Page 44 of Memories Like Fangs
Journee waved one of their hands through the air. A sparkly sky-blue gust blew past us like a tidal wave. It dropped off cots around the Vault, complete with a mattress, pillow, blanket, and a place to charge a phone.
“Rest. These cots will make sure you fall asleep, whether you are tired or not, as soon as you lie on them. They will also ensure you wake up rested, no matter how long you’re asleep on them. When it’s your turn to take a shift or if we find the Blood Bitch, you will be awoken.”
“So, all we can do is wait? There isn’t anything else that we can do in the meantime?”
Journee’s gaze softened as they looked at me. I was expecting pity to be there in the sea of dark blue. Instead, there was empathy, like they couldn’t imagine not having one or both of their mates. If someone had told me a month ago that I would be in this position, I would have agreed. “Unfortunately, yes. But, if there is anything you needwithin reason—” They pointedly glared Cody’s way, who was conveniently looking elsewhere. “—just make the wish, and I will make it happen.”
The only wish I want is for Byrd to be here.
“We will find her, Quinn,” Izzy said, knowing exactly what I wanted, even without the powers of a genie. “This plan will work. I know it.”
There was so much certainty in her voice. I rubbed my chest, feeling something trying to take root there.
In my line of work, I couldn’t afford to hope. It was too fragile and dangerous of a thing for a huntress to have. Hope had a tendency to bloom quietly and slowly within your chest, especially early on. It fluttered, growing as it fed on progress and chances. If you didn’t temper or stifle it, hope would grow so large that it would fill you up, leaving no room for anything else like logic or rationality. Then, when it inevitably died from disappointment and failure, you were left empty, pained, self-deprecating, and guilty with no way to shrink your chest to how it was before. You would always feel the absence of hope once it had taken over. The hole left behind could become infected as it ached. It could kill you, that loss. If you lived then for the rest of your days, you would know what it was like to experience hope and lose it. You would feel it. Even if you believed, it still didn’t make the waiting any easier. It was one of the few things my father was right about:If you have no expectations, no hope, you will never be disappointed.
It was also one of the lessons I had learned early and the hard way because of him.
Izzy and Journee approached the edge of the circle that Izzy had made. Before entering it, they both stopped and turned to face each other. They sat down cross-legged within reach of each other, their knees a breath away. At the same time, they closed their eyes. A beat passed. Then, two. By the third, their bodies became outlined with energy, Izzy’s in a fiery gold and Journee’s in a bright blue. Their power radiated out in waves like a sonar pulse, washing over us and going throughout the Vault before starting over again. I could feel the heat of it prickling myskin, making the hair on my arms stand on end. It was mighty, powerful, and old.
I watched them, standing there with my arms crossed tightly. I pretended I was calm, pretended the jagged pressure inside my chest wasn’t totally unbearable. But, the seed of hope was planted against my will. I couldn’t help it. Something was electrified around us like static. The air was thick with ancient parchment, wood, ice, and magic. The living magic hummed watchfully. Even the Archive seemed to be holding her breath in wait and anticipation. It was like we were bracing for the break coming any second.
But then, the seconds turned into minutes.
The minutes became hours.
The hours added up one on top of the other.
I don’t know when I finally looked away. I don’t know the exact moment that the energy in the room shifted. Conversations dulled into silence. Eyes dimmed and glazed over with exhaustion. Tension settled into our bones. Everett wasted no time going to sleep on the cot, mumbling about how it was the most use he would be. Talli, Thompson, and Maisie chatted before going to browse the shelves, waiting for their turns. Nat scrolled through her social media for ages, switching to a new one every couple of hours when she got bored. Cody paced the perimeter, fingers twitching for something to do for a time before he sat on a cot and fell asleep quickly after. Cole and Simone talked for a while before he tucked her into a cot. Then, he joined me in leaning against the table. The weight of nothing happening was heavy and crushing. Watching and waiting wore us down.
When the witches changed shifts for the second time, Maisie and Thompson trading places for Talli and Izzy to take over, I checked my phone for the time.Eight hours. It had been eight hours with nothing to show for it.
It was foolish. Fucking idiotic. But, we’d gone in so sure about all of this. It felt like if we just held on hard and long enough, Byrd would appear like some promise fulfilled. But, time kept moving.
And, there wasn’t a whisper of anything.
Wiping my face and pushing my curls back hard enough to snatch at the roots, I pulled at the stem of hope trying to grow in the dust where my heart had once been.
“Hey.”
I looked up to see Thompson standing in front of me. He fidgeted with his fingers, clearly nervous about something, and he struggled to look me directly in my face. His apparent bashfulness really brought out the boyishness of his features, making him look even younger than he should.
“So, uh, I wanted to apologize for… him and everything earlier.” He gestured to the left of him toward a snoring Everett. Thompson continued. “I know that he’s an adult, and he can do it himself. Oh, he will definitely be doing that. I promise, but… I’m still sorry. I have no idea what got into him. Are you okay?”
I nodded. “Fine. Sorry that you got dragged into it. That was a little uncalled for on my part.”
Thompson brushed it off like he was batting away a fly. “Oh, please, you’re fine. But, uh, between you and me?”
“Hey, I can catch a hint,” Cole said, giving us some space.
Still, despite no one being within hearing distance of us, Thompson spoke in full Spanish. His was twinged with the Puerto Rican dialect, unlike the Mexican one that I got from my father. “Everett shouldn’t have laid a hand on you. That’s very obvious. As much as I love my mate, Everett can be such a stereotypical man sometimes where he talks with his fists instead of his mouth when it comes to his emotions. He never learned how to not be an absolute barbarian. He gets stuck in his own world, and he can’t see past it. So, as much as I don’tagree or condone his actions, I think he felt like he needed to do all of that to feel more grounded and to get where you’re coming from. You know, to understand your intentions? So, thank you for setting him straight.”
I raised an eyebrow. When I responded, I matched his Spanish with my own. “By punching him in the face?”
Thompson shrugged. “Hey, it worked.”
“After he punchedmein the face?Threetimes?”
“I never said my man was perfect, okay? But, I have heard how Byrd talks about you. Even how you two interact on the phone, it’s obvious that you are perfect for each other. I know you are mates. He knows that, too.”
