The Memory Thief

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The Memory Thief Page 10

by Lauren Mansy


  Leaning against the trunk of an evergreen, I wrap my cloak around me. I let out a groan when I see the blood from the gash on my cheek has stained the wool.

  Reid pulls a tiny jar of white ointment from his pack, puts some onto his finger, and kneels in front of me. “This is going to hurt,” he warns but doesn’t give me time to react before dabbing it on my cut. I instinctively pull back, but he holds my neck steady. “We can’t let it get infected.”

  He hands me a piece of white gauze to bandage my cheek, and as I lift it to my face, my heart leaps into my throat. There are only three bracelets on my wrist.

  I sit up, frantically searching the ground all around me. Somewhere between battling Ghosts and Hunters, and running through these woods, Penn’s slipped off.

  Tears sting my eyes as I picture hundreds of places it could be. On the trail? In the pond by the cave? It’s the only thing I own that belonged to Penn, a piece of him I swore never to let go. The thought that it’s gone hurts in a place so deep that I cry out. It’s as if I’m saying goodbye all over again.

  “Whoa, Etta, what’s wrong?” Reid asks.

  “I lost my bracelet!” I say, holding my wrist up to show him the others, but he’s already saying, “The leather one? It was by our packs in the cave.”

  Reid pulls it from his pocket and holds it up.

  I hug him so quickly I almost knock him over.

  He lets out a soft laugh, sitting down to steady himself before placing the bracelet in my palm and closing my hand around it. “That must’ve belonged to someone pretty special.”

  “It was my partner’s,” I whisper. He’s close enough that I see the tiny gold flecks in his eyes, but neither one of us moves. “Cade and Joss were killed near Kripen, but he died in Blare. I owe my life to him.” My throat tightens. “He was the bravest person I’ve ever known. Nothing scared him, not even when he was about to get jumped by a gang of drunken Minders in Kripen. That’s where we met.”

  “Kripen has always been a snake pit, but I guess that’s what happens when you have a Realm ruled by a fiend like Declan,” Reid says.

  I nod. The capital city of each Realm appears to have taken on the personality of their ruler. Sorien of Blare always seemed kind to me, a trait that trickled down to his people, while everything in Craewick is cold and distant. And who knows what to expect in Aravid . . .

  “How’d you and your partner get away from those Minders?” Reid asks.

  As I put Penn’s bracelet on, my memories pull me back to Kripen. From the outside, it resembles any dilapidated city with its paint-chipped buildings and low tin roofs. The porches are missing spindles, mimicking many of the Minders’ knocked-out teeth, and the air reeks of human filth poured out onto the dirt roads and the sickening sweetness of ale drifting from a tavern.

  The streets are crowded with vendors offering stale bread and less-than-fresh meat, but there’s always a gleam in their eyes. A little clue that there’s far more on the menu for anyone who wants to barter. Underneath its muck and grime, Kripen is a goldmine for the lawless . . .

  I slip down the alley, watching the boy huddled in the corner, his back pressed against the brick wall. He pulls his knees up to his chest, shivering as the last of the sun disappears. His coat is ragged, barely covering his skin, but even from here I can see he’s unmarked. No tattoo to indicate whether he’s Gifted or not, though I could’ve sworn I saw him giving a memory to an Ungifted beggar earlier.

  The boy had passed by her, his touch lingering on her arm just long enough that I thought he’d stolen something himself. Her eyes had been cloudy, a signal she’d already been a victim of theft or she’d sold too many memories. But when her face brightened, I knew it was just the opposite. He’d given the beggar a memory to strengthen her.

  I tiptoe toward him, careful not to get close enough that he could touch me until I know if he’s a threat or not. “You shouldn’t be here,” I call out.

  He glances over. “I didn’t think I was bothering anyone. You’re the first person I’ve seen in hours.”

  “Exactly. Being alone in this part of town is like screaming to any thief ‘Come and get me,’” I shoot back.

