The Memory Thief

by Lauren Mansy

  People say that Porter will erase your every memory with one glance. And he does terrible things down in the Maze. Stuffs his prisoners full of the memories people paid to get rid of, then tortures them mind, body, and soul.

  I clutch my chest as my blood turns to fire, coursing through every vein as he breaks into my mind. Crying out, I beg for clemency, for his forgiveness that I slapped a Minder for stealing memories from my baby. But when I lift my head, I know my words will do nothing. I’ve never seen a smile like his . . . as if he’s soaking up every bit of my agony.

  I blink, coming back to the present. I don’t know who the memory once belonged to, but I accidentally stole it from a Ghost who’d blindsided me back when I was a Shadow. I’m trembling so badly that I can barely put one foot in front of the other. But as the memory fades into the recesses of my mind, I think of my mother in her asylum bed and keep moving forward.

  Gradually, the forest of lush, colored trees becomes one of tall evergreens, with tight needles that do little to protect us from the rain. The thick mud on the trail cakes my boots almost instantly, weighing me down.

  “At least we’ll be able to see footprints if Minders passed this way,” Reid says.

  I groan in reply, cursing the endless storm. When Reid’s jacket spreads across my shoulders, I don’t bother telling him to keep himself warm instead. I know so little about Reid, but I’m already confident in the fact that it’s pointless to argue with him.

  “So, what do you like to do for fun?” he asks.

  “Are you trying to distract me?” I glance back at him, water dripping down my face as I roughly wipe it away. “I assure you nothing can put me in a better mood right now.”

  “Actually, I was hoping you could distract me.” He crosses his arms, shirt wet against his chest. His hands are shaking but he smiles. “There has to be more to your life than sewing Minder uniforms, Jules. What’s the first thing that comes to mind?”

  Calling me Jules throws me a little, but I can’t say I hate how it sounds coming from him. “I don’t know.”

  “You do.

  I sigh. “Drawing. Sketching portraits, I guess.”

  “Portraits,” he says, amused. “Did you create the skill yourself . . . or steal it?”

  “As flattering as that accusation is, no, I didn’t steal it. My mother taught me how to sketch,” I say as the trail widens enough so he can walk beside me. “She was training to be a teacher in Aravid but moved to Blare after my grandparents died. She wasn’t rich enough to buy any artistic talents, so she had to learn all the skills herself before she got a job teaching art to the Collectors. It took her years to master the techniques of drawing and painting, but she loved every minute of it. We’d practice for hours together too. Actually, paper was the first thing I stole from the Minders.”

  He nudges my arm. “Well, well, Miss Lark, the truth finally comes out. You were a Shadow from the start.”

  “Toying with the Minders has always been a little too tempting.”

  “Mmm, I know the feeling. And you never sold your talent? It would’ve been worth a fortune in Craewick.”

  I shake my head. “All those memories are some of the best times I spent with my mother. I used to think the Hollows didn’t keep skills long enough to develop affection, but my mother always said affection grows long before you master something new. It’s in the roughness that love blooms.”

  “Sounds like a wise woman,” he says. “So, what’s your favorite thing to sketch?”

  “Mostly I draw my mother. Picturing how strong she was reminds me she’ll wake up one day.”

  “And in a world far different than the one she fell asleep in,” he says, a bit of hope in his voice. “I have a confession. I saw some of your drawings when I broke into your cottage. You’re good, really good.”

  I give him a tired smile. “Unfortunately, I don’t think Bray has much use for charcoal sketches.”

  “But if things go according to plan, we’ll need a replacement for the auction.”

  Reid says it so seriously that I laugh, and he grins. It’s such a funny thought, the grumbling Hollows thrilled at the prospect of a portrait. “Will I get a special booth?” I ask.

  “Oh, I’ll make sure of it.”

  Smiling, I take the hand he offers and step over a fallen log on the trail. His skin is warm and tingling against mine, and the fact that his guard is down surprises me. I let go as soon as I’m back on solid ground, not wanting Reid to think that I might try to steal something.

