by Brian Olsen
“Three,” Mrs. Liefer says.
“Right,” Alisa agrees. “Three.”
Mr. Montgomery counts them off on his fingers. “Mr. Liefer, Mrs. Liefer, and Claudia.”
Mr. Liefer stands up straight. “I remember three as well. But…” He tilts his head. “Didn’t we all just say we saw four?”
“How could there be four?” Mrs. Liefer asks. “It’s a family photo, and there are only three of us.”
“We did just say we saw four.” Alisa tugs on one of her braids. “But I’d swear there were only three people in that picture.”
Mrs. Liefer slides the phone out from under my hand. She looks at the picture and gasps again. “It is four! Who is that?” She slides to another photo. It’s just Mr. Liefer, putting an ornament on the tree. “Oh!” She holds it up to him. “Look, Ronald! That’s a nice one.” She frowns. “Wait. What was wrong with that last picture again?”
“Memory,” I say. “Somebody’s played with your memories. Made you forget him.”
“Made us forget our own son?” Mr. Liefer says. “Who would do that?”
“Who could do that?” Alisa counters. “I don’t know any logomancers with memory powers.”
“Maybe you do,” Nate points out, “but you don’t remember.”
“We have to find him.” Mrs. Liefer scrolls back to a picture of Emmet. She touches the screen gently, never taking her eyes away from the image. “We have to find our son.”
Mr. Liefer puts his arms around her shoulders. “We’ll find him, Helen.” He kisses the top of her head. “I promise.”
Twenty-six
“Space.”
We materialize in bright sunshine. Mr. Liefer wobbles but Mrs. Liefer, Alisa and I are holding on to his shoulders to make his teleportation easier and are able to steady him.
“Thank you,” he says. “I’m all right.”
He seems okay, so Alisa and I let go. Mrs. Liefer grips him tighter, wrapping both hands around his upper arm. “Zane should have brought us—”
“Zane can evacuate people in a hurry if the Common King finds our hideout,” her husband counters. “I can’t. He’s needed there. I’m not.”
Alisa takes a deep breath and smiles, dispelling some of the marital tension. “I love Cambridge.”
I’ve never been to Cambridge, Massachusetts, before. Boston a couple of times with my parents, but we never crossed the river to the neighboring city. Liefer’s taken us to Harvard Square, right by the university. We’re standing in a large, roughly-triangular plaza of red brick, framed by roads on two sides and a big bank and some other businesses on the third. Lots of people around, enjoying the good weather. Some go up and down from the subway entrance, some eat early lunches in a sunken seating area off to one side, and some buy newspapers and magazines from a shop in the middle of the plaza with a neon sign above the door reading “Out of Town News.” We’re right in the middle of all that, but nobody’s noticed our sudden appearance.
“You used my trick,” I say.
Liefer nods. “Commanding the Logos to wait to teleport us until a moment when nobody is observing the spot we want to teleport into. Very smart, Chris. I’m surprised I never thought of it.”
I turn in place, taking in the entire area beyond this plaza. I stop facing a stately brick building with faux-columns along its front, directly across the road from us. “Is that Harvard?”
Alisa gestures towards that side of the street. “That whole area is Harvard Yard. I should be spending this summer getting my application started.” Her shoulders slump. “Not much chance of an Ivy League now.”
“Oh, yeah. I didn’t even think of that. None of us finished our junior year.”
“If we ever get our normal lives back, that’ll be a big deal. Feels kind of small now, though.”
“Where’s this coffee shop?” Mrs. Liefer asks. “I have some questions for this young man who’s been magically photobombing our family pictures.”
Mr. Liefer starts to touch her face, then catches sight of his wrapped hand and lowers it. “I wish you had stayed behind, Helen. This might be dangerous.”
“Everything is dangerous now.” Gently, she takes his wrists in her hands. “Ronald, we may have had memories of another child stolen from us. A son we can’t remember! I’m not going to sit in the bunker doing needlepoint while you solve all our problems.”
“You don’t do needlepoint.”
