Memory's Wake Omnibus: The Complete Illustrated YA Fantasy Series

by Selina Fenech

  Memory’s whole body ached. She woke slowly, hating the idea of moving, doing anything other than lying still, half-conscious.

  She’d gone right off the deep end last night and a dark apathy spread within her. Even opening her eyes was more effort than she liked.

  Hope sat on the end of her bed and poked her feet through the blankets. She smiled widely.

  Memory pulled one of her pillows over her face and mumbled through it. “What are you happy about?”

  “This time I will say it. I told you so. Didn’t I say you could have him?”

  Memory bolted upright, her heart kicking into life again. Roen. Frotz.

  “Don’t freak out. This is a good thing. Forget about Eloryn, you and Roen can be happy.”

  Memory’s head spun like a killer hangover. Still in her old jeans and t-shirt, she tripped out of bed, her feet getting caught in the sheets. She wobbled to the doors to her sitting room.

  “I need some water. I need to think this out.”

  Swinging the doors open, she saw Roen, looking disheveled in one of her armchairs, his caramel hair falling over his face. Memory cringed and hoped he was asleep but didn’t get lucky. He stood up and walked to her, looking her over as if checking for injuries.

  “Morning. I thought I heard you talking to someone?” he said.

  Memory glanced over her shoulder, her bedroom empty. “Just myself.”

  They stared at each other, both unmoving.

  Roen coughed quietly. “About last night-”

  “Assbuckets.” Memory covered her face with her hands. “I am so sorry. I was freaking out and not myself and it was just a mistake. I didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything. We can just forget it ever—”

  Roen put his arms around Memory, gently pulling her in and kissing her lips over her rambling. Memory froze, stunned, then softened into him. He lingered just a moment before pulling away, his arms running from her shoulders down her arms to hold onto her hands. He stared at their joined hands instead of looking in her eyes.

  “If this is what you want, then it is what I want.”

  “It’s what I keep telling myself I want. Maybe I should start listening.”

  Roen smiled, but somehow it looked sad. “What I was going to say, however, was about last night and the scary magical cracking of walls and flashing out of existence business.”

  “Oh. That.” Memory sat down on a turned over desk. Books and papers littered the floor under her feet. The whole room looked like a tornado hit it. Clara was going to kill her.

  “Was that… you?” Roen asked.

  Memory nodded. Roen was the closest friend she had at the moment, other than Hope. Maybe she could talk to him. “Things have been happening to me. Some of my memories are coming back, but other bad things are happening too, like the Memory-localized-tremors when I get upset. I’m also kinda slipping through Veil doors without meaning to.”

  Outrage spread over Roen’s face. “You haven’t told anyone about this? Mem, you need help and this is far from my field of expertise.”

  Memory kicked at the papers on the floor. “I wanted to work it out on my own. Promise me you won’t tell Lory, okay? She’s just too busy right now. I don’t want to worry her any more with this.”

  “Mem,” Roen shook his head.

  “No, I don’t want her to know. I just can’t trust her right now, to not freak out I mean, with all the other stress she’s under. I’ll work this out on my own.”

  “All right. But you don’t need to keep secrets, not from me at least.” Roen shrugged and sat on the tipped over desk next to her. He pulled her iron knife from his pocket and handed it to her. “You dropped this last night. I thought you’d purged it.”

  Memory cradled the knife in her palm. “Yeah, I thought so too. I should probably get rid of it again. Speaking of secrets, do you want to see something cool?”

  “I suppose?”

  Memory grinned. “Can you give me some time to clean up and meet up again after lunch?”

  Roen gave her a deadpan look. “It’s already past midday.”

  “So I slept in!” Memory pouted. “You were in here all night? I don’t think our reputations can take that.”

  “It’s all right. No one saw me come in. I don’t know where your guards were, but they are back at your door again now,” Roen said.

