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Confused, I stared at the dust as it whisked away and then reached for the next worm. It too squelched to death under the slightest pressure, and I breathed out in surprise. Using both hands now, I sifted through Derrick’s mind, rooting out the worms, pinching them to dust. But there were thousands of them, and I couldn’t catch them all.
This wasn’t going to work. I needed something else.
More memories cascaded through me; a rocky beach with a lighthouse, and a feeling of betrayal; Lord Malcolm lecturing on the importance of the hunt to werewolves; Janice staring out a window, calling for Derrick and Derrick’s voice, low and pained, telling her he was right there; the moment in the café as he offered me the job.
It was startling to see myself from his vantage, and even more startling to feel his pleasure when I smiled at him. This memory too was under attack, a single worm digging its miniscule teeth into the branching bit of matrix, and I was surprised at how vehemently Derrick fought against it. His anger flared and I felt the wolf in him stir, its fury to be released prickling at my subconscious.
Was he aware of my presence?
“It’s all right, Derrick,” I told him and reached for the worm.
But before I could touch it, the thing squeaked and dissolved.
So there were things a victim could do here. I wondered if somehow I could amplify whatever he had done, if there was a rune I could draw that would center his power and shine through all these cursed worms until they disintegrated.
Before I could fully form the plan, I searched for another memory of me, something we shared, and found it in moments. It was the memory of the safehouse, of our kiss, and I closed my eyes, shutting out the sights of the aether, the spidery blue webs that were Derrick’s mind, and concentrated. I wasn’t even certain what I meant to do was possible, but I had to try.
There was a strange, whirling sensation, as though I were on a merry-go-round, and someone had spun the wheel too fast. An unpleasant prickling ran up my spine and I feared I might wretch. The memory slipped a little and I focused harder, pushing out sounds and physical sensations. What I needed wasn’t physical.
The whirling abruptly stopped, and I opened my eyes to the safehouse. Derrick and I were in the corner by the cot, but they were the memory, and they were frozen mid-kiss. From where I stood, I could see the way his fingers curled into my hair, and the angle of his mouth pressed against my own and I felt heat roll through me.
Swallowing hard, I turned from the image and hurried to the nearest wall. I needed Derrick’s attention, the real Derrick, not the memory, if this was going to work. Drawing runes faster than I had ever done before, I amplified the memory, adding clarity and focus runes as I would to a runestone. Only here I wasn’t working with stone, I was working with the very fabric of his mind, and the runes flared to life far faster than I was expecting.
“I’m knocking on the door, Derrick. Please hear me.” Realizing this would also draw the worms, I added, “Before Montgomery does.”
He didn’t make me wait long. No sooner had I uttered the words than he was there, standing in the memory beside me, looking drained and frightened and more than a little confused.
“Not this one,” he said, his voice a growl through the little space.
His fists were bunched and there were patches of grey fur sprouting over his arms. For a blinking moment I stared at him, startled by my own success. Then his gaze turned from the kissing forms in the corner to face me. He frowned, his brow furrowing into deep lines.
“We don’t have much time,” I told him. “I made this memory bright enough that one of those wretched worms is bound to be on its way.”
“Worms?” he asked.
Realizing this likely wasn’t how he saw the creature invading his mind, I asked, “What do they look like to you?”
“It doesn’t look like anything,” he said. “It’s a presence.”
I breathed out. “We can work with that.”
“We?”
I took a step toward him. “Yes, we. I need you to trust me. Can you trust me?”
His mouth quirked into a faint smile. “I’ve always trusted you.”
“If that were true, you wouldn’t have needed to charm me,” I said, and then kicked myself because this was not the time. But when I went to wave the words away, to call things to order, he chuckled.
“You’re in my head and you can’t see it?” He reached to tuck a bit of hair away from my face. “It wasn’t you I had no faith in.”
I paused, startled. What was that supposed to mean? Could he really have that little confidence in himself? He seemed so self-assured, so arrogant, it was almost unfathomable.
The room shook and he tensed. “It’s here.”
Breathing out, I shoved thoughts of his self-esteem away and concentrated on what needed to be done. We could deal with all of that if he survived the next few minutes.
“It tried to eat the memory of when we met, but you were able to shove it off. I need you to do that again,” I said. “Can you remember what you did?”
