selective memories

"I've got a feeling you're right," I said. "Susan? Are you okay? You ready to get out of here?"
Susan brushed her hair idly back from her face with one hand, and turned to stare at me, frowning slightly.
"What?" I asked. "Look, you didn't have to do what you did, but we can work on getting it taken care of. Let's just get out of here. Okay?"
"Okay," she said. Then her frown deepened and she peered at me. "This is going to sound odd, but - do I know you?"

Grave Peril Chapter 27, Page 282


I stared at Susan in mute disbelief.
She looked apologetic. "Oh, I'm sorry. I mean. I didn't mean to upset you, Mister ..."
"Dresden," I supplied in a whisper.
"Mister Dresden, then." She frowned down at herself, and smoothed a hand uncomfortably over the skirt, then looked around her. "Dresden. Aren't you the guy who just opened a business as a wizard?"
Anger made me clench my teeth. "Son of a - "
"Harry," Michael said. "I think we need to leave, rather than stand about cursing."
My knuckles whitened as I tightened my fingers on my cane. No time for anger. Not now. Michael was right. We had to move, and quickly. "Agreed," I said. "Susan, did you drive here?"
"Hey," she said, squaring off against me. "I don't know you, okay? My name is Miss Rodriguez."
"Look, Su - Miss Rodriguez. My faerie godmother just stole a year's worth of your memory."
"Actually," Michael put in, "you traded it away to her to keep some kind of spell from leaving Harry helpless."
I shot him a glare and he subsided. "And now you don't remember me, or I guess, Michael."
"Or this faerie godmother, either," Susan said, her face and stance still wary.
I shot Lea a look. She glanced over at me and her lips curved up into a smirk, before she turned back to her conversation with Thomas. "Oh, damn. She's such a bitch."
Susan rolled her eyes a little. "Look, guys. It's been nice chatting with you, but this has got to be the lamest excuse for a pickup line I've ever heard."
I reached a hand toward her again. Her own flashed down into the picnic basket and produced a knife, a G.I.-issue weapon from the last century, its edge gleaming. "I told you," she said calmly, "I don't know you. Don't touch me."
I drew my hand back. "Look. I just want to make sure you're all right."
Susan's breathing was a little fast, but other than that she concealed her tension almost completely. "I'm perfectly fine," she said. "Don't worry about me."
"At least get out of here. You're not safe here. You came in on an invitation you had made up. Do you remember that?"
She screwed up her face into a frown. "How did you know that?" she asked.
"You told me so about five minutes ago," I said, and sighed. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. You've had a bunch of your memories taken."
"I remember coming here," Susan said. "I remember having the counterfeit invitation made."
"I know," I said. "You got it off of my living room table. Do you remember that?"
She frowned. "I got it ..." Her expression flickered, and she swallowed, glancing around. "I don't remember where I got it."
"There," I said. "Do you see? Do you remember driving out to bail me out of jail a couple of nights ago?"
She'd lowered the knife by now. "I ... I remember that I went down to the jail. And paid the bail money, but ... I can't think ..."
"Okay, okay," I said. My head hurt, and I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. "It looks like she took all of your memories that had me directly in them. Or her. What about Michael, do you remember him?"
She looked at Michael and shook her head.
I nodded. "Okay. Then I need to ask you to trust me, Miss Rodriguez. You've been affected by magic and I don't know how we can get it fixed yet. But you're in danger here and I think you should leave."
"Not with you," she said at once. "I have no idea who you are. Other than some kind of psychic consultant for Special Investigations."


Grave Peril Chapter 28, Page 284-286