The Memory Puller (The Memory Puller Series Book 1)
The Memory Puller: Chapter 25

Friday night. Two nights from now.

That’s when Tristan intended to bring Cassandra back to the Empress’s Lap and use her to lure Opheron.

He didn’t say how he intended to do that; though, in all fairness, she hadn’t asked and didn’t really want to know since she’d just worry over it for the next two days.

Mistress Eklan shooed Cassandra and Tristan out of the kitchen just before the beginning of the evening meal, and Tristan squeezed her shoulder in farewell as he made his way to his assigned seat. Mother Superior had flanked herself with two wing-accommodating chairs. Sisters Christos and Andino had stolen the seats next to the Guards, ignoring glares from the Sisters who normally sat there.

Cassandra shook her head, chuckling as she took her own seat across from Xenia.

The two friends hadn’t had a chance to catch up since the library this morning, occupied with Temple shifts and then Cassandra’s kitchen duty.

Xenia welcomed her with a broad smile, nodding towards the abbess and the two Vestians.

“Her new pets,” Xenia said.

“Indeed.”

“Let’s hope they don’t piss on the carpets.”

Cassandra barked a laugh, catching Tristan’s gaze across the bustling room as he shot her a questioning smile. She shook her head, dismissing him.

“Did Tristan follow you to the kitchen?” Xenia asked.

“He was there before I got there. I think Mistress Eklan is already madly in love. He was addressing her as Eugenia.”

Xenia giggled, her curly blond ponytail bobbing behind her.

Cassandra continued, “He made most of tonight’s dinner, so if it’s terrible, we’ll know who to blame. I peeled the potatoes.” She patted herself on the back.

Xenia gestured to Cassandra’s hand. “What happened?”

Cassandra’s face heated as she recalled the warm, slippery sensation of her thumb in Tristan’s mouth.

“Nothing, I…cut myself chopping onions.”

Mother Superior cleared her throat and the chatter dissolved.

“Sisters,” the abbess intoned, rising, “tonight we give thanks not only to our Goddess Letha but to Vicereine Lykan for sending us these two strong, capable warriors. May the High Gods guide them on their path as they endeavor to protect us and rescue our missing Sisters.” Both Fae males shifted, uncomfortable with the praise. Mother Superior bowed to them as Sisters Andino and Christos beamed from either side.

The abbess picked up her water glass. “Praise Letha. Praise the Vicereine. Praise the High Gods.”

“Praise Letha! Praise the Vicereine! Praise the High Gods!” the Sisters echoed, drinking from their glasses.

“Let us eat,” the abbess said.

Pewter serving trays clattered onto the tables, half of them containing fragrant chicken stew in an herbed tomato sauce and the other half containing fried potatoes slathered in butter and chives.

Cassandra scooped piles of each onto her plate and dug into the stew first. The tender chicken melted in her mouth, the sauce tangy and sweet with bursts of that fresh, licorice-forward flavor.

She’d never tasted anything so divine in her life.

She glanced up at Xenia, who wore a similar expression of ecstasy.

“Bountiful Faurana,” Cassandra said around a mouthful of stew. “This may be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

“So far,” Xenia winked. “Yeah, add cooking to the list of your boyfriend’s many talents.”

“He’s not a boy, he’s like two hundred years old.”

Silence settled between them, stretching longer than usual as they both devoured the meal. Cassandra knew Xenia had something on her mind but was reluctant to share it.

“Just say it, Zee. I can hear you thinking from all the way over here.”

Xenia whispered across the table, unnecessary since the two Sisters who normally sat beside them had joined the crowd forming around Mother Superior and the two Vestians. “How long are you going to keep the robberies a secret from Tristan and Cael?”

Cassandra sighed. “I don’t know. As long as I can.”

“Do you want me to pull your memories from this most recent one?”

“No,” Cassandra said. “You shouldn’t. I don’t think it’s connected to our Sisters’ disappearances, but there are too many odd coincidences to be sure. Probably best that I hold on to the details for now.”