  After he crosses over the log, Reid sinks down into a puddle that I avoided. He tries to step out of it but doesn’t move. “My foot’s caught on a root or—” he says before he trips, splashing mud all around us.

  Gasping, I rush toward him and pull on his arm to help him up.

  “I’m fine, Etta. Just fine,” he says, sounding muffled as he pushes himself onto his feet. He’s soaked from head-to-toe, dripping with brown muck. He blinks twice, a look of shock on his face.

  I cup my mouth, quivering with laughter. I’m trying so hard to stop, but once I see he’s okay, I lose it completely. Blame it on the lack of sleep, on all the craziness that’s happened the past two days, but I can’t catch my breath.

  “You think this is funny?” Reid says, taking a step toward me before he wipes both his arms off and slings the mud at me.

  It gets everywhere. In my hair, all over my clothes, and in my mouth. I sputter it out, but when he laughs, it sets me off again. It’s a few minutes before we both stop, and I can’t remember the last time laughter made me forget. Forget about my mother’s coma, forget about Greer. Forget about Cade, Joss, and Penn. Well, maybe forget isn’t the right word. Being with Reid is helping me remember all the good parts.

  I dig through my pack and hand Reid a rag. “You need it more than I do.”

  “If you could see yourself, you’d know that isn’t true,” he says, wiping off his face.

  With a smirk, I bend over to shake all the mud out of my hair. “Okay, my turn, right? I told you how I love drawing, now I get to ask a question. Don’t expect me to pour out my life story without getting something in return.”

  Reid’s teeth look especially white against all the mud. “My words come back to haunt me. What a burden to have Gifted friends.”

  “We’re not friends.” It’s true, but it slips out before I think about it. That said, I don’t know why I’m worried about hurting his feelings.

  “We could be.”

  I loop my tangled hair into a bun. “Having similar goals doesn’t make people friends. After this job, I won’t move forward if—”

  “If you don’t break ties with your past? But I’m not in your past.”

  “You will be.”

  “We’ll see.”

  My cheeks burn at his stare. “Bray’s right about me, you know. I betray everyone I love. And those are people I love, so where would that leave you, Reid?”

  He pauses, then shoves the rag into his pack. “You can’t let Bray get to you like this. You left the Shadows four years ago, Etta. Don’t you think people can change?”

  I skirt past him. “Some things are too wrong to make right.”

  “You know, running from a fear only intensifies it,” Reid calls after me.

  “I’m not running from my fear!”

  “You’re running from me. Same thing.”

  Hearing him behind me, I spin around. Reid is standing so close I’m terrified he’s going to kiss me. Tingles run up and down my spine once I realize I’m not sure I want him to move away. And I can’t help but wonder what his lips would feel like pressed against mine.

  He doesn’t say anything but grins before moving ahead.

  And when I realize it’s the first time he’s let me keep watch, a smile slips across my face.

  CHAPTER

  9

  The rain is barely a drizzle as a dense fog rolls in, turning spidery branches shimmery in the moonlight. It’s pretty, this softness that’s come
over the woods. The mist reminds me of the humid nights spent on the beaches of Blare, and my breath turns to puffs of white as the temperature dips.

  I’m also reminded that winter—the numb season, as we Shadows called it—is soon approaching. When you can’t feel your fingers or toes, and your mind gets foggy from the bitter cold. The Hollows will pile on even more layers, and swiping memories will be nearly impossible. Even our Gifts, our warm and tingling skin, won’t cut through the chill.

  Back when I was a Shadow, the numb season always brought a lot of reprimands from Bray because we’d be tempted to run on the icy streets and make stupid decisions to get home a little sooner. We didn’t think clearly, and one of those times, I led a Minder straight to our base.

  As soon as I spotted the tree where a scout was waiting to lead me back to the Mines, I ran straight to it. I hadn’t bothered to check with the scouts high in the branches, who would’ve warned me that I was being followed. You’re rash and ignorant, Bray had yelled at me later. I couldn’t argue with him. I’d never even realized a Minder had been trailing me.

