Chapter Nineteen
Ava sat there for a moment, her own heart thudding irregularly in her chest.
It had never been like that before.
It had never …
She pushed a sharp breath through her teeth, reaching to smooth her hair back from her face. She was sweating, tendrils of hair sticking to her forehead.
Make it go away.
But she hadn’t. She’d forced him forwards, instead. Asked more questions. She’d been so caught up in the fact that she’d done it – that she’d succeeded – that she’d forgotten the cardinal rule of memory work.
Let the subject lead.Never push them to places they do not wish to go.
And this was the result.
An empty room, and the sound of the front door whining upon its hinges where it creaked now, back and forth in the wind.
Damien had been nervous, she could see that, butshe’dbeen nervous, too. There had been something in the way he’d looked at her, something that had passed between them as she’d pressed her fingers to his wrist, and the expressionupon his face had gone from that of a hissing cat to something softer, something gentled, as she’d listened to him murmur something under his breath, his hushed voice matching theth-thumpof his heart.
It was all her fault.
She should have been able to quell his worries, should have been able to calm him down. It was practically the first lesson her mother had given her:Mesmerism is not about invisible forces passing between bodies.It’s about knowing what to say, and how to say it.In that sense, it’s a very practical art. And yet she had used all the practical tips, such as building a rapport with one’s subject, speaking in a kindly manner, looking steadily and directly into their eyes … and instead of it making her feel as though she were in control, it had made her feel as though she were standing at the edge of a precipice.
Teetering.
Listening to the thud of his heartbeat against her fingertips.
‘Ava?’
She jolted, for Oliver’s voice had come from the doorway, and she hadn’t heard it creak open. Hadn’t heard him step into the room.
‘Did it work? It sounded like …’
‘In a way,’ she said, though it took more energy than she had in reserve to give her brother an unworried smile.
Oliver frowned. ‘I’ve never seen anyone react that poorly before.’
‘Yes, well,’ she said, closing the notebook upon her lap, the rough outline of a door sketched into the page. ‘I’m rusty.’
‘Mmm,’ he said. ‘So long as “rusty” is another word for “making people run screaming out of the door”?’ He tweaked a golden eyebrow upwards, and Ava’s expression flattened.
‘He wasn’tscreaming.’
‘But hewasrunning. Whathappened?’
She opened her mouth to say “Nothing,” and then closed it again – for that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? She’d got carried away. Swept up in the relief of realizing that though she’d buried it, it hadn’t disappeared – not entirely.
‘I … made a mistake,’ she said quietly. It wasn’t the kind of failure she’d feared – but it was failure all the same. The high-pitched creak of the door was testament to that.
‘You shouldn’t have told him to keep going,’ Oliver said, and realization settled over Ava like a cold wind.
‘Were youeavesdropping?’
Oliver shrugged. ‘Not intentionally. But the kitchen door isn’t the thickest wood in the world, and so—’
‘And so you should have plugged your ears!’ Ava said, standing up, her face hot and prickly. ‘It’s intensely private, one’s memories.’
