‘It is.’ Jude flipped his hands over to study his palms. ‘I returned to the pub the next day. The barman had no recollection of us being there. He wouldn’t even look me in the eye, just kicked me out before I’d barely come through the door. So, I went around the back to the cellar, thinking maybe I could find evidence of the kerosene. Evidence ofanything. But all around the alley, covering the cellar’s trapdoor leading, was gold dust. Like in my library and your memory.’
‘How did you know you did it, though?’ Maeve prodded. ‘The memory tampering.’
‘An elder found me as soon as I returned to the Abbey. He was furious.’ Jude paused. His voice roughened. ‘He told me it was my fault, that I was lucky he’d taken care of the barman. He said I’d done my part to erase the memory, and he would fix the rest.’ His throat bobbed. ‘The barman was found dead the next day. And when I went to ask the elder about it, he—’
Jude’s voice cut out. He closed his eyes tightly, massaging the space between his brows. A fluttering began behind Maeve’s ribs as she watched him try to collect himself, a fragile beating of wings. Panic, maybe, or something closer to fear.
‘All I can remember is falling backwards. I think I collapsed, fainted, maybe. When I woke, the elder was standing over me, holding something in his hand. Gold dust filled the air. I couldn’t tell what he held, only that it was small enough to conceal in his palm. It seemed significant at the time, but when I woke, I couldn’t seem to remember. My clothes no longer smelled of kerosene, and my memories of the day before…’ he waved a hand through the air. ‘Almost gone. All that was left were fractured bits andpieces, but enough to know that I had been the one to fuck up. The barman had died, and I was to blame. It wasmewho had taken the first step to tamper with his memory. And the Abbey had killed him in retribution.’
Maeve didn’t have a reply. Her mind cowered at his words.
The Abbeykilledsomeone?
The prospect was too large, too overwhelming to consider. She’d drown under the weight of it.
Jude’s eyes met hers. Haunted and searching. ‘That was the first time I noticed the Abbey could influence memory. That I could, too. And somehow, they could use my magic against me, stealing my memories in the process. I don’t—’ he shook his head. ‘I don’t think they know that I’m aware they can influence memory. If they were… I don’t think I would’ve just been sent away. I think I would’ve disappeared.’
‘Like – like the barman?’ Maeve’s voice was hoarse. ‘Disappeared? Or…’
Jude didn’t reply. He simply stared at her; the word left unsaid.
She dropped her gaze to her hands, twisted up in her lap.
‘From then on,’ Jude continued, softer this time. ‘I sensed it whenever the Abbey worked its memory magic. Ifeltit, like a weakness in my muscles. I’d see flashes of gold at the edge of my vision whenever the magic was being done. The gold dust is a mark of the magic. Only those of us who have the memory magic can see it, or anyone tampering with memory themselves.’
‘Like the elders,’ Maeve whispered. She remembered Ezra’s expression as he’d taken in her gold-dusted studio. Brigid’s quietly asked question if Ezra had seen the gold. Had she known what it meant, too?
More importantly – was Ezra actively using memory magic as Jude claimed?
Maeve filed away the question. Even considering it sent a surge of panic through her limbs. Was it not enough to shake her foundational trust in the Abbey without bringing Ezra into it, atleast not yet? She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, his hands on her shoulders, keeping her steady.
Forbidding her from straying, or keeping her from falling?
‘And the memory I saw in your book?’ Maeve asked, returning her focus to Jude. ‘Was that the fallout of whatever happened with the barman? With the kerosene?’
‘Part of it, anyway,’ he replied. ‘It feels like there was something more, that something else happened. Somethingbigger, and that was why the Abbey no longer allowed me to stay. But by the time I learned to store the memories in books for safekeeping, there was so little left to save to know for sure.’
He leaned forward, gaze sharpening. ‘But, Maeve… whatever happened, my magic was to blame. It’s unwieldy. Dangerous. The Abbey didn’t want me there as long as it flowed in my veins. They wanted me somewhere far away, somewhere they could still—’
His mouth slammed shut.
And Maeve knew,knew, he was still hiding something.
She weighed his words, filed them away, and chose not to press. He was being open with her, sharing vulnerable pieces of himself. She needed to proceed carefully if she wanted answers.
‘That’s what the gold magic is?’ she asked. ‘The ability to tamper with memory? And the Abbey, the elders… they can use it too?’
Jude nodded.
‘How?’
‘I believe icons have something to do with it. They help to form a link between—’ he paused. ‘Between those of us with memory magic and the elders who seek to use our abilities. The icons function like a capstone. Our magic touches one side of the stone, the elders touch the other. The magic bridges both.’
‘Icons?’ Maeve choked. ‘Myicons?’
‘I believe so, yes.’
‘How?’ she repeated. ‘I just paint. It’s paint and canvas, nothing more.’
