The Memory Puller (The Memory Puller Series Book 1)
The Memory Puller: Chapter 18

Cassandra’s senses went on high alert as she approached the imposing sandstone wall on the western edge of the Temple grounds. Too many sounds cascaded over—shouting, doors banging, a flurry of activity wholly out of place for the late hour.

She hurried along the soaring border wall until she reached the dense woods at the back of the property. An illusion, as only a few hundred feet of trees separated the Cloisters from the steep cliff that plummeted into the churning waters of the Sea of Thetis.

Cassandra crashed through lush summer foliage, pushing through leaves as she zigzagged between trees and leapt over fallen branches. Dread clawed her insides, urging her to return to her quarters. She said a prayer to Letha that Mother Superior hadn’t already noted her absence.

Cautiously approaching her window, she crouched below the sill and tapped on the glass, hoping Xenia would signal it was safe to come inside.

She sucked in a sigh of relief as the window flew open, and Xenia’s mass of golden curls poked out.

“Cass! Oh, thank the High Gods! Get in here, now.”

Cassandra pulled herself over the sill and toppled into the room, relieved to replace nothing amiss. “What’s happening?”

Xenia’s eyes widened as Cassandra stripped off her cloak.

Garish green blood covered Cassandra’s shoes, pants, and hands. She glanced into the mirror beside her bed and noticed a trickle of her own blood flowing down from her hairline. She rubbed it away then rearranged her hair to hide the wound.

“I’ll explain…this later,” Cassandra said, gesturing to all of herself.

Xenia gave her a shallow nod. “I don’t know what’s going on. Mother Superior’s going door to door, waking everyone and gathering them in the atrium. I was terrified she’d get here before you returned. She—”

A forceful rapping shook their door, and they had to strain to hear Mother Superior’s soft voice. “Sister Fortin, Sister Cirillo, please join us in the atrium for an announcement.”

Xenia closed the window as Cassandra hid the dagger beneath her pillow and kicked off her blood-soaked training shoes. She slipped her feet into navy leather flats, then threw her dress robes over her training attire and stuffed her hands into her pockets. She prayed no one would notice Opheron’s blood.

Xenia opened the door and the two friends headed into the atrium, the last of the Sisters to join the burbling mob around a fountain surrounded by beds of soft-blue forget-me-nots—the signature flower of the Temple’s namesake Goddess.

A statue of Letha herself stood in the center of the fountain. She appeared as a water-bearer, the river of Oblivion constantly flowing from the jug cradled in her arms. Cassandra never looked at the statue’s face. There was something about the Goddess’s expression that rattled her, sending shards of ice slicing down her spine. A vacancy, an absence that somehow lacked any hint of peace or tranquility.

Like the face of an obliviate.

A hush fell upon the gathered women as Mother Superior ascended the lip of the fountain, her platinum hair glowing in the moonlight and the hem of her navy robes darkening as it dipped into the water.

“Sisters,” the abbess intoned, “I’m afraid another of our flock has flown.”

Frightened gasps and a flurry of whispers erupted as Mother Superior’s tawny hands settled onto the shoulders of the red-faced woman before her.

Sister Filo’s stocky frame shuddered, and tears streamed down her equine face. Just yesterday, Sister Filo had claimed Cora’s vacated bed in the room with Sister Pacha.

Xenia clutched Cassandra’s forearm.

Mother Superior bowed her head, her thin, dark fingers digging into Sister Filo’s shoulders, drawing a wince from the addled woman. “Tell your Sisters what happened,” the abbess said, her voice a quiet menace.

“I…I…” Sister Filo sucked in a quivering breath. “I was in the bathing chamber, running a bath, and Sister Pacha was on her bed reading. I couldn’t hear anything over the flow of the water. And I didn’t hear anything after I shut the water off either. I only stayed in the tub for twenty minutes or so. After I dried off and returned to the bedroom, she was gone. Her book was lying open on the bed, but other than that, nothing was out of place. The window and the door were both locked. Like Richelle just vanished into th-th-thin—”

Sister Filo howled, covering her face with her thick, wrinkled fingers.

Mother Superior didn’t offer a single word of comfort, merely raised her head to address the gathered women. “Sisters, let us not jump to conclusions. We are not privy to the will of the High Gods and therefore cannot comprehend their divine plan for Sister Pacha. Irrational fears trouble our Goddess Letha and disturb our true purpose. I remind you, do not dwell in speculation.”

Searing fury blazed through Cassandra’s veins, and it took all her willpower to hold her tongue, not launch herself at the abbess. She was certain Mother Superior hadn’t told a soul outside the Temple about the previous disappearances.

But the abbess wouldn’t be able to keep this one a secret. Richelle was the youngest daughter of one of the wealthy Heronswood families whose mother came to visit the Temple every Sunday. It was only a matter of time before the Vicereine would be informed, if she hadn’t been already.

As if reading her thoughts, Mother Superior twisted her head towards Cassandra, her black eyes boring into Cassandra’s skull. “However, I cannot deny the gravity of the situation in which we replace ourselves. At best, three of our Sisters have deserted us in less than a month.” Cassandra couldn’t help the scoff that burst from her lips, her frustration boiling over at Mother Superior’s blatant disregard for the Sisters’ safety. Mother Superior paused, eyes flaring wide enough to expose whites.

She relaxed her features and continued, “At worst, three of our Sisters have been stolen from us for purposes known only by the High Gods themselves. Contrary to what some of you may believe,” her eyes drifted back to Cassandra, “I am not so cold-hearted as to sit back and do nothing while there is such a clear and present danger to our order.”

With the abbess’s gaze still upon her, Cassandra kept her face neutral as skeptical thoughts buffeted her. Cassandra had no doubt that only the status of Richelle’s family had spurred Mother Superior into action.

Cora and Sister Kouris had both been born in the slums, taken by the Temple as children. There were no weekly visits for either Sister. No one in Ethyrios would notice, or even care, if they remained missing forever.

The thought splintered something in Cassandra’s chest. She knew she’d suffer the same fate if she disappeared. Xenia would likely be the only person who’d even miss her.

Distracted by her thoughts, Cassandra almost missed the grand finale of Mother Superior’s announcement, snapping back to attention as soon as she heard the word Vestian.

“…will be staying at the Temple for the foreseeable future to investigate the disappearances of our Sisters and to protect us until the situation can be resolved. A benevolent gesture from our most gracious Vicereine Lykan. Please welcome Officers Saros and Zephyrus.”

Cassandra’s heart exploded into such a frenzied rhythm that she had to fight the urge to pass out, grasping for Xenia’s shoulder to steady herself.

The world tipped off its axis as a broad-shouldered and heavily muscled male strode into the atrium.

Though she didn’t recognize his last name—she’d never asked, and he’d never told—she did recognize his onyx wings, the iridescent feathers glimmering in the starlight.

Did recognize his silky, dark hair, gathered in that low knot like always.

Did recognize his heart-stopping grin and the dimple it brought forth.

Tristan paused just inside the archway, a winged warrior-god towering above the group of gaping women.

“Good evening, Sisters.”