Xenia’s face tightened with worry, but she didn’t press the issue further. Though she did bring up another. “What are you going to do about the family who was supposed to receive the payout?”

Cassandra took a deep swig of her water. “I have no idea. I thought I might sneak into the garden tonight? Harvest as much food as I can without drawing attention and take it to them.”

Cassandra placed her head in her hands, massaging her temples to chase away her burgeoning headache.

“Aren’t you worried about sneaking out with the two winged marvels on duty?”

Cassandra snorted. “The thought honestly hadn’t crossed my mind. This may sound crazy, but I feel like Tristan would cover for me.”

“Oh he’d cover—”

“High Gods, Zee, for someone so chaste, you can turn anything dirty.” Cassandra chuckled, cutting her friend off before the vulgarity spilled out.

Cassandra glanced towards the dark-haired Fae warrior and tittering crowd of Sisters in his thrall. His features were animated, his hands gesticulating wildly, no doubt in the middle of a thrilling tale of some misadventure. Sister Andino leaned in so close that she barely occupied an inch of her own chair, her coppery braid snaking across his thigh.

Cassandra turned to her friend and rolled her eyes. Xenia shrugged, pushing away from the table and unfolding her long limbs as she stood.

As her chair scraped the tiles, Cael shouted from across the room to catch her attention. “Sister Cirillo!”

Xenia froze, unsure of where to place her hands as they fluttered around her waist like confused birds.

Cael jogged over, his floppy ash-brown hair and glistening gray wings bobbing. “I could use your help again, if you’re not busy? Would you mind accompanying me to the library?”

“I… uh… um…” Xenia glanced towards Cassandra.

Deep breaths, Cassandra mouthed.

Xenia managed to suck in a deep breath through her nose.

“No, I’m not busy, Officer Zephyrus,” she said, calm and steady. “What can I help you with?”

“I’ll explain on the way over.” He gestured to the archway. “After you.”

Xenia glanced at Cassandra, who offered a small wave before mouthing Tell me later!

Cassandra watched the powerfully built Guard follow her lithe friend into the atrium and caught the beginning of Cael’s request before his words faded out of earshot.

“I want to dig deeper into the history of Trophonios and…”

Cassandra chugged the last of her water, then pushed away from the table, piling her used napkin and utensils onto her plate. She tried to be considerate to the livvies, always started cleaning for them.

She looked towards Tristan, and he paused his story as their eyes met. She waved with her bandaged hand, and he sent her a crooked smile and two-fingered salute before resuming his spirited tale.

Cassandra chuckled, grateful for the unwitting accomplice enchanting the Sisters while she went to raid the gardens for the Callas family.

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Tristan crossed his massive arms over his broad chest, his beautiful wings and shapely legs splayed—a warrior’s stance. His handsome face lacked its typical joviality, replaced with the hardened stare of a commander accustomed to being obeyed.

Cassandra would’ve been incredibly turned on if she wasn’t so pissed at him. Was still a little turned on despite her anger.

She glared up at him, hands on hips, trying not to look intimidated.

The face-off occurred on the narrow strip of grass between their windows and the wooded area behind the Cloisters. Dusk had fallen, the last golden shimmers of the day peeking over the edge of the world under cotton candy clouds. A brine-scented breeze and the rush of crashing waves floated up from the Sea of Thetis at the bottom of the cliff. A burlap sack teeming with a rainbow of vegetables sat at Cassandra’s feet—her offering for the Callas family.

Now if she could just convince this stubborn mass of muscle to let her pass.

She’d been so sure he’d cover for her, had even tapped on his window to let him know she’d be out running an errand. As soon as Cassandra hinted she was leaving, he squeezed through the window to stop her.

“I don’t understand why this is a problem.” She cringed at her whining but couldn’t help her petulance given the urgency. “I’ve been off these grounds plenty of times. With you, no less! How is this different?”

