by Jasmine Walt
The hope vanished, my heart plummeting like a stone. “How do I know this isn’t some kind of trick?” I asked sharply. “You could have been sent by the mistress to test me, to see what I know.”
The voice in my head let out a hoarse laugh. “That’s my girl,” he said. “Always questioning.” That yellow beak turned toward the shoreline. “If you keep walking along the beach, toward the cliffs, there’s a special moss that grows on the rocks. Eat it. It will restore your memories.”
“Or it could poison me,” I argued. Would the mistress really be so dumb as to put me on an island where memory-restoring substance grew?
“I had a feeling you might say that. How about this?” The bird opened its mouth, throat bobbing, and I watched in disgust as it spat out three items—a cuff link, a bullet, and a button. “You’ve never been easy to convince. Why don’t you take a look at them and see what their memories tell you? But be quick. This bird is only a magical construct, and I barely managed to get these through the barrier as it was. I don’t know how long you have before the items expire.”
I stared at the odd assortment, my eyebrows pulling together. “You want me to read memories from these? How did you know I could do that?”
“I already told you—I know you, Brooke. Now stop wasting time asking questions you already know the answer to. Your enemies are doing their best to ruin you in the real world, and if you don’t come back soon, you might not have a life to return to.”
I opened my mouth to respond, but the bird flapped his wings, then disappeared. There one moment, gone the next. I blinked, wondering if I’d imagined it, but the objects nestled in the grass proved otherwise.
Grimacing, I pulled a small rag from my skirt pocket, then wrapped the items up and tucked them away. I was careful not to touch them—I didn’t want to see the memories now. I would do it later, in the privacy of my bedroom, where there were no cows or birds or evil housekeepers to look over my shoulders.
It could be a trap, I told myself as I headed back to the castle to start my chores. The memories could be false.
But the slight weight in my skirt pocket was comforting. My steps grew lighter, the pressure on my shoulders easing a bit.
For the first time in a very long time, I thought I saw a light at the end of the tunnel.
Despite my cynicism about the objects Oscar had given me, I could hardly wait for the end of the day. I flew through my chores. Once or twice, I even found myself humming under my breath. I made myself stop when I noticed, because I didn’t want the housekeeper to think anything was amiss. Knowing her, she’d become suspicious and start paying closer attention to my activities.
Or she might just load me up with more work to quash my spirits, I thought, my lip curling as I dusted the furniture in an empty sitting room. I didn’t know why the mistress—no, the Morrigan—cared so much about keeping everything so clean when nobody but her came to visit. She should just close the rooms and cover the furnishings to keep them from gathering dust.
By the time the sun set and I’d finished the dinner dishes, I could hardly stop myself from skipping back to my room. It was in the south wing of the castle and little more than a closet with a cot and a washing basin. I was never sure why I had to sleep in such a dismal space when there were plenty of larger rooms in the servants’ quarter, but after Oscar’s visit, I understood. The Morrigan wasn’t content to have me pay back the debt. She wanted to make me suffer, too.
I lit the wax candle on my bedside table by using a spark of power, then settled onto my cot. My heart beat a little faster as I pulled the handkerchief out and untied the small bundle to reveal the contents.
My fingers hovered over the objects, and I bit my lip, hesitant. Which should I touch first? The cuff link, the bullet, or the button? The bullet looked the most dangerous, the diamond cufflink the most expensive…and yet, I found myself picking up the simple plastic button and turning it over in my fingers.
A vision hit me instantly—one of a girl, maybe sixteen years old, with silver hair and lavender eyes standing in a dark alley. A ripple of shock went through me as I realized I was looking at a younger version of myself. I barely recognized myself—the reflections I’d glimpsed in the castle mirrors showed a haggard, painfully underweight woman with limp, dull hair—not this firecracker who moved like the wind. Her eyes crackled with battle fever as she aimed her gun and shot a pale-skinned, fanged humanoid in the chest. He exploded in a shower of ash.