“Exactly.” She links her arm in his. “Now let’s go.”
Alisa looks at her phone. “It’s just down this way.”
She leads us out of the plaza, keeping the black iron fence and red brick buildings denoting Harvard’s outer boundary on our left, on the other side of Massachusetts Avenue. About two blocks down, on our side of the street, is our destination, Cambridge Tea and Coffee. The three tables out on the wide sidewalk are full, and through the big front window we can see that the shop is packed. The few tables near the front are taken, and there’s a crowd at the long counter at the back, where two baristas run themselves ragged trying to fill everyone’s orders. We step inside but stay near the door, out of the rush.
“Anything look familiar?” I ask.
Mr. Liefer grimaces. “You tell us. We forget his face as soon as we’re not looking at it. Is he here?”
Emmet had been forgotten by everyone who knew him, including, as a call to Mrs. Liefer’s sister confirmed, people outside our group. Despite this mass amnesia, it wasn’t hard to track him down – Emmet’s social media were all still active, and Mrs. Liefer follows him, even though she forgets his posts as soon as she lifts her eyes from the screen. Just this morning, he posted a whiny rant about having to work a shift at this coffee shop after staying out late drinking last night.
His post said he’s a barista. He’s not one of the two working, but there’s a door behind the counter where more employees might be. “I don’t see him. Should we ask?”
Alisa moves forward. “Time to be rude.”
We cut through the crowd as politely as we can, which is not very politely. “Sorry,” Mrs. Liefer says. “Sorry. We’re not ordering anything.”
Alisa reaches the counter first. “Excuse me. Excuse me?”
One of the baristas, a white girl with a septum piercing, gives us the side-eye and continues making an espresso. “You need to wait your turn.”
“We’re looking for Emmet Liefer. Is he working this morning?”
“Yeah. He’s— Oh!” She take a closer look at us and smiles. “Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Liefer!”
Mr. Liefer blinks. “Hello. I’m sorry, remind me…?”
She laughs. “No worries. We only met one time. I’m Judy, I’m friends with Emmet. I’ll get him for you.” She hands the finished drink to a waiting customer, then turns and pushes the door behind her open. “Emmet!”
“Wait!” Alisa shouts.
“Your parents are here!”
She turns back to us with a smile, letting the door swing shut. “He’ll be right out.” She starts to move on to the next waiting customer, but stops. She squints at me, then snaps her fingers. “You know who you look like? That flying guy from the news!”
My heart races. “Uh. Who?”
Judy turns to the waiting customer. “Doesn’t he look like that guy from the news?”
The irritated customer taps her fingers on the counter. “Sorry, what?”
“That thing in Connecticut yesterday. Those people who were flying. Doesn’t he look like one of them? The main guy?”
The customer shrugs. “I guess. They weren’t actually flying. It was a publicity stunt, like the mermaids in D.C.” She looks me up and down. “You do look like him, though.”
Alisa throws her arm across my shoulders and laughs. “He does, right? I’ve been teasing him about it all day.”
Judy throws her hands up in front of her face, giving out a fake scream of fear. “Aah! Don’t burn the store down, flying fire guy!”
Everyone laughs and Judy goes back to taking
the customer’s order. I lean into Alisa and whisper, “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”
We realized this morning that, as we feared, with the Moment strengthened people aren’t forgetting or ignoring magic, or at least not as quickly. The non-magical folks in our troop say they woke up a lot less confused than normal, and nobody felt like they needed a memory booster from Alisa. This could be a big problem for us. There was a lot of cell phone footage taken of the incident at the museum. The faces of the Common King, Jasmine, Shonda, Nate, and Mr. Finlay are everywhere. Which means my face is everywhere.
“We needed you,” Alisa says. “You’re the only who remembers…whatever his name is.”
“Emmet.”
“Right. But this might have to be your last public outing for a while.”
“They’ve probably identified me by now, right?” I ask. “I mean, somebody, somewhere knows the floating guy’s face belongs to Chris Armstrong?”