“My task here is to keep you—all of you—safe. What if something were to happen to you out there? I wouldn’t be able to—” He paused, chose his next words carefully. “It would reflect poorly on my job performance.”

“Afraid of being assigned to the sewers?”

Oh crap.

Tristan cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “How do you know about that?“

Cassandra laughed nervously, waving a dismissive hand. “Everyone knows it’s the worst post in the colonies. I’m surprised the Vestians handle it instead of the mortal police force.”

“Quit trying to change the subject. You’re not leaving these grounds alone. End of discussion.”

Cassandra groaned, running her hands through her chocolate waves. She’d changed into the simple muslin dress that she’d worn to Dienses Square on Saturday, the Typhon steel dagger tucked into her leather belt at her back. She’d put on her fingerless gloves as well. Even though Mistress Callas knew she was a Shrouded Sister, no one else in the slums did. At least, not that she remembered.

She was about to start ranting when she recognized the offer he’d subtly thrown her.

“You won’t let me go alone. But you’ll let me go if I take you with me?”

He smiled and opened his arms wide, all hints of intransigence gone. “I thought you’d never ask. Where are we headed, Daredevil?”

She hauled the sack off the ground. “I need to deliver this to a family that I’ve been helping. A young widow with three children. Do you know where Gilmor Street is? Few blocks from the harbor?”

“Yes. Rough neighborhood. You honestly thought I’d let you go over there alone?”

“Let me? Next time, I won’t tell you,” she mumbled.

He grabbed her shoulders and brought his face mere inches from hers, ferocity shadowing his features. “Someone is looking for a formula that only you and your Sisters can provide. Likely the same someone that has already abducted two of them. Do you understand the danger you’re exposed to every time you leave these grounds?”

She clenched her jaw, refusing to admit she’d done anything wrong. “I’ve been doing so for years, long before I met you. I don’t need some hard-headed, burly babysitter fighting my battles! How many different ways can I say this, Tristan? I can take care of myself.”

He squeezed her shoulders. “Things are different now, and you know it. You are not that naive, so quit pretending to be. Promise me that you won’t go sneaking off alone. Take me or Cael with you. Please, Cassandra.”

He looked more distressed than she’d ever seen him. She didn’t dare think too long about why. She huffed an irritated breath that ruffled the onyx strands of his hair. “Fine. I promise. But you’re not taking back my dagger.”

Tristan chuckled, his tension easing. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But at least let me secure it for the flight.” He reached behind her, trailing his fingers down her spine and making her breath catch. Of course, he noticed. His eyes twinkled and the side of his mouth curved up. He plucked the dagger from her belt and placed it in the empty sheath at his hip.

He clamped a hand around her ribs, grazing the side of her breast with his thumb, then wrapped his other hand around her thigh and scooped her into his arms. “Hard-headed, burly babysitter at your service.”

She cradled the burlap sack with one arm and looped the other around his powerful shoulders, as unyielding as steel beneath her fingers. Her gaze trailed along his strong jawline, then down the bronzed skin of his neck. She wanted to nuzzle into him, breathe in his ancient, wild scent and lose herself completely.

Cassandra was jolted from her reverie as he cast a blast of air into the ground and launched into the sky with a mighty push of his wings. He settled his hand at her ribs, and the tug against her dress exposed a hint of purple lace at her neckline.

His eyes dipped to the pop of color, then went wide enough to reveal the whites around his honey-brown irises.

“Watch out!” she screamed.

He lifted his head just in time to bank away from the tree he was seconds from crashing into.

Cassandra’s stomach dropped at the swift movement, but not unpleasantly, and her body shook with laughter.

Tristan’s chuckle rumbled into her side, his deep, silky voice resonating as he scolded her. “A little warning next time? I almost killed us. Well, you. I would’ve healed.”

“I knew you couldn’t handle it.”

