Celeste's POV
The vampire's screams echo through my shop as I rip his daughter's face from his mind.
Please, he gasps, gripping the armrests of the spell chair. Please make it stop hurting.
I press my glowing hands harder against his temples. Purple magic flows from my fingertips into his brain, finding every memory of the little girl who died fifty years ago. Her laugh. Her smile. The way she called him Papa. I grab each one and pull.
The memories come out like threads, shimmering and silver. I catch them in a crystal vial and watch them swirl inside like captured smoke.
The vampire's face goes blank. His eyes stop crying. The pain drains away until he looks... empty.
It's done, I say, pulling my hands back. My magic fades.
He blinks at me. What's done?
You came here to forget something. You paid me. Now you can leave.
He stands, confused but calm. He doesn't remember why he's here. He doesn't remember her. That's what he wanted.
That's what they all want.
The door chimes as he walks out. I'm alone in my shop, surrounded by shelves full of memory vials. Other people's pain, bottled and forgotten. I've done this a thousand times. I feel nothing anymore.
Celeste! My assistant Luna bursts through the back door, her bright pink hair bouncing. That was intense! Are you okay?
I'm fine. I wipe my hands on my jeans, but they're still tingling with leftover magic.
You don't look fine. You look tired. When's the last time you actually slept?
I sleep.
Four hours doesn't count. Luna crosses her arms. She's wearing her usual colourful outfit yellow jacket, purple skirt, totally mismatched. She looks like a rainbow threw up on her, but somehow it works. You know what you need? Friends. A life. Maybe a date?
I have a life.
Working sixteen hours a day erasing people's memories isn't a life, babe. It's just... sad.
I turn away from her, catching my reflection in the mirror behind the counter. She's right, even though I won't admit it. I look beautiful everyone says so but there's something cold in my eyes. My dark hair falls past my shoulders with that weird white streak I've had since I was sixteen. I never figured out why.
My eyes drop to my wrists. Two pale scars circle them like bracelets. I don't remember getting them.
You're doing it again, Luna says softly.
Doing what?
Staring at those scars like they'll suddenly tell you their story.
I pull my sleeves down. They're just scars.
From the accident that killed your parents, right? That's what your aunt always says.
Something twists in my stomach. Yeah. The accident.
But it's weird. I don't remember my parents. I don't remember anything before I turned sixteen. My aunt Aurora says it's normal that trauma can make you forget. But sometimes, late at night, I wonder if there's more to it.
Anyway, Luna says, checking her tablet. You have one more client tonight. Last appointment.
Who is it?
That's the weird part. He's human.
I frown. Humans don't know about this place. They can't even see the shop unless they have magic.
Well, this one found us. Damian Cross. Super rich CEO type. He specifically requested you. Luna wiggles her eyebrows. He's probably gorgeous. Rich guys always are.
I'm not interested.
You're never interested. That's the problem.
I ignore her and walk to my spell room. It's a small space with purple walls and symbols painted everywhere ancient witch language for memory, forgetting, and peace. I light candles around the spell chair and draw fresh symbols on the floor with chalk.
My hands shake a little. I don't know why.
Luna pokes her head in. Want me to stay?
No. Go home. I'll lock up after this.
If you say so. She grabs her bag but pauses at the door. Celeste? You know I worry about you, right? You're my best friend, and I just... I want you to be happy.
Something warm flickers in my chest. I know. I'm fine, Luna. Really.
She doesn't look convinced, but she leaves.
I'm alone now. The candles flicker. The symbols glow faintly with magic. Everything's ready.
I take a deep breath and smooth down my shirt. Professional. Calm. Just another client.
But when the door opens and he walks in, everything inside me explodes.
The candles flare so bright I have to shield my eyes. My magic bursts out of my hands in wild purple sparks. The symbols on the floor flash like lightning.
What the hell?
I've never lost control like this. Never.
The man stands in the doorway, frozen. He's tall, dark-haired, and handsome in a devastating ways harp jaw, intense eyes, expensive suit. But it's not his looks that shake me.
It's the way my heart recognizes him.
My body knows him. My magic screams at me that this man is important, that he's everything, that I should run to him or run away from him or
Sorry, I gasp, forcing my magic down. The candles dim. I don't know what happened.
He stares at me like I just stabbed him. His face is full of so much pain that I actually step back.
Have we met before? I ask breathlessly. My hands won't stop shaking.
His eyes dark and broken lock onto mine. When he speaks, his voice is rough, like he's been screaming.
You don't remember me at all, do you?
The words hit me like a punch. Remember him? Why would I remember him? I've never seen this man in my life.
But then why does my magic think I have?
I'm sorry, I say slowly. I don't know what you're talking about.
Something dies in his eyes. He takes a shuddering breath, and I see his hands curl into fists.
My name is Damian Cross, he says. And I need you to erase someone from my memory. Every trace of her. Every moment. I need to forget she ever existed.
My throat goes dry. Who?
He looks at me like I'm killing him just by standing here.
You, he whispers. I need to forget you, Celeste. Because remembering you is destroying me, and I can't survive it anymore.
The room tilts. The candles flicker wildly. My magic surges again, uncontrolled, because somewhere deep inside me, something is screaming that this is wrong, that this man is telling the truth, that I should know him.
But I don't.
I don't remember him at all.
And from the look on his face, that's the worst thing I could possibly say.