  The scout saw him right away, shooting an arrow into the Minder’s thigh to keep him there until Bray could erase his memories of me. But when Bray arrived, Greer was with him too . . .

  “Where are you stationed?” Bray asks the Minder.

  No answer.

  “Does Madame know where you are?”

  I shift my feet. Bray isn’t the type of person who usually asks twice, let alone the type you make wait.

  Then the boy clutches his head, wrought with pain.

  “Bray,” Greer says in a voice full of warning. “Enough.”

  “Madame doesn’t know he’s here,” Bray answers as the Minder sucks in a long breath, his eyes bloodshot from Bray reading his mind. “Doesn’t change the fact that we can’t let him go. He’s a murderer.”

  Greer glances at me, a quick look up and down as if accessing for injuries, but the soldier hadn’t laid a hand on me. “Erase his memories of us and set him free. I won’t punish a man for a crime he hasn’t committed.”

  “A crime he hasn’t committed yet,” Bray shoots back.

  Greer takes Bray aside with a rough jerk on his elbow. “Why did you pledge to me, to the Shadows?” When Bray flinches, it’s the first time I’ve even seen him look small. Greer shakes him once. “Answer me. Why?”

  “Because I believe in your leadership. I believe in what we’re fighting for,” Bray says. “I want a better life for my brother. For Cade to grow up in a world where he doesn’t have to live in fear.”

  “Those are the same reasons he joined the Minders.” Greer nods toward the soldier. “He has a family too. He has hope and convictions, all of which he’s willing to die for. Madame murders Shadows when given the chance, but there will be a difference between her and me, between her Minders and us.” He lets Bray go, and Bray stumbles back. “Don’t ever forget that.”

  I blink twice, breaking free of the memory. When I think of Greer, that’s the face I see. Not one of anger, not one twisted with revenge like Bray’s. I see him showing mercy to someone who never expected it. And I fed him straight to the beast.

  Reid and I come across a small cave long after sunset and make camp. It’s higher off the ground, tucked into a hill. We’re careful to check about, making sure no person or animal had the same idea as us. No signs of a recent fire, no tracks in the soft dirt floor. Just smells faintly of pine. It’ll be impossible to keep the chill out, but a roof over our heads is a luxury we won’t pass up.

  There’s a small pond outside, and though the water is freezing, we’re desperate to clean the mud off. I work on my hair, my neck, and my face while Reid wades in up to his waist, washing himself and his clothes all at once.

  “We should be in Aravid by morning,” he calls over. “I’ve been curious about that city for years. The entire time I’ve worked for Bray, I’ve never seen a memory of what lies behind the gate. Do you remember what it’s like?”

  I shake my head. “I’ve been in the woods surrounding it, but Greer never let us get too close. Porter wasn’t an enemy he wished to make.”

  Aravid has always been well-protected. A huge, wooden fence encompasses the entire city with an iron gate that hardly ever opens. Tying the end of my braid, I think of the bidder at the auction, of how Madame scoops up Aravid memories before anyone else can. Now that we know she’s planning to attack the other Realms, I understand why. I’d want as much information about my prey as I could find too.

  “I’ve seen Porter’s fortress from the hills overlooking Aravid before,” I add. “It’s this massive structure of polished black stone with jagged points of steel on the roof that blind you when it’s sunny.”

  “Well, we’ll find out what it’s really like tomorrow,” Reid says before disappearing under the water.

  If only the thought didn’t make me lightheaded. Aravid always seemed silent and frozen to me, as if life had asked permission to enter Porter’s property and it was denied. With every step closer to his city, I’m terrified he’ll find a way to outsmart us once we’re standing before his throne.

  I’m shaking from head-to-toe when I enter the cave. The extra shirt and pants in my pack are damp with rainwater, but at this point, they feel wonderful compared to what I had been wearing. I wrap my cloak around my shoulders, then spread my thin blanket across myself and prop my pack against the cave wall to rest against it. I’m exhausted and sore all over, my body longing for sleep.

