Charlotte couldn’t move, not that she wanted to. All around her, black-and-white images played like virtual reality. Vertigo came and went as she clung to moments when the ground was solid and did not slide from under her.

People she knew from town appeared in front of her, rudely close, flashing across her vision. Their voices did not match the movements of their mouths. The metal tin of a star hung in front of the country drive. Sheriff Johnson’s house had such a star in front of it. Firelight danced over it.

She began to shake, knowing instinctively that nothing good was going to come from this. Hands gripped her and she found Lydia holding on to her. Shadows cast all around in the light, long and distorted as townsfolk danced. There was a young girl from town with flaxen ringlets, and her mother. Mrs. Callister, the busybody who snooped into everyone’s business, passed near Mr. Baker from the post office and Mr. Wirth, their third-grade teacher. Chef Alana wore an apron as if she’d just been called out of her kitchen. Charlotte loved Alana’s fettuccini with basil and tomato.

The young girl fetched an ornate goblet from the ground. A strange chanting began amongst the townsfolk. This had to be a dream. What else could it be? She tried to wake up. She scratched her arm, unable to feel.

A dark shadow cut through the light. Charlotte heard a scream echoing around them, reverberating inside her. The dark spirit circled the fire and was joined by another.

The young girl brought the goblet to her. A voice from behind ordered, “Drink it.”

Time became meaningless. Charlotte found the cup in her hands. She saw liquid flying from her lips, the blood-red poison standing out against the colorless world. The child screamed as droplets hit her dress, and she ran to her mother. Charlotte’s mouth was again open as she swallowed mouthfuls. It was a taste that could not easily be forgotten.

The cup disappeared, and she was on her back, looking up at the night sky. Her limbs jerked and seized as the insane energy flowed into her and out of her.

“I would take it all back if I could,” a familiar voice whispered against her cheek, different from the others. “I would rewind time if it would fix the future. I would let ya see the truth.”

The firelight faded onto gray walls, taking the voices with it. She wanted to run, but her body did not obey. She blinked, her lids feeling heavy. The dark shadows swam over the walls, calling to a place deep within her brain. These were not like the ghosts she’d seen. Gramma Annabelle’s spirit was soft and light, and smelled of lilies.

“I remember you,” she tried to say to the shadows, though she wasn’t sure her lips actually moved, or her voice had left her. “I remember you are a lidérc. You came to me. No, we were brought to you. No, you needed us for something…?”

Charlotte held on to all the pieces she could, clinging to the fragments as she struggled to arrange them into their rightful places. The shadows faded and were replaced by the softness of early morning light. The rumble of cars moved over the street. It was the sounds of her apartment, but her walls were not gray and her bed was not dry. She heard the rhythmic tapping of a hammer somewhere beyond the room.

Her limbs wouldn’t move, but she ignored them as she tried to hold on to the images she’d seen. There were gaps in her memory, but the timeline began to fill in. She’d been locked in a basement with Lydia. They’d been taken to Sheriff Johnson’s lawn, where there had been bonfires. That didn’t seem like a real memory. Sheriff Johnson waved at her every time she saw him. He hardly seemed the type to have scary bonfires on his lawn. Yet, she was as sure of it as she was her memory of stringing Buck Mitchell to the flagpole.

They’d wanted her to drink something. The awful taste of the poison had flooded her mouth and nearly killed her. Then her body had been filled with energy and pain. Had she been electrocuted? Is that why her memories stopped? Lightning? Downed power line? Jumper cables? None of those answers seemed like the right one.

As excited as she was to remember something, anything, from her lost time, she was just as terrified to see what lay hidden in there. Had the entire town gone insane and tried to sacrifice her and her best friend? She’d heard people talking about some kind of bad mushroom incident at a potluck dinner. Had she ingested poisonous mushrooms and hallucinated?

A familiar scent caused her to turn her head toward the pillow. It both irritated and excited her at once. She knew that smell. Niall?

A blue flash of light spread over the room and she gasped as her limbs seemed to let loose. She flailed, turning in confusion as she tangled in the bedding. Her mind processed her surroundings slowly. She was in a strange bed, but fully dressed in a sweater and blue jeans. The room lacked in decoration, aside from the bed and a small table with an open duffel bag. Clothes poked out of the top as if someone had dug through it.

I would take it all back if I could. I would rewind time if it would fix the future. I would let ya see the truth.

Niall.

Charlotte’s motions became deliberate as she freed herself from the covers. Everything kept coming back to him. He was always there in the background, watching her. He owned her building. He whispered in her returning memories. Now she was in his bed.

