The Memory Puller (The Memory Puller Series Book 1)
The Memory Puller: Chapter 19

Cassandra crouched behind Xenia to prevent Tristan from noticing her. She poked her head around her tall friend’s shoulder, just enough to view the archway.

Tristan maintained a respectful distance from the women shrinking before him. Wearing a friendly, closed-lip smile, he tucked his wings and left his hands casually at his sides, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. It seemed to be working; the tension amongst the women began slowly evaporating.

Until the other Officer arrived.

Cassandra wondered which was Saros and which was Zephyrus.

Just as tall and corded with muscle as Tristan, but with a severe countenance, the male surveyed the Sisters with a scowl on his handsome face.

His wavy, ash-brown hair, long on the top and short on the sides, spilled over his forehead, grazing his arched eyebrows. He was paler than Tristan, his features more delicate but no less masculine—a long, sharp nose, defined jaw, and wide, thin lips.

His wings, flesh with not a feather in sight, were the color of impending storm clouds, the same color as his piercing gray eyes. His black uniform matched Tristan’s, leather pants hugging well-shaped legs and a thick, leather jacket with a short collar.

He did not share Tristan’s impulse to appear cordial.

He loomed over the cowering Sisters with his thick arms crossed over his chest, exposing the dagger and stun pistol hanging at his hips. Moonlight glinted off the black talons at the peaks of his wings.

Tristan, noting the Sisters’ renewed terror, smacked his fellow Officer in the chest with the back of his hand, forcing the other male to uncross his arms and pull in his wings.

Tristan flashed a broad smile at the group. “Don’t pay any attention to Officer Zephyrus. He’s pissy because I beat him on our race over here.”

A few of the Sisters tittered.

Officer Zephyrus’s scowl did not budge. Cassandra was beginning to wonder if it was the only expression he was capable of.

Mother Superior stepped off the fountain, parting the Sisters as she approached the two beautiful Windriders with an outstretched hand. “Welcome, Officers. We are honored to have you with us.”

Tristan’s massive hand swallowed the abbess’s delicate fingers, pumping once then releasing her towards Officer Zephyrus, who refused the gesture. Didn’t even bother glancing down. Tristan aimed an irritated look at his fellow Guard.

“The honor is ours, I assure you. And please, call me Tristan.”

Xenia reached back and pinched Cassandra’s hip so hard that Cassandra almost cried out loud. She swatted her friend’s hand away and ducked down further.

“And this friendly bastard is Cael,” Tristan said, slapping a hand onto Officer Zephyrus’s shoulder. “He’s not as mean as he looks.”

Cassandra hadn’t thought it possible, but Cael’s scowl deepened.

Mother Superior turned to the Sisters, now more curious than terrified due to Tristan’s effortless charm. “Sister Filo, you will move into Sister Kouris’s space, into the suite with Sister Galan. The Officers will share your vacated suite for the duration of their stay.”

The two Vestian Guards would be Cassandra and Xenia’s new neighbors. Wonderful.

“Alright Sisters, excitement over,” Mother Superior said. “Please head to your rooms and calm yourselves as best you can. It is late, and training will not be postponed. I’m sure that you will all be polite and accommodating to our new guests. And I have no doubt the officers will do everything in their power to ensure their time with us does not disrupt our schedule or our purpose.”

Only a fool would’ve missed the threat in those words.

Mother Superior followed the Sisters filing out of the atrium in a hum of whispers and shuffling feet.

Xenia lingered by the fountain, her eyes bouncing between the two Vestians. Cassandra yanked her friend into motion and Xenia yelped, drawing Tristan’s attention.

“Are you alright, Sister?” Tristan asked, approaching with Cael on his heels. “I assure you, there’s nothing—”

The dark-haired Windrider sucked in a sharp breath as his gaze met Cassandra’s.

Sweet Amatu, he was even more beautiful than she’d remembered.

Tristan stared at her, eyes wide, his sensuous lips curling and exposing his sharp canines. “Well, well, well,” Tristan began before Cassandra shook her head to discourage him from continuing.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Mother Superior lingering in the covered walkway that ringed the atrium, watching from behind a sandstone column.

“Welcome to the Temple of Letha,” Cassandra said, loud enough for the abbess to hear. “We’ll show you to your room. Follow me.”

