by Sadie Moss
“Nope,” I confirmed, squaring my jaw.
He sighed. “It is a difficult prospect. Pulling memories that have been repressed or erased isn’t easy, and it depends on how the memory was lost as well. Not many can do it.”
I was about to spin on my heel and return to the palace—I’d given him his chance to be helpful, after all, and my skin was itching to get out of here—when he spoke again.
“But I do know of a witch who might be able to help you.”
Chapter 20
“Are you sure this is the place?”
Fen peered out the window of Jae’s car, frowning at the elegant facade of the building we’d just pulled up to.
I could see why he was skeptical. The dark wood and glass exterior made the building look more like a spa for fancy Gifted housewives than the shop of a serious potion-maker. But it was the address Rain had given me, and according to him, Marielle Arcand really knew her stuff. So I poked the wolf shifter in the side, prompting him to get out of the car.
He grabbed the finger that was jabbing him and bit the tip of it gently, sending a rush of sensations careening through my body. If I’d thought giving in to the feelings the bond elicited between us might tone down the intensity of the pull, I’d been wrong. It only seemed stronger now.
I bit my lip, eyes glued to the finger pinned between his teeth.
“If you two are quite finished…,” Akio groused from my other side, shooing us along.
“We’re not.” Fen spoke around my finger, his brown eyes dancing. “Use your door.”
I bit back a smile, but retrieved my tingling hand and followed the grumbling incubus out of the car. He pointedly didn’t offer to help me, and unlike when Corin did that, I was pretty sure Akio’s non-help wasn’t meant as a show of respect. He was just being a moody dick.
I poked him in the side too as I passed by and was surprised at the slight yelp that burst from his lips before he regained his composure.
Wait.
Was Akio ticklish? I filed that little tidbit away as a weakness to most definitely be exploited later.
“You’ve never been here?” I asked Jae, as we approached the building. The gold lettering on the window read “Mélange” in large, swooping letters.
“No. I haven’t had much need of witch’s brews. I prefer spells and charms.”
I grunted in surprise at that. I hadn’t really considered that someone might prefer one type of magic to another. Then again, Jae was such a powerful mage it was hardly surprising he preferred spell casting. It was his forte, and he could probably accomplish most of what he needed with his own magic.
But not this.
Even Akio couldn’t solve this problem for us. His charm could make Gerald suggestible, but that would only entice the ex-Gifted man to tell us what he actually remembered. We needed access to the things he couldn’t remember.
Sending up a silent prayer to whatever god had answered me last time, I followed Jae inside, the other three men right behind me. I’d had him pick me up from the palace—or rather, he’d insisted on picking me up, and the rest of my four had insisted on coming with him. I wasn’t going to complain. I felt stronger and less lost just having them near me.
“Can I help you?” the middle-aged woman behind the sleek wooden front desk asked. Her gaze flickered over the group of us, landing on Corin as she gave a little pout of displeasure.
Not giving her time to say something that would bring this entire excursion crashing to a halt—if she insulted Corin, I would fight her—I spoke quickly, stepping in front of her to draw her attention. “We’re looking for Marielle Arcand. We need a potion brewed.”
She wavered for a moment then sighed. “One moment.”
The receptionist waved us over to a few chairs set up by the large windows then brushed the communication charm at her ear, murmuring something too low for me to hear. The entire entry room was sparse and bright, all gleaming wood and shining white surfaces. That was something else I’d noticed about the Gifted—they liked to pretend everything in the world could be kept clean and orderly. Too bad life didn’t work that way for most of us.
We didn’t sit, just lingered near the chairs. I kept my gaze pinned on the receptionist, but she studiously ignored us, straightening and then re-straightening the stack of papers in front of her. After a few moments, a woman pushed through the door at the back. A wave of magic rolled out with her, and goose bumps broke out across my skin. Whether she could help us remained to be seen, but if she couldn’t, it wouldn’t be for a lack of power.
