The Memory Puller (The Memory Puller Series Book 1)
The Memory Puller: Chapter 26

Cassandra and Xenia retired to the Great Room after dinner on Thursday, nestling into whiskey-colored leather armchairs with a steaming pot of herbal tea flavored with juniper berries and mint perched on the low table before them.

Cassandra relished these cozy twilight hours in the cavernous space when the lavender light of dusk mingled with the amber glow of the magically lit chandelier.

She had barely seen Tristan all day, save for this morning’s amusing spectacle. Tristan and Cael might be the pinnacle of bodily perfection, but their preternatural grace did not extend to the slow, measured poses of the Flow.

She and Xenia barely contained their hysteria as Tristan and Cael toppled into the gravel over and over, unable to balance their wings and hold the poses. Halfway through the session, Cael discharged a frustrated howl and stomped out of the ring, Xenia’s concerned eyes tracking him through the flower-covered trellises.

Tristan shrugged, sheepishly glancing at the Sisters, ashamed of his friend’s outburst. But High Gods bless him, he kept trying, unwilling to admit defeat despite how often he lost his balance.

After the session mercifully ended, Cassandra helped him clean the dust off his exquisite wings, laughing as she brushed her hands along the satiny feathers.

He shivered at her touch, exposing every magnificent, iridescent inch.

She marveled at the colors hidden within each jet-black feather, sunlight illuminating different parts of the spectrum as he moved. The wings connected with his muscled back just beneath his shoulder blades, and she ran a tentative finger along the area where feather met skin.

Tristan moaned suggestively, bringing Cassandra’s attention to her own most sensitive parts. He snapped his wings against his back, dangling his hands in front of his groin as he whispered in her ear. “Careful, friend. I’ll thoroughly embarrass myself in front of all these chaste Sisters if you keep touching me there.”

She shot him a devilish grin and placed her hands on his sweat-soaked shoulders. “You’ve already thoroughly embarrassed yourself in front of them this morning, Birdman.”

He flicked her nose and she darted away, laughing as he gifted her a lazy smile.

That was the last she’d seen of him all day. He hadn’t shown up to any of the meals nor had he joined her for kitchen duty.

Cael had been forced to entertain Mother Superior and the Sisters at the other table. Entertain was a generous description of Cael’s one- or two-word responses to the questions the Sisters peppered him with. Halfway through lunch, they stopped trying and began glancing toward the atrium and Great Room, hopeful that a certain dark-haired, dark-winged Guard would arrive to pick up the conversational slack.

After dinner—bland roast pork that was a bit of a letdown after Tristan’s delicious stew from the night before—Cassandra had ventured into the kitchen.

She approached Mistress Eklan, who was in the icebox taking inventory. “Mistress Eklan? Would you mind if I boil water for tea?”

The old woman paused her pencil’s furious scratching. “Be my guest.”

Cassandra turned to leave, but Mistress Eklan shouted after her: “Where was that gorgeous hunk of muscle today? He’s rather taken with you.” Mistress Eklan peered at Cassandra from underneath unruly eyebrows.

“We’re just friends, Mistress Eklan.”

“You sure about that, girl?”

Cassandra huffed. “In any case, I don’t keep his schedule. I have no idea where he is.”

Mistress Eklan had returned to her task, mumbling to herself, though Cassandra heard every word. “If I were thirty years younger, I would climb him like a tree, chastity vow or no.”

Cassandra was still chuckling at the old woman’s declaration as she sank into the supple leather armchair, trying to ignore the worry coiling in her gut due to Tristan’s absence. She’d been trying to convince herself all day that he was fine, probably following up on off-site leads. Plus, he’d mentioned speaking to the Vicereine today about Cassandra and Xenia officially joining the investigation. And he’d promised they would take care of Mistress Callas. Surely, he’d return any minute.

Cassandra carefully sipped her scalding tea, burning the tip of her tongue but relishing the fresh, sweet taste. “So, how was your trip to the library last night?” She waggled her eyebrows, grateful for the rare opportunity to tease Xenia.

Xenia fiddled with her teacup, ignoring Cassandra’s taunts. “Cael and I spent the first half of the session researching Thalassium. It’s incredibly valuable. A single ounce is worth over a thousand drachas, and only the barest sprinkling is needed to stabilize a hundred-gallon batch of Delirium. It’s rather beautiful, actually. Deep blue in color. And in its raw form, it resembles a diamond.”

