Ritual Magic

said that as if she believed it. She almost did.
    At the instant of the knife’s destruction, memory had rushed in on the amnesia victims. That sudden restoration did not instantly heal the trauma their minds had been through, however. Kai Michalski had been very busy. Not all of those who’d lost then regained their memories needed her, and not all of those who needed help would let her give it. As long as the person was competent to make a decision—and Kai had some way of determining that to her satisfaction—the mind healer wouldn’t act without permission. But she’d helped a lot of them. She’d also helped a few of the lupi who’d been under the knife’s control. She’d even been able to help Officer Crown, though he would need additional therapy, she said.
    But she couldn’t help Julia Yu. Not until Sam returned, anyway, and maybe not then. She had Julia’s permission, but ironically, the restructuring that had saved Julia’s mind now kept her from being able to access the memories that Kai said were present, but buried. Until Sam loosened things up, Kai had said, she couldn’t do anything . . . and she wasn’t sure if Sam could undo what he’d done. She’d never seen anything like it.
    The black dragon had finally returned that morning. When he did, Rule and Lily had offered Julia a choice. Did she want to attend the wedding as her twelve-year-old self? Or did she want to undergo Sam’s ministrations first, even though it might mean missing the wedding?
    Julia had chosen door number two. Sam and Kai had been with her all day. No word on how it was going, and the ceremony would start at four thirty—though they needed to be down ten minutes before that. “What time did you say it was?” Lily asked.
    Cynna sighed. “Two minutes until four.”
    “You’ll let me put on the necklace now,” Aunt Mequi announced as if Lily had argued against this.
    “Don’t mess up her hair,” Beth warned.
    Aunt Mequi ignored that for the unnecessary comment that it was. She came up behind Lily and carefully shifted her hair so she could place a single strand of pearls around her neck. It was choker-length and much older than Lily. Lily’s other grandmother—the one who’d died long before she was born—had worn it at her own wedding.
    The necklace was part of a set. Mequi had inherited the choker; Deborah had gotten the bracelet, though she’d broken it years ago; and Lily’s mother had been bequeathed the earrings. Pearl drops. Julia had worn the necklace and earrings when she married Lily’s father . . . and Lily would either wear those earrings, too, handed to her by her mother, or none at all.
    “The timekeeper says it’s time for the dress,” Cynna said.
    Lily didn’t move. She didn’t want to put on her dress. Her mother wasn’t here.
    “Do not cry,” Mequi said severely. “Your mascara will run and you will have to clean it off and redo it and—”
    A knock on the door interrupted her, followed by her father’s voice. “Someone with me would very much like to come in.” Having said that, he didn’t wait for permission but swung the door open and stepped inside.
    Julia Yu came in with him. She wore the sunny yellow suit she’d bought for the ceremony months ago. Hair, makeup, nails—all were perfect. She looked like Lily’s mother, not like the twelve-year-old girl Lily had gotten to know and like, but . . . Lily stood slowly, her heart pounding. “Julia?”
    “I do not approve of children addressing their parents by their first names, Lily. You know that.” And Julia Yu opened her arms to her daughter.
    * * *
    “. . . A ND so now I have
seven
friends!” The small orange being beamed up at Rule. Gan wore a blue-and-green-striped gown that plunged nearly to her waist in front, revealing a great deal of her truly amazing breasts. She’d accessorized the gown with a purple vest, seven bracelets, five rings, and two necklaces. One was the medallion of her office in Edge. The other was an absurdly large sapphire pendant surrounded by diamonds. She was about an inch taller than the last time Rule had seen her, and she’d started growing hair. Blue hair. He’d complimented her on it the moment he saw her. She’d looked smug. Hair, she’d said, was very tricky, but she thought she had the hang of it.
    “You are becoming quite wealthy,” he told her now.
    “Well, yes”—Gan touched the large sapphire that dangled between her breasts and scowled—“I’m