“Why don’t you tell me?”
“I can’t—I don’t remember stealing anything from anybody, much less Tristan Dupree. Do you think he might be working for somebody?”
Aidan looked thoughtful. “I suppose it’s possible, but I haven’t heard Dupree associated with anyone in that way. He’s generally a loner, and while he might ally himself with folks from time to time, he’s more of a contract worker than a salaried employee, if you get my drift. Coming after you in San Francisco indicates something more serious is afoot. Did he frighten you?”
A little, though I was loath to admit that to Aidan. I shrugged.
“Anyway, if I stole anything from anybody when I was with my father in Germany, it’s probably in there,” I said, pointing to the shoe box.
His gaze fell to his desktop. “The box you’re afraid to open.”
“Looks like I’m not the only one.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m afraid, exactly. More like prudent.”
I held Aidan’s gaze, and after a moment he let out a sigh.
“You don’t remember what happened in Germany... none of it?”
“Not really. I get little details from time to time, flashes of memory, but nothing concrete, nothing more than a quick picture.”
“And yet you remembered Tristan.”
“I remember meeting him. But I don’t remember what went on.”
He gave me a strange look.
“What is it?” I demanded.
He shook his head. “I think the first thing we should do, long before opening this box, is to meld our magic to help you remember.”
I hesitated. The first time Aidan and I melded our magic, we ended up melting metal. The second time went slightly better; he was more prepared for my energy, and I was more in control. Still, it wasn’t exactly a good experience. It was... passionate and sensual, but also overwhelming. Threatening. I lost all sense of time, and it made me feel like I was drowning.
Avoiding Aidan’s gaze, I glanced over at the bookshelf, then at Noctemus, and then at a huge brass urn etched with elaborate linear designs. The etchings reminded me of the map of the busload of witches crisscrossing the country, and that thought brought me strength. After all, I was descended from a long line of strong, wild, magical women. Even though I was mostly a solo act, I was but one in a community of witches.
It was time to face what had happened when I went to find my father, so very long ago.
“Are you sure this will work?” I asked.
“Of course not. If you’ve repressed the memories this long, they won’t be easy to retrieve. But it’s worth a try. Ready?”
I nodded.
We stood, facing each other. When I interacted with other witches—in coven meetings, for example—we had always come together heart to heart, and hand tohand. Not so with Aidan. He placed his hands on either side of my head, then bent his head to touch mine, forehead to forehead.
A shock of energy reached out, like a sustained spark between us. I could feel the sensation of electricity running from his head to mine.
We breathed together, until it was hard to tell where his breath stopped and mine began.
I reached up and placed my hands over his. A humming began, so low that at first I wasn’t sure if it was external or if it was manifesting within myself. The hum grew in intensity, filling the room. Dots swam in front of my eyes, and my vision went black. It was so dark I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. I felt like I was falling, headfirst, down an endless tunnel. It seemed to go on forever.
And I started to remember. A rainy night, the taxi dropping me off at the address I had at long last tracked my father to. Standing at the door, afraid to knock. Without my making a sound, it swung open.
I saw Aidan.“Am I seeing you?”I asked in my mind. Was this a memory, or was this now?
He held his hand out.“Come in,”he said.“Remember.”
Everything was shadowy, confusing, like a bad dream. I stepped through the door and into the burned-out shell of a once-grand house. The stench of smoke and soot was overwhelming. A wrought iron circular staircase led up through a gaping hole in the ceiling. I began to climb it, and saw a bird’s nest lodged on a timber under the broken glass of an intricate skylight. The light blue speckled eggs were broken. Nestled among them was an old watch, the ticking sound growing louder and louder.
