"This is beautiful."
A wax seal stamp with a brass handle sat in a velvet box on a table in Coldton's best restaurant, all black and white marble, crystal chandeliers, and a painted mural on the ceiling of interwoven tree branches and ivy. Across from each other at that table sat Natalie and Colette.
"I thought you would be pleased. Every great mind weaver needs this stamp to properly send out her letters."
Natalie lifted the stamp from the box, blinking at the engravings. It was the official mind weaver symbol; hands around a sphere with a pair of eyes inside, surrounded by intricate loops and curls. She could not stop smiling. "I don't know what to say."
Colette crossed her legs, stressing the white silk dress she wore, and cupped her cheeks, elbows on the table as she watched Natalie enjoy her well-deserved gift. "You do not need to say anything. Just keep working as hard as you are."
Their dinner arrived shortly, and while they ate, Natalie said, "Colette. I have a question. One I did not think to ask during my time in Cape Colette, when I was qualified..." She shook her head. "It did not truly occur to me until recently."
The queen mind weaver twirled pasta around her fork. "Ask away, then."
"You said we should not keep memories. But, even if we do not keep them, we still have to experience them while weaving a new memory, therefore, they stay with us long after the session had been over."
"This is true." She offered a clandestine smile.
Natalie shook her head. "What if we do not want them?"
Colette's brow knotted. "Well, that is why you burn the items given to you."
She could not admit that she did not destroy any of the items offered up by her clients. So far, she never felt like she needed to destroy them. So far, the memories had been as petty as her school days. Until she met Peter. Until she went to Coldton Palace. Thinking of something to say, she stuttered, "What if I still remember?"
"Piper is supposed to put a spell on the items, connect the client's memory to it, so that when you destroy it, the memory is destroyed right along with it, no longer a threat to the client, nor to you, for that matter."
"I must have forgotten the spell." She smiled nervously and picked up her spoon, dipping it in her bowl of turkey and potato soup.
Colette spoke wistfully. "I saw you and the young man dancing together at the palace. He is quite handsome. Does he court you?"
Natalie looked up, surprised. She had been sure that Colette had not noticed she and Peter. That she had been too wrapped up in everyone's attention, perhaps tipsy on the endless flutes of wine. "No, we aren't courting..."
There was a knowing smile, one that did not believe the young mind weaver for a second. "The way he looked at you. I had never seen a man look at a woman that way." Before Natalie could correct her, Colette whispered, "Let it be a secret, then, but it does not matter if you are a mind weaver."
***
Like a map, night unrolled over the sky, sprinkling with stars. Everything in Natalie's office was still stacked in the middle. The second coat of paint was still drying, and she sat with her sleeves rolled at the elbows, coffee cup balanced on one knee.
Soon the clock would chime midnight, and Peter Sheinfeld would come knocking at the door. She had taken more of Piper's pills, to help relax her. Her coffee went cold before she could finish it, so she set it aside, and curled her legs up into the chair beneath her, tucking her chin to her knee. She did not hear the knocks, wrapped in dreams she would not remember later on.
A hand fell on her shoulder and she jerked awake, not sure where she was for a few seconds. Peter looked down at her, brow creased with worry. "I am so sorry," he whispered.
She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped when she saw the time. It was well beyond midnight. The window in the office was filled with that warm shade of pink just before the sun had edged completely over the horizon.
She sat up, back and legs aching horribly, and pushed herself out of the chair, her skirt wrinkled, hair mousy. A half dead fly floated around in her coffee. Peter watched her, a pitying expression pulling at his face. "Why didn't you show, then?" she asked at last.
"Hit some weather on the way back," he said. "Had to wait it out in Willow Haven."
She turned, trying to smooth her skirts. "You visited Willow Haven? I've been there as a child, but I hardly remember what it was like."
He nodded, face somber. She looked back, confused. He chuckled a little, lost in thought, then said, "Well, it is small." He looked up at her for a moment, smiling a little, then absently ran a finger along the mantel over the fireplace and rubbed the dust that came off between his fingers.
"They are peaceful, the people. Quiet. Well, maybe not peaceful... Observant is a better word. It is like when they look at you, they see something you don't, and will hardly tell you unless you ask, and that usually requires paying them, like a psychic reading or séance."
