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mentioned anything about his usual work, but I supposed he must have some. Presumably Mags would know.
    “Damn.” Alex shook his head slowly. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be an insensitive asshole. I guess it just comes naturally. Of course you wouldn’t know.” He rubbed his neck. “Are you nervous about it? The students coming back, I mean. Having to deal with guys who know you, but you don’t know them?”
    Well, now I was. “Story of my life, these days,” I said with a helpless smile. “As long as they don’t try to take advantage, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
    He cocked his head to one side. “I guess you have to watch that kind of thing, huh? People wanting to take advantage of you?”
    “Because of the amnesia?”
    “Yeah. That too,” he said, and I flushed as I guessed at his meaning. “Hey, I got to run. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
    It felt more like a threat than a promise.

Chapter Three
    Exhausted after my first day back at the institute, I made do with canned soup and the rapidly staling lava bread for supper, and had an early night.
    If I’d hoped to dream again of the man with blue eyes, I was disappointed. All that stayed with me on waking was the echo of a melody—in truth, more a rhythm than a tune. An old song that seemed familiar even as it slipped away from me, smothered by the modern beat from my radio. I hastened to switch off the banal noise with an angry jab, but it was too late; all that remained of the dreamsong was a sense of loss at its passing.
    I had a fairly good day at work, apart from when I visited the library. The young woman at the desk brightened when she saw me and proceeded to chat on at length about people she seemed to think I knew. When I managed to get a word in, I muttered something about my memory being gone. She faltered and stammered that she’d heard, but thought it was only “other stuff” I’d lost, and at any rate, surely I remembered her and Magnus and Yrsa?
    I wished I’d just looked the information up on Wikipedia.
    After work, I got Mags to go with me to where my belongings had been stored. I’d been expecting the garish, blocky sort of construction that blights the outskirts of towns in Britain, but the self-storage facility in Reykjavik looked more like a modern office building. Situated next to a supermarket, the bright white building with its discreet lettering and clean lines looked like it was slumming it, although perhaps the view across the bay made up for the low class of the neighbours. Parking was more than ample, and I wondered if this obviously new facility had really caught on yet.
    Mags led me to a unit on the ground floor and unlocked it.
    “I’m sorry it’s all so mixed up,” she said, my dismay at the piles of boxes and cases, none of them labelled, having obviously been poorly concealed. “It was all done in a bit of a rush, and I had to get some of the students to help—and, well, they meant well, but…”
    “Don’t worry about it,” I hurried to tell her. “It must have been a difficult time for you too.” In the days immediately after the accident, there had apparently been serious doubts as to whether I’d ever wake up, and fears that even if I did, I’d be suffering from brain damage. She clearly cared about me a great deal. She’d done far more for me, both back then and since my return, than might reasonably be expected of even a close colleague. On impulse, I gave her a hug. “I really do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
    Mags blushed bright red and muttered something that sounded like, “Don’t be silly.” When I released her, she fiddled with her glasses for a moment, then shook herself. “Right, let’s see if we can make some order out of chaos, shall we? What were you looking for in particular?”
    I shrugged. “Anything. Everything. Although I do need more clothes. And any research papers or books.”
    “From memory, there wasn’t a lot of that. You kept everything at the