Chapter Fifteen

The storm and the earthquake had ended. In the home of Mr. Vann, alias D. Greenbrier, there were no longer boxes and slabs glowing with purple energy. The villains' plans had been frustrated.

But the house was not quiet. The heartbroken sobs of Howie Peterson echoed off the walls and ceiling. Any attempts to comfort him were in vain. And the comforters themselves needed comfort. They felt every bit as horrible, even if they did not show it the same way.

"I can't believe he's gone," a tearful Della said. "It happened so fast, it was unreal."

Perry held her close. "Death is often like that, in war," he said. His voice was quiet but filled with the heaviness of his heart.

"He didn't even cry out in pain," Della said. "I wonder if he felt anything or if he was gone that instant."

Perry sighed. "I keep thinking of how he looked that first day, when he came to my office," he said. "I rejected his claims that we were friends. I didn't think it was true. I didn't want to think that it was true. And the look in his eyes, right before he left. . . ." He shook his head. "It will never stop haunting me."

"Perry . . ." Della looked up at him. "You can't blame yourself for that."

"Can't I?" Perry shook his head. "I saw that look again and again. When he drove me to the Club Caribe to find you, he tried to tell me the way things were. I flat-out refused him. I told him that in my mind it was a fantasy that we could ever be friends. He looked . . . he looked so helpless and discouraged, as well as hurt."

"But you went to talk to him before we came in here," Della reminded him. "Didn't you tell him you'd had a change of heart?"

Perry nodded. "Yes. It may not have been as complete as he would have liked to hear, but considering how immovable I've been it was definitely a few steps up."

"And how did he look then?" Della persisted.

Perry thought about it. "Happy," he said. "As though a heavy weight had been lifted."

Della gave a bittersweet smile. "You can't take away the past," she said. "But you can remember that moment and be grateful that at least you made peace with him before the end."

Perry closed his eyes. "You're right," he said. "Of course I'm grateful for that."

Tragg, who had stumbled down the stairs with Paul after a vain search for Vivalene, crashed to his knees next to the body. "Oh, Mr. Burger," he rasped. "This should never have happened. You lost your life over a stubborn old fool who wouldn't listen and couldn't let go of the past." He covered his eyes with an unsteady hand.

Andy watched him, feeling both horrible and uncomfortable. "You can't blame yourself, Sir," he said. "You were under that woman's power. Whatever she arranged, it was not you who pushed Mr. Burger."

"It was my hands that pushed him," Tragg said bitterly. "I can never forgive myself for this."

Paul clenched a fist. He had already been feeling guilty over some of what had happened the last few days. Now, at the sharp remembrance of words he had screamed at Tragg in his anger and . . . yes, his grief, he felt ten times worse.

"Look, Tragg," he said, "I didn't mean what I said to you. I should never have said that. Andy's right; you couldn't help what happened. You'd never deliberately do anything to hurt Burger."

"No." Tragg looked back at him. "Everything you said was the truth. I needed to hear it. The shock of those words was what finally brought me back to myself. I didn't even know what I had done. Not really."

Paul shook his head. "I still made it sound like you were trying to hurt him or that you didn't care." He sighed heavily. "I'm sorry."

Howie looked up, the tears still overflowing in his bright eyes. "I don't even remember anything different," he said.

A stunned hush fell over the group. It was true. With the shock of Hamilton's death, they had not had time to notice before. But for every one of them it was their current memories in place, the memories Hamilton and Paul had said were fake.

"What happened?" Paul exclaimed now. He looked to Mignon, as if she would have the answers. "Is the spell not broken after all?"

Mignon shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "I don't understand any better than you." The news was deeply troubling. What did it mean? Had Hamilton died in vain? Was there no way to shatter the spell? By all rights, it should have stopped.

Paul hit the floor with the palm of his hand. "I knew Vivalene was acting funny!" he cried.

"And now she's gone," Perry frowned. "She knew it wouldn't work. She let us try to break the spell so she would have the chance to escape."