  The boy tilts his head to the side. He doesn’t look nervous or frightened, only curious. “So you’re that thief then?”

  “Not today,” I reply.

  Voices come from the other end of the alley before a group of Minders appears.

  The boy pushes himself onto his feet, standing between us. He has no reason to protect me, not with Bray close behind, but the fact that he tries tells me more than his words ever could.

  I blink, leaving the memory to meet Reid’s stare. “Bray knocked those Minders out before they attacked us, and that boy became my partner, along with Cade and Joss. He was a better Shadow than I’ve ever been. I don’t know why I’m here and he’s not—” My voice cracks as I rub his bracelet between my fingers.

  After they died, Cade, Joss, and Penn’s deaths tainted every memory we had together. A question grew louder and louder in my head each time I thought about them.

  Did you ever think this was how things would end?

  The way I see it now, the good and bad memories are like a rope, completely intertwined. Pull one strand and the entire thing unravels.

  “I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. The ache of missing them never really goes away,” says Reid.

  I look up at him. “So what do we do?”

  He smiles slightly. “I guess we learn to love again.”

  We fall into silence as we lean against two trunks beside one another, staring out over the lights of Aravid. The ground is soft with pine needles, the air sharp with their scent as a cool wind blows through the trees.

  “This is it, isn’t it?” I whisper, pulling my cloak tighter around me. “Tomorrow we go before Porter.”

  “I won’t let anything happen to you, Etta.”

  I close my eyes. “Aren’t you scared? We have no idea what to expect.”

  It’s a few seconds before he says, “I am scared. But when I think about what happens if we don’t do this, I’m terrified. We’ll get through this. We have to,” he says quietly, then pauses. “How did you discover you were different?”

  I glance over at him. “You mean my variation?”

  He nods.

  “One minute I could be read, the next I couldn’t,” I say quickly.

  “Nothing unusual happened before then?”

  A knot forms in my stomach. What do I tell him? My best friend died in my arms after I accidentally put my mother in a coma? “Why do you want to know?” I ask.

  “I’ve always wondered if there could be variations among the Shadows that we don’t know about because they haven’t been discovered. If we found a way to pinpoint a variation, maybe we’d stand a better chance of fighting against the Minders. Your mother is Ungifted, and you said you don’t know anything about your father. Maybe the variations are passed down in some way?” he prods.

  My face warms. I know where my variation came from, but I’m not sure how to tell him. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Didn’t mean to upset you,” he says slowly.

  I throw my hands up. “I’m not upset!”

  “Then just listen—”

  “I am listening.”

  He rubs the back of his neck. “Why are you getting angry?”

  “Because I already know where my variation came from!” I take a deep breath. “Greer is my father.”

  CHAPTER

  11

  The look on Reid’s face is hard to bear.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” I whisper. “I bought my mother’s life with my father’s blood.”

  Before I think better of it, the story of when I first met Greer tumbles out of my mouth.

  Just after I turned ten, I noticed my mother’s panic when I told her about my nightmares. Her hand tensed on my shoulder as we strolled down the wharf, and her words became constant reminders not
to tell anyone how skin tingled beneath my fingertips.

  Then one day, my mother began packing up all my clothes and told me a man named Greer had visited her.

  “I’ve known him since before I knew you, Julietta. But each time he visits, he takes the memories of us to keep me safe and returns them when he comes back. Though he’s not a friend of the Minders, he can teach you how to use your Gift, my sweet. You’ll grow to love him.” She kissed my forehead. “I’m certain of it.”

  “Your leaving will be hazy to your mother,” Greer told me when he came a few days later. “But I’ve left her with enough memories of you that she’ll trust you’re safe.”

  At first I was missing my mother so much that I didn’t let myself get attached to Greer, but I couldn’t help being drawn to him. His hand was sturdy and firm around mine, and though he hardly smiled, the lines of his face were kind. He told me stories and listened when I told my own as we hiked to the Mines. Once I saw the memory market, I was excited about learning to use my Gift.