“Niall?” she called before leaving the bedroom. The apartment appeared empty. She caught her reflection as she passed the bathroom door. Seeing the mess of her hair, she instantly walked toward the mirror. The wildness of her appearance took her by surprise as if she hadn’t looked at herself in the mirror in a while. Her red hair was much brighter than normal, and the fact that it looked like she hadn’t bothered with a brush only added to the cavewoman effect. Her misbuttoned shirt forced her collar to fall strangely to the side.

Charlotte did her best to right her appearance, rebuttoning the shirt and untangling the elastic band from her hair. She tried to find a brush but aside from a razor, toothbrush, and a few odds and ends, the drawers were empty. However, she did notice a bottle of the Love Potions body wash she and Lydia made in his shower.

“I brought ya lunch.”

Charlotte gasped at the sound of Niall’s voice and slammed a drawer shut as she whipped around in the bathroom to face him. She hadn’t heard him come up behind her. “I wasn’t, I was…”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Is this a seizure?”

“No.” She placed her hands on her hips. He wore a faded T-shirt and distressed jeans. She could barely count the times he hadn’t been in a kilt. The bruise by his eyes caused her to flex her hand unconsciously. “I’m saying, I wasn’t snooping. I was looking for a brush for my hair.”

“Why would I have a brush for your hair?” he asked.

“Why would I be in your bed?” she countered. That’s not what she’d meant. It was too late to retract her words as their implications unraveled, her mind only too happy to supply her with many varied answers to that question. There was only one way out of the bathroom and he was blocking it. Flustered, she tried to rephrase. “I mean, why would you have me in your bed? Or rather, why am I in your…”

Charlotte held up her hands and shook her head. She averted her eyes and pushed forward, forcing him to back away as she made her way into the living room. Several food containers were on the table from various places in town—fast food burgers, Chinese takeout, a couple of pizza boxes, tacos, and boxes labeled Perfection Restaurant.

“Is this what you eat for breakfast?” Charlotte frowned.

“It’s lunch.” Niall pointed at a drink carrier. “Tea, coffee, soda, lemonade?”

“Uh, tea.” Charlotte glanced out the window. She’d assumed it was morning, but it could have been later in the day. Had she really slept that long?

He handed the iced tea to her and gestured at the pizzas. “Super cheese or beef with mushrooms.”

Charlotte arched a brow and didn’t speak.

He continued around the strange buffet. “Lo mien noodles, sesame ginger chicken, steak tacos, chicken quesadilla, cheeseburger with tater tots, chicken strips and fries, fettuccini with basil and tomato, or chicken Parmesan?”

“Who’s coming to lunch?” Charlotte ignored the fact that he’d somehow shown up with all of her favorites from around town.

He frowned and shook his head. “Just us. I did not know what ya would want. As my family constantly points out, I do not have a home suited to guests. There is no food in the fridge.”

If this had been anyone else, she would have thought the gesture sweet, but this was Niall—grumpy, moody, disapproving, pain-in-the-ass Niall.

Even though she was hungry, she didn’t move to take the food. She set the tea down on the table and crossed her arms over her stomach. “Did something happen? I seem to remember talking to your Aunt Cait, standing up to leave, and then…nothing.”

“Ya slept in my bed,” he said, as if that was enough of an answer.

Seeing a discarded bathrobe beside the table, she remembered what Raibeart had said about her. “I’m not crazy.”

He continued to look at her with his unreadable expression. She wondered what went on inside his mind. What had happened to him to make him like this? The rest of his family was fun-loving and chaotic. Niall was so controlled to the point he appeared rigid, and his rare smiles were like sighting an endangered animal in the wild.

“No. I would not say ya are crazy.” The words were slow in coming as if he wasn’t sure she was looking for an answer.

“The man who was here last night,” she began.

“Darragh Lahey,” Niall supplied. “Dar.”

“Did he do something to Malina? I wanted to check on her last night, but I don’t remember leaving the apartment. Instead, I woke up in your bed.” She really needed to stop pointing out she’d been in his bed. Each time she said it, the fact sounded more intimate than it had a right to be. She’d probably blacked out again and they hadn’t known what to do with her.

“It was a family matter. Malina is unharmed. Dar is her husband. They were having an argument, but it is settled now.” Niall gave a meaningful look at the food. Charlotte ignored the gesture.

“I’m not crazy,” she stated.

“Ya said that already,” he reminded her.

“There is something different about your family.” She ignored his curt response.

“Aye. We’re Scottish.” Niall’s tone was dry, and it took her a moment to realize he might be attempting to make a joke. Then again, she wasn’t sure.

“No, not that.”

“We wear kilts.”

“No.”

“We’re rich.”

“You know what I mean.” She braced her hand on the back of a dining chair in irritation.

“I don’t.” His expression gave nothing away and she had to resist the temptation to blacken his other eye. Violence was never the answer, but there was something about him that stirred her blood and made her want to scream.

