The Good Storm #7
“It was creative embroidering,” said Dorothea. “You really can’t go wrong with I’m so lonely, don’t leave me here. It works on almost everyone.”
Tessa cast a quick glance at Will. His hands were curling into fists, his eyes blue sparks of rage. Tessa caught at the sleeve of his jacket. If he tossed Dorothea out the window, it would delay getting the spell off him, and that was her first objective.
“But why upset your customers?” Tessa mused aloud.
“Then I recalled Dupin. Obviously, if he was a warlock, he would know that you were a warlock too. He was lying about investigating you. I realized then what kind of scam you were running. Upset clients would run to Dupin, hoping he could help them, while more trusting clients would come to you again, madame, offering all sorts of money to speak with their beloved dead once more. Either way, the two of you made money, which you no doubt split between you.”
“You seem like a clever girl,” said Ace, massaging one of his horns. “Do you want in on our business?”
“I do not,” Tessa said coldly. “As a result of your deceit, my husband used a wish-spell upon himself, one that has caused him to lose his memories. I want you to remove it. If you refuse, we will go to Magnus Bane.”
“I do remember Magnus,” said Will. “We are very close friends.”
Ace leapt to his feet. “I can take on Magnus Bane,” he declared. “I can—”
Dorothea stamped her foot on the floor. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you can’t. You shouldn’t even want to try.” She sighed in annoyance, looking at Will. “All right. Come here, young man.”
Rather reluctantly, Will went over to the warlock woman, who raised her hand. The eye in her palm moved, running its gaze all over Will.
“So much sadness, Herondale boy,” Dorothea murmured. “Are you quite sure you want it back?”
Will hesitated for just a moment, then glanced at Tessa. His blue gaze was steady as he looked at her. She was desperate to say something, to tell Dorothea that of course he wanted to remember his life, but she knew it had to be Will’s choice alone.
“I want all of it,” Will said, at last. “The good and the bad. Love and loss in equal measure.”
Dupin grunted but Tessa thought he might have looked a little touched.
Dorothea took Will’s hand in hers—how strange it must feel, Tessa thought, having that unnatural eye pressed against one’s skin—and gripped it tightly, her knuckles whitening.
Will winced, then gasped, and drew his hand back as if it had been burned.
“Will—” Tessa started forward.
But Will had a hand pressed to his chest. He was breathing hard, his damp hair stuck to his forehead. “I need—to breathe—”
Tessa only nodded as he pushed past her and out the door.
She could hear the sound of him running down the stairs, and the front door slamming.
She could not imagine what he was feeling, could not imagine the pain of suddenly remembering every terrible thing that had ever happened to you all at once.
She whirled on the two warlocks in their chairs. “You,” she said. “Know this. If I ever hear about you defrauding innocent people again, I will tell Magnus.”
Ace Dupin looked philosophical. “I was thinking about becoming a real investigator, anyway,” he said. “I might move to New York. Land of opportunity and all that.”
Tessa started toward the door, intending to follow Will, but Dorothea called her name. She turned reluctantly to find the warlock gazing at her. The look on Dorothea’s face was that of a satisfied cat.
“You were right, you know,” Dorothea said.
“A warlock can sense another warlock. You are one of us, my girl. Gifted with eternal life. But your husband is mortal.” Her voice was sinuous, curling as a snake.
“He will die, and whenever it happens, you will feel that you hardly had any time with him at all. Can you bear that? What will you do?”
Tessa looked at the other woman steadily. “What will I do?” she echoed. “I will love him as hard as I can, as much as I can, for every moment of every day of all the life he has. That is what I will do.”
Dorothea blinked. Tessa, turning on her heel, stalked out of the room.
—
Tessa found Will on the street outside, pacing up and down in front of a closed boulangerie.
He looked up when he saw Tessa. A moment later, he had covered the distance between them in two strides, and snatched her into his arms. Tessa was shivering, half in cold and half with the shock of all that had happened.
Will, unbuttoning his coat, folded Tessa into it, wrapping her up in an embrace of wool and silk and Will.
“My Tess,” he whispered, nuzzling his lips against her hair. “I cannot believe I ever made such a wish as would have led me to forget you, or Jem. All I can say is that I swear to you, all I wished was to forget my pain over Ella, so as not to ruin our honeymoon. And now look what I’ve done.”
Tessa lifted her face to his. “Our honeymoon isn’t ruined,” she said. “Just—a bit more exciting than we’d thought it would be.”
He kissed her lips, and then her closed eyes. “You let me go to the opera on purpose, didn’t you? You knew what I’d feel.”
Tessa pressed herself closer to Will. “I suspected…”
“That I’d feel nothing? That I would look around at the enchanted crowd, everyone drowning in the beauty of the music, and realize that I was numb to it?”
Tessa’s mouth found Will’s. “Yes,” she whispered against his lips, and felt him shiver.
Will’s hands slipped around her waist. “When that wish took the pain from me, it took so many good memories with it. When the pain returned, the joy returned—it was overwhelming—and I realized that pain and joy cannot be separated. They are all one thing. Who would I be now, if I had never known Jem? If I had never known you? Not anyone I want to be.”
Tessa wrapped her arms around Will’s neck. “Are you telling me,” she said archly, “that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?”
“Don’t you quote Tennyson at me,” Will growled, kissing her neck, and when Tessa giggled, he swung her off her feet, into his arms. “Now,” he said, “shall we go back to the hotel and lock the door to our suite? Before I ravish you here in the street, possibly under the angry observation of the two fraudulent warlocks upstairs?”
Tessa gazed at him demurely. Deep in his eyes, she thought, there was sorrow; there would always be sorrow, for it underpinned every happiness.
But that sorrow was part of Will, her Will, about whom she would not change a thing.
Her Will, who she would love as hard as she could for every day of his life.
Her Will, who was waiting now, very patiently, for her answer to his question.
“Why, Will Herondale,” Tessa said, smiling up at her husband, “that sounds like an absolutely delightful plan.”