Devilish Game (Shadow Guild: The Rebel 4)

“That will have to do.” She turned and strode to a shelf, taking a small golden rock from it. Quickly, she returned to me and handed me the stone. “Grip this tight in your hand and think of her. Put a memory directly into it.”

She handed it to me, and the stone was cold in my hand—icily so.

Which memory?

Would it be the memory I would give up? No, because I had to give up so many more.

Before I could think too long on it, an image of her flashed into my mind. Her smile as she laughed. The image was so blazing bright that I couldn’t get it out of my head.

In my hand, the stone warmed, becoming so hot that it was difficult to hold. I opened my fist at looked down at it, taking in the glowing golden orb.

“Yes, that will do.” Cyrenthia plucked the stone from my hand.

I wanted to grab it back, but I tightened my fist, resisting.

She hurried to the large table in the center of the room and began to work, mixing ingredients and conjuring a tiny fire right on the surface of the table. The little cauldron hovered right over the flames as she stirred, pink smoke wafting from it.

“I’m going to need a drop of your blood,” she said.

I approached and pricked my thumb on my fang, savoring the bite of pain that centered my thoughts. I hovered my hand over the cauldron, letting the blood drip. The surface of the potion was a deep red that bubbled when I added my blood. She added hers second, then dropped the small rock into the liquid. Light burst, and a noise cracked loud enough to reverberate against my ear drums.

On the far side of the room, I caught sight of Cordelia. The little raccoon sat in the shadows, watching me with judging eyes. Almost as if she knew what I was doing.

I frowned at her.

It was the only way.

And I didn’t want to be doing it. I had no choice. Not if I wanted Carrow to survive.

Cyrenthia turned to me and pressed a goblet into my hands. Across the room, Cordelia disappeared.

I stared down at the liquid in the cup, a tightness in my chest that was distinctly unfamiliar.

“Drink,” she said.

Like an automaton, I raised the cup to my lips and drank. It burned going down, leaving a trail of dread in its wake. Desperately, I tried to remember things as the potion sought to steal them.

“Don’t fight it,” Cyrenthia said.

“I’m not.

“You are.”

“I can’t help it.”

She frowned. I drew in a steady breath and forced myself to let the potion take effect. My mind began to fog, memories slipping away like smoke on a breeze.

In their place, emptiness filled me. Sadness, as well—a strange mourning that I’d never felt before.

Carrow.

I could still remember why I was here, but as I thought her name, an emptiness filled me. My chest ached. I struggled not to think of her, not to go hunting for the memories that were gone.

“I’m not sure it worked very well.” Cyrenthia frowned deeply, dissatisfaction in her eyes.

“What?” I searched my mind, looking for the positive memories that I knew had once been there. “My memories are gone.”

“Yes, but the bond between you is too powerful.”