She didn't respond, just returned her attention to her book. Obviously it was more interesting than I was. I glanced at it briefly. A romance—one I'd read and enjoyed.
I walked across the room—it took only three steps—and squatted beside the bed. "How long have you been here, Amanda?"
She shrugged and continued reading.
"Have you ever experienced any problems when you feed the vampires? Or witnessed such events?"
This time she didn't even bother shrugging. Maybe I should have questioned the whore Marshall had been pointing me toward. Maybe he'd simply picked a more talkative one.
I made a frustrated sound and glanced at Azriel as he squatted beside me. "Well, this was a great idea."
"Let me try," he said, and lightly touched two fingers to Amanda's forehead.
Her face went slack. Azriel closed his eyes and, for several minutes, there was little noise other than the sound of both my and Amanda's breathing.
Then Azriel opened his eyes again. She cannot answer you, he said, his mind voice grim. Because she does not know.
How can she not know the answer to such basic questions? I asked, confused. I mean, even if Marshall has placed some sort of restriction on her ability to speak about her experiences here, it'd be right there in her memories, wouldn't it?
It should be, but it's not.
My gaze went to Amanda. So her memories have been cleansed?
Recent memories, yes. The touch is deft, but it was nevertheless there. It has Marshall's taint.
His use of the word "taint" suggested he had no liking for Marshall, even if he showed no hint of it in any other way. What about her past? Has that been erased, as well?
He frowned, glancing at her. Valdis flickered with an odd purple-red fire. I wondered if it was anger or distaste.