“In West End?” Damon asks, looking up from his almost cleared plate. “Isn’t that dangerous? Shouldn’t we do it here or on neutral territory?”
I’m not sure what he’s worried about. Them or me.
“They’ll behave. After the event last night it seems pertinent to use our resources sooner rather than later.”
His gaze slides over, and for a brief moment our eyes meet. I think he’s talking about the back seat of the car, how he reached between my legs and found the blood. My body shivers at the memory of the way his eyes dilated, and how he spun me around, claiming me like a man possessed.
Maybe he’s thinking about it, but I realize quickly he’s speaking about something else. “People in Forsyth have questions–powerful people–and the longer we can’t answer them, the more it looks like we’re hiding something.” He stands, the conversation coming to an end. “I have little faith in Simon’s abilities to hypnotize the Baroness, seeing that it’s nothing but junk science application, but you made a deal with him, and it’s time to see it through.”
Fear prickles up my spine. They’re talking aboutme. I’m the one he’s sending to be peeled open like an old wound.
I don’t even know what’s buried in my own head–why mymemory locked itself shut, why my mind flinches away when I try to push deeper.
What does my brain want to hide from me?
And what happens when they all find out?
The boys headto their room after breakfast to clean up, alternating in the shower to get rid of the grime from their night of work. Damon emerges first, the fresh scent of soap following him as he walks down the hall. Hunter is behind him, his wet hair a shade darker and pushed off his forehead.
I wait for them in the sitting room, my dance bag in my lap, and watch as they gather their bags and weapons—routine motions despite the shadows under their eyes.
While they move, my mind moves too, back to what’s waiting for me in the West End later today. The hypnotism session.
The idea of someone tinkering with my mind sets me on edge. There’s too much in there that I don’t feel like I have control over. Truth is, I feel like my mind has control over me. If he pulls at the threads of my memory, will everything just fall apart? What will I say? What will come out? The truth? More lies? Secrets?
Sweat pricks along the back of my neck.
I’ve been sitting on pieces of memory for weeks now, bits that used to feel like smoke, thin and slippery, but lately they’ve started to settle, growing heavier, clearer, as if they’re trying to take shape whether I’m ready or not.
And I know I should tell them. I know I can’t keep pretending I’m fine when something inside me is slowly knitting itself into a truth I’m scared to look at.
If hypnosis can force the rest of the memories out—if it can make the shadows line up into something solid—then maybe I’ll finally understand what really happened when I was kidnapped.
Maybe then I’ll stop waking up with that crawling feeling under my skin.
But the meeting also means something else. I have to do something else. Which is why when we’re halfway to the front doors, I swallow up the panic that nudges up my throat.
“Wait,” I say, louder than I intend.
They both stop. Damon sighs under his breath, impatient. Hunter straightens, wary.
“I have something to tell you.”
They exchange a look, but stay where they are.
“That day we went to the forest to see if I remembered anything…” I take a deep breath. My pulse thrums in my ears. “I may have had a memory or something.”
“A memory,” Hunter repeats carefully.
“Or something,” I hedge.
Damon rolls his eyes. “Spit it out, Baroness.”
“Ithinkit was a memory,” I say, hating how unsure my voice sounds. “But honestly, the way it came to me, I wasn’t sure…” I stare down at my feet. “Sometimes I get confused about what’s real or not, especially when…”
“When?” Damon prompts.
“When it happens in the middle of something else.” Damon watches me with careful, gray eyes. “Like being held underwater. Or chased through the woods. Or,” I take a deep breath, “being tied to a cross.”
