Page 108 of Memories Like Fangs
Quinn nodded, admiration fluttering through her to me. Even though I couldn’t see anything from behind her helmet, I could feel her smile. I couldn’t help but return it. I got back on and laced my shaking fingers around her waist again. My heart pounded, steady and sure.
We all pushed forward. As we were swallowed by the boundary, the power of the barrier was soft, cool, and nearly imperceptible as it washed over us. It was like stepping past a curtain of thin silk. There was no resistance, only welcomeand recognition. The magic slid over my skin, wrapping around every inch of me. It chilled me like a cold rain while lighting up my skin like lightning. I could feel it crackling behind my ribs, and a low thrumming buzzed in my ears.
My dragon shivered with delight, rubbing against my skin again. Her wings fluttered, her claws pricking within me. I felt tingling sweeping across my skin like goosebumps from the inside out. My scales rippled just like before. My tattoos of my tail and wings yearned to come alive, ached for me to shift. My dragonwantedto stretch. She wanted to fly. She wanted to soar and claim this place as her own. She wanted to fill her lungs with this magic and never come down.
I didn’t let her.
As good as it felt, as right as it felt, and as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t let my dragon take over. Not here. Not yet. I didn’t know what we were riding into, but I had a gut feeling that I needed to leadwith my humanity to face whatever was ahead. At least, for now. So, I tried to keep my dragon close, but quiet. I gritted my teeth as if that could stop my fangs from descending if I squeezed hard enough. A slow inhale. My talons poked into the back of my hands. A steady exhale. I tightened my arms around Quinn’s waist, pressing my forehead to her back to ground myself. One heartbeat at a time.
Sweetness? You okay?Quinn’s voice asked in my head.
I smiled wider.Yeah, this magic is just affecting my dragon a bit. I’m okay, though.
I get what you mean. It definitely feels… weird.
Before I could ask her what she meant by that since she wasn’t a dragon-shifter, we came out the other side of the boundary. It was still winter-cold, still Chicago, yet it was different, too. Everything was like that, looking and mostly feeling the same, unless you knew how to tell the difference. The roads and sidewalks were completely clear of ice and slush, butnot in a way that salt or a plow could have done. The snow and ice appeared as if there was a spell cast to repel them entirely, but the front lawns and roofs of the houses sparkled with the powdery ice. There still weren’t any people out and about, but there were clear signs of the joy that lived on this street. Snow people of all shapes, sizes, and creeds dotted the yards in various states of artistry. The first few were lumpy and traditional, charming and lopsided with their stick arms, uneven arms, scarves wrapped loosely around buttoned torsos. They were obviously made by enthusiastic kids, judging by the scattered mittens, hats, tiny footprints, and tracks from snowballs being made nearby. The further we got into the neighborhood, they started getting far more intricate and better. They resembled statues made of snow and ice, each one a little work of art. Their faces looked sculpted and carved with care and woven into the essence of this place. They had arms and fingers etched from ice. One had a staff, another a crown of glowing snowflakes that pulsed with light, and one even had a freaking sword that looked to be carved from one block of ice and shimmered with runes I recognized but couldn’t name. Many of them had wings. Whether feathered or resembling more traditional dragon wings or even looking like insect wings, they all were so light and speckled with snowflakes that they seemed frozen in mid-flight. These weren’t made by hand alone. I could feel the magic buzzing gently off them, subtle but constant, like a warm current just below the surface.
Thedragonmagic.
My chest constricted, stealing my breath.
Your destination is on the left, the GPS on Quinn’s phone pinged.
The house looked so much like any other along the street that I almost missed it. It was a Chicago bungalow with tan brick, dusty white trim, and generous windows. The cement stepsleading to the porch were uneven from settling, but seemed pretty solid otherwise. Various toddler toys were strewn across the yard and along the stairs: a tricycle tipped over the snowy lawn, a tiny basketball hoop dusted with snow, a plastic baseball bat leaning against the post, and countless trucks and action figures. Holiday decorations clung to the front of the house like someone had already planned to just leave them up year-round. A string of white lights drooped unevenly across the roof. The candy cane stakes leading up the walkway were leaning or on the ground already. I was willing to bet that the light-up team of reindeer driving Santa’s sleigh only half-lit up. The newest thing was the wreath on the iron-barred screen door. It looked so imperfect, real, and alive that it just felt likehome.
I didn’t remember this house, but I could never forget this feeling.
Everyone parked along the curb directly across from the house, our small caravan coming to a halt in the silence of the street. I climbed off the bike, the stillness around reminding me again of the absence of people. As fuzzy as my memory was from all those holidays past, I remembered how there were always Pops’ cousins waiting to greet us as we drove into the neighborhood. They would be on the porches, waving or calling out. My cousins, who were my age, would run or fly alongside the car. It felt like a welcome party every time. Now, there was nothing. No movement in the windows. No shadows crossing behind curtains. Other than a few lingering scents that my supernatural nose picked up on to tell me that folks had been here at least in the past hour or so, there was nothing to show that anyone had even been outside recently. I strained my supernatural hearing to try and catch any sounds inside, but came up short.
Where was everyone?They couldn’t have all moved away. Pops’ family owned the houses along this road and had forgenerations to the point where it was named after his family, Levan. I never remembered Pops calling them to let them know we were on the way before, so I knew it couldn’t be that. Was it just because they had stopped expecting us? Had the Forget-Me-Maybe spell affected them after all?
“Are you sure we are in the right place, Bee?” Simone asked, echoing my thoughts as she got out of the SUV. “There’s no one here, and this place feels kind of… dead.”
“I’m not sure where everyone is, but we aredefinitelyin the right place,” Maisie answered. “I can feel the magic everywhere here. It reminds me of Blackbell. I bet if a human walked through this, they wouldn’t even notice.”
“I-Is that magic w-why I feel like—?” Cody stuttered before I heard a thump against the asphalt.
I turned to see him collapsed sideways on the street. His limbs were tangled awkwardly beneath him, and he was struggling to move them. He groaned, sounding strained.
Maisie knelt next to him. “Cody? What the fuck happened to?—?”
Anotherthudand Simone’s cry interrupted her. “Cole?Cole?!”
Cole, who had been helping Simone out of the SUV like the adorable gentleman he was, was now under her. His face was pale, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. His body jerked once under her before going unnaturally still.
Simone was a frantic mess, her hands holding his face and patting his cheeks. Her voice grew higher with her panic. “He’s out cold! He’s breathing, but—shit, he’s so clammy and burning up! Coco, sweetheart, talk to me!Cole!”
“Nat’s not doing so great either!” Teddy said from within the SUV. “She’s awake, butjustbarely. She’s sweating like crazy, and her eyes keep rolling back.”
Suddenly, a clatter split the air.
It came from right next to me.
Quinn.
Her helmet rolled in front of me as she swayed. She had managed to get off the motorcycle, but her whole body was wavering. Her knees gave out under her. I spun on my heels just in time to catch her. She didn’t pass out completely. Her eyes fluttered, unfocused, and dazed. Her breaths were shallow and fast. She leaned heavily on me, like I was the only thing keeping her upright. My heart sank.
“Quinn, baby, are you okay?” I crouched down, shifting to put her head in my lap. Her body trembled. There was a thin sheen of sweat dampening her curls that I brushed away. “Hey, hey, baby, look at me. Talk to me, Pumpkin. What’s happening?”
