He made a low, disapproving noise. “Are you and this Bob …?”

“What? God no! Bob is a supernice guy, but he’s kinda like a stinky stray dog with one leg—you feel sorry for him, but not enough to bring him home.”

“Hmph.”

“If you met him, you’d understand.”

“I don’t handle jealousy well,” Lon said. “I’m warning you.”

“Well, I’m a bartender, so I get hit on a lot. I’m just warning you.”

“I don’t like to share.” I could tell by the way he said it that he meant it.

“Me neither,” I agreed.

I smiled at him, and he smiled back, and I guess that was that. In what I was just beginning to realize was typical for him, he didn’t dwell on matters once they were settled in his mind. When he was finished with something, he was truly finished. It was a tidy way of living, and I envied him for being able to do it so effortlessly.

So I guessed we were back on again, though exactly what that entailed, I had no idea, and I doubted Lon did either.

“We didn’t read the last page of the spell,” he said out of the blue.

“Huh?”

“The memory spell. The Wheel. We missed a short paragraph on another page. I guess we were too distracted at the time.” He gave me a soft smile, then continued. “You don’t get the memories straight back. The person who casts the spell does.”

“Explain, please.”

“I had a dream last night that made me go back and check the spell.” He reached behind him and picked up the book he’d brought—the tandem memory spells. He sat down next to me on the couch.

“The Wheel spell moved the memory fragments to me,” he said. “The reasoning is that a fresh pair of eyes looking at old memories will give a different perspective and see things you might have missed or buried.”

His fingers flipped open the book to a blue marker; he showed me the page we’d missed. The memories could surface in the spell caster as visions or dreams. I closed the book and looked up at him, suddenly self-conscious. It was one thing to share my emotions with him, but my memories were another thing entirely. “What was your dream?”

“I was seeing things from your point of view. You were young, a child, sitting at a small table playing with wooden puzzle pieces. They had astrological symbols and names on them.”

“Yes!” I said in astonishment. “My dad gave that to me. A round puzzle of the zodiac.”

Lon nodded. “Your mother was standing in front of the table. Dark hair, very pretty. Tall. You were right about favoring her. Spitting image. Not her eyes, though.”

“No, I have my dad’s.”

He smiled softly, then continued relating the dream. “Your mother was speaking with a transparent being with feathers and tufted ears. She called the being Scivina.”

“Yes, that’s right.” My pulse quickened as excitement rose inside me. “Scivina is my mom’s guardian. Like mine, Priya— the one Riley Cooper had killed.”

Lon brightened with curiosity. “Both are Hermeneus spirits, right? I’ve seen them mentioned occasionally in grimoires.”

“Yep. Messenger entities. They’re finicky, and their knowledge and skills vary, but they can be an invaluable resource in the Æthyr. I’m surprised you haven’t tried to call one yourself.”

He smiled. “I wonder if they’d agree to link with an Earthbound?”

“I don’t see why not. Earthbounds are descended from Kerub demons. Priya always told me that the Hermeneus spirits in its tribe were generally on friendly terms with the local Kerubs.”

Lon acted surprised. “You would get that kind of information?”

“Sometimes. You have to dig for it. Priya would never just offer up information unless it directly related to me.”

“Do you think a Hermeneus could locate my ancestors?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. That would be kinda cool though, huh? You should try to call one and see if you can link up. I’d help you with the ritual if you needed it.”

He thought about this for a moment, eyes gleaming with possibility.

“Anyway, the dream?”

“Oh, sorry.” He shook away his thoughts and continued. “Your mother was saying that magicians normally can’t see each other’s guardians, but you could see hers.”

“Yep, I can see everyone’s guardians. Just like I can see Earthbound halos or imps or anything supernatural in origin.”

“That’s what your mother was saying. She was asking Scivina to confirm if she saw anything unusual about you, and the spirit told your mother that you were beginning to show traces of a silver halo. Your mother was very pleased. Then the dream ended and I woke up. That was it.”

Huh. That wasn’t as exciting as I hoped. “Why would that memory surface?”

“I don’t know. Is your silver halo the reason Riley called you Moonchild?”

The details surrounding my conception and title never came out in all the media coverage of the killings. Though several of the higher-ups in the other magical orders knew about me, they remained quiet about it during the scandal. Some honor still remained among thieves, I guess you could say.

“Magicians have always tried to conceive children during rituals,” I explained. “It’s mostly a ceremonial act, just symbolic. The Moonchild ritual is the granddaddy of all fertility rites. Magicians in the past mentioned it in their journals, like an urban legend. Many people have tried it and failed. Symbolically, it’s supposed to draw down lunar power inside me—imbue me with stronger Heka—which I guess it did.”