Copper Veins(28)

I wanted to help him. I had to help him—missing memories or no, Mom wasn’t going to put up with half a husband for much longer. And no matter how I approached this problem, I could only think of one person with the knowledge and resources to help—the crone who ran the apothecary down in the village.

It wasn’t my best idea, but I’d had worse. Way worse, but that’s beside the point. The crone was both powerful and unscrupulous, and those were the two characteristics I needed.

Once I’d made up my mind to pay her a visit, my next problem became my promise to Micah—I had agreed to take a silverkin with me whenever I went to the village without him. The crone struck me as somewhat like Mom in that she would find the silver critters an annoyance and possibly even refuse to help me based solely on their presence. And, what if they knocked over something in her shop or tried organizing the jumbled mess inside? No telling what forces of darkness they might unleash, and the clouds of dust they kicked up would be enormous.

As always, Shep managed to come up with a simple yet brilliant solution. Since the rest of my family was otherwise occupied and my new husband was fast asleep, I even had a window of opportunity to slip away from the manor unnoticed. I crept into my bedroom to change my shoes, making sure to be extra quiet so I wouldn’t disturb Micah’s much-needed rest.

“Where are you off to?”

Apparently I was not as quiet as I’d hoped. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“I woke when I heard the door,” Micah said, rolling over to face me. I sat on the edge of our bed and sighed. Even though I hadn’t meant to wake him, the damage was done.

“I want to go down to the village. I think the crone might be able to help with Dad’s memory.” Micah opened his mouth, but I continued, “And I’m not going alone.”

Micah shut his mouth, his gaze moving from side to side. “I see no one else.”

I held out my arm, displaying a heavy silver bracelet. Before Micah could ask me where I’d gotten my new jewelry, I took off the bracelet and placed it on the bed. A heartbeat later, Shep unfolded himself.

“Clever,” Micah murmured.

“Shep told me—well, he mimed, and I played Twenty Questions—that he could reshape himself, and I got the idea from these robot toys Max used to play with,” I said. “Each one could fold into something else, like a car, or a plane, even a dinosaur…”

“My wife is as brilliant as she is beautiful,” Micah said, pressing a kiss to my temple. Then he threw off the blankets and started pulling on his boots.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I shall accompany you to the village,” he replied, reaching for his shirt.

“Micah,” I said, placing my hand above his heart. “You can’t. When was the last time you slept?”

“I will sleep later. Your safety is far more important than a few moments’ rest.” I looked at him, at the circles under his eyes that were as dark as bruises, and made one last attempt.

“Okay. You can come with me, but only after you’ve slept.”

“We shall go now,” he said. “If your father really has lost his memories due to dark magics, time is truly of the essence.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“The longer his memories are gone, the less likely it is that they can be returned.”

“Oh,” I gasped, my hand covering my mouth. Dad had been gone for sixteen years. Who knew how long ago he’d sacrificed the first memory, and what memories were permanently lost?

“Fear not, love,” Micah said, pulling me to my feet. “If the crone cannot assist us, perhaps another can. We do not want for magic in the Whispering Dell.”

I smiled, grateful yet again for my Micah. “Promise me you’ll sleep, at least for a few hours, when we get back?”

He returned my smile. “Only if you sleep with me.”

“Done.”



Micah and I skated down the metal pathways and arrived at the village only a few minutes after I’d woken him. As we passed through the village’s living silver gates, I couldn’t help wondering which memories Dad had let go of first. The way Micah had explained it, the more dear the memory one sacrificed, the more powerful the spell would be. I supposed that explained why he could hardly remember Mom and treated Sadie and me like strangers. It also made me wonder why he had such a clear recollection of Max.

“Are you quite certain you wish to begin with the crone?” Micah asked as we turned down the street the apothecary was situated on. When I relayed my thoughts of her being powerful and unscrupulous, he snorted. “She is unquestionably without honor.”