"Did you ever fall into that trap?"
He shook his head. "No, but I would hardly call it a trap. They really do see spirits, or fragments of your future, but if they just openly told everyone they passed on the street, it would be for you like mind weaving for free. Right?"
Natalie nodded. "I see what you mean." She bit her lip. "I kind of wanted to speak with a middle person at one point, but Piper talked me out of it."
There was hardly any hesitation. "Piper was right to do so."
Natalie placed her hands at her back, trying to stretch out the knot that had formed there throughout the night curled in the arm chair. "Wait, did you ever hire one?"
He shrugged, but did not specify. Looking at the window, yellow light pressing through the dull pane, he asked, "Would you like to go out for a coffee? That café I told you about, the one with the sandwiches, sells the city's best coffee, the kind with the whipped cream and all."
"I love treating myself to one of those occasionally," Natalie said.
"Allow me to, then, treat you to one. You've worked so hard for me."
As she gathered her coat, he hesitated, then slipped behind, helping her arms through the sleeves. He stayed, adjusted the back of the collar, the tips of his fingers brushing the back of her neck. It very well could have been without meaning, but Natalie felt his breath at her ear. She did not move, sure he could hear her pounding heart. Then he stepped away, moving around to open the front door, frowning left and right for a 'closed' sign.
She laughed quietly and flipped the sign hanging on it, from 'walk-ins welcome' to 'Closed. Come back later.' They were made of thin sheets of plywood and hand painted by Piper.
Peter and Natalie walked side by side down the cobblestone street, in the direction of the mountain peaks, early sunlight shining in their faces, warm despite the frost sparkling on verandas and lamp poles. They followed the merchants to the train station square, who tried to sell them bread, hand woven scarves, fresh peaches, and much more, which they declined politely.
They turned right, down the quiet lane of whispering weeping willows toward downtown Coldton, not saying much. Peter pointed out a fox. It peered at them from the brush, scampering away when they got nearer. And Natalie talked about she and Piper's paint battle. Peter laughed, throwing his head back, and she felt tears well in her throat, because for a moment, this all seemed normal. Innocent. And she wanted more of it.
A few people were out, looking up for nobody as they ran errands. Natalie felt Peter's shoulder brushing hers at every other step. She decided not to think about the darkness that chased them, threatening Peter's sanity when it was not taunting her.
They made it to the café, the bell chiming as Peter opened the door for her. The coffee menu was as endless as he had described. Natalie chose a creamy vanilla coffee, and Peter smiled a little sadly. Confused, Natalie asked what the matter was. He turned to her and said, "I have not tried that one yet." To the cashier, he said, "Make that two, then." They also ordered a fish and cheese sandwich, then moved to a seat by the window in the café. While Natalie looked around, Peter slid his elbows onto the table, laced his hands together under his chin, and watched her.
She bounced in her seat. "This coffee is like a dessert!" She had a little cream on her nose, and it made Peter smile against his knuckles. She frowned, asking what was so funny, so he reached out and gently removed it with the side of his thumb.
"There."
She touched her nose. When their sandwich was brought to them, Peter picked up his half. "Cheers?" She tapped her sandwich half to his. "Cheers, then."
While they ate, he said, "Again, I am sorry about missing out on our plans last night. Early this morning. How ever you look at it."
The mind weaver pretended to shoo a fly away. "Do not worry about it. I had taken one of the capsules Piper had made me, and was tired anyway." It was not a complete lie, but she would not admit the disappointment she had felt. He could not help the weather.
"Yeah, about that capsule. I could have fallen asleep walking back home that night... But my head hurt the next morning, like I had stayed up all night at a pub." Peter shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth.
"Really? Me too. I should ask Piper about that." She leaned forward. "Walking home, you said... Where do you live, if you do not mind my asking?"
"Just between Stagwood and Coldton," he answered around a mouth full. "Close to my parents and friends. And Swan Glade pond."
Natalie's eyes widened. "You walk quite a way to see me!"
He patted his lips with a napkin. "Worth it."
She wanted to ask if he meant the mind weaving, or seeing her. Silly, she snapped at herself. Of course it is not you.
"That coat," he continued. "I feel like I've seen it before."
