Page 132 of Scars Like Wings

“But everyone usually calls her Talli.”

Talli!That was it. My pendant heated against my chest. Suddenly, memories flooded me so strongly, all at once, that my knees buckled under me. Talli coming to visit me and my family as a kid. Rocks brought to me from visits all over the country. Talli’s famous rosemary potatoes. Talli being on my team as we played board games. Hikes through the forest to find caverns with Talli. Talli teaching me the meaning behind the crystals I loved. Talli being there for me and the family when Mom died. Talli rescuing us the night Pops and Aunt Max died. Talli rocking me when she told me what happened.

Then Talli forgotten.

Talli gone and never heard from again. Talli erased from my memory. Why? Where had she gone? Who had done that? What could have happened?

“Oh, my gods! Bee! Are you okay?” Simone helped me right myself from doubling over.

I was panting. My ears were ringing. Something deep in me was restless and pacing, like it was waiting for something that couldn’t happen yet. Despite my mouth feeling dry, I looked at Talli, still staring past me. Why didn’t she remember me? Why cast a spell to make her forget me? The idea felt like a stab straight into my heart.

Why do that to me?

“Talli!” I called out to her. “Talli! It’s me! Byrd! Please remember me!”

Talli frowned and furrowed her eyebrows. “Wait, what did you say?”

“It’s Byrd. Please remember! You used to come and visit me and my family when I was a kid! You saved my life. You are my mom’s oldest friend. Youhaveto remember.”

“Your mom…?”

“Yes! My mom, Doriana Pierce!” I called, almost yelling now. “Everyone called her Doe!”

“Doe and Byrd… Doe and—” Talli’s eyes closed. It appeared like she was trying to envision something behind her closed eyes. Then she opened them and stared directly at me, but there was something in her stare that wastoodirect, like she was staring straight through my eyes into my very soul. She asked in a voice with power echoing through it.

“Byrd, do you want to know the truth?”

The shiver down my spine made me stand up straight. That question… “That’s the same question the grimoire asked in Mom’s handwriting.”

“How is that possible?” Simone asked under her breath.

“Well, at least we know we are in the right place. She’s the fitch who made the Archaic. Shehasto be,” Maisie said.

“What are you talking about? What’s wrong with our mom? What did you do to her?” Leah demanded, her eyes going from us to Talli, whose eyes had not left me.

“It’s not about whatwedid. It’s about whatshedid,” Maisie answered.

“What? Like Momma did this to herself? Is that even a thing?”

“Apparently, it is.”

“Byrd, do you want to know the truth?” Talli repeated in that strange voice.

I set my lips and squared my shoulders. Simone squeezed my arm next to me in full support. Maisie nodded reassuringly. I decided to say the same thing I had said when my mom’s handwriting had asked me the same question.

“I am ready. I want to know the truth,” I said. “What do I need to do?”

Suddenly, Talli hissed, clutching her head. It lasted a few moments, but when she finally looked up at me, her eyes were back to their normal blue. They were clear and present. Most importantly, they were knowing. I knew before she said anything that Talli, my Talli, was back.

She smiled and tears shimmered in her eyes.“Why, look at you, Byrdie-Bee. You look just like your mother.”

The tears were free-flowing as I ran into Talli’s open arms. She brought me close to her, holding me tight as if she feared I would disappear. Gods, she smelled just as I always remembered. Sweet like homemade brown sugar lemonade. Like home. I didn’t hesitate to return the hug just as tightly. We were both sobbing, reunited despite being forgotten after all these years.

“I knew you would find your way to me when you were ready,” Talli said. “We have so much to catch up on.”

Forget-Me-Not

The inside of Talli’s house was all eclectic vintage decor with modern finishes. The kitchen, the first room we entered from the backyard, had butcher block countertops, light gray cabinets, and chef appliances like the oven and stove with too dangerous an amount of nozzles for someone like me who could barely make pancakes from the box correctly. It was homey like someone’s grandma’s house, but like the cool grandma who knows how to text without help.

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