“I’m sure. Mrs. Montgomery said she’s already dodging phone calls from reporters asking her to confirm Nate’s identity.”
“Damn. And they’ll remember the stories about wolves in London, and the lightning bird at the mall, and connect them together. Forget about finishing junior year. There’s no going back to normal life for us now.”
“Don’t give up yet—”
“Get away from them!” Emmet Liefer stands in the doorway behind the counter. He makes a circular gesture with his hand and yells, “Memory!”
I’m in a coffee shop. Wow, it’s crowded. An older couple yells at one of the baristas. Nothing to do with me but they’re packed in tight behind me and it’s kind of awkward. Plus I don’t think I’m in the mood for coffee.
“Excuse me.” I try to duck past them.
“Chris?”
Man, it’s packed in here, and this couple is being so rude about not getting out of my way. “Excuse me!”
“Chris!” Somebody grabs my arm. A girl, black, with long thin braids.
I don’t recognize her. “Sorry, you must have me confused with someone else.”
I pull away as she tries to grab me again. I slide by the older couple and the man tries to grab me, too. What the hell? He’s a white guy with greasy-looking slicked-back hair. Has a pompous air about him. His hands are all wrapped in bandages and gauze, though, so he can’t hold onto me. I wonder what happened to him.
The lady he’s with looks nice, if a little stressed out. From what they’ve been yelling at the barista I think they’re married and he’s maybe their son? I’m not really following it.
“Hands off!” I push my way past them. “Hi, rudeness. Geez.”
I manage to shove my way out of the shop and out onto a broad, red-bricked sidewalk. Huh. I have no idea where I am. That’s weird. I like it, though. A city. Lots of people. Fancy buildings across the street.
Well, it’s a beautiful day, and I can’t remember anywhere important I need to be. Might as well go for a walk. There’s a brick entranceway into whatever that campus is across the street, so I dodge the traffic and head on through.
It’s pretty. A lot calmer than out on the street, although there are still plenty of people around. More stately red brick buildings, with little strips of lush green grass dividing them. A wide paved path, lined by trees, winds through. I think this must be a college or a university.
The path comes to an intersection where a tall black post displays a little map of the campus. Yup, it’s a college. Oh, it’s Harvard! Cool. The weather’s so gorgeous, I wonder if it’s summer? Seems kind of busy, but I guess a university as big as Harvard probably has stuff going on all year round.
The sign points the way to the Lamont Library. Exploring a library at Harvard sounds like a good way to pass the afternoon, so I start down the suggested path.
“Chris!”
Oh, come on. For real? That girl from the coffee shop followed me. I look over my shoulder. The older couple, too! I didn’t realize they were all together. I walk a little faster and try to make it look like I didn’t hear her. Maybe they’ll realize they’ve got the wrong person and leave me alone.
“Chris, wait!”
Ugh. I stop and turn while they’re still a good distance away. “Hey, I told you, you’ve got the wrong person. My name’s not Chris.”
“Yes, it is.” The girl catches up to me. “Chris Armstrong.”
“No, sorry.” I give an apologetic smile. “It’s…uh…” Huh. What’s my name again? I can’t remember. That’s weird.
The married couple catch up, too. “What happened to him?” the woman asks. “Why did he run off?”
“I don’t know,” the girl answers. “Chris, do you know us?”
“You were in the coffee shop.”
“Right!” Her smile quickly turns to a frown. “Something must have happened there, but…”
The man looks back over his shoulder at the way they came. “We went looking for…uh…the boy. From the photos.”
“Yes…” The woman taps her foot as she thinks. “Yes! Our son. Elliot…no, Emmet! Emmet. But he wasn’t there.”
“Wasn’t he?” The girl grabs some of her braids in her hands and twists them. “Why do I feel like we’ve missed something?”
I take a step back. “You sound like you’ve got a lot to work out. I was just headed to the library, so I’m gonna—”
The girl points at me. “Truth!”
“Uh. Okay, sure.” I snap my fingers and point back at her. “Truth to you, too. Cool. See ya.”