Cassandra nearly spit out her tea. Made an effort to swallow it and maintain a calm appearance. Though truthfully, she’d been waiting to hear this confirmation all day. Ever since Tristan had mentioned Thalassium in the kitchen last night.

How long could she possibly keep this secret? It seemed the investigation now hinged on the connection between the Broker, the necklace, and Opheron.

If they were to have any hope of replaceing Cora, Richelle, or Sister Kouris, she’d need to come clean.

“Wow, that’s…that’s interesting,” Cassandra murmured. “What did you spend the second half of the session researching?”

“Texts about Trophonios, the development of Delirium, and the memory extraction ritual. Nothing’s jumped out yet. The whole session, while informative, was disappointingly professional.”

“Then why do you look so dreamy?”

Xenia exhaled a long sigh before slurping from her teacup, then yelped and sucked in her lip as she too boiled her mouth.

“Because he made me feel like I was worth something,” Xenia said. “Like my knowledge was important and…valuable. Like I’m contributing to the search for our Sisters. I’m not fearless like you, Cass. I’m not going to go bounding into Thalenn hunting venomous Fae bastards, interviewing bar owners, or saving families from obliviation. But he was so grateful for my help that I felt useful. You’re the only other person who makes me feel that way. It was nice to have it coming from someone else. Even if I still think he’s an asshole.”

Cassandra chuckled and squeezed her friend’s hand. She’d felt the same way when Tristan had asked for her help.

As Shrouded Sisters, their sphere of influence was limited, and they could do little to change their own circumstances, let alone the circumstances of those around them. Fury over that powerlessness is what had spurred Cassandra to hunt memories and steal treasures in the first place—a need to rebel against a world inclined to disregard her because of her mortal blood and that tattoo on her wrist.

Xenia continued, “There’s plenty more source material to review. He’s asked me to bring some additional texts during his nightly patrol shifts. He mentioned you and Tristan would be off hunting Opheron tomorrow night.”

“Cael told you about that?”

“He did,” Xenia said cryptically.

“Did he tell you how Tristan intends to lure Opheron?”

“He did,” Xenia said, equally cryptically.

“And are you going to share that information with me?”

“No, I don’t think so. You’d just obsess over it tonight and all day tomorrow.” Xenia knew her too well.

“And what makes you think not telling me is going to help?” Cassandra barked incredulously.

Xenia sipped her tea, fluttering her eyelashes at Cassandra over the rim.

Before Cassandra had a chance to argue, the massive wooden door to the Cloisters creaked open, and a crackle of energy ran through her.

As Tristan sauntered in, Cassandra’s tension melted away. His eyes met hers across the room and he strode over. “Sisters, glad I caught you.”

The other Sisters in the room lifted their heads expectantly, then pouted upon realizing they were not the Sisters being addressed.

“Good news. The Vicereine has agreed to make you official civilian members of the investigation team. She’s going to alert Mother Superior as soon as—”

The door slammed open, clattering against the wall with an ear-splitting crack.

An enormous polar bear, reared up on its hind legs with its sharp teeth bared in an aggressive snarl, filled the doorway. The beast’s beady black eyes landed on Cassandra.

Every Sister in the Great Room gasped, gazes darting between the creature and Cassandra.

Even Tristan didn’t dare speak. He moved in front of her chair, his hand at his pistol and his wings flared—braced for an attack.

The polar bear dropped onto its substantial paws with a heavy thud, then padded slowly into the room, head down, hackles raised. A languid, yet predatory pace.

The beast released a bubbling growl as it stalked closer, saliva dripping from its fangs.

Cassandra held her breath, heart racing, as it approached Tristan.

“Step aside, Ghostwalker,” the bear growled in a rough, shredded voice.

Tristan glanced over his shoulder at Cassandra, who nodded, resigned to her fate. He moved behind her chair but didn’t pull his wings in. Nor did he release his pistol.

The polar bear’s white fur rippled, transforming into navy dress robes as its snout flattened and its limbs shortened.

The abbess peered down her graceful nose at Cassandra, who cowered despite her burgeoning defiance.

“Well,” Mother Superior whispered in the quietest, most horrifying voice Cassandra had yet heard, “I’ve just received an interesting message from the Vicereine.”

Silence swept through the room like a chill wind through a graveyard.

“Stand up, Sister Fortin.”

Cassandra obeyed, her robes slipping off the chair and swaying at her feet.

