Pia’s shoulders slumped, and she sighed, although she didn’t look surprised.
Neither did Kathryn. “Let me know if you revisit that decision,” the doctor said. “In the meantime, treating memory loss is as much an art as it is a science, but we do know some things. For example, different types of memory are stored in different ways. Your procedural memory, which involves skills and tasks, appears to be undamaged. You know how to take a shower, how to fly, how to get dressed, etc.”
Unexpectedly, one corner of Dragos’s mouth quirked. He said, deadpan, “Or how to ride a bicycle.”
He felt, rather than saw, Pia’s attention flash to him. An exhalation of laughter escaped her, as she shifted in her chair.
“Exactly,” said Kathryn. “Then there’s declarative memory, which has two parts—semantic and episodic. Semantic memory contains facts and concepts. Episodic memory contains events and experiences. From what you’ve said, most of your semantic memory appears to be undamaged, but not all of it. You retain many concepts and facts, but the more closely those are tied to your episodic memory—or your events and experiences—the more likely there might be some impairment.”
As wordy as that was, it was starting to sound a lot like Pia’s complicated concepts.
“Explain,” he ordered.
“Okay.” Kathryn’s reply was easygoing enough. She exchanged a glance with Pia and shifted into a more settled position. “You know there is the Wyr demesne here in New York.”
“Yes, but I didn’t recall that a few days ago.” He thought of the wounded dragon resting on the ledge while waiting for a suicidal fool to climb up to him. “I was pretty deep into my animal nature.”
“You’ve done a lot of healing since then.” Kathryn hesitated and glanced at Pia again. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to respond quickly, without giving it too much thought. How is the relationship between the Wyr demesne and the Dark Fae demesne?”
“Not bad,” he said instantly, then he paused and frowned. “But that wasn’t always true, was it?”
“No,” Pia said. “It wasn’t.”
He looked at her from under lowered brows. “What happened?”
Her expression turned wry. “You and the Dark Fae King Urien didn’t get along. Urien kidnapped me, and you killed him. But we love the new queen, Niniane.”
Kathryn held up one slim hand. “So, on the one hand, you have the semantic memory, or the facts and concepts—which is, the Wyr demesne and the Dark Fae demesne haven’t always gotten along.” The doctor held up her other hand. “Here, on the other hand, you have episodic memory, or your events and experiences—which is, you killed the Dark Fae King. Both of these are housed in the declarative part of your memory. The damage you’ve sustained is in that area.”
Frustration welled again. Letting go of Pia’s hand, he raked his fingers through his hair. He said, “What you’re really saying is I might not remember certain facts and concepts if I’ve got some sort of personal event attached to it?”
“Yes,” replied Kathryn. “I think that’s likely.”
Which meant he might not remember old enemies or secrets that had been hidden long ago.
Inside, the dragon roused as he realized the world around him had gotten that much more dangerous.
Clearly thinking along the same lines, Pia muttered faintly, “Dragos has lived for millennia. He’s witnessed and interacted with so much history.”
The doctor said again, “Well, yes.” Kathryn looked at Dragos. “If it’s any consolation, I’m not sure how much a specialist could help you anyway. You have a… unique and capacious mind.”
“I’ve got to get those memories back,” he growled. “All of them.”
“I’m sorry.” Kathryn frowned. “There’s no easy way to say this. You did sustain brain damage. It’s real and discernible, and I could sense it as a shadowed area when I scanned you. It’s very possible the only reason why you’ve made as much progress as you have is because Pia is the one who healed you. I’ve seen the kind of miracle that can come from her healing.”
He lowered his hands and gave Pia a grim look. She whispered, “We’re lucky you’re alive, and you remember as much as you do.”
Lucky.
Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he leaned his forehead against hers.
Early that morning, in the first blush of dawn, he had speared into her body as she cried out his name, and he had been incredulous at the newness, the raw magnificence of it.
Yes, he was so damned lucky. More lucky than he ever deserved.
After a moment, Kathryn said, “There’s another important aspect of memory—emotion. The most vivid memories tend to be tied to emotion, so it’s possible those might come back the easiest. Imagery can also be used to stimulate further recall.”
As Dragos turned his attention back to the doctor, his eyes narrowed. “Pia told me about Graydon, but I didn’t remember him until I saw him.”
“That’s a great example,” Kathryn replied. “I suggest you go through all the photo albums you own. I can also put together some exercises that might help. Just remember, having someone remind you of an event—like killing the Dark Fae King—won’t stimulate true recall. But, now that you’ve started to remember some things, I think you can hope for more periods of spontaneous recovery.”
“Yet there’s no guarantee I’ll get it all back,” Dragos said.
Kathryn smiled. “No, but life doesn’t come with any guarantees, does it? Your recovery has already been pretty astonishing. Try to be patient and give your brain time to reroute new pathways. You never know what you might be able to achieve.”
There was truth in that. He had a mate and a son.
And he remembered a time when he never thought he would have either.
He met Pia’s gaze.
She mouthed at him, “Lucky.”
His lips tightened, but then he smiled and nodded.
After staying for another half an hour or so, Kathryn left, with a promise to return for a follow-up exam the following week.
Graydon sent for the rest of the sentinels, and afterward, the two men went out to the patio area, while Pia wandered off to make another phone call.
Graydon carried two bottles of cold beer from the kitchen. They had begun to sweat in the heat of the day. He handed one to Dragos, who inspected the label.
Oh, yes. He liked this beer.
He took a long pull, while Graydon sat forward and leaned his elbows on his knees. “They’ll be here in a few,” Graydon said. “They were hanging out at a dive bar in town.”
Dragos tested out a few words. “Who… got the short straw?”
Graydon’s head came up, a smile lightening his craggy features. “Grym stayed in New York.”
Grym.
Scowling, Dragos tried and failed to recall what that sentinel looked like.
Graydon promised, “Maybe you have to see him, like you did with me. We’ll Skype with him later.”
His jaw tightened. “Kathryn said I might not get everything back. That means you and the others need to be extra vigilant, because the gods only know what I won’t recall.”
Straightening, the other man took a long, deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll handle it. We’ll teach you everything we know.”
“And we need to keep this quiet,” Dragos said. “The last thing we need is for this to leak out.”
Graydon rubbed the back of his neck. “A lot of people were at the construction site, and news of the accident has already gotten out to the public. But the only ones who know you lost your memory are the sentinels, and the doc.” His frowning gray gaze met Dragos’s. “It might take some fancy tap dancing, but we can keep this under wraps.”
Pia came into sight, and both men paused to look at her. She had her head bowed, as she concentrated on the person on the other end of the phone.
Graydon said in a quiet, telepathic voice, When you disappeared, she handled things like a boss. She got a plan in place that covered everything—she coordinated the search for you and even drew up a will. Just in case. Then she climbed up that mountain and healed your ass. It was a good thing she was around to save the day.