  “A memory contains hundreds of sights, sounds, and feelings which form a picture.” Greer held up a seascape of Blare I’d painted for him. “You can give away the entire memory at once.” His hand covered half of it. “Or only parts of it. Most think of a memory as a single unit, but it can be broken into smaller bits. Each one is just as powerful. The energy in your mind knows what to do, but you must tell it how to function.”

  Like the scissors in my mother’s classroom, I learned to slice apart my memories, seeing the images as clearly in my head as I did with my own eyes. My Gifted mind was willing to give away pieces and let me keep the rest. It’s how I could show Penn a memory of the beach without forgetting what the sea smelled like or how a gust of humid wind felt on my face.

  Then Greer explained how to erase memories from others. “Don’t focus on concepts but details. Your mind will get overloaded if you take too many memories at once. It’s why the Gifted have headaches and fevers. If I wanted you to forget your mother, I would not try to erase the concept of mothers. You might meet someone else’s mother and wonder why you didn’t have one. I would erase your own mother’s face. How her hand feels on your cheek, the way she tucks you into bed. If I took enough memories, you would remember you once had a mother, but you wouldn’t be able to pick her out in a crowd.”

  The thought terrified me. “Will someone do that?” I asked.

  “Not under my watch.”

  The next week, Greer took me to the auction. It was my first time visiting Craewick, and the only citizens I’d ever met from this city were those visiting Blare to learn artistic skills. They were curious and teachable, often adopting the loose, billowy fashions of Blare and spending their weekends at the beach or learning to fish. But in Craewick, everyone wore long pants and thick jackets with collars pulled up to their ears. They hardly spoke to one another but kept their eyes on the auction block.

  Greer explained they were the wealthiest of the Gifted, their minds filled to the brim in a place where exciting memories were only a touch away.

  “Why do you say most of the Gifted are hollow?” I asked Greer.

  “Because there’s nothing left inside of them.”

  I frowned. How could he say these people were empty when they were stuffed full of rare talents and thrilling memories? “But there’s so much inside of them!”

  He touched his heart. “No, nothing is left of them, of who they once were . . . they’ve lost themselves to become someone else.”

  “But won’t the Hollows remember they bought these memories tonight?” I asked.

  “To fully forget, they erase where the memory comes from.”

  “The transfer?”

  Greer nodded. “Memories are like dreams. Once a person falls asleep, that world becomes their life. The Hollows pay to have the auction erased. And if one doesn’t remember how the memory was planted inside his head, he’ll believe he created it. But memories can only be passed around for so long before a society craves originality and uniqueness. The Hollows have forgotten how valuable our differences are to one another.” He patted my jacket pocket, where I kept the journal my mother gave me. “Write, Jules. Write about your day, your every thought and feeling, and all the memories you’re carrying. Then you’ll always remember who you are.”

  It wasn’t until the auction began that I understood what Greer meant. I’d never seen a Gift be used to end a life, didn’t know something I believed was good could be evil too.

  The bids rose higher and higher as Madame brought out more prisoners.

  With each memory passed between the Hollows, their eyes became glossy and strangely disconnected. Their faces turned ashen. By the end of the night, they seemed to look through me instead of at me.

  “Auctions are a sport for the Hollows,” Greer said. “If you pledge to the Minders, you’ll be under their protection, but the price is your past, present, and future. Madame and the other rulers end the lives of traitors faster than they save the loyal.”

  A shudder ran down my spine as I slipped my hand into his, and Greer held it tight.

  As Madame transferred the memories, I asked Greer how a Sifter’s Gift worked.

  “When I implant a memory into someone, they feel nothing,” he answered. “It simply dissolves into the core of their being. That’s why being a Sifter comes with a large responsibility. We can change a person’s thoughts in an instant.”

  “Is this why Sifters rule the Realms? Because people are too afraid not to pledge to them?” I asked.

