Page 9

I drop to my knees, disbelief and hope—painful, awful hope—riding me, and I pull one notebook out. This one is coveredin gold foil constellations. I open it up, and a little sound slips past my lips when I see my name and the date range in my handwriting. On the next page is a set of notes about how to get to the restaurant where I was working at the time. Alongside it is a spell I scribbled in for removing wrinkles from clothes.

I flip through several more pages, which are full of Polaroids, sticky notes, to-do lists, directions, spells I thought were worth remembering, and hasty sketches.

My thumb runs over one such sketch, this one of a Sarmatian griffin. I swallow down the strange rush of emotions it brings forth before moving through the rest of the notebook.

It is, without a doubt, mine. Somehow, it’s whole once more.

This is a trick. It must be. I saw these notebooks burn, and I touched their charred remains. I remember the acrid, smoky smell that clung to the room once they were nothing more than cinders.

I grab another journal and flip through it. Then another.

I pinch my eyes shut, my throat tight with emotion. Despite my efforts, a rebellious tear slips out.

I don’t know how Memnon managed to weasel these out of my room or fake their fiery demise, butthey still exist. He saved them.

For one-point-five seconds, I feel a rush of tenderness toward the sorcerer. Then I remember that he still manipulated and coerced me. He still framed me for murder and forced me to lift that curse against my will.

So screw him and his small kindnesses.

Moving back over to his closet, I look for anything that might be able to hold my notebooks. Tucked away in a far corner, I find a black duffel bag that has a knife, rope, and some zip ties.

Not fucking suspicious or anything.

Emptying the bag, I haul it over to the bookcase and dump all my books into it. There are so many of them that I can’t zip thebag up. The spines of several of the journals peek out as I heft the bag onto my shoulder. I suddenly feel more like myself, having my notebooks close.

I pull out my phone and, ignoring the slew of messages and notifications waiting for me, order my familiar and me a car.

“Nero,” I call out to the panther, who’s still sprawled out on our enemy’s bed. “It’s time to go.”

I don’t wait for him to follow. My body is jittery with nerves and resolve. I’ve got my notebooks. Now I need to get back to the coven and ward the shit out of my room so that pushy sorcerers can’t approach me.

I leave the bedroom, Nero at my heels. The two of us pass by several rooms that branch off the house’s hallway as well as a sprawling living room. I lament the fact that I have to get out of here. I really am curious about the rest of Memnon’s home.

The front door is a bronze monstrosity. I reach for the handle, only when I go to open it, it doesn’t budge. It’s then that I notice the ward shimmering on both the lock and the door handle’s surface.

I glance down at Nero, who’s come to a stop at my side. “Memnon has a bad habit of locking us in places while I’m unconscious.”

The big cat blinks up at me, clearly bored.

I lay my palm on the door and simply wait. After a few seconds, deep blue tendrils of the ward peel themselves away from the door and crawl up my fingers. Like last time I did this, Memnon’s magic can’t seem to help but draw near. They wrap around my wrist like they’re desperate to hold on to me, and as they do so, the spell’s structure warps and melts until the whole thing slides off the door completely.

It lingers on my skin for several seconds, then dissipates.

When I try the door again, it gives, sunlight slicing through the opening.

In my pocket, my phone vibrates, and I know without looking that my ride is approaching. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

My gaze drops to Nero, and I run my teeth along my lower lip. He’s going to be a problem for whoever picks us up.

Lightly, I place a hand on the big cat’s head, causing his ears to twitch. “Do ulibad povekomsa pesagus diveksu kuppu mi'kanutgusa buvekatasava.”

Hide this great cat from all eyes but mine.

My power, which is still recovering from last night, sluggishly sifts out of me and pours down Nero’s body.

The spell is not accompanied by the usual prickling or throbbing in my head I’ve come to expect, the one that took memories from me.

My memory loss really is no more.