Tragg slumped back, stunned. "Something is different," he said. "My mind is clear. Breaking the slab must have at least released me from her control."

"But why didn't it do everything?" Paul berated.

"Maybe it will take a while for the memories we have to be replaced by the truth," Mignon said.

Her voice was strained and far away. As distressed as she was by the news, she could only focus on one problem at a time. And right now she was filled with the horror and devastation that came from knowing that she had waited too long to mend her relationship with Hamilton. It was too late.

"Hamilton," she whispered, bending over his body once more. His skin was so pale, so cold, so devoid of life. "You wanted me to call you that again. I felt I could not. And even though I thought I believed you, part of me did not. I didn't even realize that until now. If I had believed you with all of my heart and soul, I would have found it so easy to reject the memories you said were false.

"I always considered you a prideful man. But it's my own pride that has allowed you to die with that heartache still bleeding inside."

She shook her head. "Tonight I said I would throw those memories away. I vowed to both Larry and Howie that I was ready to do it. But I didn't tell you. I wanted to be alone to discuss it with you, and there was never a chance. Now there never will be." She touched his cheek. "Wherever you are, I pray you've found peace. And that you know now what you didn't hear from me."

Paul looked away. He could not help hearing at least some of her broken-hearted words, as he was sure the others did too. It was horribly tragic and ironic. She still did not have the privacy she had wanted in order to tell Burger the truth. But now that he was gone, her defenses had crumbled. She did not care if she was overheard.

Burger had come to him before they had entered this place, wanting to make amends for that stupid argument they had gotten into at the hospital. And Paul had been too surprised and stunned to even find the right words to reply. He had just said something brief and turned his attention to the house instead.

"I should have told you," he muttered sadly. "You thought I hated you. I never did. I didn't understand you. But you grew on me after a while." He paused. "I think that . . . even though I didn't think I knew it, we were friends all along."

He hesitated again, then slowly laid a hand on Hamilton's shoulder. "I'm glad we worked together too," he said gruffly. "I couldn't have done all this on my own, either. We needed each other's help."

He frowned. That did not sound quite right. "No," he corrected, "we needed each other."

Andy and Steve exchanged grim looks. They did not remember either, but this was a deep blow to them as well. They did not have to remember to be shaken to the core.

"This should never have happened," Steve growled.

"If anyone should be blamed, it's Vivalene," Andy said. "She manipulated us all along the way. We were her marionettes."

Perry nodded in complete agreement.

"It's not fair!" Howie burst out. "Mr. Burger shouldn't have died. Vivalene should have died!" He stared at the floor, his shoulders shaking. "She should have died," he said again, quieter this time.

Perry looked down. He, or someone, should respond. Howie should be told that Hamilton would not want him to say that. But somehow he could not bring himself to do it. If someone had to die, then of course he would rather it had been Vivalene than Hamilton. From Mignon's shattered expression, she felt much the same.

It was Della who gathered Howie close. "Mr. Burger shouldn't have died, Howie," she said softly. "I guess . . ." Tears pricked her eyes. "I guess God needed him."

"More than us?" Howie wailed.

Della's heart caught in her throat. "I don't know," she confessed.

Howie turned, throwing his arms around Della as he cried harder. The tears slipped from Della's eyes, her heart broken by his grief as well as by the deep loss she felt. Mr. Burger had been her friend. She did not remember him, but those feelings were real and true.

The sound of shattering glass resounded throughout the hall. Everyone looked up, stunned. "What broke?" Paul exclaimed.

"I don't know," Perry started to say. "It was too large to be . . ." But he trailed off. Something was coming back to him. No . . . everything was coming back to him. Della, Hamilton, Andy. . . . He remembered. He remembered.

He shot looks at everyone else with equal parts shock and amazement. They were remembering too.

"That sound was the spell breaking," he realized.

Andy's eyes widened. "Arthur . . . !" He spun around to face Tragg at the same moment Tragg was turning to look at him.