  Memory thought back to her climb to the tower and encounter with Hayes. The guards must have known she wasn’t in her room and been looking for her. “Okay, new plan. You hang out until I’m decent again, then I’ll leave first and draw the stooges off. You can get out when the coast is clear. Then we’ll go and get rid of this nasty iron again.”

  Memory stood up, wafting her t-shirt and longing to get into clean clothes. Roen grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him, kissing her temple. He frowned as he looked at her.

  “Last night, it wasn’t a mistake, at all, but we should still keep this between ourselves. There’s just too much politics involved. You understand, right?”

  “Yeah. Of course.”

  Memory slipped into her bedroom and closed the door between them. She took a deep breath to steady herself.

  The kisses made her feel wanted, warm and real. Alive again. But Memory kept spiraling to the same black thought. He doesn’t really want me. He’s just taking the look-a-like runner-up prize.

  Hope’s voice came from over her shoulder, whispering, echoing her thoughts. “He just doesn’t want precious Eloryn to find out and be upset. If you don’t do something, you’ll always be second to her.”

  Memory wore the dress Isabeth gave her, since it had managed the journey well last time. Her bodyguards followed close behind when she left her chambers, and Memory realized her own escape would be trickier than Roen’s. She strolled the halls as boringly as possible, hoping they’d leave her be, but they remained diligent. Trying a new tactic, she took a seat and hitched her skirts up to sit cross-legged. When they turned away as they had before, Memory jumped back up and slipped unseen into the servant runs.

  Roen waited there for her, and met her with a light kiss on her cheek.

  Memory put her finger to her lips and motioned for Roen to follow her. She ran her hand along the stone wall in the narrow tunnel until she felt the waxy lump of her candle stub that she’d left as a marker. Feeling for the door, she tugged and it swung open. Roen followed her in, and when the door closed, she lit a candle for both of them.

  “I thought you could cast the light spell now?”

  Memory patted the purse at her side. “Not with my knife on me. And for other reasons, you’ll see.”

  “What is this place?” he asked.

  Memory led the way, skipping down the stone steps. “Something Will and me found. I don’t know if anyone else knows about it. Just wait till we get to the bottom.”

  The permanently damp state of the tunnel made the steps slippery and Memory’s foot skidded. Roen caught her hand and held it tight. “Slow down, you’ll fall and break your neck.”

  Memory blew a raspberry back at him, but kept holding his hand. It made her feel strange, both comfortable and wrong, adding to the reckless emotions that had grown inside her. Like there was a voice telling her to break rules and take risks and that didn’t care about the consequences. What does it matter if I’m not even a whole person?

  Roen lifted their joined hands and held his candle near to look at her wrist.

  “What is that hideous thing you’re wearing?”

  “It’s not hideous! It’s cute.” Memory defended the bracelet of splintery, chunky, wooden beads she wore.

  “I’m a little worried about your taste now. You don’t consider me cute, do you?”

  “Not at all. If I had to describe you, pretty is the word I’d pick. And this is cute,” Memory said, shaking her wrist and making it rattle. “Little Edele gave it to me last time I visited the orphans in town, just before the bombing. She made it herself. I can’t wait to get back into town and see them all a
gain.”

  Roen laughed softly. “That’s really sweet. I’m not surprised they like you so much.”

  Memory smiled wryly. “Yeah, it’s because I hand out cash.”

  Roen laughed and squeezed her hand, but Memory didn’t feel like she was joking. It felt like there was always some reason that people liked her that wasn’t anything to do with who she really was.

  They walked in silence until they reached the bottom of the tunnels. With a grand flourish of her arms Memory showed Roen the stacked crates and artifacts.

  Roen let go of her hand and lifted the lids of a couple of boxes. “This is all…”

  “Iron, yep. A dirty little secret under the capital of Avall. I figure some items missed the Purge and they’ve been collected here, but I haven’t found any official records or acknowledgements of anyone doing that. Will says the fairies have avoided these tunnels since the days of the Pact, so it must have been happening a long time.”