In an odd contrast to the heavy, overbearing magic that emanated from her, the woman herself was almost impossibly petite. She was about my height, but where I filled out my clothes with curves and muscle, this woman was rail thin and delicate as a bird. Her dark hair was pulled up into a slick bun, her thick eyebrows were perfectly shaped, and the lines of her face were angular and sharp. She wore a slim-fitting black dress and heels that had to be at least four inches—which meant she wasn’t really my height after all.
“I’m Marielle. What can I help you with today?” She held out a fragile-looking hand, and I took it tentatively, not sure whether I should shake it or kiss her ring.
I opted for a firm shake then let go quickly before I broke her. “We’re looking for a potion to restore forgotten memories. I was told you might be able to help us.”
She cocked her head, her dark eyes scanning our group.
“I may be able to. Were the memories forgotten, or were they taken?”
“Uh…” I glanced around at the guys, but no one seemed to have an answer. “I’m not sure. Let’s assume they were taken. Or repressed, or forcibly removed somehow.”
Marielle pursed her red lips. “That’s more difficult. It can be done, but most likely any memories recovered will be fragments. They won’t be clean and will need to be interpreted before they make any sense. Like memories of a dream.”
Huh. Maybe she could brew another potion that would unravel the meaning of the dream I kept having about my father.
“That’s okay. We’ll take what we can get,” I assured her.
“And it will be… expensive.” She let the words linger in the air, probably waiting to see if we flinched. She didn’t seem like the type to suffer cheapskates. Or poor people.
“That’s fine. We can pay.”
“Good. Then come with me.” She turned sharply and retreated to the door she’d come through, heels clicking on the white floor. I watched her movements as we followed her. She seemed remarkably steady, considering her tiny frame was balanced on towering stilettos. How the hell did she do that?
The back of the shop was dark, but just as sparse and shiny as the front. Soft red light glowed from magical orbs floating near the ceiling, illuminating a long hallway with several doors leading off it.
She took us partway down the hall before veering off into one of the side rooms. It was small and lit with the same red glow. By the time all six of us had crammed inside, it felt even smaller, and I pressed back against Corin to give the witch room to work. He wrapped his hands around my waist, resting them on my belly.
There was a workbench with cabinets above it along one wall, and a large metal cauldron hung from a thick chain attached to the ceiling. The floor under it appeared to be blackened by scorch marks.
It was the first thing I’d seen in this entire place that wasn’t perfectly spotless.
Marielle grabbed a small metal cylinder from the workbench and aimed it at the floor beneath the cauldron. She pressed a button on it and flame shot out, hovering just over the floor and licking the base of the cauldron. The fire wasn’t feeding on anything, but it continued to burn strong and steady as she turned away and began pulling objects from the cabinet.
I’d never seen a witch brew before, and I was a little afraid she’d start pulling out animal parts or human eyeballs or something, but the array of ingredients was actually surprisingly mundane. A few small crystals and stones, a
bunch of herbs, and some vials whose contents I didn’t think too hard about.
As she worked, Jae leaned closer to whisper in my ear, somehow guessing my thoughts. “The power of a witch’s brew comes from the witch herself, not from the ingredients. A few potions require rare or obscure components, but most don’t.”
Huh. I watched with fascination as Marielle ground and blended ingredients, adding them to the cauldron while muttering to herself. She picked up a long wooden spoon and began stirring the potion, her hand repeating a particular pattern over and over again.
Suddenly, a sharp ringing sound split the air.
I jumped, almost reaching for the daggers under my dress. I’d been nearly hypnotized by the steady movement of the witch’s hand.
The ringing came again, and Marielle looked up sharply, a snarl of annoyance contorting her refined features even as she continued to chant under her breath.
“Fuck,” Corin muttered. He grabbed the cell phone from his pocket and made his way to the door, stepping out as he raised it to his ear and said softly, “Yeah?”