"How could I have forgotten?" Tragg berated. "Andy! Of course I remember you."

"I actually thought I was a school principal," Andy said in disbelief. "How . . . ?" He shook his head. "How could I have forgotten so much that I know and cherish? How could I have forgotten you? The police department? Even Mr. Burger and Perry and the others?"

"I don't know how any of this happened," Tragg said. "How could I have thought that witch was my wife? How could I have shoved Mr. Burger and led her to him?" He shook his head. "Hamilton . . . Maureen . . . please forgive me." He looked down in guilt-stricken grief. "Please forgive me."

Andy laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure they have," he said, quietly.

Steve shook his head. "I know all of you," he said. "None of this makes sense, but it's all real. I didn't remember any of you. Now I do." He gazed at Hamilton. He was my friend too.

Della stared at Perry. "It's all come back to me," she declared. Her voice was hushed, as though to raise it now, especially under the tragic circumstances, would be sacrilegious. "It feels so unreal, I think I'm numb from the shock. So many memories were lost, so many things and people I've treasured. Perry, I didn't even remember working for you. I didn't remember you at all!"

"Subconsciously we remembered," Perry said. "But you were right, Della; we only did anything about it after we heard Hamilton and Paul."

Della swallowed hard. "Poor Hamilton."

Both she and Perry looked to the motionless form. Now that they remembered, the anguish was far more pronounced. Perry had thought he had felt guilty before. It was nothing compared to how he felt now.

"Oh Hamilton," he said quietly, his voice filled with pain, "what did we do to you?"

Mignon was not a person who showed many of her emotions. But the sudden return of everything Hamilton had told her and pleaded for her to try to accept was too much for her to bear. Her cry of agony chilled everyone present.

"What did I do to you?" she wailed. "Hamilton, my dear, dear friend. You tried so hard to get through to me, but I wounded you at every turn. I believed my false memories more than I believed you."

Howie looked at her, his eyes wide. But then, shuddering, he looked away again as the tears started anew. "He'd know it wasn't your fault, Mignon," he said.

Mignon started. Howie's plaintive voice was forcefully bringing her to a full awareness of what was going on around her. Howie was heartbroken too. And she was his godmother. She should be trying to be strong for him. Hamilton's death had completely shattered her. But young Howie had demonstrated that in spite of his own grief, he was still trying to be comforting.

"Oh Howie . . ." She reached for him, drawing him close. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said that in front of you."

Howie clutched at her black dress, tightly shutting his eyes. "It's okay, Mignon," he said. Several more tears slipped out. "I know you're hurting really bad."

"But so are you," Mignon said softly. "It isn't an excuse."

"No, but it's a reason," Perry said from behind her. "Everyone grieves differently." He laid a hand on her shoulder. "No one blames you. I'm feeling horrible myself. There's so many things I wish I could take back or do over. I don't know that this regret and sorrow will ever completely go away. I'm sure every one of us wishes we had done things differently."

Paul nodded. "Even me, and I never forgot," he said.

"He isn't dead."

The sullen yet high-pitched voice brought everyone's attention up. Flo, still handcuffed, had come to the landing of the stairs. Her words sounded callous and cold to the mourners.

Mignon got to her feet. "What do you mean?" she demanded. "How can you say he isn't dead? We have tried to revive him. We know that he is dead."

Flo shook her head. "Vivalene had a backup plan, alright," she said. "And she thought it was the cruelest way to get back at all of you, but especially him. When she blasted him with the Forbidden Box, she put him into an enchanted death and bound that spell up with our main spell. The stipulation was that if you people didn't care about him enough to mourn him and count his death a great personal loss, even though you didn't remember the truth, the spell still wouldn't break and you would all wander in limbo."

Perry stood too. "She had that little faith in us?" he exclaimed. He did not know whether to believe her or not. But he had observed that Flo seemed to be more forthright than Vivalene was. Seemed being the keyword.

