Page 6 of Wildfire Witch

Ceridor’s lips pressed into a grim line. “Do you remember Melisande?”

I should’ve known that one too. The more I said no, the more concerned he seemed to be.

“What is your earliest memory?” he finally asked.

A sterile white room.

Restraints. Needles. Burns. Pain.

Shifters in white lab coats.

My throat clicked, and I shook my head. He didn’t need to know about any of that. I’d escaped the fire bros lifetimes ago and evaded them since; generations of shifters had tried to take me back to that room to get their claws on Aodhnait. No matter what else I forgot…the memory of their experiments and their covetous boss never seemed to fade.

I needed to get my mind out of that dark place. “You were going to tell me the rest of your story,” I prompted him.

He breathed a humorless laugh. “I was so desperate for you to remember me that I overlooked a much bigger issue. How are you to know me if you don’t know yourself?”

A flare of fiery temper rose in my chest. “How am I going to knowanythingif we keep dancing around the subject?”

After considering me for a few heartbeats, he inclined his head. “We met eyes while I was doing my duty, but we spoke for the first time when the covens threw a celebration that evening. You were young, younger than you are now. Twenty-two, at most.” His features relaxed slowly while he must’ve pictured that distant past. “The wind lord was too paranoid to let any of his guards off for the night, so I spent the evening up against a wall, hoping for another glimpse of you.

“You came to me with a carafe of wine and two glasses. ‘I cannot partake right now,’ I said. And you scoffed.”

He circled the rim of his ice water with one of his fingers. The memory had brought a carefree smile to his face, a glimpse of the happiness I’d brought this stunning man once upon a time. I liked the sight.

“You said the second glass was for your familiar, but I could hold it for her if I liked. Aodhnait picked that moment to fly through an open window and alight on your shoulder. She was a vision of fire and crimson feathers. To see you together was…breathtaking.”

“Familiar,” I repeated under my breath.

“A vision,”Aodhnait echoed similarly.

I cleared my throat. “This was before the curse, obviously.”

“Indeed. You had not pursued the full extent of your power yet. With Aodhnait as your familiar, you were trying to master the wielding of the four elements. No witch had accomplished such a thing before.”

“Or ever,” I muttered. “When I wield magic now, it comes from her, not me.”

He nodded like this was not news to him. Before he could continue his story, our pho arrived. I inhaled from the cloud of steam rising from the bowl, my belly rumbling hollowly. This was going to be the best lunch I’d had in a long-ass time.

Ceridor watched me add chili oil to my meal, brow raised skeptically. I took a test sip and nodded. It was spicy enough to set the average person on fire, which made it perfect.

He waited for me to take my first bite before picking up where he’d left off. “You were from a family of green witches, but you combined your family’s knowledge of the natural world and alchemy with your experiments trying to control the elements, especially fire. Your research had led you to something called the symmetry of magic. Does that ring any bells?”

I shook my head no slowly, a line of frustration etching between my brows. It sounded like something I should know, but I’d forgotten it. Another set of memories turned to ashes, recounted back to me like a page out of a stranger’s life.

Ceridor didn’t do the best job of hiding his disappointment. He stirred his meal with his chopsticks and watched the noodles swirl in the broth. “It is an outdated view of magic, anyway.” He sighed, long and troubled. “Your attempts were admirable, but ultimately, all of your research was lost and no one has managedto replicate what you were capable of. Witches in this age have turned to perfecting the spells and rituals for the reliable magic sources.”

“Wish I’d chosen something more reliable,” I muttered.

“We’ll see if you still believe that once your memories return.” He sounded so confident that it would happen that I had to scoff. Putting his palms up, he said, “There is a rare celestial event happening late this evening, a super blood moon. Witch magic will behave in erratic ways and strange occurrences will be commonplace for the time the moon turns red.”

I raised a dubious brow. “Sounds like a great opportunity to burn to death.” My curse made Aodhnait’s fire unpredictable already. Any more erratic and this would be the night I died again, unless I took precautions.

“It may be one of the few times you can commune with a past life and restore your memories,” he pointed out. “If you like, you can view tonight’s moon with Seth and me. Our apartment’s balcony would be perfect for it.” He watched my reaction with obvious hope.

It was phrased as an innocent enough invitation, but going over to their place to sit under the stars…I felt a little flush. I poised my lips to say no thanks.

“And”—he leaned in and my breath caught at the intensity flaring in his gaze—“We would be on hand to douse any fire of yours with wind and water. You will be safe, I swear it.”

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