  Roen ran his hand over the crates. “Have you told anyone about this? Have you told Eloryn?”

  “No, if I tell her, she’ll tell Hayes, and the Council will be all over it. I think this place is secret for a reason.” Memory took her knife and added it to the collection again. “Hey, do you think you can find your own way back? I’m not ready to go just yet. Being down here helps to shake a few memories free.”

  “I can stay with you if you like.”

  Memory stared out over the glittering black water that seemed to go forever. “No, I’d like to be alone.”

  Roen frowned, but nodded. He paused, then kissed her forehead and walked away.

  Memory sat down on a wooden crate and played with a dented spearhead with a hole in its base. She wondered if any other memories would come to her, or how long it might take, when warmth rushed through her.

  The frail boy stood in front of her, a tiny soldier at attention. Unrecognizable otherwise, his wide blue eyes told her it was Will. The children were never officially informed of how others ended up in the home, but the gossip always managed to get around. She heard that this kid lost his parents and rest of his close relatives in a landslide while they were all on a family vacation together. He was the only one to survive. Some kids said he was stuck under rubble with dead bodies for days before he was dug out. Maybe that was why he was so scrawny.

  It had been a week since she’d stepped in and stopped some of the kids beating on him. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in fights. It was his fault, taking arty classes and reading books in public. The kid had no survival instincts. She’d ignored it like she ignored what happened to everyone else, but that time the bullies went too far, drawing blood, so she drew a bit of their blood back and warned them off the boy.

  He’d been trailing at her heels ever since, saying she’d saved his life, that he owed her.

  She tried to shake him off, but as much as she hated to admit it, she liked having him around. Her little minion. He did anything she asked.

  Will stood silent, waiting for her to speak.

  “Okay, kid,” Memory said. “If you’re going to keep following me about, then we need to establish some ground rules.”

  Will nodded. She leaned in close to him, staring him right in the eyes, almost cruelly.

  “First rule – no touching. Break that rule and I break your wrists.”

  He nodded again.

  “Second rule – That thing that happens? No talking about it. Ever. Nothing happens. So there’s nothing to talk about.”

  “Third rule–”

  Memory found her face wet, tears spilling down her cheeks. Will still followed her rules. Stupid rules from so long ago. And what had she done for him?

  She had to find him. She had to apologize. Again.

  Memory took the other exit from the tunnels and ventured up through the dried-up well and into the hunting grounds.

  The late afternoon sun was a rich orange tone, shafts of light shining through the last few blood-red leaves clinging to branches above. Memory called Will’s name, and a flock of birds startled and flew from a tree nearby, up into the golden sky.

  But Will didn’t come.

  She wandered farther into the forest, meandering slowly, watching her footing for pesky toadstools. She called his name again, and he didn’t come.

  The forest grew dark and Memory came to a small pool, lush with ferns and water lilies, the flowers all closed for the night. Her eyes felt sticky from her earlier tears, so she wet her hands and wiped her face. When she stood up from the water’s edge, Mina appeared in front of her.

  Memory had never been so close to Mina before. The sprite hovered just above the water, her pointed toes occasionally dipping in and causing ripples. There was an almost faded quality to the way that she looked, translucent and glowing like milky glass lit from behind. Her flame red hair, the one splash of color on her, lifted and swirled around a pretty face marred by a scowl.

  “Stop looking for him,” Mina ordered.

  “Why? Doesn’t he want to see me?”

  “You can’t be with him. He doesn’t belong to you.” Mina flew up closer to Memory, bobbing from side to side. Her wings, like tattered dragonfly wings, fluttered and shimmered.

  “Listen, lady, I know Will doesn’t belong to me. I’m not trying to take your boyfriend off you. I’m just trying to find him to talk to him.”

  “No. I said you can’t be with him!”

  Mina lashed out, swiping at her, scratching her arm, tearing through cloth and skin. Memory recoiled in pain and shock. “You did not just do that!”

