“Did you have any luck?” I asked.
“No.” Disappointment was stark in Nix’s voice. “Memory is a hard one for them—particularly remembering. And recalling big pieces of the past isn’t possible. The process would kill me. I decided it wasn’t worth it.”
“But they can make Orson forget?” Cass asked.
“I hope so,” Nix said. “It’s at least a possibility.”
“Then let’s try,” Roarke said. He still clearly didn’t like the idea of relying on illegal magic, but he’d do it. For me.
Why, I didn’t know. But I had to thank the fates that he was on my side.
Chapter Seven
Getting Orson’s body into the car wasn’t fun—again, I felt like I was in the mob—nor was the surprise attack by another demon who appeared out of nowhere right after we shoved Orson into the backseat. Claire took care of the demon as I climbed into the passenger seat. Cass and Nix piled into the back with Orson, who slumped against the window.
“We really need to get this demon thing taken care of,” Cass said as she watched Claire kick some demon ass.
“No kidding.” It was for sure getting worse. I clutched the bag I’d brought, which contained the map.
Fortunately, we made it to Darklane without further incident. The neighborhood where Aerdeca and Mordaca lived and ran their shop looked dark and dingy even in the light of the mid-day sun. No matter how brightly it shined, it couldn’t cut through the grime covering the once colorful paint of the old buildings.
Roarke found a spot right in front of their door, but we didn’t have to be particularly stealthy with a body in this neighborhood. No one would dream of going to the police here. Particularly to help an Order member.
Roarke slung Orson’s body over his shoulder, his face slightly pained, probably at the idea that he was currently carrying an Order member into a place that practiced black magic. But when his gaze slid over me, it cleared. Like he was reminded of why he was doing this.
I turned to the stairs, trying to reconcile the distant guy he’d been lately with the one who was here now, protecting me by breaking his own rules. I failed.
Before I reached the top, the door opened.
Aerdeca, dressed in her usual impeccably tailored white pantsuit, stood in the doorway and stared at us with a blond brow arched.
“You’re alive, Del.” Her voice was cool as rainwater, but sweeter. Her lips twitched up at the corners, just a couple millimeters. It was the biggest smile I’d ever seen her give, but it was genuine.
She and her sister had been at the battle that had killed me. I’d hoped they hadn’t seen my body and that we could play it off as a bad injury that’d taken a while to recover from. No luck, apparently.
“Wasn’t ever dead,” I said.
“Hmmm.” She blinked her blue eyes impassively. “Then to what do I owe this pleasure?”
Her magic flowed over me, sounding like chirping songbirds. With her pale good looks and lovely voice, you’d think she was a pushover. Far from it. I’d seen her in action. She was tough and scary.
Two things I respected.
“Can we step inside?” Roarke asked.
She sighed and stepped back. “I suppose.”
We hurried into the dimly lit foyer that felt like it should be in the Addams family movie. All dark wood walls with black and white tile flooring. Ever-blooming black roses climbed up the staircase bannister.
Aerdeca gestured with white-tipped nails and headed to the back of the foyer. “You’d better bring him this way.”
We followed her across the tiled floor and into a short hallway that led immediately into a workshop. Shelves stuffed full of crystals and jars lined the walls. A hearth lay dead in the corner, its embers now dark. The scent of wood smoke lingered, along with a floral aroma from the herbs that hung from the ceiling. A massive wooden table sat in the middle of the room.
Aerdeca walked around to the other side of the table, looking entirely out of place in her white suit. She should be in a boardroom instead of here.
She pointed to the table, blue eyes calm. “You may as well put him on the table.”
Roarke offloaded his burden, still knocked out cold. Cass and Nix leaned over him, peering down at his slack face.
“What is it that you want?” Aerdeca asked.
“I’d like you to make him forget something,” I said.
Her brows rose. “That’s not easy. It’ll be expensive.”
“It’s worth it.” Ancient Magic had been doing well lately, bringing in more money than we were used to. I’d have less cash in my account and lucky charms stash, but paying the bill wouldn’t be a problem.
“Excellent,” Aerdeca said. “Let me get Mordaca. She’s going to need to help.”
“Oh, boy.” Cass whistled as Aerdeca left. “Mordaca’s not going to like that. This is like midnight for her.”
I grinned. There was something so prickly about Mordaca that I kind of liked poking at her.
It didn’t take long for Aerdeca to return with Mordaca trailing behind her. Mordaca’s hair was up in its usual bouffant, though slightly flattened on one side. The mask of black eye makeup that she wore was smudged, and her black silk robe draped over her Barbie-doll figure. Even in the middle of the night—which it was, for her--she looked like a sexy lady of darkness who’d just gotten off an all-night bender.
“Do you even realize what time it is?” Mordaca’s raspy voice filled the room, followed by the whiskey taste of her magic. “It’s the middle of the night.”
“It’s two in the afternoon,” I said.
“It’s the middle of my night.” She pointed at herself with one of her glossy black fingernails, her brows arched. “And that’s what matters.”
I grinned. “Sorry about that. We were hoping you’d be willing to help us.”
“For a price.”
“Aerdeca mentioned that,” I said. “It’s fine.”
“Memory eraser for this fellow.” Aerdeca poked him and glanced at me. “He’s an Order member, isn’t he?”
“And I assume he knows something incriminating about one of you three.” Mordaca’s gaze traveled between me, Cass, and Nix.
“Me!” I stepped forward. Mordaca knew we all possessed forbidden magic, but I didn’t want her pointing it out in front of Roarke. “I’m the one.”
“Ah, that little trick you pulled with coming back from the dead?” Aerdeca asked.
I frowned.
“Don’t worry,” Mordaca said. “Your secret’s safe with us.”
“And soon, this fellow won’t have it either.” Aerdeca pointed to Orson. “But memory control is difficult. Very precise. You’ll have better luck if he forgets a certain period of time rather than a thing.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Can we do the last few days?” Ever since he’d learned what I was. We could knock this problem out real quick.
Aerdeca shook her head. “Not if you want him to have any kind of higher functioning reasoning left. The best we can do is half a day. He’d be groggy and feel a bit weird, probably have a killer headache.”
That wasn’t ideal.
“Could you give us a moment?” Roarke asked.