Vampire, a voice whispered in my head, giving me a name for it.
I slumped against the wall, breathing hard as the vision faded.
Vampires. I could kill vampires—and after that memory, I’d been hit with a certain knowing of what they were: undead creatures of the night. Pride sang through my veins, a foreign emotion I couldn’t recall experiencing. I wasn’t a victim, a slave, or a lowly servant.
I was a warrior.
Fingers trembling, I picked up the bullet, wondering what it would show me. At first, I saw nothing, but as I rolled the smooth, cool metal between my fingers, a vision grabbed me.
A stocky man sat at a scuffed-looking office desk, staring hard at a computer screen. His lips were pressed into a tight line, his face haggard, and anger burned in his gaze as he glared at the screen, as if what he was seeing on there was letting him down somehow.
“Dammit,” he cursed, slamming his fist into the desktop. He wrenched open his desk drawer and drew out a long string of beads—a rosary. His expression hardened, but the look in his eyes faded from anger to raw grief as he rubbed the beads between his fingers.
“Baxter.” A woman dressed in a dark suit leaned her hip against the desk. “You can’t keep focusing on this. You’ve got other cases to attend to.”
“None of those cases are responsible for the captain’s death,” Baxter snarled, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the rosary tighter. “Or my brother’s, for that matter. You can’t expect me to let that go, Chief.”
“There is no proof Brooke Chandler had anything to do with your brother’s death,” the chief said sharply. The two clashed gazes for a moment, and then she sighed, softening. “But yes, I understand that you can’t let it go. Captain Randall deserves justice.”
“It’s not just that,” Baxter said tightly. “Chandler and I worked together. Hell, she was about to become my partner. I trusted her, Chief. How can I expect to rely on my own instincts when I was so off base about her? I was working with a cold-blooded killer.” He choked on the last word.
“Don’t you dare go down that road,” the chief barked. She gripped Baxter’s shoulder, forcing him to meet her steely gaze. “You’re a damn good detective, Guy—one of the best this department has seen in a long time. There’s nothing wrong with your instincts—Brooke fooled us all. But if you think I’m going to let you use what happened as an excuse to let these victims down, you’ve got another thing coming.” She rapped her knuckles against the stack of files on his desk. “You’ve got a duty to give these men and women your best, Baxter. Don’t let them down.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The chief nodded sharply, then walked away. Baxter waited until she was out of sight before slowly picking up the rosary again, staring intently at it.
“I’ll avenge you, brother,” he whispered, pressing his lips against the beads. “Even if it’s the last thing I do.”
The vision faded, and I stared at the bullet in my hand for a long time. There was no doubt that Baxter and the chief had been talking me—if my name really was Brooke Chandler. Was I really a murderer? Had I truly been responsible for the look of heartache and anger in that man’s eyes? If I could kill a man—no, two men, if Baxter were right—what else was I capable of?
I wasn’t sure I wanted to touch the diamond cuff link now. What other horrible things would I learn about myself? But my hand reached for it anyway, almost of its own volition, skimming my fingers over the shiny metal and the tiny, sparkling stones.
“If you think you�
��re getting away with either one of those things, you’ve got your head so far up your ass I’m surprised you can see anything.” I watched myself snap the words at a well-dressed man sitting behind a desk. He had thick black hair, eyes the color of new leaves, and a face was so handsome it was almost painful to look at.
“Oh, I can see just fine,” the man said in a strange accent, his eyes burning with a combination of lust and anger. A thrill rushed down my spine as I took in his sculpted features and wicked mouth. “And what I see is a little girl standing in front of me, pretending to be a woman. A girl who thinks she can intimidate me by entering my personal space and using foul language. You may be bold, Detective, but yer bloody foolish as well.”
