Chapter 7

"There are a few things we could try," the doctor said finally. "The first thing I would recommend is getting rid of the book."

The memory wavered and disintegrated, but the heartache remained, along with Pearl’s dull surprise at remembering how it had happened. Not because the major had tried to pretend otherwise, but because the months of therapy that followed had trained her not to think about the book, magic, or monsters.

Or, really, even her mother.

The police shrink had wanted to talk about her mother’s death, of course, but Pearl had just shrugged and said, "It was a long time ago." And it would have stayed that way if she hadn’t found the book. Or rather, if it hadn’t found her.

Thunder rumbled, closer now, though the sun still shone. Unbidden, her eyes went to the picture of the woodsman standing in the doorway, staring up out of the page at her and making her yearn. "Repressed memories," she said softly. "That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?"

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