“You have secrets. And not just the mommy-had-an-affair, daddy-didn’t-love-us, our-brother-has-warrants-in-five-states type of secrets.”

“None of those things is true, and I find it offensive that ya would suggest it.” Niall reached for a chair and pulled it away from the table. He looked at her expectantly. “Ya should eat.”

“You really are going to make me say it, aren’t you?” Charlotte took a deep breath. She knew what her words would sound like before she said them. “You all have superpowers, or special gifts, or something not quite normal going on.”

“Aye, my ma says we’re all special little snowflakes,” he drawled sarcastically. “Now, please, eat something.”

“Dammit, Niall,” she yelled, tossing her hands in desperation. “Help me out here, because if what I know to be true isn’t true, then I am insane and there’s no hope that I can get better!”

“What makes ya think we have superpowers?”

At least he wasn’t laughing as he asked the question. “Nothing has been right since your family came to town.”

“That is hardly evidence of—”

“When Dar touched me, I felt as if he gave me Malina’s energy. I haven’t felt this clearheaded in a long while. I’m remembering things…like being held captive in a basement, and these floating blue balls of light streaming over Lydia’s lawn. I remember people that I know and talk to every day handing me poison in a goblet. I remember…” Charlotte began to shake as more thoughts rushed in. “Erik’s face changed. Erik and Malina were throwing light from their hands at each other. Erik made the weather attack Lydia’s house.”

“That’s impossible,” Niall said.

Charlotte took a deep breath. Saying the words out loud had made her sound insane.

“There is no way ya can remember any of that. Who told ya?” Niall’s expression changed by small degrees until his eyes felt like they pierced her with their intensity. Their color shifted from a hard brown that chilled her to a smoldering hazel that warmed every part of her.

“I’m really not crazy,” she answered in surprise. “It’s true. All of it.”

Niall nodded.

“Why are you in the memories? Did you kidnap me?” She took several steps back to consider what she had just said. The idea sent a shiver up her spine. Was that why she was always nervous around him?

“You’re talking about separate events. Erik was entranced by a prank my sister tried on him, and they argued by throwing magick at each other. Then ya witnessed him shifting into panther form on Lydia’s lawn and calling upon the weather in his desperation to get to her.”

“But she married Erik.” Startled by what she heard, Charlotte still tried to reason what he was telling her. At this time, there wasn’t an abundance of explanations for what was going on, so she gave the only person forthcoming his chance to explain. “And what about the kidnapping?”

“That was not my family’s doing. Ya were taken by a couple of men who were possessed by a sort of psychic vampire. The lidérc like to latch on to weaknesses they find in people’s psyche and then crawl around inside their minds to control them. My family is naturally immune to such attacks, but the lidérc crave the power we have, so they entranced the townspeople to help them get it. They made ya an inthrall so they could use ya to suck the magick from my brother Iain. We managed to stop them, but it left Iain in a coma and my ma had to work an enchantment spell to preserve him until he was well enough to wake up.”

“What did it do to me? Was I in a coma? Is that why I can’t remember?” Charlotte rubbed her arms, feeling cold. Her eyes strayed to the window, but didn’t see much beyond the top of a building down the block.

“It nearly killed ya. The family called me in both after Erik scared ya and after the kidnapping, to ensure ya didn’t remember the events. I erased your memory. You’ll have to take me at my word when I say I did ya a favor.”

Realization slowly dawned on her. Niall was responsible for her lost memories. She also knew that she’d lost time more than twice.

“How are ya?” he asked carefully, not taking his eyes off her.

“Are you kidding me?” Charlotte placed her hands on her hips. “Do you know what I’ve been through? Do you know how many medical bills I have run up trying to figure out what’s wrong with my head? Not to mention the nightmares, and worry, and…” She gasped. “Oh, god, and you let Lydia marry Erik! She was there, too, wasn’t she? You took our memories and then let—”

Niall’s eyes shifted away from her.

“What?”

“Lydia has her memories,” he said. “During the process, she was able to filter Erik’s magick back to him and stop the transfer of energy. She came out of it unharmed. Since she is a natural inthrall to Erik, there was no need to help her the way I did ya.”

“Help,” she repeated. At first, she was angry that he dared to pretend what he did had helped her. Then, a deeper truth became apparent. If Lydia remembered everything, then she had known the answers all along. “You think taking my memories helped me?”

“There is more at stake than ya can understand—” Niall said.

“Stop.” Charlotte held up her hand to keep him from talking. She couldn’t hear any more. Slowly, she turned and walked toward his door. Then, stopping, she turned and grabbed the bag with the Italian takeout from the table and said, “I’m taking this.”

“Char—”

“Don’t follow me,” she ordered.