She knew why. He had chased her in his new memory of Pemawick Cove's train station. She feared he had already put the puzzle pieces together, and if he had, she needed to throw him off. "Well, it is not too uncommon a color..."
"No, no it is not." He smiled widely. "But it looks nice on you."
She wanted to ask the woman's name. What she looked like. So far in the memories, Natalie had not found out, and it pained her to admit how curious she was. But all she could say was, "Thank you. You told me."
"But about Willow Haven," he said when Natalie was finished with her half of the sandwich, and was dusting bread flakes from the front of her coat, embarrassed. "If you want, I can take you there."
"Really?"
"Yeah, and I'll let you have another memory, too." He grinned, then started laughing, but it was hard for her to join in. He did not understand the dangers they faced. And it did not help that his memories were almost painful to watch.
"Today?" she asked. "We would go today? My office is closed, anyway, because I had to repaint it. You are kind of my only client as of late."
Peter stood from his seat. "Why not, then? Now or never, I say. Willow Haven is not too far at all. We can make it on foot in an hour."
Natalie felt her spirits lighten a little. She picked up her half empty coffee cup and clinked it with his empty one. There was something familiar about this place, Peter across the table from her. That carefree smile of his like he had cupped his very hand softly around her heart. The lady behind the counter smiled at them, the bell chimed, and then she turned away as more people bustled in for breakfast. Among them was Piper.
She noticed Natalie immediately, hesitated in line, and then stepped out, making her way toward she and Peter. Her large hazel eyes took the two of them in, the coffee in Natalie's hand, and Peter's radiant smile. "Can I talk with you, Natalie?"
The mind weaver excused herself from Peter, who watched Piper closely, brow furrowing. The witch noticed, but turned her shoulder and whispered, "Colette had a talk with me before she left town this morning. I have not been doing my part in the items you are supposed to burn. She told me you needed a better assistant than me."
Natalie felt her breath stutter.
Piper sighed, pushing her palms to the sides of her head. "Forget it. Have the nightmares stopped, then? The capsules are working?"
"Yes, they have stopped." Natalie looked down. "I am sorry about what Colette said. You know it isn't true, Piper."
"I know." She eyed Peter from her peripheral vision. "He thinks I am trying to talk you out of this date. Well, for once, he is not completely wrong." She zeroed in on Natalie. "I know you have been keeping his memories. All I have to say, if this is actually going to work, is do it quickly."
"I am trying to. He's already hallucinating. I am working as fast as I can." Natalie felt her heart start to race. Just when she was starting to feel okay... "Does this mean you are on my side?"
"Have to be. Too late now. Peter Sheinfeld already walked through your door. And now you are eating sandwiches together. How the tides change. And speaking of tides. I am going to Pemawick cove today."
"Again?"
"I need more ingredients from Winter Wells. I was asked to make a potion for someone." A couple of Piper's other friends called for her while in line, and she looked back at them. They were all witches except for one. Natalie could tell the difference. Witches had very flamboyant ways of speaking or dressing, or both. They wore jewels and colorful clothes, or dyed their hair, unlike mind weavers, who tried to blend in, except for the ones in Cape Colette, with their clandestine smiles and stark white robes. Natalie was your very typical mind weaver. Plain clothes. Plain hair. Plain personality, or so she would admit.
"They don't drive you as crazy as I do," Natalie said jokingly, but there was a hint of jealousy in her smile. "I'd bet you are all making a trip to Winter Wells together today."
"You'd bet correctly. And no, they don't drive me as crazy as you do. You are kind of my boss. And it does not help you are also a basket case sometimes." Piper took her shoulder gently, but her voice pricked with thorns. "Be careful with Peter, Natalie. I mean, protect his sanity, but also your heart."
The mind weaver felt the hair on her neck stand up. But a little irritably, if not to cover it, she said, "What is that supposed to mean?"
Piper opened her mouth, shook her head. "Probably not what you think it means. I'm sorry. I just... think of this girl he is trying to forget. What if she was not the one to hurt him. That's all I am saying."
With that, she turned back to her friends, and they eyed Natalie like she had said something hurtful to Piper, because while the mind weaver looked angry, the witch looked like it had rained on her birthday.