CHAPTER 144: CHAPTER 144: THE DISAPPEARING SHOP

"THERE YOU ARE!"

They sprang apart as Lucien bounded into the piazza, arms full of bags and looking ridiculously pleased with himself. "I bought things! So many things! None of which I need!"

"That’s the spirit of tourism," Oliver said, appearing with Elin.

"Did Shadow steal cheese?" Lucien asked, spotting the cat.

"Yes," Mailah and Grayson said in unison.

Elin crouched down, somehow coaxing Shadow to release the cheese in exchange for what looked like prosciutto from her pocket. "There. Crisis averted."

"You carry meat in your pockets?" Mailah asked.

"Shadow tax. I learned fast."

They paid the mortified cheese vendor double what the wheel was worth, which seemed to pacify him. Shadow, completely unrepentant, had claimed Elin’s shoulder as her perch.

"We should probably head back before she bankrupts us," Oliver suggested.

"Or gets us arrested," Grayson added.

"Where’s your sense of adventure?" Lucien asked.

"I left it somewhere between the third theft and the pigeon standoff."

But as they turned to leave the piazza, Lucien froze. His entire demeanor shifted—the playful lightness draining away like water through cracks.

"Lucien?" Mailah asked.

He was staring at something across the square. A small shop tucked between a gelateria and a bookstore—its windows dark despite the afternoon sun, a faded sign hanging above the door that Mailah couldn’t quite read from this distance.

"That wasn’t there before," Lucien said quietly.

Grayson followed his gaze, his body going rigid. "No. It wasn’t."

"What do you mean it wasn’t there before?" Oliver asked, his hand drifting toward his jacket. "Shops don’t just appear."

"This one did," Elin said, lowering her camera slowly. "I photographed this entire piazza twenty minutes ago. That space was a blank wall."

A chill ran down Mailah’s spine despite the warm afternoon sun. "What kind of shop appears out of nowhere?"

"The kind we should avoid," Grayson said, already moving to put himself between Mailah and the mysterious storefront.

But Lucien was walking toward it, drawn like a moth to flame. "No. No, I know this place."

"Lucien, stop," Grayson commanded, his voice sharp enough to cut.

Lucien didn’t stop. If anything, he moved faster.

Grayson swore under his breath and followed, leaving Mailah no choice but to go after them both.

Oliver and Elin flanked her immediately, their casual tourist facades completely abandoned.

Up close, the shop was even stranger. The windows were too dark, reflecting nothing—not the street, not the people passing by, nothing.

The sign above the door read "Memorie Perdute" in elegant script.

Lost Memories.

"This is a supernatural’s doing," Lucien said, his voice tight. "It has to be."

"Really?" Mailah asked. "Why would they create a shop in the middle of an Italian market?"

"Because they’re trying to catch us," Grayson said grimly. "Or warning us."

"Or inviting us," Lucien countered, his hand already on the door handle.

"Don’t—"

But Lucien had already pushed it open.

The bell above the door didn’t chime. Instead, it released a sound like wind through hollow bones—beautiful and deeply wrong.

Inside, the shop was impossible.

It stretched far deeper than the small storefront should allow, the walls lined with shelves that seemed to shift and multiply the longer you looked at them.

Glass cases held objects that gleamed with their own inner light—a pocket watch that ran backward, a mirror that showed different reflections depending on the angle, a music box that played notes that made Mailah’s chest ache with longing for something she couldn’t name.

"This is a problem," Oliver said flatly.

Shadow hissed from Elin’s shoulder, her fur standing completely on end.

A figure emerged from the shadows at the back of the shop—tall, elegant, with silver-white hair that caught the strange light.

The woman smiled, and Mailah’s breath caught. She was stunning in a way that felt dangerous—ageless beauty with eyes that held too much knowledge, too much hunger.

"Welcome," she said, her accent placing her nowhere and everywhere at once. "I’ve been expecting you."

Grayson moved faster than Mailah could track, positioning himself fully in front of her. "We’re leaving."

"Are you?" The woman’s smile widened. "Without even browsing? How rude. And here I have so many things that might interest you." Her eyes flicked to Mailah, sharp and assessing. "Especially the little human pretending to be someone she’s not."

Mailah’s blood turned to ice.

"Careful," Grayson said, his voice dropping to something inhuman. "Choose your next words very carefully."

