Page 125 of Scars Like Wings

“Yeah, but we are the real dream team, the couple to beat,” I joked.

Quinn smirked. “Bet your sexy ass we are.”

Suddenly, Clarkson started barking at something off-screen. Quinn glanced toward where she was barking before nodding at whoever or whatever it was. She got up from the couch, picking up the phone to come with her. It didn’t escape my notice that she was still holding her knives. “I hate to cut our call short, but I have to go, sweets.”

“That’s okay!” I yawned. “The wine is catching up to me, anyway, so I think it’s time for bed.”

“Dream good things,mi novia hermosa.”

“Hopefully, they will be of you.” I blew her a kiss. Her smoldering smile was the last thing I saw before my phone went dark.

Candles

The scents in my bedroom made me stop right at the door. It smelled just like…

Homemade Southern soul food.

Freshly washed hair ready to be plaited.

Nail polish on a Sunday night before work the next day.

Hot summer evenings, beginning with the sound of cicadas.

It smelled likehome.

I inhaled long and deep, tears tickling my eyes. I never would get used to this. It took me aback every time. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to linger in memories that would remain just that for a little while. When my curiosity finally couldn’t take it anymore, I opened my eyes to take in the room. I had to blink tears back for the umpteenth time tonight.

Cleo bathed my bedroom in a soft, ethereal light, enhancing the glow from the full moon and sparkling stars outside my windows. On my nightstand, the grimoire lay open of its own accord. A warm gentle breeze from nowhere swept through the room and turned its pages past the ones with my mom meeting my pops, but well before the ones… Well, from the other night. From where I stood at the door, I could see ink begin to color the pages.

Abandoning my previous plan to put on my bonnet and do my nightly routine, I jumped into bed. I pulled the thick book into my lap. The pages were warm with magic, matching the warmth radiating from my necklace that I could feel through my hoodie as it rested there. On the left page was a sentence etched already in thick black ink and my mom’s unmistakable handwriting:

When I was at my happiest and most at peace, I realized far too late that we had gotten too comfortable for our own safety.

Color spilled onto the right page as the story Mom was telling unfolded. She appeared on the page first. Her curls were pulled into a low ponytail to really show off her face. She was absolutelyradiant, like she had never been before. I could only guess that her swollen belly was the cause of the glow that made her look like she had swallowed the sun. As she walked to her destination, her hand rested on her stomach, caressing it lovingly without even realizing. A parking lot covered in colorful fallen autumn leaves in front of a red brick building with banners declaring “Go Thunderhawks!” and “Ravenwood Spirit!” I recognized it then as the middle school where Mom used to work. So, she must be pregnant with me then.

I was due any day with Forrest’s and my first child—a little girl! We were so excited!—and I had been put on bed rest until she arrived. So, I stayed late at school to ensure everything was ready for the substitute and that the assistant volleyball coach had everything they would need while I was on maternity leave. I would miss my students, but I was excited to focus on preparing for the arrival of my baby girl.

Oh, and for Maxie and Everett to pester me with baby names, even though I told them I was waiting to see her before I decided on one.

I was so deep in thought, imagining putting my swollen ankles up and eating my weight in sweet potato fries,marshmallow fluff, pickle juice, and barbecue sauce—my pregnancy craving that I just couldn’t stop thinking about.

I cringed at the weird food combination, but Mom smiled down with all the love in the world in her eyes. I couldn’t help but smile, too.

Then the next sentence made my heart sink:

I never saw them coming.

Mom on the right page looked up and stopped in her tracks at what she saw before the page turned. Mom’s car was surrounded by at least six men and four women. They were all white from what I could tell, maybe in their late 20s or early 30s, and dressed casually in jeans and t-shirts, looking completely innocuous. But there was something about their body language leaning against Mom’s Toyota Camry, how their eyes scanned every corner of the empty parking lot, their muscles stiff and taunt as if they were ready for anything.

No good came from a group of strangers waiting at a woman’s car.

The woman leaning on the hood of Mom’s car pushed off of it to approach Mom. She was tall with an athletic build. When she opened her mouth, no words came from it. Mom’s words wasted no time in materializing as if knowing I was all too eager to read on.

I should have sensed them somehow. I should have smelled or heard them. We had been so at ease. The idea thattheywould appear had been the last thing on our minds.

But here they were.

Their leader asked me if I was Eleanora Dorianna Pierce. They asked if I was married to Forrest Pierce. They asked if my husband had taken my name. They asked if I was from the Pierces based in a tiny town not far from here hidden in the mountains. They asked if I knew of any other reason why aGriffin-shifter and Hellhound-shifter would be so interested in protecting my family if not because ofwhatwe were.

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