“Just because I’m not a thousands-of-years-old fart like you doesn’t mean I’m a little girl,” I responded, my voice soft. I studied my own expression for a moment—my eyes were flat and cool, not a hint of the passion I felt when I looked at this man in them. Was he an enemy? “I’m a woman, and you should damn well start treating me like one instead of like a child who can’t take care of herself.”
“Fine.” I gasped as the man grabbed me by my upper arms. “Then yer about to find out what happens when a woman drapes herself across my desk.”
My mouth fell open as I watched him haul me into his lap. Papers went flying everywhere, but neither of us seemed to notice as his lips locked onto mine. His big hands slid into my hair as he pressed my curves into his hard body, and heat rushed through me, pooling between my thighs as I watched the carnal embrace.
He kissed me like a man starved, and as I watched myself respond in turn, my fingernails digging into his broad shoulders, I knew I had felt the same. The man tilted his hips up into mine, and I figured it was only a matter of time until clothes went flying.
At least until I reared back and slapped him across his face.
The shock propelled me straight out of the vision, and I bolted upright, breathing hard. There was no doubt in my mind now. The woman in these visions was me. I could have brushed off the vision of Baxter. Could have told myself they were talking about someone else, that Oscar was misleading me. But now, there was no denying it. The woman I’d just seen was one-hundred percent me.
Pressing a hand against my pounding heart, I tried to get a handle on my spinning thoughts. Who the hell was that man and why had I slapped him? It was hard to tell if he was an enemy or a friend. Why had he kissed me? More importantly, why had I seemed to enjoy it?
There’s only one way to find out, I told myself.
I was going to have to eat that damned moss.
Chapter 3
I waited until I was certain the housekeeper was asleep before sneaking out of the castle and down to the base of the cliff. The chill wind buffeted me as I crept down the hillside toward a small cove hidden beneath the cliff, but aside from the pressure, it didn’t bother me. The clouds obscured the moon, as they always did, but it was round and full enough to light my way while allowing me to stick to the shadows, unseen.
I wasn’t surprised to see the bird already waiting for me, perched on a boulder just out of the water’s reach. He lifted a wing as if in greeting, and I smiled a little as I climbed up the rock to join him.
“You’ve finally come to your senses, huh?” Oscar asked when I’d settled beside him. “I hate to rush you, but I don’t think I have much time. Coming back was even harder than the first time. Are you ready to eat the moss now?”
“More or less.” I hugged my knees to my chest as I stared at the moss-covered rocks peeking out from the shallows. Excitement and trepidation filled me, and I held myself a little tighter to keep from trembling. “Is it going to hurt?”
The bird’s initial silence was a little unsettling. “I’m not sure,” he finally said. “I’ve never done this myself.”
I bit my lip, then told myself to stop being so childish. What was a little pain if I could recover my identity and escape from this place? I might be returning to another kind of hell, but at least there would be hope of eventual freedom there. Staying here was not an option. “After I recover my memories, how am I going to get out of here? Do you have a plan?”
“Of course I do,” Oscar said, sounding annoyed I would even question him. “The Morrigan’s Keep, where you’re stuck right now, exists in a bubble outside time and space. It’s only accessible via the cow horn that she always keeps close to her. You’re going steal it from her, then use it to get out.”
“Steal it!” The very idea sent a tremor of fear through me. I could just imagine the wrath that cold, unforgiving bitch would unleash upon me if I got caught. “How the hell am I going to do that?”
“Magic…and luck. You’ll shade yourself so the Morrigan can’t sense you, then use your magic to activate the horn.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t know how to ‘shade’ myself, and I haven’t been using magic very long.”
Or had I? I’d lost track of how long I’d been here. It could have been months, maybe even years, for all I knew. Oscar said this place existed out of time. How much time had I lost in the world I’d come from? I didn’t even know what shading was.
“You were able to shade yourself just fine before the Morrigan took you,” Oscar said. “It’s a method of hiding your magical signature from other supernaturals. You’ll be able to do it again once your memories are returned. And I’ll teach you the spell you’ll need to activate the horn, as well as some small tricks to help make yourself stealthier.”
