Aerdeca and Mordaca gave identical shrugs, then left the room.
Roarke turned to us, keeping his voice low. “That should do it. He’d forget what the Constable told him. Once Del has mastered her magic, Claire can tell him that she’s fixed everything and hopefully this problem will disappear.”
“How, though?” I asked.
“He mentioned that he thought the demon magic was imbued in an artifact. She can give him a dummy artifact and say that she got rid of the spell that was causing the demons to flock to it.”
“That would work,” Cass said.
“What about the Constable?” Nix asked. “He might know stuff.”
“It sounded like he just thought she was causing trouble and now he’s reported it to the proper authorities. And without Del’s lost necklace, he’ll have no proof.”
“That’s good,” Nix said. “Could work.”
“Yeah, I think it will.” I looked toward the door. “Mordaca? Aerdeca? You can come back now.”
They entered the room. Mordaca rubbed her hands together “Let’s get to work.”
“So, you want the maximum memory loss that will still keep his mind intact?” Aerdeca asked. “That’s about half a day.”
“Yes.”
“Excellent.” Mordaca sauntered to a shelf and removed a heavy onyx bowl and silver-bladed knife.
Aerdeca drifted to Orson’s side and picked up one of his hands.
A shiver raced over my skin and guilt prickled. A hand clasped mine, warm and familiar. I glanced over at Cass.
“This is the right thing,” she said. “Not just because I don’t want anything bad to happen to you—which duh, I don’t—but you’re the Guardian.”
“Whatever that means,” I muttered, but my heart warmed at her words.
“Something important,” Roarke said. “And you won’t learn what it is with the Order after you.”
I nodded, forcing myself to watch Aerdeca take the knife from Mordaca and make a slender cut at Orson’s wrist. As she drained the blood into the bowl, I asked, “This is a lot like those old doctors who bled their patients, isn’t it?”
Mordaca nodded. “It’s a bit barbaric, but effective.”
“For our magic, that is,” Aerdeca said. “It didn’t work so well for the doctors.”
Mordaca sneered. “A bunch of monkeys, mimicking something they didn’t understand.”
“Doctors had been copying blood sorceresses, only without the magic?” Nix asked.
Aerdeca nodded. “Yes. One of them probably saw a blood sorceress heal someone once and tried to achieve the same effect. Didn’t work, obviously, but that didn’t stop them.”
Yet another reason humans shouldn’t be allowed to mimic magic.
After a few more moments of letting Orson’s blood drain into the bowl, Aerdeca returned his wrist to the table. Mordaca dabbed a gray paste onto the wound as Aerdeca gathered ingredients from the shelves.
They worked in tandem, quickly and efficiently, never bumping into each other. It was a dance that they had choreographed to perfection. Aerdeca poured the powders and liquids into the bowl of blood, while Mordaca stirred with a paintbrush. When it began to sizzle, they both smiled.
In low voices, they began to chant over the bowl. The language was foreign, but the intent was clear. Memory loss.
Finally, they quieted, then took the bowl to Orson. Mordaca raised the paintbrush, which dripped grotesquely with blood, and painted a line on Orson’s forehead. It smoked and sizzled, then disappeared, sinking into his skin.
She stepped back and smiled. “That should do it. He’ll wake in a few hours, confused, but fine.”
“Thank you,” Roarke said.
“Don’t thank us, pay us,” Mordaca said.
“We will.” I stepped forward. “But first, I was wondering. A seer said that a magical block was placed upon my ability to control my powers. Can you remove that?”
Aerdeca frowned and stepped forward. She raised her dagger, holding its point toward me. “Prick your finger on this. I will try to see if we can help.”
I poked the blade’s tip with my index finger until pain flared. A drop of blood welled around the silver tip and I removed my hand.
“I’m going to touch your head now.” Aerdeca raised a hand and I nodded.
She placed her fingertips against my forehead as she licked my blood off the tip of her blade. Her magic pulsed on the air, the sound of chirping birds and the feel of a breeze. My mind fuzzed briefly, my thoughts going blurry.
Aerdeca’s eyes widened and she stepped back. “No, we cannot remove that. It is far too powerful, and far too dark.”
My heart dropped. Too dark for the woman who licked blood off a dagger? I wanted nothing to do with that. “Then if you can make Orson forget, can you help me remember something?”
“Maybe,” Aerdeca said.
Mordaca frowned. “That’s a far more difficult and dangerous matter.”
“I’m not afraid of danger.” My whole life was danger these days.
“How dangerous?” Roarke asked.
“It’s nothing like making that man forget a few hours. This goes deep into the mind. Depending on how old the memory is, and how deeply it’s in her mind, it can be deadly,” Mordaca said.
“What do you want to remember?” Aerdeca asked.
A lot of things. “How much can I remember?”
“Pick one thing, start there,” Mordaca said. “You may not even manage that.”
Shit. “I’m supposed to be able to read an ancient demon language. I need it so that I can interpret a map that has directions on it. But I don’t remember how.”
“Did you ever know how?” Mordaca asked.
“Yes. According to a seer called Cassandra.”
“Cassandra?” Aerdeca looked at Mordaca, whose dark brows had risen comically high. “The one at Cambridge?”
“Yes.”
“She’s a descendent of the Cassandra,” Aerdeca said. “The one from Greek myth. If she said it, then it’s correct. She is never wrong.”
“Good. Let’s do it.”
“How long ago did you forget the language?” Mordaca asked.
“No idea.”
“You don’t even know when you once knew this language?” Mordaca exchanged glances with her sister, then looked back at me. “This could kill you.”
“You’d be surprised,” I said. “I seem to be good at popping back.”
Aerdeca grinned. “True.”
And either way, this wasn’t as risky as having dozens of demons coming at me out of nowhere. This procedure only risked my life. The demons were a threat to anyone who was around me.
“Do you have this map with you?” Mordaca asked. “That will help us.”
“I do.” I pulled it out of the bag I’d brought.
“Right, then.” Mordaca pointed at Orson’s body. “Someone needs to get him out of here, then we can start.”
Roarke picked up the body and glanced at us. “Where do I take him?”
“Back to Claire,” Cass said. “She’ll know where to deliver him.”
Roarke looked at me. “Be careful. I’ll be back.”
I nodded, then swallowed hard. Just because I’d come back from death once, didn’t mean I was keen to repeat the experience. But this was the only way.
Roarke left, Orson draped over his shoulder, and I turned to the blood sorceresses. “I don’t need to get on the table, do I?”
“Depends on how much blood we have to take,” Aerdeca said.