“Yeah, that would be great. Because I still don’t know who I am.”
“Your name is Stone Maddox.”
A divot appears between his brows as he considers this. “Nope. Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Of course it doesn’t,” I mumble. After eating the entire Danish of Amnesia, it wouldn’t.
“Maybe I should go to a hospital.”
“One minute.” I lift a finger. “Give me just one.”
“Sure, this little lambi and I will hang out until you’re done.”
“Great.”
I give him a tight smile, impatiently waiting for him to disappear so I can figure out how to extract myself from this mess before I’msentenced to death by firing squad in front of the entire town—or something even more archaic, likestoning.
After he finally disappears inside the trailer, I collapse against the side of the building.
Cristina’s voice breaks the silence. “Holy shit, Co.”
“I know. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“Can you come to the farm? I’ll turn around and go back. Bring Stone and the book. Let’s see if there’s a way out of this.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
It’s lucky I still have the book with me, having left it in my car, as by the time I got home from Wadley Farms last night, I was exhausted.
So that’s the one good thing about right now. The one bad thing, however, is Stone.
Amnesia Stone gets distracted by many things.
“Whose office is this?” he asks when I enter the trailer.
“Yours,” I say, beaming while trying not to die on the inside.
“Really? There’s no personality to it. It doesn’t seem like me.”
I grab the empty Danish box and toss it in the trash. “That’s probably because it’s temporary. Come on. I’ve got an idea on how to get your memory back.”
“Thank goodness, because I’m going out of my mind.” He stares at the blank walls, scours the desk surface. “If it wasn’t for that lambicorn, I’d probably be tearing my hair out.”
“Well, we don’t want you doing that. Let’s go.”
He starts to follow me and stops. “Wait.”
I turn around. “Yes?”
“How do I know if you’re a good witch or a bad witch?”
My breath hitches. “What?”
“That line just came to me. It’s from a movie, isn’t it?”
My stiff shoulders loosen in relief. It’s just a line he remembers. He’s not accusing me of anything. But maybe he should be. “Yes, it’s fromThe Wizard of Oz. It’s very famous. See? You’ve got some of your memory in there.”
“Yeah.” He smirks, and those jade eyes of his are warm, welcoming. They flicker down my body, lingering on my legs before they climb back up, settling on my face. “I know you’re a good witch.”
