Chapter 15

Carrow

I hurried through the dark hallways of Grey's tower, my eyes prickling with tears that I refused to let fall.

Was this all a game to him?

Something he could just toss aside at any time? Erase his memories and chuck it in the bin like it had never existed?

No—it was the opposite. Far from a game, which was why he'd given up the memories. It had been necessary.

Still, I drew in an unsteady breath, pain slicing through me. I knew it was the smart thing for him to have done, but it still hurt, of course.

That dream we'd had…

He doesn't remember the dream.

He doesn't remember any of it.

Holy hell, it was all gone for him. Yet I still held onto it, the only one who remembered what had happened. The best night of my life, and I was the only one to remember.

But it was for the best. We were determined to stay away from each other, and we'd done a good job.

Until our magic had dragged us together, our subconsciouses unwilling to stay apart. Fate was so strong—so determined—that we had to fight this with everything we had. Which included erasing our memories.

I was going to do the same.

As soon as this was all over, I was going to Cyrenthia and demand that she erase my memories, too. I couldn't hold onto this alone. I didn't want to.

And yet . . . I did.

Finally, I reached the entry foyer. Miranda stood at her desk, her face impassive. Her dark hair was pulled up in a neat knot on top of her head, and her blouse and pencil skirt were perfectly pressed, as usual.

I turned to her. "Does he seem different to you?"

"I'm uncertain what you're referring to?" Her voice was so blandly polite and her expression so passive that I knew something was up.

Miranda and I had not grown close exactly, but earlier that week we'd bonded over our worry for Grey. She'd even violated his rules to tell me when he returned from wherever he'd gone. And yet, now . . .

She was as cold as when I'd first met her.

I just nodded. "All right."

She gave me a bland doll's smile, and I turned to leave. The air was fresh and cool as I stepped out into the moonlight. It was dreadfully late at night, and the city was dead silent. Eve and Mac waited for me in the courtyard.

"Well?" Mac raised her eyebrows. "What happened?"

"He forgot me." The words made my chest ache.

"Forgot?" Confusion echoed in Eve's voice.

"A spell of Cyrenthia's."

Mac and Eve's jaws both dropped.

"That's dangerous," Mac said. "The mind doesn't like having holes like that."

"He must have insisted."

At my side, Cordelia appeared. She looked up at me, her little masked face pinched in concern.

I saw it. She wrung her tiny hands. He did insist. Want me to go have a wee in his shoes?

It was tempting, that was for sure. But I just shook my head. "Thanks, pal, but no. It really was the smart thing to do, and I'm being silly."

"We should tell the witches what's up," Mac said. "They'll want to know, and they would provide good backup."

I nodded. "Smart. Let's go do that."

* * *

An hour later, after explaining our plan to a group of bloodthirsty witches and coming up with the perfect bait plan, I arrived home as the sun was rising. Mac was in her apartment down below, and Eve had gone to her place just down the street.

I let Cordelia and myself into the little flat just as my stomach grumbled.

Cordelia made a noise of agreement at my side. You and me both, sister.

"The kebab place is closed, but there's plenty of snacks in the kitchen."

I'm not sure I'd say plenty.

"You been going a bit wild, lately?"

Depends on how you define wild.

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth—the first since Grey had told me he'd forgotten me. I should probably start calling him the Devil again. The idea made sadness shoot through me, so I shoved it aside and got to work in the kitchen, unearthing whatever snacks Cordelia hadn't murdered in the last week.

We both gorged ourselves on junk food—something I would definitely regret later—then fell into bed, she in her favorite chair, and me on the mattress.

I picked up my phone and did the thing I'd been both dreading and anticipating. I sent Grey a text outlining the bait plan, so that he'd know what to tell Christoph Venderklein when Anton finally contacted him.

The message registered that it had sent, and I waited, breath held. It wasn't like his response was actually going to be interesting or make me feel any better, but I couldn't help my desire to hear back from him. For that small bit of contact. For any contact.

His message arrived a few minutes later.

Fine.

I stared at it. Fine. Just . . . fine.

My disappointment was stupid, of course. And I hated myself for it. For the oddly mooning idiot I'd become. I scowled and shoved the phone away, burying it beneath a pillow.

Grey was doing the right thing by cutting ties and forgetting, and I needed to do the same.

Sleep took a long time coming, but by the time it arrived, so did a shadow at the edge of my consciousness.

Grey.

Like before, I could feel him in my dream, right at the periphery. That time, I'd thought it truly was a dream. No consequences.

This time, though?

He was really here. Something about my crazy magic drew him to me, and I wondered if he came willingly, or if I was abducting him.

In bed, I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't need to open them to know he stood at the edge of my room. I could feel it like I could feel my own legs.