“Where does a Shrouded Sister even get underwear like that?” he grumbled.

She laughed louder, and he squeezed her close, pushing his wings harder and increasing speed as he aimed for the western edge of the city.

Thalenn’s harbor unfurled below—a juxtaposition of two diverging worlds. Fishing boats, catamarans, and schooners, all powered by man or wind, crammed the harbor’s mortal side. A few gigantic, magically powered watercraft dominated the Fae side: two cargo ships and a luxurious yacht, likely owned by one of the Fae government officials.

Fishermen crowded the mortal docks, racing the approaching twilight as they hauled in their catches, shooing the cawing gulls scavenging for their own.

Tristan glided over the din and the gulls scattered at his booming wings in recognition of the apex predator in their midst. He banked towards the neighborhood beyond the docks.

It was a stretch to call the collection of crooked streets and ramshackle tenement buildings a neighborhood. Mortals dressed plainly in clothes designed for hard labor and harder living hurried through the streets to and from shifts at the Delirium factory.

Vestian Guards frequently visited the slums, so the stream of mortals flowed undisturbed as Tristan landed in the middle of Gilmor Street. His boots sank into the squelching mud that passed for the roadway.

Cassandra tried to jump down, but he tightened his grip. “You sure you want me to put you down here? Might be cleaner if I carried you.”

She smirked at him. “Reluctant to let me out of your arms, Birdman?”

“I’d keep you here forever if you’d let me.” He stroked his index finger along the underside of her breast, and she swatted him, giggling.

“I’ve waded through the muck before.” She lowered her voice to a breathy whisper. “I’m not afraid to get a little dirty.”

Tristan closed his eyes and groaned. “Don’t tempt me, woman.”

Cassandra chuckled. “There’s a plank walkway behind you. It’s not much cleaner, but it’s solid. Put me down there.”

He craned his head, and it was all Cassandra could do to not drag her teeth along the vein pulsing in his neck.

“I see it.” Tristan gingerly tore his boots from the mud and waddled over to the walkway. He lowered Cassandra onto the planks, agonizingly slowly, holding her close and dragging her down his body. Her feet hit the planks, and he grabbed the vegetable sack, looping it over his shoulder. They stared at each other for a few breaths, bodies pressed together, his fingers splayed across her lower back.

Cassandra’s blood rushed beneath her skin as an internal battle raged, half of her screaming at the irresponsibility as the other half begged the High Gods to let her taste his mouth, just once.

He closed his eyes and pressed their foreheads together, his breathing hard and fast, struggling as much as she was with the boundaries she’d placed upon them.

“Sister!” A little voice shouted from above, shattering the trance. “Sister, you came to see us again!”

Mistress Callas’s middle child, Benjamin, poked his ginger-haired head through the railing five stories above.

Benjamin was five, thin and small for his age, and always wore a smile on his freckled face. He’d lost his two front teeth, so his greeting sounded more like Thithter.

Stepping out of Tristan’s arms, Cassandra beamed up at Benjamin, tears prickling at the thought of what she’d hoped to provide him, his mother, and his two siblings during this visit.

“Hey Bennie!” she choked out, her voice thick and uncooperative. She cleared her throat. “Go tell your mother I’m here, okay? And I brought a friend!” Tristan grinned, waving up at the boy.

“Whoa. Are you a Vestian Guard? I wanna be one when I grow up! My mom says I can’t because I don’t have wings, but I don’t believe her.”

Tristan laughed. “I’ll put in a good word with the Vicereine for you.”

Benjamin gawked. “That would be amazing!”

“Bennie, go tell your mother, please. We’ll be right up. If you hurry, there might be time for Officer Saros to take you flying.” Cassandra nudged Tristan and he pinched her arm, willing to play along.

“Okay!” The young boy bolted upright and dashed across the balcony, his excited feet pounding the wooden planks like a boy three times his size.