“Argh!” She reaches for me. “It works better when I touch you.”
I dodge her outstretched hand. “Hey! Stranger danger!”
“Stay still!”
“Leave me alone, you loon!”
“Space!”
Whoa! I get this weird wave of dizziness or something when the old guy shouts. I guess it must be vertigo, because the ground tilts underneath me and I fall to the path. I catch myself on my hands so I don’t really hurt myself but something in the pit of my stomach feels wrong. The path is sloped now! It wasn’t a hill a second ago. What’s going on?
The crazy girl grabs my head! I pull away but she yells, “Truth!” in my face. My head explodes! Not literally. Feels like my brain just blew its nose.
Chris! They called me Chris because that’s my name!
“Alisa?”
I jolt as the path levels out. Mr. Liefer leans on his wife for support.
Alisa rests her hands on her knees and breathes. “Oh, thank you, logomancy. Yes. Welcome back, Chris.”
I sit up and rub my temples. “What happened?”
“We were in the coffee shop. You lost your memory and ran away from us.” She holds out her hand. “I truthed you back to us, but it wasn’t easy.”
“Right. I remember.” I take her hand and get to my feet. “How come you could do that for me, but you blank out whenever I suggest you restore memories of Emmet?”
“Suggest I do what?”
“Use your truth powers on the Liefers to restore their memories of their son.”
“Do what to who?”
I sigh. “Forget it.”
“This was a wasted trip.” Mrs. Liefer hugs herself. “He’s not here. We should get back.”
“No,” her husband says. “Whoever wiped Chris’s memories must be the same person who erased our memories of our son. We need to find whoever that is.”
“We did!” I walk past them, back down the path towards the entrance. “It was Emmet! We found him in the shop but you can’t remember! Come on, we can—”
Emmet steps out from behind a tree, onto the path.
He looks me up and down, studying me closely. “You’re not the Common King.”
“No.”
Alisa and the Liefers hurry forward. “You’re—” Mrs. Liefer starts.
He hold one hand out towards us, raised slightly. “Keep back!”
Everyone stops.
Mr. Liefer says, “So you’re the one who—”
Emm
et cuts him off. “You’re just Chris Armstrong?” He keeps his hand up. He’s ready to cast another spell.
I shove my hands into my pockets. “Yup. Plain old Chris Armstrong.” The key to my house is loose in my pocket. That’ll do. I palm it and take my hands back out, hiding the key from view. Gotta keep him talking a second longer. “How’d you know?”
“My logomancy wouldn’t have worked so well on the Common King,” he explains. “He’d have shrugged it off. Trah?”
“Huh?”
“Was it Trah?”
“I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”
“Trah Welkbilchild.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean Lily Deng. She split you off?”
“Oh. Yeah. With some help. We’re two different people now.”
“So the Butcher is still out there.” He raises his hand a little more.
I fake a cough. Hopefully Andy’s acting lessons paid off. As I cover my mouth, I slip the key under my tongue. “Sorry,” I mumble.
“Yes,” Alisa says. “He’s still out there.”
“All I needed to hear.” He waves his hand in a circular motion.
Alisa takes a step. “Wait—”
“Memory!”
Gah! What the hell? Something’s in my mouth!
“We should get moving,” Mr. Liefer says.
Alisa nods. “Agreed.”
Ugh. I almost swallowed it. Tastes like metal. I spit it into my hand. A key?
“Chris?” Mrs. Liefer says. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, sorry. Something weird.”
“Are you ready to head home?” Alisa asks. “I don’t like having you out in public with your newfound notoriety, and it’s not like there’s anything more to learn here.”
“Yeah, I guess.” I wipe the key on my jeans to get the spit off. “This is my house key.”
Mrs. Liefer laughs. “Why did you put it in your mouth?”
“I have no idea.” I shrug and shove the key in my pocket. “Figure it out later, I guess. Mr. Liefer, you ready?”
“Give me a moment.” He closes his eyes.
“Just a second.” Alisa puts her hands on her hips. “Chris, do you remember putting that key in your mouth?”