Would he come to me?

Would I let him?

But he didn't remember me.

Finally, the tension became too much. I peeked my eyes open the tiniest bit, still cocooned in the partial dream state.

A shadow hovered by the door, tall and broad. I caught the briefest glimpse of cold silver eyes before the shadow retreated, and I was alone.

* * *

Grey

The next day, I sat at my desk, staring at an accounts' book but not seeing the figures. My primary goal was to wait for the signal that Anton's man was contacting Christoph Venderklein. Once that happened, I could force Venderklein to give Carrow's name to the kidnapper.

The mere idea of it made me ill, even though I had hardly any memories of her at all. Their loss felt like a severed limb, confusing and terrible.

When I'd chosen this, I knew it was the right thing to do.

But it was terrible.

And this plan . . .

It was so dangerous. But it was smart. Carrow was strong and could take care of herself. She wanted to do this, which meant that I needed to trust her. It wasn't my place to stop her, anyway. And there was no way the kidnapper would risk trying to take me, so I couldn't even trade places.

It will be fine.

The plan was a good one. She'd be surrounded by dozens of people who had her back. The entire Witches' Guild, in fact.

I needed to let go of this stupid concern.

Finally, the damned charm buzzed in my pocket.

Thank fates.

I pulled out the mirror and looked into it, spotting Venderklein standing at the door, speaking to a man with red eyes.

One of Anton's, definitely.

A moment later, Christoph shut the door on the man and turned back to the room, moving toward a coat he'd hung on the peg by the wall. He was getting dressed to go out, no doubt to find the appropriate target for Anton.

It was my cue.

I stood, leaving the room. I nodded at Miranda as I strode out into the afternoon light, turning to head toward Hellebore Alley. It wasn't terribly far from my tower, and by the time I reached it, Christoph was likely out on the street.

I turned down the dark road and moved swiftly past the shops, headed down Nightshade Lane toward Christoph's flat. I was about twenty yards away when I spotted the slender man hurrying toward me, his head bent low.

I ducked into a darkened nook before he saw me, slipping on my leather gloves. I'd have to touch him, and the idea sent a frisson of distaste through me. When he passed, his head was still bent low as he muttered to himself. I reached out and grabbed his arm, yanking him inside.

I clapped a hand over his mouth to silence him, grateful for the glove I wore, and forced his head up so that his gaze met mine. "Do not make a sound."

My magic wrapped around him, making his eyes go blurry and his muscles slightly slack.

"That's it." I removed my hand and propped him up against the wall.

He stared back at me.

"What did Anton's man ask you for?" I asked.

"They want a seer whose gift works by touching objects."

Carrow had that talent. Ice streaked through my veins.

Was it coincidence, or did they really want her? For a moment, I debated changing the plan. I couldn't give him Carrow's name.

I shook myself. No. I'd made a promise. And we had a good plan. More than that, Carrow was strong. She would be okay.

I held his haze with my own and spoke, the words feeling like glass in my throat despite the fact that I was honor-bound to say them. "You will tell them that a supernatural named Carrow Burton has that gift. She will be found tonight at an outdoor party at the Witches Guild tower. There will be many opportunities to catch her alone and in the dark."

The words made bile rise in my throat, and I vowed that I would be there to stop the kidnapper before he laid so much as a finger on Carrow.

Christoph nodded. "I will tell them that."

"When do you normally give them a name?"

"Roughly two to three hours after they request it. Doesn't take me long to find a person."

Disgust surged. When this was over, I would beat him to within an inch of his life and evict him from Guild City. He'd sell out his grandmother for a cigarette, and I didn't want his kind here. "You are truly the dregs of the gene pool."

Irritation flickered in the man's eyes, and I raised a hand to his neck, gripping it. The desire to crush his windpipe was strong—too strong.

I drew in a steadying breath, knowing that I was teetering at the edge of something here. I'd lost my memories of Carrow, and it had left me unsettled. Angry and always on the edge.

"In two hours, tell Anton to send his goon after Carrow." I shook him slightly. "Do not deviate from those orders."

His eyes had properly blurred, indicating the effectiveness of my power, and I nodded, releasing him. "Now go. Walk around town as if you are doing your normal business, then return home and do as I have commanded."

He nodded and turned, striding out into the street. His stooped posture remained the same, and I watched him head down the road as if he were continuing on his way. I'd need to keep an eye on his apartment to make sure he did as I said, but it was clear he would not disobey me.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and sent a message to Carrow, hesitating just briefly before hitting send.

I could go tell her in person.

Desire pulled me toward that option, fueled by the need to see her.

No.

I couldn't. Cyrenthia had been clear. We needed to stay apart.

I typed the message and hit send.