Killer Moon (Psychic For Hire 2)

“Of course not!”

“Was she out of your sight at any time?”

“No. I was with her the entire time right up until she left.” My cheeks have grown hot with anger and humiliation. It sounds like Theo thinks that I have stolen from him, or allowed India to steal from him.

“Those stones were taken from my inventory,” says Theo grimly. “One contains a powerful memory spell designed to destroy memories, starting with the most recent, and the other is cursed. It’s why your friend is in this comatose state.”

I press my hands to my cheeks in shock. “I had nothing to do with this. Theo, you have to believe me. Can you help her?”

The mixed expression of disbelief and disgusted disappointment on his face makes my insides writhe with humiliation.

“You’re lucky that you asked me to come in, otherwise things would have been much worse for your friend. It’s been only a few hours. I should be able to bring her out of this trance.”

“Thank you,” I say in a small voice. “Will it cause any lasting damage? Or have interfered with her memories of what happened last night?”

“Hopefully not,” he says. “These two amulets should not have been used together. They are not compatible. They were interfering with each other’s designed purpose.”

“And she’ll be okay?”

He nods. “No thanks to whoever did this.” The expression in his eyes lets me know he still thinks it might be me. “After this you and I are going to have to have a serious word about what has happened here.”

I helplessly watch Theo take a piece of leather string out of the bag of supplies that he had brought with him. He threads several small crystals onto it, and then ties it around India’s wrist. He holds both of India’s limp hands. He closes his eyes and seems to concentrate. For more than thirty minutes he chants the same string of incomprehensible words under his breath.

Suddenly India gasps and sits up in bed. She yanks her hands away from Theo’s and clutches them to her chest. She looks at him with wide eyes. “Who are you?” She looks scared.

“This is my friend, Theo,” I say to her quickly. “I asked him to come. I wanted him to help you. You weren’t well.”

She is gasping for breath as if she has had a terrible shock.

“He’s Theo Grimshaw who owns the magic shop,” I explain. “He came to help you.”

I get her a glass of water from her bedside table, and hold it steady while she takes a few sips of it. Theo’s presence here is clearly agitating her. He has backed away from the bed.

“Thank you, Theo,” I say quietly.

I don’t want to discuss what had happened between us in front of India, but I ask him with my eyes to please believe that I had nothing to do with this. “I’ll come and see you tomorrow at the store?”

He gives me a nod before he goes. “Make sure you do.”

I wonder if the only reason he left me alone with her is because of the guard posted outside the door. I hope it is because he believes I would never want to harm India.

“What was that about?” says India when the door has shut behind him. “He looked mad at you.”

“Nothing,” I tell her. “Just a work thing. How do you feel?”

“Really weird. What happened? Is everything okay?”

“You were unconscious for hours. Maybe even all night. They thought you were in a coma. Are you sure you're okay? Do you want me to call a nurse?”

“No, I’m fine,” she says. But then she starts crying. She buries her face into both of her hands and sobs, her shoulders shaking.

I sit down on the bed beside her, hugging her, feeling guilty for thinking that she might have had something to do with what happened to Rachel. “It’s all right, it’s all right,” I say to her over and over until her sobs subside a little bit. Then I ask, “What’s wrong, India?”

“I wish I had never remembered what happened,” she says in despair. “I can’t believe Rachel slept with Charlie. How could she do that to me? It’s no wonder she didn’t want me to move in with him. It’s no wonder she kept telling me that he was no good. And all the while she was sleeping with him.” The words come out in fits and starts, jerky with her anger and rage and grief.

“And I was so angry with her,” she says. “I was saying such awful things to her. And then that man came and killed her. And the last thing I ever said to her were those awful awful things.”

“What man?” I ask her urgently. “Did you remember the man? Do you remember what he looks like?”