Cassandra’s chest unclenched as Mother Superior turned from the exchange and glided away.

Tristan and Cael followed Cassandra and Xenia across the atrium.

“This is you,” she said, gesturing to the room next to her own.

“And this is us!” Xenia piped up with a sly smile, hooking a thumb towards their door. Cassandra sighed and rolled her eyes.

Tristan leaned his shoulder against the wall and cocked an eyebrow. “All the easier for us to keep a close watch on you…Sisters,” he said.

Cassandra shot him a scowl worthy of Officer Zephyrus, whose own scowl loosened ever so slightly as he surveyed Xenia.

“So kind of you to show us the way,” Tristan crooned. “Perhaps you’d like to give us a tour of the grounds tomorrow after breakfast? I’m sure the abbess would agree it’s the polite thing to do.”

“We’d love to,” Xenia said. “Good night, Officers.” She opened the door to their quarters, and dragged Cassandra inside before she could protest.

Xenia shut the door, then collapsed onto her bed in a fit of hysterical laughter.

“High Gods, Cass. You are going to get kicked out of the order. And it’s going to be worth it.”

A Shrouded Sister.

Tristan couldn’t believe it.

Or could he?

He had the strangest suspicion that he already knew she belonged to the order.

Though she hadn’t mentioned it on Saturday. He’d replayed their conversation in his head a dozen times since then and would’ve remembered such a pertinent detail.

Tristan surveyed the suite of rooms he’d just entered, similar in size to the quarters the two Guards shared at the barracks and almost as utilitarian. Tristan appreciated the neatness, the tucked corners on the tightly made bed.

Tristan aimed for the left, his side at the barracks, and Cael didn’t object. Merely flopped onto the other bed and draped an arm over his eyes. His fleshy wings drooped over the sides, skimming the woven blue rug that covered the rust-colored floor tiles.

Tristan’s oldest friend and roommate hadn’t said two words to him tonight. Not that Cael was normally gregarious, especially around strangers. But Tristan had never seen him this morose before.

Cael was furious about their new assignment. Though truthfully, it was Cael’s own damn fault. His piss-poor attitude had not gone unnoticed, had earned him the same punishment as Tristan.

Mother Superior had gotten word to the Vicereine shortly after Sister Pacha had gone missing, right when Tristan happened to be sitting in her office.

Tristan had met the Sister’s father, Grigori Pacha, on several occasions at the Vicereine’s palace. A Delirium exporter and kind man well-liked by both species within the colony elite, Pacha was not quite as powerful a mortal as Alcander Pagonis but was respected enough to warrant special treatment. Especially under such dire circumstances.

The assignment couldn’t have come at a worse time for Tristan’s friend.

Three months back, Cael had been tapped for a promotion, a cushy patrol on the continent in Delos, capital of the Fae Empire and home of the Emperor.

Though Cael had willingly come to the colonies a century and a half ago to prove his mettle as a Vestian, he’d been yearning to return to the continent for decades. He missed his parents, his brothers, his home—a place where magic was a given, not a luxury.

Cael kept his head down and worked his ass off to qualify for the position, only to have it snatched from him at the last minute by a female Windrider whose father worked for the Emperor.

Tristan was furious on his friend’s behalf, though a selfish part of him was relieved that Cael wouldn’t be leaving the colonies.

In the weeks since, Cael was in a fouler mood than normal, and nothing Tristan tried could snap him out of it. Training didn’t help. Flying didn’t help. Late-night trips to the Fang and Claw to get his friend laid didn’t help.

Cael spent those nights sulking at a corner table, disappointing the many males and females who approached him, downing Delirium after Delirium. Which only made his gloominess worse, as if the emotions flavoring the drink amplified his feelings tenfold.

Tristan, in a desperate attempt to cheer Cael up, begged Reena to keep him company last Wednesday night. Tristan knew she had a soft spot for his handsome, curmudgeonly friend and Cael always seemed slightly less grumpy around the sexy tiger bi-form. But not even Reena’s ministrations, straddling Cael’s lap and trailing kisses down his neck while her hand stroked between his legs, could lift him out of his funk. Luckily, Reena had enough confidence to shake off Cael’s rebuff.