Marielle went back to her task, but the set of her shoulders told me she’d decided definitively—she did not like us.
Her dislike was only solidified when Corin returned a few moments later, no longer bothering to be so quiet.
His face was grim as he slipped the phone back into his pocket, stepping up to our small group.
“Guys, we’ve got a problem. That was Christine. They found Rat. He’s dead.”
Chapter 21
My stomach dropped.
“Dead?” I whispered, though I was sure I hadn’t misheard him.
“Yeah.” Corin’s voice was low, and his blue eyes looked almost otherworldly in the dim red light. “They followed his trail from The Crow’s Nest and found where he lived. That’s where they found his body. His throat was cut, but there were traces of magic left in the room. Best guess, it was a magic user trying to make it look like a Blighted crime.”
I swallowed, my throat tightening.
Godsdamn it. He was just a fucking kid.
Rat and I had never been what anyone would consider friends, and I was sure he’d have sold me out to the Representatives happily if Akio hadn’t charmed him to forget our little chat at the bar that night.
But he didn’t deserve an end like this. He was just a skinny kid with a big nose who liked to pretend he was the wisecracking lead in a noir detective novel, probably to make his own miserable circumstances more bearable.
He’d fallen into a shitty line of work to make ends meet, just like I had.
Only he’d gotten killed for it.
“Someone’s trying to cover their tracks. Whoever this person is, they know we’re looking for them,” Akio murmured from behind me, his voice deep and smooth.
Panic flared, overtaking my pang of grief at the news of Rat’s death. Gerald was another loose end. At least he was safely ensconced in the lower levels of the palace, his presence unknown to anyone but me… I hoped.
I suddenly wished I’d made time to stop by and see him this morning, although it wouldn’t have done any good without the potion Marielle was brewing for us.
“Can you go any faster?” I asked the witch, nervous energy thrumming through my veins.
She whipped her head toward me and hissed like a snake, cracking the veneer of delicate refinement she’d worn since we arrived. The hand stirring the contents of the cauldron didn’t falter, but she held up her other hand toward us, palm out, as if trying to fend off any further interruptions.
I should’ve known better than to interfere with a witch while she was brewing, but my patience was so tapped out at this point it was practically non-existent. If Rat was dead, that meant he couldn’t tell us anything.
Which meant we needed Gerald more than ever.
So I glued my eyes to Marielle, trying to speed up her work by force of will alone, and groped blindly behind me. Large hands grabbed each of mine—Jae’s and Fenris’s—and squeezed tight as we all waited tensely.
Minutes passed, and the cauldron began to give off a faint coppery smell, almost like blood.
After several more minutes, a plume of white steam burst from it, hovering like a cloud for several seconds before quickly dissipating.
She had to be almost done. Right? I had no idea what the steps were for brewing a potion, and not knowing how close to the end of the process she was made me so twitchy I wanted to scream.
Finally, the rhythm of her hand slowed, and she withdrew the wooden spoon from the cauldron. Her voice grew louder, the words of her chant coming more clearly—not that I understood any of them. She held both hands over the cauldron, and light emanated from her palms. A sound like a thunderclap filled the room. Then there was silence.
Marielle snuffed the flame and stuck a long glass tube into the cauldron, stopping up the end of it with her thumb. When she withdrew it, a dark liquid filled the last several inches of the tube. She hovered it over a vial and released the liquid inside, then sealed it with a wooden stopper.
When she turned to face us, I was suddenly very glad she was a witch and not a mage. Her eyes flashed with ire. If she could’ve thrown a lightning bolt at us, I was sure she would have.
“Never,” she hissed, her red lips curling back from her teeth, “interrupt a witch while she is brewing!”
“Is it done?” I asked, too anxious to even pretend to apologize.
“It is.” She rolled her eyes in disgust, holding out her hand. “Two thousand dollars.”
