“You’re totally going to cut out my kidney, aren’t you?” he asked, and I tried to look both intimidating and nonthreatening, crossing my arms over my chest while still giving a reassuring smile.

As a result, I probably just looked confused when I said, “We don’t want your kidney, trust.”

He glared up at me, his dark hair falling over his forehead. Even pissed off and freaked out, he was pretty cute, so if he and Blythe had had something going on, I definitely couldn’t blame her.

“Then what—” Dante started, but Blythe was already walking forward, Saylor’s journal open in her hands, the headlights lining her in a bright white glow.

“There’s nothing in here for reversing a spell this big,” she said, ignoring Dante, who sat with his hands fastened behind his back with some of the spare bungee cords I’d brought in case we needed to strap luggage to the roof of my car.

“But,” Blythe went on, her eyes moving over the pages, “I can try a . . . combination of things, maybe.”

She sounded less than sure, but when she lifted her head, her expression was determined, her pointed chin thrust forward.

Bee and I had done our job as Paladins, using our strength to manhandle Dante into the car and out here, so now it was Blythe’s turn to show what she could do.

The words that came out of her mouth made no sense to me. I wasn’t sure if they were Greek or just, you know, magic, but there was power in them, no matter how nonsensical they sounded. The hairs on my arms stood on end, and right next to me, I could feel Bee shiver.

Dante had gone still, his eyes so wide I could see the whites all the way around, and once again, an uncomfortable feeling slithered through me. I didn’t like this, any of it, and whether the bigger problem was Blythe’s magic or the kidnapping, I didn’t know, but I definitely felt icked out.

But then Blythe stepped forward and stretched a hand out to me. “Come here.”

I moved closer, putting my hand in hers. Her palm was clammy, making me wonder if she was a little creeped out by what we were doing, too.

Bee shuffled back a bit as Blythe and I approached Dante, and when Blythe pressed her fingers to his temples, she gestured at me to do the same.

I stood there, fingers out, but not touching him yet. “What are we doing?” I asked, scratching the back of my calf with the opposite foot. “Some kind of Vulcan mind-meld thing?”

David would’ve been proud of me for making that reference, but Blythe just glared. “We’re seeing if getting inside his head will work,” she said. “Whatever Alexander did to him, it wiped his memories and his powers. I want to know why and how, and I’m hoping the spell I just did will do that for us. Okay? Are we good now?”

“We’re never good,” I muttered, but it was more from habit than actual irritation.

When I pressed my fingers to Dante’s temple, the only thing I felt was his damp skin, his sweaty hair against my knuckles, and I opened my mouth to tell Blythe that this was stupid, that it wasn’t working.

And then it was like everything suddenly . . . tunneled. My vision went dim except for two pinpricks of light, like I was looking through a telescope the wrong way. It wasn’t anything like the time I’d seen David’s vision or even when Alexander had made me see things during the Periasmos last year. This was something new, something that had me feeling as though I were standing on very shaky ground, my knees wobbly, my heart racing.

For what felt like ages, there was just that sense of being in a dark tunnel and seeing those little bits of light. I could hear voices, but they were muffled—muted, like people talking in another room. I couldn’t hear the sounds of the cicadas and frogs, couldn’t feel the brush of the tall grass against my legs, or the suffocating warmth of a Georgia summer night anymore. It was like I wasn’t anywhere, and even if I’d wanted to pull my hand back from Dante’s temple, I don’t think I could have.

And then suddenly, the tiny dots of light got bigger, rushing toward me. Or maybe I was rushing toward them. It was hard to tell. All I knew was that the darkness faded away, replaced by a scene that seemed awfully familiar.

Alexander, sitting behind his desk, his golden hair burnished in the lamplight. He was wearing a dark suit with a deep-green tie, looking exactly like he had every time I’d ever seen him, and as he rose from the desk, I realized that the office he was in was almost identical to the one he’d had in Pine Grove. That house had been magicked up, but it felt like what I was seeing was the real deal.

Because this was Dante’s memory, we were seeing everything from his perspective. He was clearly sitting in front of the desk, wearing jeans, his fingers tapping nervously on one leg.

Leaning back, his hands folded in front of him, Alexander looked anything but anxious. He was as calm and collected as I remember, and the smile he shot Dante was clearly meant to be welcoming. But I saw the edge to it and remembered that, too. For all his good manners and elegant style, Alexander had been dangerous, and Dante clearly understood that. I could see him jiggling one leg as he reached into the front pouch of his hoodie, pulling out ragged sheets of paper.

“Ah, very good,” Alexander said, the words sounding slightly echoing and distorted, like he was talking underwater.

“It was easy to find,” Dante said, lifting his chin a bit. “She’d set some kind of alarm spell on the book, but not on the pages themselves. Took me like ten seconds to find it and lift it.”

“Sloppy,” Alexander murmured, his eyes traveling over the page in front of him. “How unlike Saylor.”

Feeling better now, Dante leaned back in his seat, crossing one ankle over the other. “That’s some hard-core magic, though. Like, way outside my skill set. Probably outside Blythe’s, even.”

“Yes, well, it was always more theoretical than practical, this spell,” Alexander said, but he didn’t lift his eyes from the page, and I could swear his hand was trembling slightly.

“I’d hope so,” Dante said, pushing his hood from his head. “The power and memory wipe is one thing, but that last bit?” With a low whistle, he shook his head. “Man, that’s dark. And intense. I wouldn’t even want to try it. Be like that story, right? The one with the people who wish for—”

Alexander lifted a hand, cutting him off. “Like I said, the spell was theoretical. Something I asked Saylor to work on before she vanished so precipitously. I’d never meant to actually test it.”

And then he suddenly smiled again, looking up at Dante and saying, “But no time like the present, hmm?”

He said some words then, nothing I understood, and the scene in front of me started to shake. I wasn’t sure if the room itself had shaken when this happened, or if Dante’s memories, locked away in some faraway corner of his mind, were just becoming unstable.

Either way, everything fell apart. There was a sound like wind wailing in my ears, and suddenly we were being thrust away again, hurtling backward, until I felt hot, muggy air again and the scratch of grass on my legs, and I was once again standing in a field, my hand falling away from Dante’s head.

Next to me, Bee had a hand on my shoulder, her face creased with worry. “Are you all right?” she asked, and I nodded, even though I definitely wasn’t sure about that.