“Do you believe that I am an effective leader?” the abbess asked, catching Cassandra off-guard. Her mouth gaped like a dying fish as she struggled to replace an answer that wouldn’t end in death at a polar bear’s jaws.

The abbess continued, “It would seem to me that if you did replace me an effective leader, you would have rejected any request to join this investigation, as you would have trusted me to handle it.”

Tristan jumped in. “Mother Superior, this is not Sister Fortin’s fault. I requested that the Vicereine make her and Sister Cirillo official team members.”

Mother Superior kept her depthless eyes glued to Cassandra as she addressed Tristan. “And why did you choose these specific Sisters, Officer Saros?”

Cassandra’s heart hammered against her ribs, wondering how Tristan could answer without revealing her nocturnal adventures.

“Well, Abbess, since I need both a skilled Memory Puller and knowledgeable access to the Temple library, they seemed like the natural choice. Do you object to my selections?”

Mother Superior’s gaze flicked to Tristan, nostrils flaring while every other feature on her coldly beautiful face remained utterly calm.

“Far be it from me to question the judgment of a Vestian Guard,” the abbess intoned. “But I’m sure you appreciate that the Sisters must not be distracted from their work, nor subjected to any danger. They will not be excused from training, nor can I shorten their shifts by more than an hour, which you may have following breakfast. Any additional time must be found outside the Temple’s working hours. And I will only allow them to assist you for one week.”

Cassandra’s stomach clenched. One week? To unravel this unholy mess? Impossible.

“One week is plenty, Abbess. Thank you for your generosity. I promise our work will not interfere with the Sisters’ duties. And Officer Zephyrus and I will protect them with our lives. You have my word.”

Tristan bowed to Mother Superior, and the Beastrunner unclenched her hands, placated by his veneration.

Mother Superior glanced between Cassandra and Xenia. “I assume that you two are in agreement with this arrangement?”

“Yes,” the two friends answered in harmony.

“Very well. I will not disobey the orders of the Vicereine. However, I must be kept abreast of all major developments, Officer Saros. You and I shall meet daily for updates.”

Cassandra opened her mouth to object, then thought better of it. She couldn’t shake her suspicions that the abbess was involved in the disappearances somehow. Suspected Mother Superior meant to thwart them by insisting upon these meetings with Tristan. But it would do no good to bring it up now.

“As you wish, Abbess,” Tristan said.

Mother Superior nodded crisply. “A pleasant evening to you all. Praise Letha.”

“Praise Letha!” the Sisters quavered.

Mother Superior pivoted on her heels, sashayed out of the Great Room, and slammed the door behind her.

“Well, that could’ve gone worse,” Xenia chuckled.

“It could’ve gone better, too,” Cassandra mused, sinking into her chair.

“Cael owes me twenty drachas,” Tristan muttered.

“What?” Cassandra asked.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, avoiding Cassandra’s eyes and fidgeting with his jacket’s zipper. “I’ve got to go. If I don’t relieve Cael of his patrol soon, he might smother me in my sleep.”

He squatted in front of Cassandra, bracing his hands on the arms of her chair, then leaned in close, his proximity drawing her blood to the surface of her skin.

She breathed in his spicy, woodsy scent as he whispered, “Meet me outside your window tonight, at midnight when my shift is over. I need to talk to you.”

Cassandra clasped her hands together to mask her trembling.

He knows.

Somehow, he’d figured out that she’d stolen the necklace. What else could he possibly want to talk to her about?

“Goodnight, Sisters,” Tristan addressed the room as he made for the atrium, exalted sighs cascading in his wake.

“What was that about?” Xenia asked.

“He asked me to meet him outside at midnight.”

Xenia’s eyebrows leapt into her hairline.

“Oh stop,” Cassandra chided, fighting to maintain her composure. “I’m sure it’s about the investigation since he’s been gone all day. He said he needs to talk to me.”

Xenia bit her lip, choking on her laughter. “At midnight? If it were about the investigation, he could wait until tomorrow morning. Nuh-uh. I don’t think he intends on doing much talking.”

Could Xenia be right? Surely not. Tristan just wanted to confront her in private, get her to admit what she’d done.

Although the conclusions to which Xenia had jumped gave Cassandra an idea.

Perhaps she could distract him somehow—make him forget all about his accusations.

She sighed as she settled into her chair, sipping her tea and trying to shake off the terrifying encounter with the abbess.

And began formulating a plan.