Oscar spent a few minutes teaching me the words to the spells he wanted me to know, in case he couldn’t come back again to help. I tried to memorize them as best I could, thankful they seemed to be of the same language the housekeeper used when she spoke to me. I would have to wait until the Morrigan visited next to use these spells, which could be tomorrow or months from now. I hoped it was the former rather than the latter.
“What will happen once I activate the horn?” I asked.
“It will take you to one of the Morrigan’s homes, either the one in Faerie or the one on Earth,” Oscar said. “Since the horn is the only way in and out of here, she’ll be delayed for a few days until she can make another one. I’ll figure out which one you’re at and come get you out before she comes back. Once you arrive, you must be very careful not to take the horn, or anything else that belongs to the Morrigan, off her lands,” he added, a warning note in his voice. “We don’t need to give her any more reasons to seek vengeance against you.”
I pursed my lips at that, but reluctantly nodded. It wasn’t worth the risk. I wanted my old life and freedom back too much.
“Who’s the man with black hair and green eyes?” I asked, thinking back to the visions I’d experienced earlier.
The bird ruffled his feathers, as if annoyed. “Of all the things you must have seen, that’s who you want to know about?”
I glared at him as I tossed a lock of my silver hair over my shoulder. “I don’t know why you’ve got that disgusted tone in your voice,” I told him. “Why wouldn’t I want to know his name? Out of the people I saw in the visions last night, he was the one I seemed the most conflicted about.”
“You could say that again,” Oscar growled. “His name is Maddock Tremaine, and he’s a powerful fae you’ve been working with. It’s his fault you’re in this mess in the first place.”
“It is?” My stomach churned. So the man I’d been kissing that night…he really had been my enemy. Did I have any friends at all, aside from Oscar? And why did I seem to have such terrible judgment?
“Yes. He roped you into collecting some magical artifacts for him, and the Morrigan decided to use that to her advantage by commanding you to hand them over as payment for a favor she did for you in the past.” Oscar clicked his beak disapprovingly. “You refused to hand them over to her, and that’s why you’re here.”
I frowned. “What were these artifacts? And why did I think they would be better in Maddock’s hands than the Morriga
n’s?” They both seemed to be my enemies, after all. But then again, I hadn’t been locking lips with the Morrigan.
“I could sit here explaining the past to you all day, kid, but it would be a lot faster if you just ate the moss.” Oscar flapped his wings, then took flight from the large boulder we sat on. He glided over to one of the smaller rocks peeking out of the surf, scraped off some of the moss, then flew back to me with a small chunk clutched in his beak.
“Here.” He deposited it in my hand. “Take it back to your room and eat it there. I’m not sure how you’ll react, and it’s better that you’re someplace safe.”
“I’m not sure if the castle is safe,” I said dubiously, but I tucked the moss into my skirt pocket anyway. “Thank you.” I stroked the bird’s head with the back of my finger. “Come back soon, please.”
“I might not be able to, but if I can, I will.” The bird rubbed his feathered head against me, then stepped back. “See you on the other side, kid.”
He disappeared, and I sat on the rock for a moment longer, watching the pull of the tide. As I gazed across the ocean, I wondered if there really was anything here, other than this island, in the realm the Morrigan had created. If I jumped into the water now and began swimming, would I eventually come across another land mass? If I didn’t first die from hunger or exhaustion, of course. Or would I simply end up back at this island again?
It doesn’t matter, I told myself firmly as I trudged back up to the castle. You aren’t going to have to resort to swimming anyway. You just need to follow Oscar’s instructions.
I made it back to my room without incident, my feet whisper quiet against the stone floors, though I doubted the housekeeper would have noticed even if I were noisy. When she wasn’t bossing me around, she didn’t seem to care about what I was up to. Maybe it was because she knew there was no way off this island, no matter where I went or what I might get up to.