“My thoughts exactly,” he says, using his other hand to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. “Now I need to remind you that this might not work. It’s experimental at best, most likely a matter of trial and error. And I have to warn you, I have no idea if there will be any adverse effects on you physically or mentally. For all I know, you could—”

“I get it, Smith,” I cut in. “Just do what you need to do.”

He blows out a breath and I wonder if he’s not as confident as he’s trying to appear. I wonder if he might actually be worried about me. But then he says, “If anything happens to you, Kael will kill me. You know that, right?”

Ah. He’s worried about Kael. Figures.

“Leave Kael to me.”

“Easy for you to say,” he mumbles. “If you end up in a coma …”

Thankfully, he trails off without finishing. It might be because I tightened my grip enough for his bones to grind together under my fingers. I feel only a tinge of remorse at his wince, but I’m also glad he got my unspoken message.

“So, I’m just going to … to jump right in and see if this works,” he says. “Okay?”

I don’t let on that my pulse is beginning to pound in my ears. I don’t let on that butterflies are swirling in my stomach. I don’t let on how afraid I am that the twenty percent will win. Instead, I simply say, “Okay.”

With no further warning, Smith’s gray eyes lock onto my own as he says, “Let’s visit a missing memory.”

Light bursts out of him and hits me in the chest, and then suddenly I’m no longer sitting in the armchair, but falling into darkness.

Falling.

Falling.

F

A

L

L

I

N

G.

I feel like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole, no idea which way is up, which way is down, my disorientation like nothing I’ve experienced before. But then, from one moment to the next, I’m no longer falling, but standing on solid ground. I still can’t see anything, but sounds are starting to break into the oppressive silence, sounds that have me furrowing my brow at their familiarity.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the darkness begins to disperse, fading into a grayish mist that blows away on an invisible breeze to reveal the landscape of the memory I’ve landed in.

My eyes widen as I take in my surroundings, and my first thought is that Smith’s command didn’t work. Or, rather, it worked, but only enough to show me a memory I remember. A memory of the time my parents took me to Luna Park when I was just a child—a memory that I relived twenty-four hours ago and, apparently, am about to relive again right now.