A towel smacked into her stomach, and Eve flinched.

“You dust,” Aunt Nicki said as she went into the living room.

Eve examined the towel. It had a smear of grease on one side, and the edges were frayed. She must have helped Aunt Nicki or someone clean before because she knew she was supposed to wipe down surfaces with it. At home? Or only here?

She peeked into the living room. The vacuum lay across the carpet. Aunt Nicki was squirting blue liquid onto the mirror and then wiping it away. Eve entered the room and began dusting the coffee table. It had a thin film of gray dust that smeared as she rubbed it with the towel. Coffee rings were permanently ingrained in the wood. She moved aside a stack of magazines: Country Gardens, Better Homes and Gardens, Fine Gardening, and Guns & Ammo. “You like flowers?” Eve asked.

Another squirt on the mirror. “I like guns. Malcolm likes flowers.”

Examining the magazines, Eve tried to picture Malcolm in a garden. He’d loom over daffodils and crush any seedlings.

“He claims that weeding is therapeutic.” Aunt Nicki wiped the mirror and then squirted again. “He has his entire backyard mapped out so the plants bloom clockwise from spring to fall. Plus an entire wall of rhododendron bushes in garish fuchsias and purples. I know, I know, you wouldn’t think it to look at him. But he’s a mush inside. Likes to nurture flowers and puppies and broken kids.”

There was that word again. Broken. She’s broken. Could it have been Aunt Nicki’s voice? She hadn’t caught the voice, but the memory of the rest of the vision was as strong as a real memory, maybe stronger. She could picture the box she’d been trapped in: a wooden box, encrusted in jewels, with a silver snake-shaped clasp. The box was the size of a person’s hand. She’d been shrunk to fit inside it. Inside the box had reeked so badly that it had made her eyes sting. But she remembered worse smells: decay, a putrid and acidic stench that wafted through the air, and thick, cloying incense, overlaid to hide the odor. “If I’m not a witness, why do you want me to remember so badly?” Eve asked.

Aunt Nicki stopped wiping. Blue dripped down the surface of the mirror. “Who said you weren’t a witness?” Her voice was careful, casual.

“Aidan. He said we’re merely targets.”

“Aidan isn’t supposed to discuss the case.”

Eve noticed she hadn’t denied it. “So I am a witness?”

The blue pooled on the mantel. “That boy has never had a truly casual conversation in his life. He always chooses his words. He doesn’t slip. What else did he say?”

Eve wished she hadn’t spoken. She pointed to the mantel. “The blue is dripping.”

“Yeah, and you missed a spot.” Aunt Nicki waved her hand at the coffee table. “I can’t imagine what he was thinking. You might be dense as a rock on an average day, but still …”

She remembered that Aidan had said, Don’t play dense. It doesn’t suit you. The same word. She wondered if that meant anything. “He said I wasn’t. Dense. I’m not dense.”

“Apparently not anymore. What is going on with you? Lately, you’re asking as many questions as a toddler.”

Eve shrugged and looked down at the towel that she was squeezing and twisting and strangling in her hands without realizing it. “Nothing.” She didn’t want to talk about herself anymore. “How was your day?”

Aunt Nicki’s eyes bulged like a bullfrog’s. “You have never once asked me that.”

“Oh.” Eve bent her attention to the coffee table, scrubbing away every speck of dust that had dared to land on it. She artfully arranged the magazines like she’d seen the receptionist do in the agency lobby. She then paid meticulous attention to the coffee table legs. She didn’t look up. After a minute, she heard the squirt of Aunt Nicki’s cleaning supplies.

“My day was fine,” Aunt Nicki said at last.

Eve couldn’t think of a follow-up question. They cleaned the rest of the room in silence. Later, they cooked and ate dinner in silence.

At night, also in silence, Eve lay flat on her back in bed. A car passed by outside, and light swept across the ceiling. She counted the cracks in the plaster until the light hit the opposite wall and the room plunged into darkness again.

She listened to the curtains over the window flutter from the breath of the air conditioner. The dry, chilled air wormed between the sheets. Eve pointed her toes and then flexed them, counting as she did it: ten, eleven, twelve … She then considered what was keeping her awake:

One, Aidan.

Two, Zach.

Three, WitSec.

Four, the case.

Every time she tried to make sense of them, she felt knotted and sick. Maybe if she could sleep, it would all be clear tomorrow. Or not. Regardless, she told herself, tomorrow would come whether she slept or not, counted or not, remembered or not. She closed her eyes.

Eventually, she must have slept.

Next time she opened her eyes, her alarm was buzzing like it had ingested a beehive. She stared at it blearily for a moment, perplexed by how to shut it off, and then she slapped the silver button on top. It worked. She untangled herself from the sheets and got out of bed. Standing, she looked around the room. Everything seemed to be where she’d left it last night, including yesterday’s clothes on the top of the hamper. She exhaled and felt the muscles in her shoulders unknot. She found a key on top of her dresser—she guessed it was the library key, or maybe the house key. She took it with her, as well as the cell phone from Malcolm.

She showered, dressed, and joined Aunt Nicki in the kitchen. Aunt Nicki was peering into the toaster at a piece of bread. She jostled the lever.

Eve opened the refrigerator and took out the orange juice. Holding the bottle, she hesitated. She didn’t know which cabinet held glasses. She chose one at random. She got it on her second try, and poured herself a glass.

The clock over the trash can ticked. 7:10.

“Can I ask you a question?” Eve asked Aunt Nicki.

“I don’t know. Can you?” Aunt Nicki shot back, then winced. “Sorry. I have a little brother. It’s reflex. Go ahead.”

“Say there are two boys …”

“You’re asking a relationship question?” Aunt Nicki looked up from the toaster. Her eyes were doing their bullfrog impression again, Eve noted.

“You prefer kissing one of them, but the other insists you should be kissing him,” Eve continued. “Which one should you continue to kiss?”

Still staring, Aunt Nicki sat down hard in the empty chair. “You’re seriously asking me this. You aren’t asking about … Never mind.”

Eve wrinkled her nose. She smelled a hint of burned bread. “Your toast is done.”

Aunt Nicki waved her hand at the toaster. “It just started. That’s crumbs from yesterday’s toast.”

“Is it going to catch fire?”

“Crumbs are small. Besides, the char adds flavor. So these two boys …” Aunt Nicki folded her hands in front of her on the table. Eve had the sense that she wanted to take notes. “You’re kissing both of them?”

“Not simultaneously,” Eve clarified.

“I should hope not,” Aunt Nicki said, and then she considered it. “Though that could be interesting … A-a-a-and that kind of statement is exactly why I shouldn’t babysit children. You should not be kissing two boys at the same time.”

She sounded so emphatic that Eve felt a grin tug at her cheeks. But she wasn’t sure she should laugh at a woman who brought her gun to breakfast. Currently it was tucked into an embroidered leather holster that looked as much a fashion accessory as Aunt Nicki’s layered fake-pearl necklaces.

“You said you’re enjoying kissing one of them?”

“Is that unusual?” Eve asked. “I thought that was the point of kissing.”

Aunt Nicki shook her head. “I cannot believe we’re having this conversation.”

“Would you rather I ask you why Aidan thinks I’m not a witness? And why he, Victoria, and Topher don’t have memory losses and I do? And why I can’t use magic without losing consciousness but they can? Or should I ask what the case is about? Or where I’m from? Or why I know some things but not others, like ‘bread’ but not ‘bagels’? Or why I don’t know what you want me to know? And what happens if I do remember? What happens if I don’t? What then?” She said it all in one breath and then sucked in air. The air tasted burned.