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And wouldn’t you know it—the last address I’d entered was a place I didn’t recognize.
I mean, I didn’t recognize the last several places, which probably made sense. But the most recent was on Lohengrin Boulevard. That was a few blocks over from Baker Avenue, which was where a lot of the mages and fae set up shop. In particular, it was where some of the less than savory magic users congregated. The ones who dealt in socially taboo types of magic like hexes.
Matteo shot me a pointed and somewhat playful look. “You didn’t go to the pet shop there, did you?”
I couldn’t help chuckling at that. “I don’t remember, but with as many times as you’ve ranted about that place, I think it’s safe to say that, no, I didn’t go there.”
“Good,” he said with a sharp nod.
Some small part of me wondered if I had gone in there just for spite. I could be as petty as the next person, and if our breakup hadn’t been entirely amicable, it wouldn’t be beneath me to go to places he hated. Though I hadn’t forgotten thereasonshe’d hated that particular pet shop, and regardless of how charitable I did or didn’t feel toward him, I suspected I’d still given Magickal Menagerie a wide berth.
“Remember that episode ofSouth Parkwith the killer goldfish?” he’d ranted over dinner one night. “Remember the pet store with all the animals from an evil parallel dimension or whatever that were basically murdering everyone? That placehadto be based on Magickal Menagerie. Ithadto be.”
“Are you saying we have a pet store selling killer goldfish?”
“I’m saying we have a cursed pet store selling animals that no one should be keeping as pets.” He’d yanked up his sweatshirt sleeve, revealing a small but nasty-looking bite on his forearm. “That’s from a betta fish, Owen. Abetta fish.”
“Do those even have teeth?”
“This one does! And it apparently thinks it’s half-piranha!” He’d flailed theatrically and made an exasperated sound. “Knowing that place, itishalf-piranha!”
I’d smirked. “Better than half-basilisk, right?”
He’d tossed a fry at me over that, which I’d richly deserved.
But somewhere between then and now, Matteo and I had split up. Maybe Ihadgotten curious about Magickal Menagerie and wandered in to find out about their Siamese fighting piranhas.
Did they also have some sort of hypnotic hamster that could erase memories? At this point, I wasn’t ruling anything out.
I snapped a picture of the address on my phone, then shut off the car. “Let’s go back inside. We can look up what this place is.” I paused. “I’m… pretty sure it’s not that pet shop.”
Matteo grunted, and we got out of the car and went back upstairs. I rested my elbows on the kitchen island and looked up the address.
When the results came up, I read aloud, “Gach Rud.”
Then I blinked. Tossed my phone onto the counter. Buried my face in my hands.
“Oh my fucking God,” I groaned. “Itisthe fae.”
“I’m not surprised,” he said with a note of sympathy. “I can’t imagine what else would erase a full year of your memory.”
“Aside from a nasty head injury,” I muttered.
“Nah, amnesia doesn’t work that way. You’d be more likely to—”
I lowered my hands and shot him a pointed look, which immediately shut him up.
He sheepishly cleared his throat. “Sorry.”
Yeah, that had been an occasional point of contention in our relationship. Matteo was fascinated by medicine, whether it was human or animal, and he was the guy who would yell at the TV for misrepresenting something. Or if someone made an offhand comment, he’d go off on a lengthy but well-intentioned monologue about the realities of biology and physiology.
Sometimes it was endearing. Sometimes… not so much.
He drummed his fingers on the counter. “Maybe see if there’s a receipt in your wallet?”
“Good idea.” I dug it out of my pocket and thumbed through the various folded receipts. That, like every other goddamned thing today, fucked with my head. I always accumulated receipts until my wallet was damn near bursting with them, but out of boredom yesterday—what I thought was yesterday—I’d cleaned them out. Today, there were at least two dozen folded-up slips of white paper stuffed into the billfold along with a couple of twenties.
I didn’t look too closely at any of them. I knew I wouldn’t remember going to those restaurants or purchasing from those stores or even getting gas at those stations. The last thing I needed was to jostle my already fucked-up psyche more than I already had. So I just glanced at the names of the businesses and didn’t look at what I’d bought, how much I’d spent, or when.