  When Reid returns, we pluck bites off a loaf of bread as I redraw his tattoos, the ink having washed off with all this rain and his frigid bath in the pond.

  I decide to break the silence. “I still have a question, right? From earlier?” I ask, outlining the crest of the Coastal Realm on the underside of his wrist.

  “Ah. So you do care to know more about me.”

  “I did right up until you said that.”

  Reid grins. “I’m listening, Miss Lark. Go ahead.”

  I fill in the crest with tiny strokes of ink. “How long have you worked for Bray?”

  “Three years.”

  “And why did you pledge to him in the first place? Sifters don’t bow before other Sifters unless they’re forced to. What does Bray have that you want?”

  He looks out at the moon, and with my fingertips on his wrist, I feel his pulse quicken. “Actually, Bray doesn’t have what I want. You do, or at least you will.” He takes in a quick breath. “My family is with the Tribes—”

  I gasp, messing up the swirl on his wrist. “I haven’t met anyone from the Tribes in years!”

  Reid smiles a little at my reaction.

  The Ungifted Tribes are legendary, rarely mentioned in Craewick. They’ve always been nomadic, living in the forest between the Realms and functioning fully apart from the Gifts. But after Madame rose to power and the division between the Gifted and Ungifted grew enough where the Tribes no longer felt safe, they disappeared completely. I’ve known a few who grew up among the Ungifted, but I was only close with one—Penn.

  “But you’re a Sifter,” I say. “Your Tribe kicked you out, didn’t they?”

  “No, I chose to leave. Once the Tribes discover you’re Gifted, it’s pretty hard to get anyone to trust you. My family would’ve left along with me, but I couldn’t ask them to give up everything they’d ever known. It took me a long time to realize if I clung to them too tightly, I’d suffocate them. But life with the Tribes was great, very different than life in the Realms. Different mindset too. Nobody sees the point of buying memories when you can create your own. Judging by the whole Ungifted lifestyle you’ve adopted, you’d probably love it.” Reid plucks a piece of grass from the side of the cave and sticks it in his mouth. “We never focused on mastering one skill but knowing a little of everything. How to grow crops or construct homes, things like that. My brother and I were always competing to find out who could shoot the most game, catch the most fish, build the biggest fire . . . You can guess who won.”r />
  “Your brother, of course.”

  He scrunches his nose.

  “And you have a sister too?” I say, smoothing out the lines on his wrist to finish the crest.

  “She’s thirteen. No, fourteen now.”

  “Quite the lady, I’m sure.”

  It’s the first time I’ve seen Reid look scared, even more so than with those Minders.

  “I hope not. In my mind, she’s still a tiny girl with messy braids and a temper my mother worries she won’t outgrow,” he says with a sigh. “I miss her. I used to visit them until they moved, just to make sure they had enough food. Enough pelts to keep them warm. Believe it or not, I grew up in a place like the Mines.”

  “The Tribes live underground?” I ask, starting his eye tattoo. Penn kept this a secret, probably to protect his family, but now the details of his memories—the constant flicker of candlelight in his home, the endless expanse of forest around it—make more sense. “That’s how they stay hidden?”

  “Clever, huh? I’d been tracking my Tribe for months when I found a trapdoor into the Mines, and the scouts brought me to Bray. That’s when I pledged to him in exchange for his help with finding my family. If Madame takes over all four Realms, she’ll have the resources to hunt the Tribes.” He pauses. “Did you ever hear the rumor that her father’s murderer could be hiding among the Tribes? Now it’s not only practical for Madame to go after all those untouched memories but personal too.”

  I nod as a shiver runs down my spine. “The Ungifted talk about his death a lot. They feel like Madame uses it to her advantage, though. It’s her excuse for why her Minders are overly harsh, why her laws are so strict.”

  It isn’t hard to imagine with four armies at her disposal that Madame will slaughter the Tribes. There’s a strength when things draw near to your heart, the all-consuming power that makes even the impossible come true. Tears sting my eyes as I think of my mother, already trapped in this twisted game Madame is playing.