Page 20 of Forget Me Not

“Ray never takes anything lightly,” Penn commented, weary but amused.

Cassandra harrumphed like an old man in a cartoon. “A second chance for a grieving were is no small thing.” She said it as though she knew it for a fact. Ray had no doubt it was.

He had to force out each word, but he answered her. “This was meant to destroy me.”

With a shrug, Cassandra finally looked away. “I cannot know the motivations of others, only the results of their actions. Now close your eyes—go on. Or leave them open. What do I care? And focus on your…”

This time, when Ray met her eyes, she went quiet.

“Focus on Cal,” Cassandra went on, softer now, like a doctor directing a child to watch a video while they discussed his fate. “Or Detective Del Mar, if it’s easier. But I think Cal. Your savior whether you admit it or not.”

There was no point in admitting it. It simply was.

Ray shut his eyes.

“You have work in the morning,”Cal protested to Benny in their far-away spot in the garden. A statement that implied Benny did work outside of whatever else he did with Cal.

“It’s fine. This is what coffee is for. It’s why hospitals have vending machines full of it.”

The lighthearted comment was met with a tiny sniffle that made Ray sit up straight. “I should be with him.”

Benny was serious again.“I know.”

“I know you know. I’m just...”

“Pissed?”Benny suggested.

“Yeah,”Cal agreed instantly.“Fuck this. What if it’s all gone by morning? What if he loses even Penn?”

“It’s been hours and he hasn’t lost anything else. He even remembers this morning, Penn said. Parts of it, anyway.”

“Just not me.”There was a pause.“I’m gone.”

“Are you, though?”Benny spoke reasonably, although, at this distance, Ray couldn’t tell how much of it was for Cal’s benefit.“This garden is even creepier at night.”

“There is wolfsbane in that garden.”Cal made the observation in a startlingly blank tone.“I bought some once. I wanted to study it. You know, there is a lot of wolfsbane in Romantic art, and some in Late Renaissance art as well. Which is curious because monkshood doesn’t exactly have a flower meaning the way that fairies or Victorian humans used them. It basically just means ‘poison’ or maybe ‘danger’ or maybe, just maybe, is a visual clue about possible beings living among the humans in those paintings. But prove that, right? Wait.”Feeling returned to his voice.“What did you mean by that?”

Benny heaved a sigh.“It means... so Ray doesn’t remember you… but he still knew you within seconds of meeting you. Right?”

Cassandra’s voice was soft. “I’m going to check your pulse and all that stuff, Detective. It’s good to have a baseline. Magic is physical.”

Ray dragged his attention from the two in the garden to blink at her. Then he nodded. Cassandra took his hand by the wrist.

Ray looked at the owl. The owl looked back, inquisitive and probably hungry. Ray bared his teeth at it until Penn snorted in amusement.

Cal’s voice went higher and came from several directions, as though he was moving, pacing, as he worked on the problem out loud.“So I’m notstillhis mate, I’m his mateagain?”

Ray pulled away, shaking his head, and Cassandra froze. Then she plopped her wrist against Ray’s forehead like a human parent did with a sick child. He had no idea what that was supposed to tell her.

“Hmm, I thought you ran hot?” She snapped her fingers in front of his face and pursed her lips when Ray narrowed his eyes. “Now, pay attention to me for a minute: what do you remember. I mean, today. I mean this incident specifically.”

He’d been over this, with everyone, all day.

Ray shot a look at Penn, who lifted her eyebrows, so he made himself growl an answer. “This morning. I—not getting up,” he realized anew, in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to dwell on when giving his statement. “I don’t remember getting out of bed, or showering, or getting dressed. I remember Penn driving us into work and stopping for breakfast with her. Then… I was on the ground in the alley. That’s all.”

“So nothing in the middle of the day, or even what you two were doing at your uh… crime scene, was it?” Cassandra wrinkled her nose in distaste, either at the idea of the crime scene or at police work, something she had only reluctantly helped them with in the first place and that only because Ray and Penn were beings and because Cassandra detested malicious magic-users. “And were you unconscious, do you think?”

Ray answered cautiously. “I was on the ground.”

---