"She was hoping she'd planted enough bad seeds that you'd just be shaken up over someone being killed in general and not really care about him personally," Flo said. "Of course, the counter-cause was that if you were grief-stricken over him the spell would break and you'd remember everything. Which it has and you do."

"But he isn't awake." Mignon looked back to Hamilton.

"You know, he probably hit his head when he fell," Flo said. "That might keep him out for a while even after the spell breaks. I guess you didn't think to see if he was breathing."

"Not once the spell broke," Perry said. "We tried repeatedly before that."

He looked back to Mignon as she fell to her knees next to Hamilton's body. Could Flo be trusted? Or was this one last cruel trick, another way to get back at them? He knelt down again too. Please don't let this be a false hope.

"Hamilton?" Mignon whispered. "Are you still with us? . . . Is it possible?" Shakily she took his wrist, searching for a pulse.

Howie scrambled over too, his eyes wide. "Please, Mr. Burger!" he begged. "Please wake up. Please don't be dead."

Della looked to Perry in worry. "What do you think, Perry?" she asked.

Perry shook his head. "I'm afraid to believe," he said. "It sounds like another of Vivalene's cruel tricks that . . ."

He never finished his sentence. Hamilton stirred, groaning quietly as he forced his eyes open halfway. He gazed up at Mignon and Howie, not really awake enough to focus on them.

Della's fingers dug into Perry's arm. "Perry!" she gasped.

"Mr. Burger!" Howie exclaimed. His voice caught in his throat. "You're alive. You're really alive!" He hugged Hamilton tightly, shuddering with joyous tears.

"Howie?" Hamilton mumbled in confusion. "What . . ." He reached up, bringing his free hand to rest on Howie's back. "I don't understand."

Mignon, still holding his other hand, gripped it tightly. "Hamilton." She smiled, her voice choked with emotion. "We thought we'd lost you."

His eyes widened. Even while not fully awake, he recognized the significance of her actions and words. "Mignon, you . . ." He stared at her in amazed joy.

"I remember," she assured him. "All of us remember. But . . ." She drew a shaking breath. "I'd decided to let go of my false memories before that. I didn't take the chance to tell you. Then I thought . . . I thought I'd never have that chance at all."

More conscious now, Hamilton pushed himself into a sitting position. Immediately he cringed, reaching to touch a tender spot on his head. ". . . I fell down the stairs," he remembered. "Is that why you thought I was . . ."

Mignon gently pried his hand away to examine the injury. "No," she said. Anger saturated her voice as she explained, "Vivalene used her dark energy to make you look dead."

"What?" Hamilton burst out. He shut his eyes, bringing a hand to his now-aching forehead. ". . . That was a stupid thing to do," he muttered.

"Hamilton." Perry rested a hand on Hamilton's shoulder. "I . . ." He swallowed hard. "I am so sorry for how I treated you."

Hamilton slowly opened his eyes, looking up at him. "Perry, you couldn't help it," he said in surprise. "You didn't remember. If the situation had been reversed, I probably would have acted the same. No—worse."

"Maybe so," Perry said, "but that doesn't make me feel any better about it."

"How can you ever forgive us?" Tragg said with regret. "Especially me? It's because of me that you were almost killed." He shook his head. "I'm such a fool."

"Tragg, you weren't yourself," Hamilton said. "I'm not going to pretend to understand what they did to you. I don't and I probably never will. But I know enough to realize that something was wrong. You'd never act like you did if you were in your right mind."

Tragg nodded. "That's true," he conceded.

Della smiled. "This is wonderful," she proclaimed. "Mr. Burger, I'm so happy you're alright!"

"Thank you," Hamilton said. He was both appreciative and awkward of the attention. He was not used to so much concern all at once from so many. He hated that he had made them worry and grieve over him. Of course, he had not been able to help it, but he still did not like it.

"We're all happy," Andy said.

Steve confirmed it. "You're a good man," he said. "We don't want to lose you."