My eyes bugged. My thoughts had been running in a dozen directions, but that number was high enough to get my attention. She’d said it wouldn’t be cheap, and we’d agreed to it, but I would bet anything she had tacked on an “annoyance” surcharge before tallying up the final bill.
Gerald’s life was only worth five hundred, a little voice whispered in my mind, making me cringe.
Gods, that was fucked up.
I had little hope this potion would restore the man’s mental capacities and wasn’t even sure what I’d do if it did. If his mind sharpened to the point where he recognized me, we’d have a whole new crisis on our hands. But I hoped getting memories out of him would at least help us find whoever stripped his magic.
“Corin?” I prompted.
He pulled a wad of bills from his back pocket and counted out the payment then handed it to Marielle. She grimaced as she took it. I was sure she wasn’t used to getting paid in wrinkled, grungy cash, but that was all my nest egg was made of.
She set the money on the workbench and held out the vial of potion. When I reached for it, her thin fingers closed around the bottle.
“Administer five drops into each ear of the affected party then question them. The more precise your questions, the better. In extreme cases of memory loss, they may not even be able to articulate a memory, but this potion will allow you to see them.”
The bony witch finally uncurled her fingers, and I snatched the potion out of her palm before she could close her fist again. I was so anxious to leave I didn’t even ask what she meant by “see them.”
When we burst out of the back and through the reception area, the woman behind the desk jumped and then scowled, but we were out the door before she could scold us. I took my usual seat in the middle, with Corin and Akio beside me this time, and Jae threw the car into gear and pulled away from the curb.
I clutched the vial in one hand and drummed nervously on my leg with the other, sort of wishing Fen had driven. As much as Jae seemed to like cars, he drove like a grandpa. My fingers beat out a staccato rhythm on my thigh until Akio’s hand reached over and covered mine, pinning it to my leg. I figured I must’ve been annoying him, but his strong fingers interlaced with my own, grasping my hand tightly.
That silent show of comfort made me feel oddly touched. When I glanced at the incubus, his gaze was focused out the window. I was sure if I mentioned the connection or thanked him for the support, he’d snatch his hand back in an i
nstant. So I didn’t say anything, just squeezed his fingers and brushed my thumb across his.
When we pulled up to the palace, the sun hung low over the mountains, lighting up the sky with an orange glow. A fairy with long purple hair greeted us and took the keys from Jae.
Akio pushed his door open, keeping his grip on my hand as he tugged me from the car. We raced up the steps under the watchful eye of the guards stationed there.
I saw them eyeing Corin and hung back a second to let him catch up to me, wanting him right by my side so they knew he was under my protection. I doubted there was a person left in the palace who hadn’t heard about the Gifted woman and her bizarre consort of men.
I had to ask yet another guard for directions once we reached the large main entry hall. He looked a little hesitant but told me how to reach the holding cells on the lower level. As I turned to follow the route he laid out, I almost collided with Olene.
The Representative looked a bit flustered and was being trailed closely by two of my least favorite people in the world—Victor Kruger and Nicholas Constantine. Their words died when they saw me, but it looked like they’d been talking urgently about something. Maybe they’d resumed the argument from this morning.
“Lana.” Olene’s voice was smooth and calm, although the energy she gave off didn’t match it. “What are you doing here?”
I shifted my weight uneasily, palming the memory potion Marielle had given me. “I just wanted to see if any of Beatrice’s notes and things survived the explosion. I want to pick up her work where she left off.”
Olene’s eyes softened. She glanced at Nicholas, who was staring at Corin with open malice. “Nicholas. Victor. Come with me. We’ll talk.”
That seemed to wrench their attention away from our little group, and when Olene nodded at me and pivoted to continue on her way, they trailed after her.
As soon as they were out of sight, I made a beeline for the corridor the guard had pointed us to. We found a staircase lined with red carpet and walked down several flights; with each floor we descended, the stairs grew narrower, the ceilings lower, and the decor less ornate.
