47

Violet Miller and the Fox’s Secret

Two Nights Ago

Midnight was dark, and only the moon showed what was happening in the cathedral.

After the redhead had revived the curly-haired guy on the cathedral floor with a strange fur charm, he turned, pulled up his sleeves, and put his palm against Violet’s temple. He brought his mouth around to whisper in her opposite ear.

This is what he said: “You aren’t going to tell a soul I gave your memories back either.”

Violet gasped as something rushed into her mind like hot water—places, people, faces, memories. Everything.

No, she would not tell Mor that she remembered him. She would not tell a soul.

Warm tears filled her eyes. Her gaze flashed to the guy on the floor.

Mor…

Luc headed for the door, but Violet didn’t turn to watch him leave. It all sank in slowly, everything at once. And she said aloud the realization that should have come much sooner, “You’re cruel.”

The pause afterward was brief. Luc’s voice sounded far away when he replied.

“I know.”

Violet rushed to Mor’s side. She searched his pockets for his phone, but when she tried to dial all the numbers of the people who might come help him, her fingers didn’t seem to work. And she realized it was because she couldn’t let them find out that she remembered. She had a secret to keep now.

She dialed Zorah instead.