  Mina hissed, “Stay away from my boy.”

  Before Memory could respond, Mina vanished.

  Memory touched her arm. She was bleeding. The pattern of the scratches was familiar, similar to the ones on Will’s chest the last time she saw him. An angry worry filled Memory. She thought Will actually liked Mina, that they were together with whatever mutual emotions that involved, but now she was concerned. Just what kind of relationship do they have?

  Whatever it was, it was Memory’s fault. It was her fault he was here at all. If only she could send him home, back to the other world. She’d tried for Thayl and couldn’t, but there must be a way. She just had to try harder, learn more. She hadn’t even asked Will what he wanted. She shook her head. Of course he wants to go home.

  Memory dropped to the mossy ground with a thud. “I have to make this right,” she said aloud.

  Hope squatted down next to her, plucking leaves off a fern stem. In the darkness of the forest, the bright pink heart on her t-shirt seemed to glow.

  “Did you see that?” Memory asked her, fuming.

  “Jealous fairy attack? Yeah. All the more reason to keep away from that lot.”

  Memory groaned and threw a pebble into the pond. “There’s got to be a way to get home. To help Will go home, away from that she-beast.”

  Hope dropped the fern and put her hands on Memory’s knees, looking into her eyes. “You’re not thinking of going back too, are you? You can’t. You have to stay here with me. You don’t remember what it was like there.”

  “No. But Will deserves a chance to choose.” Moisture had started wicking through Memory’s dress from the damp ground, chilling her. She stood up, feeling like she should go back to the castle, but not really wanting to. “I guess I don’t really have any home. There, here, nothing feels right anymore.”

  “You can make here work. I’m here with you, and if you were queen everything would be better. You wouldn’t have to be second to Eloryn anymore. You’d have the power to make everything how you wanted it.”

  “It wouldn’t give me the power to help Will. Are all fairies so horrible? And Mina is a seelie fae. I thought they were the good guys.” Memory’s breathing became ragged. The encounter had upset her more than she knew why. “I don’t like the idea of Will being around her.”

  “From what I’ve seen, all the fae are nasty, untrustworthy and better off extinct.” Hope stood up and looked in the direction
of the old well. “I don’t think you should have gotten rid of your knife.”

  Chapter 15

  At Memory’s instruction, the chef placed the top of the bun on the stack of food. She picked up one of the creations and took a bite.

  “It’s close, but still missing something. Probably the special sauce.”

  Memory had woken up that morning craving something she hadn’t remembered until now. A burger. She’d come with Clara to the kitchens and commandeered one of the chefs to help with the process, and they ended up with a large tray full of burgers. Apparently making just one of something wasn’t the way they worked in here.

  A small creature crept up the edge of the marble-topped bench. It looked like it was made of twigs and had huge aqua blue cat eyes. It made a grab for some leftover mince.

  The chef shooed it away. “Cheeky boggart.”

  The kitchens were hot and busy, filled with gusts of smoke and steam, sizzles and clanging pots. Memory’s bodyguards remained outside, unable to fit into the chaos, which made the experience more enjoyable for her. She sat up on the kitchen bench overseeing the chef’s work and Clara leant next to her. They’d taken over a small worksite, but the rest of the kitchen still bustled with staff preparing meals for an entire castle of nobles, servants, and guards. Even the pets had meals prepared here, Memory learned, when she questioned where a plate of raw meat was being taken and learned it was for the falcons in the mews. Mews, thought Memory. Sounds like something a cat does, not a house for birds.

  Although Memory had managed to find most of the necessary ingredients for her burgers, the cheese wasn’t the same sort of rubbery processed slice she remembered, the ketchup was fresh and chunky, and the bread was heartier and crustier than the sponge soft bun she wanted.

  Clara took a bite of one. “I think they’re brilliant. These are sure to become popular in Avall. I’m going to see that my favorite tavern starts serving these. If I tell them the princess invented them they will have no hesitation adding them to the menu.”