As soon as Benjamin disappeared inside, Cassandra burst into tears, burying her face in her hands and forcing down the sobs that threatened to consume her.

“Hey, hey,” Tristan whispered, prying her hands from her face. “It’ll be okay. We’ll fix this.”

We. She hadn’t meant to drag him into this, but a kernel of hope bloomed in her chest.

She took a shuddering breath, and he cupped her cheeks, wiping her tears away with his callused thumbs.

“Pull yourself together, Daredevil. You’re a mess.”

She sniffled a laugh, her tear-soaked eyelashes blurring his lopsided grin. “How, Tristan? How could we possibly fix this?” The Broker’s death had all but guaranteed that her days as Thalenn’s Savior Sister were over. “Mistress Callas will be grateful for the food, but how long can it last? She’ll be back at the Temple selling her memories next week. And what will become of those children if she’s obliviated?” Tears prickled anew as she pictured a thin, frail woman with silver-streaked hair and dark, vacant eyes.

“I will not let that happen, Cassandra,” Tristan whispered. “Do you trust me?”

High Gods help her, she did.

Her heart cracked open at the sincerity she found in his eyes.

“Let’s go deliver this food you so graciously collected, then I’ll give Bennie the thrill of his young life. And tomorrow, we will fix this. I promise.”

He stroked his thumb across her lower lip, and despite her despair, wet heat surged between her thighs. As if he wanted to remind her that such pleasures were possible despite the world’s bleakness. She was grateful for it, the arousal pulling her from the pit she’d almost toppled into. Even as her annoyance simmered over how easily he wielded control over her body.

His nostrils flared, and he flashed her a wicked smile, sharp canines gleaming. “Don’t think we have time for that, friend.”

She pushed him away, laughing as she wiped away her tears. “You’re obnoxious.”

“You’re the one with all the supposed restraint.”

“I’m bringing Cael next time.”

Tristan’s thunderous laugh, fast becoming one of Cassandra’s favorite sounds in the world, drew the attention of a few passing mortals.

She pushed past him and trod down the planks, turning into a narrow, low-ceilinged hallway that accessed the building’s stairwell. Tristan, right on her heels, ducked low and tucked his wings to keep from dragging them across the walls.

They marched up five flights of stairs, arriving at a landing covered in peeling red paint with a filthy window. Cassandra was slightly winded, a faint sheen of sweat glowing at her temples. Her legs were warm but not burning thanks to the Sisters’ mandatory training sessions.

Tristan showed no hint of effort whatsoever. Curse his glorious Fae body.

Cassandra turned into a dimly lit hallway lined with numbered doors. A thick miasma of smells and sounds surrounded her—the detritus of the lives unfolding within the overstuffed building. She scented garlic and onions cooking, plus other pungent, unrecognizable spices that made her mouth water. Babies cried, couples argued, and children shrieked with laughter, their energetic footsteps as loud as Benjamin’s.

She stopped before number 514 and rapped gently on the thin wood door. It opened, and Benjamin beamed up at her, bouncing on his tiny feet and poking his tongue through the space where his teeth had been on her last visit. “Is there time for a flight?”

Cassandra giggled, crouching down to pinch his cheek. “If you ask nicely. And invite your brother.”

A serious-looking boy kicked his shoe against the twin-sized metal bed frame, the only bed in the room.

Mistress Callas’s oldest son, eight-year-old Lukas, sported the same ginger hair as his brother, but his eyes were deep and dark—an old soul surveying the world through a child’s gangly body. As if he already understood the weight his mother bore, how close their family was to destitution.

That world-weary fatigue hadn’t always stained his eyes. In Mistress Callas’s older sacrificed memories, before her husband’s accident, Lukas had seemed as carefree as his younger brother. Cassandra’s chest clenched at the thought of all Lukas had lost, forced to grow up too quickly.

Mistress Callas glanced up from a chair in the corner, baby Gwendolyn clamped onto her breast mid-feeding. “Sister Fortin, what are you doing here?” The woman’s tired eyes bugged out of her head at the enormous Fae warrior in the hallway.

