“There’s still a part of me that hopes I’m having hallucinations or something, that the crap I’ve just gone through has all been in my head.”
She looked at him, eyes hard.
“It’s all been real, hasn’t it?”
Remy just nodded, feeling ashamed. He was about to tell her how sorry he was again, but knew that it would have little impact.
“You have no idea how hard it is for me to be sitting here and not crying or screaming or curled into a ball with my eyes closed, but no matter what I do I can’t escape what I’ve seen…what I’ve done.”
The fear was back, swirling behind her eyes, and he could see that she was doing everything in her power to hold it together.
“The world isn’t the same anymore, Remy,” she said, looking at him, swollen tears dribbling from her eyes, down a face that somehow appeared older to him.
“No,” he agreed. “It isn’t.”
“I’m not the same anymore,” she added.
It was then that he remembered that Francis was standing outside in the hallway, and what they had discussed.
“What if there was a way that I could make you the same?” Remy asked.
Ashley looked at him. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m just saying, how would you feel if there was a way that you could be made to…forget.”
He wasn’t sure if it was more fear or excitement he saw in her gaze then.
“That isn’t possible,” she said in a whisper.
“Do you remember that you’re talking to an angel?”
“How? How could you make me forget?”
“Francis…”
“Francis can make me forget?”
“He’s acquired this…instrument,” Remy started to explain. “It’s a scalpel of supernatural origin.”
Ashley was just staring at him.
“A scalpel so precise that…” Remy paused, even the thought of using the instrument on the girl making him feel sick to his stomach.
“A scalpel to cut out my memory?” Ashley finished for him.
“Yeah, that’s about right.”
“How could…How would you…?”
“Francis would go in and cut the bad stuff away,” Remy explained. “Like cutting away an infection. He’d likely start just before you were taken and stop not too long after now…just before you get home.”
“And I wouldn’t remember any of it?” she asked.
“It would be gone,” Remy said.
He could see that she was thinking…thinking hard.
“It would be so easy to say yes,” she said to him. “To let Francis take away all the scary stuff, but that’s the stuff that has changed me… And no matter what I can and can’t remember, I’m still changed. I’m still that new person now, whether I can remember what happened or not.”
She paused for a second.
“Does that make any sense at all?” she asked.
“Yeah, it does,” he told her. “It would be like having a scar and having no idea where it came from.”
“The experience, no matter how bad or painful, it teaches you something…forces you to grow.”
Remy nodded, understanding exactly where her head was. He could not help but be pleased at her decision.
“So I’m guessing that Francis and his scalpel will not be required,” Remy said.
“No,” she said firmly. “I think I need to remember what’s happened.”
“You’re sure that you can live with that?” he asked, just to be sure.
“Yeah,” Ashley said. “I don’t think it’s going to be easy at first, and will probably take a while…but I think I’m going to be all right.”
It was good to know.
“And us?” Remy asked.
She stared at him intensely, studying his face as if seeing him for the very first time.
“I think we’re going to be okay, too,” she told him, a sly smile starting to form before disappearing entirely. “Especially after I collect my winnings.”
They had a good laugh then, until Remy remembered her parents. They were probably still worried sick.
“Have you been in touch with your mother and father yet?” he asked.
“Not yet,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Do you think they could handle the truth?” Remy asked.
She shook her head vigorously. “No way,” she said. “I think they both have a difficult time with the way the world is currently, never mind adding this other business.”
“What are you going to tell them?”
“How about that I freaked out…that I needed to get away…that I wasn’t ready for the whole college-and-adulthood thing.”
Remy made a face. What Ashley was planning on selling to her folks and the authorities that were looking for her was ridiculously thin.
“They found blood in your car,” he said.
She shrugged. “I cut myself.”
“Do you seriously think they’re going to buy it?” Remy asked.
“I’m not going to give them a choice,” Ashley said firmly, rising to her feet as she took Francis’ phone from her pocket.
“And, besides, what I’m giving them is more believable than the truth.”
The city was still pretty much in turmoil, even spreading as far as West Roxbury, where Remy had gone to pick up his car from where he’d left it in front of Saint Augustine’s Church.
He didn’t see the old ladies there holding vigil, and he wondered if maybe they’d somehow ceased to be with the death of the Grigori Garfial. It might be something he should look into at a later date, just to be sure. He didn’t want the angel scientist’s lab falling into the wrong hands.
The ride home was a little hairy, lots of streets still closed off, but he managed to get to the Hill in a roundabout way and had even managed to find parking on Pinckney Street.
He’d used Francis’ phone to call Linda before leaving, his phone having been incinerated when he’d gone nova in the expanding eye of the shadow storm. She was excited to hear from him and equally excited to hear that Ashley was safe and sound. Before hanging up, she’d asked him if he’d seen the news, if he knew what had gone on in the city today, and he told her that he’d caught it in bits and pieces and that it all sounded pretty crazy.
Linda said that it was beyond scary, and for him to hurry home, that she would be waiting for him at his place.
Remy let himself into his building, stepping into the foyer to find his door wide open.
“Hello?” he called out, moving toward the opening cautiously. After what he’d just gone through in the past twenty-four hours, cautiously was just the way to go.
From inside he heard the sound of toenails scrabbling across the hardwood floor, and Marlowe bounded out to greet him.
“Hey, buddy,” Remy said, bending down to wrap his arms around the dog’s thick Labrador neck. “How’s my good boy?”
“Talk again?” Marlowe asked, between furious licks of his face.
“Yeah, I can talk to you again,” Remy answered him. “And it feels good.”
“Missed talking,” Marlowe said, giving him his paw.
“And I missed talking to you,” Remy said, giving it a shake. “This is a new trick. Who taught you this?” As if he didn’t know.
“Linda,” the dog barked.
“Thought so. What else has she taught you?”
The dog then proceeded to get down on the floor and place his face between his paws, looking up at him pathetically.
“What’s that?” Remy asked.
“Sad face,” Marlowe answered, springing to his feet, tail wagging.
“And what does that get you?” Remy asked him.
“Treats!” the black Labrador barked happily.
“I think you’re also learning to play Linda like a fiddle,” he said, sticking his head into the apartment to see if she was inside. Finding it empty, he figured she must’ve been up on the roof.
“No fiddle,” Marlowe explained. “Shake and sad face. No fiddle.”
“Got it,” Remy said. “Is Linda on the roof?” he asked the dog, already starting up.
The dog told him she was and joined him on the stairs, practically running him off the steps in order to get up to the rooftop of the brownstone first.
The dog barked his excitement as he bounded out onto the top floor of the building, announcing his and Remy’s arrival. He could hear Linda telling him to calm down, and smell what he believed to be swordfish steaks wafting from the grill.