“And they told you about the albino demon?”

“They said someone had summoned an Æthyric demon for the killings, but they never gave me details. I was too young and they were overprotective. I never knew what the demon looked like until Caliph Superior told me last week.”

“Don’t you think it’s strange that he helped your parents look for this demon for seven years, and he’d forget a detail like that?”

“Maybe my parents were under the same confusion spell that the Tamlins claimed.”

“Definitely a possibility. But your parents saw the demon a month later, when the Luxe leader was attacked in San Diego. That’s what they told you before you faked your deaths.”

“Yes. What are you trying to get at?”

“Well, on one hand, if that mysterious man the Tamlins saw running away from the third scene was the murderer, and he cast confusion spells on everyone at that time … What was to stop him from casting the same spell again on the witnesses of the fourth attack? Maybe that’s why your parents didn’t tell the Caliph about the glass talon detail. Maybe they didn’t remember it.”

“It’s possible. But you said ‘on one hand.’ What’s the other possibility?”

He paused. “How much do you trust Caliph Superior?” We looked at each other. I bit my lip. “He’s my godfather,” I said slowly. “I grew up seeing him almost every day.”

“But?”

“But I hadn’t seen him in seven years until last week. I don’t know. I—”

Lon held his hand up. “I don’t want to jump to conclusions. But maybe it’s good that you can’t contact him right now.”

Crap. Lon was just confirming something that had been eating at me since I’d talked to the Tamlins. I’d known the caliph all my life. He was a good person. A peaceful man. He couldn’t be connected with the murders. Why would he? And what was the motive? He was leader of a prestigious occult order and had everything he wanted—money, power, a loving family. It just didn’t make sense. And yet, something wasn’t quite right.

I let out a slow breath and put my elbow on the table, leaning my head in my hand. “I’ve had this nagging memory of my parents talking to him privately before the fourth murder attempt on the Luxe head. My mom was upset and scared. Something I heard, but I can’t quite … They were all speaking in French—the caliph is fluent. I don’t know. Maybe I just didn’t understand what he was saying. I’ve tried to remember it for years, but I think the trauma of going into hiding blocked some of my memories during that time.”

“If so, that’s understandable. You were just a kid. You don’t go through something like that without a few battle scars. Ever gone to counseling?”

“Um, no.”

He shrugged. “Hypnosis sometimes restores memories.”

“Again, no. I have no guarantee that the person doing the hypnosis wouldn’t turn me into the cops.”

“You trusted me.”

“You drugged me!”

He grinned. “Yeah, I did.”

“Do you know how to hypnotize someone?”

“No, but I have a book of memory spells. Some remove memories, some restore them.”

I sat up straight. “Really? Have you tried any of them?”

“On myself, no. They’re tandem spells. Most memory spells are.”

“Huh? Tandem spells?”

“You have to perform it on someone else. You can’t perform them on yourself—you can’t erase your own memories.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

He smiled triumphantly. “Interesting … the novice knows something that the master doesn’t.” He hooked his finger around the handles of our cups and gathered the teapot in his other hand. “Bring that book. I think we should take a peek at the memory spells in my library.”

“I need to leave in about forty-five minutes to get to work,” I warned.

“We’re just looking.”

Just looking, but I was very, very curious.

18

I perused the bookshelves behind Lon while he sat with his feet propped up on the desk and thumbed through his tandem memory spells, reading the descriptions aloud to me.

“Memory Erase by Time Period: designate a length of time to eradicate thoughts.”

“Nope.”

“Memory Erase by Subject: designate a subject to remove from subject’s memory.”

“No, but you should keep that one marked. That could come in handy.”

He plopped a blue marker in the crease, then flipped to the next entry. “Complete Memory Erase: wipe out all memories of events, places, names, times. Jesus, that’s dangerous. Remind me to put this book in the locked cabinet. If Jupe got a hold of this … Okay, hold on. Memory Restoring.” He flipped through several pages then started reading to himself in low mumble, taking his feet off the desk.

“What? Did you find one? Memory Restore by Time Period?”

“I found it.”

“So? What’s the spell? Does it need kindled Heka?” I leaned over his shoulder and read. “Memory Restore, otherwise known as ‘The Wheel.’ Push and pull magical energies to ignite slow memory restoration gently. That sounds like an overnight laxative.” I grinned at him.

“Ha, ha,” he said dourly, getting up from his seat to stand.