The Memory Keeper

Chapter 21

Things did not go according to plan for Natalie Gorman that night.

On her way back to her side of Coldton, she was approached by two white-cladded mind weavers. From a distance, they could pass as white sheets on laundry lines, snapping in the wind.

They lowered their hoods, ten feet from Natalie. One had hair bleached to match the color of her own robes. Her deep violet eyes watched the young mind weaver closely, but it was the second who spoke.

"Colette sent for you," she said, plastering on a smile.

"Won't you tell me what for? I have important matters to attend to," she replied, trying without success not to cry out.

"You stand for questioning, miss Gorman," she said. "You and your assistant, Piper."

They would not address Piper with a last name. Only married witches adopted their husband's last name, but most never married. It was not only because they were not usually accepted as wives, but her kind preferred their independence, and most were as unattainable as a ribbon in the wind.

Piper's mother was different. She wanted love, and a family, but he palace's sentinel did not accept her having been a witch until it was too late. Natalie was at least thankful Peter Sheinfeld accepted mind weavers and witches, or he would not have come to her. He would not have had feelings for her, no matter if they were false or fleeting.

"Questioning?"

The mind weavers watched her through their lashes. "I am afraid so, miss Gorman. We can escort you back to your quarters, where you will be allowed to pack essentials, but the train waits."

"But how long will I be gone? I have a client who needs me!"

"You shall have to close up your quarters for at least a few days. Your clients can wait."

"You do not understand. This one can't!"

"Neither can Colette. Surely you have needed your assistant, anyway." Her dark eyes followed Natalie's hands, which trembled, into her hair. "There is no need to worry, miss Gorman. Colette has a few questions, is all."

"Wasn't the assessment enough? She watched me perform one of my sessions. She announced me worthy at Coldton palace, and gave me the mind weaver stamp!"

"Questions came to her attention afterwards, involving you and your assistant's ability to work together. No one is to blame, yet."

No one is to blame, yet.

"And when someone is?"

"Miss Gorman, this is not up for discussion. If you refuse to oblige, we will have no choice but to inform Colette, and matters regarding your ability to corporate will worsen."

She felt her heart beat quicken, but allowed them to walk her to her quarters, where they waited in her office while she ran upstairs to collect her essentials. In a large suitcase, she threw in toiletries and clean clothes, hating the life of a mind weaver more and more. Too many rules, too many risks. If her cabinets were discovered, she and Piper would face serious consequences. Her record would be scarred, and Piper would lose her apprenticeship among mind weavers forever.

When she made it back down the stairs, she froze under the slab of roof and watched as the mind weavers floated around her cabinets like sharks. Just before one of them could reach for the nearest knob, though they would find it locked, the front door slammed open, the force of it shaking the contents of her cabinets, forcing the mind weavers to eye each other further, before turning toward the door.

Mr. Sheinfeld stood there. Rain had started to patter down again, popping on the back of his coat and soaking his hair to bronze.

"Peter," Natalie breathed.

When he saw the mind weavers, he started to step out, then noticed Natalie standing on the stairs. She ran to him and let herself fall into his arms, all of her senses alive and burning. He smelled of smoke and his arms around her waist repaired her heart in an instant, which had dangled like a broken charm in her chest.

Into his chest she said, "I thought I had damaged you."

"I was already damaged before I met you."

The revealing sound of locks opening startled them both. The mind weavers had opened her cabinets. Handfuls of jewels rattled to the floor like crystal snakes through the mind weaver's fingers. Their eyes seemed to turn to black ice as they turned around on Natalie.

"What is the meaning of this?"

It was not the mind weaver who asked, but Natalie. She did not want to lie. She planned to tell the truth, but Peter stepped in. "Those are all mine. I am a merchant, and I needed a safe place for my treasures."

The mind weaver who had addressed Natalie said, "Do you think we cannot see the truth?" Her hard gaze slipped between them. "Manipulate your client, I see, miss Gorman, to lie for you. Just like you do your assistant."

She felt the breath leave her. Her bones almost seemed to shake with an uncontrollable rage, because she knew deep down that they were right. Anyone who cared for Natalie was forced into her world of lies and rule-breaking. Even Mr. Sheinfeld. She both wanted to flee out the door, and claw at their robes away from her cabinets.

Peter put an arm in front of Natalie, as though he could read her mind.

"You did not have permission to open my cabinets," she growled.

They marched toward her, and before Peter could protest, swept her out the door. She did not kick or try to pull away, their hands on her elbows like claws.

Mr. Sheinfeld turned on his heel and shouted, but the rain had tumbled off the veranda and onto her head. The mind weavers escorted her as though she were a prisoner down the cobblestone street, and despite the weather, window shutters opened, eyes peering out to see what the fuss was about.

Everyone seemed to appear under their own filthy verandas, in pools of lamplight, to watch the mind weavers taking one of their own away like thieves in the night.