After that near-disaster, Tristan had given up trying to force his friend to feel better. Instead, he maintained an upbeat presence, knowing Cael would pull himself out of his moping eventually.

Tristan left Cael pouting on the bed and crossed into the bathing chamber, impressed by the grand size. He’d be able to comfortably wash his wings in the enormous marble bathtub.

“Hey honey!” Tristan called out. “Get in here and look at the size of this tub! We could totally canoodle in here.” He heard a muffled grunt from the next room. “Come on, big boy. You know you can’t resist me.” Tristan sauntered back into the room, swore he saw Cael’s lips fighting a smile under his arm.

Tristan flung his pillow at Cael’s stomach, adding a gust of air to enhance the blow.

“Oof!” Cael exhaled as he sat up, his arm dropping from his face, stormy gray eyes narrowed. Cael grabbed the pillow and whipped it at his friend, who ducked before it smacked the wall and released a puff of white feathers. “Asshole.”

“It speaks!”

Cael actually did smile at that. Well, what Tristan knew was a smile for Cael. His lips flattened and the scowl disappeared.

“What the fuck are we doing here, Tristan?”

“Being punished by a she-devil. Solving a mystery. Flirting with off-limits mortal women.”

“Pretty sure that Beastrunner abbess would claw your balls off if you got them anywhere near her flock. I heard she’s a polar bear bi-form, but no one’s ever seen her animal.”

“Twenty drachas says I can bring it out of her before we leave.”

Cael snickered. “I’m not taking that bet. You’re deranged enough to do it for the entertainment value alone.”

Tristan kept his words and body language as casual as possible. This was the most his friend had spoken in a month, and he didn’t want to break the spell.

“Speaking of off-limits mortal women,” Cael continued, “what was up with you and that dark-haired Sister? She looked like she wanted to claw your balls off too.”

Tristan huffed a laugh and stretched out onto his bed, placing a hand behind his head. He knew precisely and in great detail what he wanted that little Daredevil to do to his balls, had been fantasizing about it for days. “It’s nothing.”

It wasn’t, but he wasn’t quite ready to have that conversation with Cael.

The Sister had smelled interested in him the other night at the Fang and Claw. But given this new information, especially that pesky chastity vow, he wasn’t quite sure where he stood. Probably nowhere.

But even if he couldn’t have her in the ways he and his cock wanted, he felt stupidly excited at the promise of spending several weeks in her presence.

“I helped her escape Opheron on Saturday night, over by the Empress’s Lap. She was disobeying about a dozen of her order’s rules just by being downtown that night. Guessing she was worried I’d expose her to the abbess. Little does she know what a gentlemale I am.”

Cael barked a laugh and Tristan echoed it, wondering what had finally pulled his friend from his stupor.

“The sooner we replace these missing Sisters, the sooner we can get back to some real assignments,” Cael said, picking at his elongated canines. “I’m going to get that Delos patrol, so help me Anaemos. But I’m not going to earn it by solving small potatoes cases like this.”

“You never know. Find his daughter alive, and Grigori Pacha might do you all kinds of favors. Put in a good word with the Vicereine. Send a recommendation letter to the Emperor. Get on his knees and suck your massive cock.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you think it’s massive? I’m flattered.”

Tristan’s entire body relaxed at the banter, grateful to have even a small piece of his friend back.

“I can’t believe they cleaned out this place already.” Tristan dipped his chin, surveying the spotless room. “The abbess was worried enough to contact the Vicereine but not worried enough to treat this like a crime scene? After our tour tomorrow, we’ll have to ask to pull the memories of the missing Sisters’ roommates. They might not have noticed anything out of place, but if we can view them ourselves, we might catch something they didn’t. Maybe our new neighbors can help?”

Cael shook his head, chuckling. “You are way too obvious, Ghostwalker.”

Tristan shrugged, not caring that he wore his heart on his sleeve. He’d known the painful consequences of denying his feelings. And Shrouded Sister or not, he hadn’t been this fascinated by a female—mortal or Fae—in decades. Centuries maybe. He felt compelled to explore whatever had passed between them the other night before she’d bailed. Even if it came to nothing.

Tristan had to know if the little Daredevil could be tamed.

He suspected not.

And smiled as he anticipated the ride of his life.