  “Perhaps, but a Gift should always be used to care for and protect those less fortunate than ourselves. Do you know why we’re called the Gifted, Julietta? Long ago, memories weren’t used like coins. Memories were gifts, to show a glorious sunset to one who’d lost their sight or share music with one who could no longer hear. Somewhere along the way, we became callous and hollow.” Greer stared at Madame on the auction stage. “She fails to realize the highest calling we’ve been given is to serve.”

  Now I understood the Minders would take more than they would ever give back. My mother had sent me away to offer a future beyond my inevitable conscription into the army or a job working for the treasury. She’d given up our life together to ensure I truly lived. Not through memories or purchasing talents, bypassing the joy when you go from failing to succeeding, but so that I would always remember who I am.

  And after I swore my life to the leader of the Shadows, Greer told me who he truly was—my father.

  A wind blows through the clearing, drawing me out of the past and back to the present. I’m so thankful my mother is alive, but I know I should’ve fought harder to protect Greer as he’d always done for me.

  Tears sting my eyes as I remember Madame, disgust written all over her face, staring down at my comatose mother as we struck our deal. The second I told her Greer’s location, a cruel smile had flickered across her face.

  You were so easily broken, Julietta, just like your mother.

  When I look at Reid, I brace myself for him to tell me what a monster I am.

  But all he says is, “Does Madame know he’s your father?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Besides my mother, the only other person who knows is Bray.”

  “Madame never read your mother’s mind in the asylum?” he asks.

  “She could try, but my mother’s thoughts are so tangled that she might not even remember who Greer is anymore. If Madame had found out Greer is my father, I think she would’ve taunted me with that. Instead, she’s just always called me a traitor for betraying the leader I vowed to serve.”

  His arm brushes up against mine. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if Madame pulled something like that on me. You were forced to make an impossible choice,” he says quietly. “I know it was difficult to tell me that, but I’m glad you did.”

  Meeting Reid’s eyes, I’m surprised his look isn’t cold and distant. If anything, his expression seems softer, and I smile a little, relieved
this secret is finally out in the open. “I’m surprised Bray didn’t tell you.”

  He shrugs. “I take orders from him. We’re not partners. He keeps to himself a lot.”

  I pull at a few loose threads on my cloak. Bray’s never been one for small talk, but still, it strikes me as odd. If he kept something this big from Reid, what else could he be hiding?

  Reid glances over. “Bray sent Shadows to keep an eye on your mother as soon as he saw the auction notice, even before you made your deal. I didn’t understand why until now.”

  I sit up straighter. “He did?”

  “I won’t lie to you, Etta. She’s not safe yet. Bray can’t risk Madame’s wrath by breaking your mother out of the asylum until we have Greer, but Bray is watching over her.”

  The back of my throat stings, though Reid’s words comfort me more than he knows. I’m certain Bray will do whatever he can to protect my mother for Greer’s sake, but it also feels like a slap in the face. He’s a better Shadow than I’ve ever been. My betrayal is why we’re in this mess in the first place while Bray’s unwavering loyalty to Greer is what might save us.

  Reid inches closer. “Everything will work out in Aravid. Whatever happens with Porter, I’ll protect you. I don’t rule a Realm, but my Gift is powerful too. We’ll get Greer back.”

  I rub a few pine needles between my fingers. “It’s not only failure I’m worried about. What happens if we succeed? Porter is a madman. He’s violent and heartless, and I’m scared . . . no, I’m terrified of rummaging inside his mind.” I let out a grim laugh. “But maybe I shouldn’t care. Porter and I aren’t that different anyway.”

  “What does that mean?” he asks flatly.

  Guilt pinches my stomach. “You know the Minder who attacked me? I was going to steal the memories of his newborn son as leverage. So what’s the real difference between a manipulator like Porter and me, Reid? He takes people’s lives and I take bits of their lives, but we’re both thieves.” I pause. “You were right about me, you know. The only thing I’m good at is stealing what people love the most. I’m the perfect thief.”

 

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