had power, especially when offered freely.
She hadn’t told Jesse why the Hecate was so invested in her. Caitlin wanted to give her sister more time as a normal human first – a couple of years, maybe, for her to be together with Paul, to learn how to truly love. Then she would tell Jesse about her destiny.
But first, Caitlin had to figure out why Jesse was unconscious and glowing.
She squatted next to Jesse and created a magical probe, one that would tell Caitlin more about the magic in play. It shimmered, lit up like a miniature nova, and incinerated. She murmured, “The spell that did this is still active.”
“The glowing sort of tipped me off,” said Paul.
She ignored the sarcasm. “Between the faintness of the glow and the colour, it looks like this has to do with dreams.”
Paul hunkered down next to her. “You’re saying she’s sleeping?” He squinted at Jesse’s face as if he could will her awake.
“No.” Caitlin peered at the small open box in Jesse’s hand. The patterns in the wood were intricate and beautiful, etched by someone with skill. Staring at those symbols, Caitlin remembered the last time she had seen anything like them before.
She felt the blood drain from her face.
Stop, she told herself. Don’t jump to conclusions.
The torn envelope was on the floor next to Jesse. As Paul had said before on the phone, the package was padded and white, with only MS HARRIS on the front. No address. No information about the sender.
Ms Harris. Not Jesse Harris. Ms Harris. Written in black marker – by a hand that Caitlin recognized.
“Caitlin? What is it?”
Grimacing, Caitlin said, “This package wasn’t intended for her.” She turned to face Paul. “It was supposed to go to me.”
He stiffened.
“That’s a memory box she’s holding,” Caitlin said, pointing at the open box in Jesse’s hand. “When the proper recipient opens a memory box, that person gets to experience a particular memory like it was happening now. It shouldn’t open for the wrong person. Technically, it can’t. It’s made specifically for a particular recipient.”
“But Jesse opened it,” Paul said slowly.
“Maybe it’s because she’s my twin.” More likely, it was because Jesse had been made Caitlin’s twin by magic. “The spell wasn’t meant for her, so what should have been passive instead became aggressive.”
Paul’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “Once more, this time in words I can understand.”
“She’s trapped in a memory.” Caitlin gritted her teeth. “The spell within the box became corrupted when she opened it. If you’d touched her, you would have been sucked into the memory too.”
“Can you help her?”
“Not without also getting pulled into the spell.”
Something dangerous flashed in Paul’s eyes. “We have to do something. We can’t just leave her like this.”
“We won’t,” Caitlin said, dreading her next words. “There’s someone I can call. He’s proficient in memory magic.” Goddess knew, he’d said that very thing too many times to count. “If anyone can free Jesse, it’s him.”
“Who is he?”
Caitlin sighed and closed her eyes. “My ex-husband.”
Aaron Lighter had intended to spend a quiet night at home – just him, a couple slices of pepperoni pizza, a few beers, and both volumes of Kill Bill. Nothing like artful slaughter to cheer him up. He’d been in a funk ever since that afternoon, when he’d finally made the decision to send Caitlin the memory box. He’d crafted it months ago, from selecting the proper solid cedar board and making the initial cuts to bend the corners all the way to etching the outer designs with complex wards.
Every cut he’d made, Aaron had thought of Caitlin Harris.
Adding the memory had been the easy part; he was no master woodworker, but his subtle magicks were his strong suit. And memory was extremely subtle. Malleable.
Maddening.
He laughed bitterly as he popped open the beer bottle. Sending the
She hadn’t told Jesse why the Hecate was so invested in her. Caitlin wanted to give her sister more time as a normal human first – a couple of years, maybe, for her to be together with Paul, to learn how to truly love. Then she would tell Jesse about her destiny.
But first, Caitlin had to figure out why Jesse was unconscious and glowing.
She squatted next to Jesse and created a magical probe, one that would tell Caitlin more about the magic in play. It shimmered, lit up like a miniature nova, and incinerated. She murmured, “The spell that did this is still active.”
“The glowing sort of tipped me off,” said Paul.
She ignored the sarcasm. “Between the faintness of the glow and the colour, it looks like this has to do with dreams.”
Paul hunkered down next to her. “You’re saying she’s sleeping?” He squinted at Jesse’s face as if he could will her awake.
“No.” Caitlin peered at the small open box in Jesse’s hand. The patterns in the wood were intricate and beautiful, etched by someone with skill. Staring at those symbols, Caitlin remembered the last time she had seen anything like them before.
She felt the blood drain from her face.
Stop, she told herself. Don’t jump to conclusions.
The torn envelope was on the floor next to Jesse. As Paul had said before on the phone, the package was padded and white, with only MS HARRIS on the front. No address. No information about the sender.
Ms Harris. Not Jesse Harris. Ms Harris. Written in black marker – by a hand that Caitlin recognized.
“Caitlin? What is it?”
Grimacing, Caitlin said, “This package wasn’t intended for her.” She turned to face Paul. “It was supposed to go to me.”
He stiffened.
“That’s a memory box she’s holding,” Caitlin said, pointing at the open box in Jesse’s hand. “When the proper recipient opens a memory box, that person gets to experience a particular memory like it was happening now. It shouldn’t open for the wrong person. Technically, it can’t. It’s made specifically for a particular recipient.”
“But Jesse opened it,” Paul said slowly.
“Maybe it’s because she’s my twin.” More likely, it was because Jesse had been made Caitlin’s twin by magic. “The spell wasn’t meant for her, so what should have been passive instead became aggressive.”
Paul’s mouth pressed into a hard line. “Once more, this time in words I can understand.”
“She’s trapped in a memory.” Caitlin gritted her teeth. “The spell within the box became corrupted when she opened it. If you’d touched her, you would have been sucked into the memory too.”
“Can you help her?”
“Not without also getting pulled into the spell.”
Something dangerous flashed in Paul’s eyes. “We have to do something. We can’t just leave her like this.”
“We won’t,” Caitlin said, dreading her next words. “There’s someone I can call. He’s proficient in memory magic.” Goddess knew, he’d said that very thing too many times to count. “If anyone can free Jesse, it’s him.”
“Who is he?”
Caitlin sighed and closed her eyes. “My ex-husband.”
Aaron Lighter had intended to spend a quiet night at home – just him, a couple slices of pepperoni pizza, a few beers, and both volumes of Kill Bill. Nothing like artful slaughter to cheer him up. He’d been in a funk ever since that afternoon, when he’d finally made the decision to send Caitlin the memory box. He’d crafted it months ago, from selecting the proper solid cedar board and making the initial cuts to bend the corners all the way to etching the outer designs with complex wards.
Every cut he’d made, Aaron had thought of Caitlin Harris.
Adding the memory had been the easy part; he was no master woodworker, but his subtle magicks were his strong suit. And memory was extremely subtle. Malleable.
Maddening.
He laughed bitterly as he popped open the beer bottle. Sending the
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