Hamilton thanked them both and leaned back, blinking in realization. Someone had held off.

He looked to Paul, questions in his eyes. Paul was just to his right and a bit behind. When their eyes met, instead of looking away or shifting in embarrassment, Paul smiled.

"Welcome back," he said. "Wouldn't you know it—I missed you."

Hamilton smiled too. "Well. What do you know about that."

xxxx

Several minutes later Mignon had finished her examination. The spot paining Hamilton was tender to the touch but not bleeding. "You should see a doctor," she said in all sternness.

Hamilton sighed. "I guess I probably should," he agreed. The thought of having struck his head somewhere on the cold marble made him cringe. "I'm feeling stronger now. We should go." But as he reached for the bottom of the banister to support himself, he paused. "Wait a minute. Where's Vivalene?"

"She got away," Tragg said in disgust. "But Flo and Vann are on the second floor."

Hamilton struggled to his feet with the support of Perry, Mignon, and Tragg. At the same moment, the sound of a door crashing open came from somewhere upstairs. Everyone jerked to attention.

"What's going on up there?" Tragg called. He reached for his gun out of habit before he remembered he did not have it.

Larry limped to the second-floor railing. "We were trapped in a room back there," he announced. "When the earthquake stopped, we couldn't get out. Yelling for help didn't do any good. It must be soundproof. We just broke the door in now." Douglas and Martha Peterson appeared behind him.

Mignon hurried to the stairs, followed swiftly by a delighted Howie. "Mom! Dad!" he exclaimed. He bounded up the steps, reaching to hug them both at once.

They pulled him close. "Howie," Douglas said with emotion, "we were so worried. Larry told us what happened with Mr. Vann at the hospital."

"I'm okay," Howie said. "What about you and Mom?"

"We're fine," Martha assured him.

"Mr. Burger almost died!" Howie said emphatically. "You're not going to tell me I can't see him any more, are you?"

His parents exchanged a guilty look. "We remember the truth now," Douglas said. "Of course you can still see him." He looked over the railing, concerned to see how Hamilton was faring.

"I feel terrible about all this," Martha exclaimed. "I don't really know what happened to us, but it must have been like Mr. Burger said."

"It was!" Howie declared. "Just like that!"

Larry looked guilty too. "Mother . . ." He tried to stand up straighter as Mignon came to him. "I'm so sorry. I tried to protect Howie when Vann and his goons barged into the room, but . . ."

"Shh. It wasn't your fault." Mignon laid a hand on his arm.

"And I feel just rotten about how I acted with Mr. Burger." Larry looked down. "I don't know how he'll stand to keep working with me."

"He doesn't hold any hard feelings towards any of us," Mignon said, her tone firm. "It will be fine."

"Oh, and there's one more thing." Larry glanced behind him. "We found that redhead Vivalene collapsed on the floor near the room we were locked in. She's alive, but we couldn't wake her up."

Flo smirked. "There was one other little counter-clause to that spell," she said. "I knew about it, but I didn't tell her. If the spell shattered, it would backfire on the wielder. She's in a coma now, with little chance of waking up."

"Oh?" Perry looked up at her from the bottom of the stairs. "Why is that?"

Flo shrugged. "There's no one who cares enough about her to be able to bring her out of it. Fitting, isn't it?"

Paul looked away, chilled by her flippant attitude. "You know, I thought Flo wasn't as bad as her sister," he said. "Now I'm not so sure."

Hamilton studied her for a long moment before averting his gaze. "I've felt that she's just as bad, if not worse in her own way."

"Well, so you still have her to prosecute," Paul said. "And now Vann too."

"And we have to catch up with Judge Heyes," Hamilton said. He frowned. "My biggest problem now is how I'm going to explain what happened to Vivalene without mentioning black magic. And what other charges I'll be able to bring against the rest of her crew."

"You'll figure it out, Hamilton," Perry said. "But I have a feeling that this is going to be a very interesting hearing."