"Oh, I always do." The woman moved through the shop with fluid grace, trailing her fingers along the glass cases. "But you misunderstand. I’m not here to expose secrets. I’m here to offer... solutions."

"We don’t need solutions," Lucien said, though his eyes kept drifting to the shelves, drawn by whatever power saturated this place.

"Don’t you?" She stopped in front of a case near the back, beckoning them forward. "Come. Look."

"This is a trap," Oliver said.

"Obviously," Elin agreed.

But Mailah found herself moving forward anyway, drawn by curiosity stronger than caution. Grayson’s hand shot out to stop her, but she caught his wrist instead.

"Together," she whispered.

Something in his expression fractured. Then he nodded once, and they approached the case side by side.

Inside lay a single object—a crystal vial filled with liquid that shifted between silver and gold, catching light that didn’t exist.

"Do you know what this is?" the woman asked.

"No," Grayson said flatly.

"Liar." Her smile was knowing. "You know exactly what it is. Liquid memory. A single drop, and you can see the truth of someone’s past. Every moment, every secret, every lie they’ve ever told."

Mailah’s heart hammered. She could feel Grayson’s pulse racing beneath her fingers where she still held his wrist.

"Why would we want that?" she asked, proud that her voice stayed steady.

The woman’s eyes glittered. "Because everyone in this room is hiding something. And wouldn’t it be nice to know who you can actually trust?"

The words landed like stones in still water, ripples spreading outward.

Lucien laughed, but it sounded forced. "Trust is overrated anyway."

"Is it?" The woman turned her attention to him. "Tell me, fallen angel, do you trust your friend not to lose control and drain the girl dry? Do you trust that he won’t become the monster he’s spent centuries trying to suppress?"

"Enough," Grayson snarled.

But the woman wasn’t finished. She looked at Oliver and Elin. "And you two. Do you trust that you’re here out of loyalty? Or has someone sent you to watch? To report back?"

"That’s insane," Elin said, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—uncertainty, maybe, or guilt.

Oliver’s jaw tightened. "We’re leaving. Now."

"And you," the woman said, turning her full attention to Mailah. "Do you trust yourself? Or do you wonder, late at night, if you’re becoming too comfortable in a dead woman’s life? If maybe you prefer being Lailah to being yourself?"

The words hit too close to fears Mailah hadn’t let herself acknowledge. She felt Grayson tense beside her, felt the way his hand moved to her lower back—protective, possessive.

"Get to the point," he said, his voice pure ice. "What do you want?"

The woman smiled like she’d won something. "Nothing you can’t afford. The vial is yours. Free of charge. All you have to do is use it before the full moon."

"Why?" Mailah asked.

"Because by then, you’ll need to know the truth. All of you." She gestured around the shop. "Secrets are already unraveling. The question is whether you’ll be ready when they all come loose."

"This is manipulation," Grayson said.

"This is a gift," the woman corrected. "What you do with it is your choice."

She placed the vial on the counter between them—an offering and a challenge.

No one moved to take it.

"Who are you?" Mailah asked.

The woman’s smile turned enigmatic.

"Someone who finds it entertaining to watch the powerful stumble. Someone who’s been doing this far longer than any of you have been alive. Someone who knows that the real danger isn’t me—it’s what you’ll do to each other once doubt takes root."

Shadow suddenly leaped from Elin’s shoulder, landing on the counter with a yowl that sounded almost like a warning. The cat batted at the vial, sending it rolling toward Mailah.

"Even your familiar knows," the woman said. "Time is running out."

"For what?" Lucien demanded.

"For all of you to decide what matters more—the truth, or the comfortable lies you’ve built your foundations on."

The shop suddenly felt smaller, the walls pressing in. The objects on the shelves began to hum—a discordant symphony that made Mailah’s teeth ache.

"We’re done here," Grayson said, grabbing Mailah’s hand and pulling her toward the door.

But the vial was still on the counter. Glowing. Waiting.

At the last second, Mailah reached back and grabbed it. The glass was cold against her palm, thrumming with power that made her skin prickle.

"Mailah—" Grayson started.

"I’m not leaving it here," she said. "Whatever this is, I’m not letting her keep controlling the narrative."

The woman laughed—a sound like breaking glass. "Smart girl. You’ll need that fire for what’s coming."

They burst through the door and back into the piazza. The afternoon sun felt too bright, too normal after the impossible darkness of the shop.

Mailah looked back.

The shop was gone. Just a blank wall between the gelateria and the bookstore, as if it had never existed.