Bewitched (Bewitched, #1)(81)

“Yes, who’s this?”

“This is Officer Howahkan. We had a meeting scheduled for a half hour ago, but you never showed.”

My stomach drops. “What meeting?” What does the Politia want with me?

There’s a pause on the line. “We wanted to follow up and ask you a few more questions regarding the death of Miss Evensen.”

I know Charlotte was killed, but—

“I’m sorry, but what does her death have to do with me?”

There’s another long stretch of silence, long enough for me to realize that whatever the officer is talking about, I should remember it.

“You discovered her body,” he finally says.

“What?” I nearly yell into the phone. I was the one who found Charlotte’s body?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Memnon watching me like a hawk. I cross my arms over my chest and turn away from him, feeling like between my exposed flesh and this conversation, he’s seeing entirely too much of me.

There’s more tense silence on the other end of the line.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologize, staring down at the scuffed-up floorboards. “I… My magic eats my memories.” I draw in a long breath. “Did I really find a body?”

I glance over my shoulder at Memnon, but he wears an unreadable expression.

Another pause from the officer. “Yes.”

I almost don’t believe him. I know there’s been a string of killings recently—I do remember that—I even remember running with Sybil and seeing the crime scene tape for one such killing—but to hear I actually discovered one of the bodies? That seems like too big a memory for my magic to expunge.

I head over to my desk, where my planner is laid out. But I don’t even know what day to look at.

Why do I not know what day it is?

“What’s today’s date?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“It’s October fifteenth.”

I find today’s date, and sure enough, there’s a 10:00 a.m. interview with the Politia written into it.

Hell’s fucking spells.

“Can I come over now?” I ask

“That’s fine.” The officer sounds like he’s beyond ready to end this call. “We’ll see you soon.”

I hang up the phone, still staring at my planner, a scowl on my face.

“Little witch, your memory…”

I glance over at Memnon, who’s now sitting up in my bed, looking completely at home and entirely out of place.

His eyes are exceedingly soft as they search mine. “It has left you defenseless.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “I am not defenseless.”

He scowls at me. “I have spent my entire life strategizing. I know a vulnerable position when I see one.”

I glare at him. “You don’t know anything about my life.”

“Not this one, no, but your last one…I have it memorized by heart.”

The look he’s giving me is too intense.

“I’m not Roxilana.” Of course, I remember that random name and not, you know, the dead body I apparently discovered some time ago.

Memnon doesn’t say anything to that, and his expression gives nothing away. I can’t say what his feelings are on the topic.

But that’s an issue for another time.

I turn my attention back to my planner. There are other things written in it, like the Samhain Witches’ Ball, which is two weeks from now, that I’ve literally never heard of. And then there’s a paper due on Wednesday on the use of fresh versus dried ingredients in spellwork. Sounds boring as shit, and maybe that’s why I have no recollection of the thing.

I flip to the previous week, and I read off everything I scheduled. To my horror, I can only remember a couple of events, like the lycanthrope party I attended with Sybil. But even that memory is mostly gone; only the end of the evening stands out, when Memnon attacked Kane. The dozen or so other events I wrote in might as well be for someone else; I recognize none of them.

I make a small noise. Has the memory loss ever been this bad?

“What’s the matter?” Memnon’s voice is right behind me. I jolt at the sound of it. I don’t know how he managed to sneak up on me.

I turn and get an eyeful of his chest.

“Selene?”

I glance up at him. Gone is the vicious man I’ve come to know. He looks genuinely concerned.

“My memories over the past week,” I say softly. “Most of them are gone.”

My hands shake, and my eyes well with tears.Damn it, I’m not going to cry. I saved a girl’s life last night. What are a few memories compared to that?

This is why I have my system in place. I’ll figure it out.

I let out a pathetic sniffle, one that Memnon had to hear.

“Ugh,” I say, swallowing. “I’m sor—”

Memnon gathers me to him, pulling me into a hug. “Don’t finish that sentence, little witch. You don’t ever need to apologize to me—not for this.”

My face is pressed against his massive chest, his body enveloping mine. I don’t let myself overthink the moment; instead, I wrap my arms around his torso and hold him close. It feels so good to be held.

“Thank you,” I say softly. “For your magic—and bringing me back here.”