Cassandra stepped into the cramped room barely larger than her own bathing chamber. “You don’t need to be afraid. This is Officer Tristan Saros, my…escort.”

Tristan cocked an indignant eyebrow, and she fought to suppress a laugh.

Benjamin rushed over and almost jumped into his mother’s lap, bouncing with hands braced on her thighs. “Please, Mama, please, can he take Lukas and me for a flight? I promise we won’t fight for a whole week if you say yes! Please?”

Mistress Callas looked to Cassandra with a concerned question written across her face.

Cassandra placed a hand on her shoulder. “They will be completely safe. You have my word.”

Tristan ducked his head through the door but didn’t step all the way in. As if he knew the sight of his enormous body in the tiny space would be too painful for Mistress Callas to witness. He placed the sack of vegetables on the floor across the threshold. “I flew Sister Fortin over here without dropping her. I’m sure I can handle these two young gentlemen, Mistress.”

He threw Mistress Callas one of his broad, charming smiles, and the woman noticeably relaxed, exhaling a tiny sigh.

“Puh-leeeeeease, Mama!” Benjamin prostrated himself at his mother’s feet.

Mistress Callas laughed at her son’s dramatics, shifting the baby in her arms. “Okay, Bennie, okay. Calm down. Yes, you and Lukas can go on a flight—a short one—as long as Officer Saros is sure he can handle you heathens?”

“I’m a Vestian Guard, Mistress. I’ve dealt with far worse,” Tristan said.

“I very much doubt that.” Mistress Callas offered a weary smile.

Tristan chuckled. “We won’t be long. A few laps to the water and back should do it. Come on, boys, the skies await!”

Benjamin barreled over and hugged Tristan’s thigh, his small arms barely fitting all the way around. Tristan ruffled Benjamin’s hair before his gigantic hand swallowed the boy’s tiny one.

Lukas crawled off the bed, timidly approaching Tristan who extended his other hand towards the shy boy.

“Wouldn’t be proper to take a flight without the man of the house,” Tristan said.

Lukas bowed his head, a cautious smile spreading as he tugged his coppery hair. He trudged over to Tristan and grabbed his outstretched hand.

“Alright ladies, we’re off! Don’t worry for us while we’re on our adventure.” He winked at Cassandra as he led the two boys down the hallway.

Cassandra closed the door and picked up the burlap sack. “I know it’s not much, but I brought you some vegetables.”

Mistress Callas removed the baby from her breast and rearranged her shirt. She threw a cloth over her shoulder under Gwendolyn’s head and began rubbing the baby’s back to encourage a burp.

“Thank you for your generosity, Sister Fortin. It will not go to waste, especially since I’m down to my last dracha.” She gestured for Cassandra to set the sack upon the small table in the kitchenette.

“Please do not come back to the Temple yet. I have pulled too many of your memories. I’m afraid of what might happen if you return before you’ve had time to build up your reserves.”

“I don’t have a choice, Sister. I will not let my family starve, no matter the risk.” Gwendolyn mewled in her mother’s arms.

Cassandra stepped towards Mistress Callas, held her arms out to take the baby.

Mistress Callas passed the infant over and her head bobbed, her big blue eyes glued to Cassandra’s face as she let out a quiet hiccup. Mistress Callas draped the cloth over Cassandra’s shoulder, and Cassandra nestled the baby against her chest, rubbing her warm, soft back in sweeping circles.

Cassandra pressed her nose to Gwendolyn’s velvety strawberry-blond hair and breathed in her scent—so fresh and new and innocent, not yet tainted by the world’s foulness.

“I swear by the High Gods, Mistress, I will replace a way to help you and your family.”

Mistress Callas laughed, a dry, bitter cackle. “The High Gods abandoned us long ago, Sister. The only Goddess who stalks these halls is the Stranger.”