Page 176 of Memories Like Fangs
Even if you could, you would lose.
You will lose her.
There’s nothing your mother can do. Nothing you can do. You are nothing.
You will fail?—
I dropped the whisk with a loud clatter of metal hitting hardwood. I slammed my eyes closed and gripped the countertop tightly to steady myself. I didn’t care that I was likely getting blood on it or that I heard the threat of it cracking and would likely be banned from the kitchen once Everett found out. My arms trembled. A loud ringing in my ears accompanied the devastating beat of my pounding heart. Heavy and fast, my chest rose and fell like I’d just run a marathon.
Just when I thought I would break apart along my own jagged faultline, I heard a soft, lingering sound. I lifted my head toward it. There, Clarkson was licking at the edges of the accident on the floor.
“Clarkson! No, baby, there’s glass and blood in that!” I snatched the hand towels from the oven handles and from within my apron to bend down and start cleaning the mess on the floor. Clarkson was magical and her body could definitely handle processing a little glass and blood, but I didn’t want toput her through it if I could avoid it. When I had cleaned the floor and ensured all the glass was retrieved, Clarkson sat back on her haunches, head tilted as she watched me.
I smiled down at her. “Don’t worry, girl. I’ll share the next batch with you.”
Clarkson whimpered, pawing up to me. Her little dark brown eyes held an almost-human level of concern in them, and my heart squeezed at the sight. She had been trained to be like my familiar, but Clarkson really did get me. I bent down and loved on her, showering her in kisses. “I’m okay, Clarkson. I’m so sorry to scare you.”
She whined again but accepted the love, her little stub of a tail wagging shyly behind her.
As I was remaking another batch of whipped cream, the dulcet tones of “Dreaming of You” by Selena and the staccato vibrations of my phone whispered through the hard beats of some Blondie song from my 80s, 90s, and 00s Bangers playlist that had autoplayed itself into oblivion over the last several hours. The kitchen Cleo, a smart crystal ball, lowered the volume at the sound of the ringing cell. Bright warmth flashed through the haze of my spinning mind. Everything in me stilled as my heart lifted weightlessly from my chest. I already knew the photo I would see on the screen when I picked up my phone, “Mi Toda” followed by a queen, ring, bride, fire, dragon, and every color of the heart emoji scrolling above the picture.
I had taken the photo while we were exploring Chicago without her knowing. She stood in front of an old bookstore window, laughing at something I’d said. Her pink locs in their loose ponytail were beautifully backlit by the golden hour sun. Her head was thrown back in a laugh so genuine and unrestrained that it made my throat ache every time I saw the picture. Her sunglasses crooked on her nose, her brown eyes had their own golden glow, like she had her own sun within her. Ihad caught her and the light in the exact right moment. Magical, messy, and mine.
I smiled. My first real one all day.
I answered before the second ring finished.
Byrd’s face filled my screen. Her makeup was more brilliant than the early afternoon sun above her, hiding any effects of the last few weeks. Her locs were messily piled into a bun high on her head, a few strands rebelliously escaping to kiss her cheeks and neck. Her navy oversized sweatshirt fashionably swallowed her shoulders and frame, a crisp white button-down poking above the collar, and her mom’s necklace swaying on top as she walked. Out of my sight was the dark green and navy plaid pleated skirt and sheer tights she had paired with it all. Through her headphones, I could hear the soft clunk of her boots against the pavement with every step she took. Byrd was walking down a sidewalk flanked by magnolia trees and bare crepe myrtles eager for spring to return and bring their stark pink, purple, and red blooms. The muted bustle of a city getting back into the flow of life after the holidays murmured by. Rays of winter sunlight shone down on Byrd like she was a blessing, catching the subtle shimmer of her eye shadow and highlight. She was such a fucking dream.
“Were your ears ringing,mi tesoro?” I asked, licking a bit of whipped cream off my thumb.
Her chocolate diamond eyes followed the motion with keen interest. She tilted her head, smiling so her face lit up brighter than any star. “Oh, really? Thinking about me while baking?”
I grinned. “Well, youarevery sweet.”
She chuckled, shaking her head. “You can do better than that, pumpkin.”
“I can doyoubetter,” I shot back, wagging the whisk at the screen before I used it to scoop some fresh whipping cream into a bowl for Clarkson. I topped it with berries and gave itto a yipping, happy Clarkson. “How’s work going? Are you on lunch?”
She nodded. “I just left it with the girls! They kidnapped me, so they got to hear the news first.”
I raised an eyebrow as I started adding the rest of the finished whipped cream to a piping bag. “News?”
She beamed, skipping down the sidewalk with glee. “I got a promotion today! You are talking to the Archive Library’s newestGuardiannow!”
My jaw dropped, and so did the piping bag from my hands. “¡Órale, eso es pinche chido!That is fucking amazing, Sweetness! Congratulations!”
“I still can’t believe it!” She laughed, cheeks glowing. “I’m now the Director of Collections and Catalogs! I get to monitor the books while helping to gather more materials. It means a lot more cataloguing in the Vault and a lot more time off the floor away from patrons, which I don’t mind at all!”
Byrd eagerly launched into a description of the binding ritual to the Archive. As I piped whipped cream that looked like stars onto the rumchata cheesecake, she described the moment she stood in the Archive’s Vault, the way the flying materials moved excitedly for what was ahead. Byrd lowered her voice to a respectful hush as she repeated the vow she had taken: to defend, support, love, and perfect the Archive forevermore. The Archive had then woven a vine around her right ring finger, permanently binding her to the living library so she could feel her power and connection strong and thrumming alongside our bond. When Byrd showed it to me, I didn’t see anything at first. Then, a white tattoo of a branch with open books instead of leaves glowed softly to reveal itself. Now, she’s bound to the Archive just like Rhois, Isidora, and Journee, who share a similar tattoo on the same fingers, something we hadn’t noticed before.
“I can’t believe the Archive got to wife you up before I did. This doesn’t mean you have to move in and join their polycule, right?” I teased.
Byrd cackled. “I actually asked them the same thing! They said that I have quite the mate already, so there was no need. Ro-Ro even said you remind her of a young Journee, just more stabby.”
“IwishI were just half as badass as that genie. That’s a high fucking compliment,” I snorted, moving to work on the rest of the banana pudding tres leches cake.
“It is, but it’s a true one. Oh, did I mention my new role comes with a raise? It’s super wild considering I’m very overpaid as-is.”
