugged the remaining sauce. A shudder ran through his body, and he shook it off like a horse shaking its mane. “Fantastic stuff. Must remember to pack a case for home.”

Eve’s stomach churned, but not from the sight of the sauce. She tried to will it to steady. Don’t be sick, she thought. Hold it together. She tried to breathe evenly. In and out. In and out. Malcolm had said “he” was still out there, and Patti had been concerned about security. She shouldn’t be so surprised. She’d just had so much else to think about. Lately, it felt as if her thoughts were swirling and bubbling inside her. She didn’t remember feeling like this before, but then, given her memory …

Aiden draped his arm around her, and Eve flinched. “Green Eyes, you okay?”

“You are looking greenish beyond your eyes,” Victoria said. “Not an attractive shade.”

Eve licked her lips and coughed. Her throat felt as if sand had been poured down it. She thought of what Topher had said and clung to the word “home.” “After this is over … after we testify … can we go home?”

All three of them looked at her.

“Testify?” Topher asked carefully.

“We aren’t witnesses,” Victoria said, “despite the agency name.”

“But I thought …,” Eve began.

“All the witnesses are dead,” Aidan said. His voice was kind. She looked at him, into his eyes, which suddenly looked more serious and sad than she’d thought he could look. He stroked her cheek and brushed her hair back behind her ears. With pity in his voice, he said, “Didn’t you know? We’re merely likely targets.”

“He only kills the best of the best,” Victoria said. “The young and the strong.”

“And that,” Topher said, “is why we have to stick together.”

Victoria smiled at her as if they were friends. “Strength in numbers.”

Aidan brought Eve’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Together.”

An hour later, Eve knocked on the window of Malcolm’s car. He rolled down the window. She handed him a slice of pepperoni.

“Extra cheese?” Malcolm asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. No, she thought.

“Aidan?” Malcolm leveled a look at him. “What game are you playing now?”

Behind her, Aidan placed his hands on her shoulders. “No game. I’ll take her straight home. You can stay and eat your grease.” His hands felt like shackles, chaining her to him. Together, she thought. Safety in numbers.

Malcolm snorted. “I’ll be so close behind you that you’ll think my license plate is yours. You’ll wonder if I’m actually in your back seat, and then you’ll realize, no, that’s Malcolm, stuck to my rear like a bumper sticker.”

Eve didn’t have to look at Aidan to know that he was grinning. “Sounds like a dare,” Aidan said. “What do you say, Eve? Up for some more fun?”

“Nuh-uh.” Malcolm leveled a finger at Aidan. “You pull any of that stunt-car driving again, and I’ll ram your car so fast that you won’t know which happened first—your stunt or my crash.” He looked at Eve. “Do you want to ride with me? Just say the word.”

She must have had a reason to agree to these pizza dates. Her past self must have seen something in Aidan. “I’ll be fine.”

Aidan thumped her shoulders. “That’s my girl.”

She wanted to say she wasn’t his girl. But maybe she was. Maybe it was safer if she was. She let him guide her to his car.

In the car, Eve leaned her forehead against the car window. She counted the parked cars and then the telephone poles as they drove past. Every once in a while, she checked for Malcolm’s car in the side mirror. He kept behind them by exactly one car length.

“You’re quiet today, Green Eyes. What’s churning in that pretty head of yours?” Aidan reached over and ruffled Eve’s hair. She tensed as the car veered toward the median. He corrected it, both hands on the wheel again. Behind them, Malcolm closed the gap until he was only a few feet from their fender. “Is it Topher? You know he gets in these moods.” Before the end of lunch, Topher had shorted out one cash register and singed multiple tables. “Just think of him as a blond, blue-eyed version of an elephant transported from the wide savannah to a city zoo. Sometimes he sees this place as more cage than sanctuary.”

“Are we safe here?” Eve asked.

He flashed a smile at her. “If we stick together.”

“If then. Are we safe here?”

His smile faded. He said carefully, “They say we are.”