Page 85 of Scars Like Wings

“Hey! Leave her out of this. This is between me and you, Daddy Dumbass,” Maisie said, moving to stand in front of me to block his view of me.

When his eyes returned to his daughter, a smile crept across his face like a cat who caught a mouse. “Oh, this is so delicious.Youworking withher. I love it.”

“I’m not working with her. She’s my best friend.”

“How touching. And yet, so very grade school. Aren’t you too old to still be valuing your widdle playmates over money and power?”

“What in the fuckity fuck are you talking about, dick for brains?”

“Did Annabeth teach you nothing at all?”

“You need to keep my mother’s name out of your mouth if you value your jaw, my guy,” Maisie warned. I could feel the heat of her magic coming off of her, and I knew her eyes must be a brilliant shade of purple. “Besides, you should not be worried about my friend and you should be worried about giving me your grimoire.”

“My grimoire? What the fuck are you going on about?”

“Do you have one or not?”

“Even if Ididhave one of those useless collections of dead trees, I will let you in on a little secret since you are my only kid or whatever?—”

“Gods, I have had one-night stands more mature than you. What are you, a seventeen-year-old teen dad?” Maisie rolled her eyes.

Aran ignored her. “A grimoire wouldn’t help you.”

“What thefuckdo you mean by that?”

“I mean, a grimoire would do nothing for you. Well, at least,minewouldn’t do anything for you. Grimoires are made for those specific creatures they are connected to. So, my grimoire would be made for fae by fae. You are a fitch. My grimoire would be meaningless to you.

“I’m feeling generous today, so I will tell you something else, too. Fitches don’t even have grimoires most of the time. Your kind rarely live long enough to write down their secrets and create such trinkets, let alone pass them down to their freakshow babies. So, if you are looking for something in there, you are shit out of luck, Petunia?—”

“Please—Please—tell me you do not honestly think thatthatis my name.”

Aran shrugged. Gods, I had never met someone that I just wanted to punch in the face.

“I will give you an atomic wedgie until you fucking die,” Maisie fumed.

“I have no idea what that is. But I would like to know who this pink diamond is,” Aran said, turning back to me. “I know many a benefactor who would love to meet you?—”

Suddenly, the circle at his feet glowed and pulsed purple. The rune within it was completely gone.

His time was up.

And folks said the universe wasn’t kind.

“Tell me your name, girl. I would at least make your death easier and more profitable. I know many who would not do the same,” Aran hissed.

“What are you talking about? Why would anyone want me dead?”

His smile was venomous. “You are worth so much more dead than alive obviously. Your kind always has been.”

Something deep within me roared at that statement, even though I had no idea what he meant. I was furious and disgusted, but I was also terrified at the threat of death he mentioned. What did he mean? Whatcouldhe mean?

“Please kindly fuck all the way off,” I said. I wanted my voice to be confident and sinister, but it wavered and I sounded closer to being on the brink of tears.

It wasn’t too far from the truth.

Purple light shot up from the circle and surrounded Aran, just as a beam of Maisie’s magic shot out from her hands aimed at where he stood before. The blast collided with the pillar of light that was teleporting Aran back to wherever he had comefrom. Aran’s chuckle echoed off the walls of the living room and into the snare of my fear long after he was gone.

Carvings in the Tree

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