Page 68 of Memories Like Fangs
“You know what I’ve been thinking?” Lilah materialized next to me, leaning on the back of the park bench and making me jump. I had forgotten that she was with me, even though we had just landed here together. Dressed in red from head to toe with her earmuffs, coat, pants, and boots, she was out of place here in the white and silver. Even my dusty pink coat with brown boots matched better with the atmosphere, but I guess thatmade sense since it wasmymemory. Lilah continued, “I have been going about this all wrong. Manipulating your memories? Torturing you? That’s silly. If you knew anything, you would have said it. That’s not even shade to you. You are quite strong, but my work would cripple anyone else and make them confess or slip-up at least. I can’t access your Mom’s memories since they are buried too deep within you, and I won’t even try with your father’s, given how powerful your maternal bond is, and that that would be the easiest. So, I think you truly don’t know where your mother’s or father’s enchantments are. But, Idobelieve you have been there before and simply don’t remember. Today, we are going to put that little theory to the test. Does anything around here look familiar or stand out to you?”
Initially, I was going to say no as I listened to the heavy quiet around me. But then, somewhere nearby, I caught the distant clink of metal on ice. Yet, the rink remained empty of skaters or anyone, really. Several soft whispers spoke too low for me to make out their words, but they were full of warmth. The coziness of the sounds clung to the air like frost on a windpane. The laughter was the same. It was light and high like bells carried on a breeze. I recognized it as my own from when I was decades younger, before I needed to be strong or succumb to wounds no one could see. I realized then that these were the ghosts of memories haunting me without anyone or anything being there. I wasn’t scared of them, merely curious about what they meant.
Suddenly, a pulse of electricity jolted through me. It was as warm as the sounds of my past and just as comforting and familiar.
I gasped at the feeling. No, wait. Not just one. There were so many feelings. They came over me, like an old friend running for a hug after a long time passed.
Yet, none of them were mine.
There was anger. So much anger. Wild, righteous, and searing, it made the sun look like a matchstick with its fire.
There was worry. Blunt and aching like a breath caught too long.
Determination. Hard and steely to see her goals through to the end.
Longing and sadness that could drown oceans.
Anxiety, insecurity, and doubt. Thick and cloying, it curled and stuck in my throat. Unstable and uncertain, but persisting through the horrors?—
Because of the love.
I felt love, overwhelmingly so. It was all-consuming, frantic, andfurious.It drowned everything else out while being the current that pushed them along.
Love.
Love forme.
Thoughts of savingmeto loveme.
Wantingmeto love back.
It was her.
Quinn.
Our bond.
Even now, I could feel our connection growing more settled and firm. It was like her soul was pulling it closer to her and bringing me along with it. I had no idea how it was possible, but the realization alone made me want to cry. Still, when my chest tightened, I had to bite my cheek. I couldn’t let Lilah see me as anything other than grounded, couldn’t let her see anything slip through the cracks in my appearance. If she sensed that my bond had returned, I would never make it out of this alive. I had to get something to Quinn. I needed her to find me. I had to give her something so she could find a way to stall Lilah in the process.
I’ll buy you time, pumpkin.
“Nothing looks super familiar to me right now,” I finally answered Lilah.
I could feel Lilah’s eye roll without even looking at her. When she spoke, I could hear a tenderness to her voice that we both knew was far from genuine. “Mhmm, Ihighlydoubt that, but that’s okay. Why don’t you keep looking around? I’m sure something here will call out to you.”
Lilah rounded the bench where I sat and started to look around. I knew she was searching for anything that would tell her where we were. She looked off in the distant fog, around the ice skating rink, and everywhere else for any landmarks, street signs, or anything to give her an idea. I knew she would find none.
That, after all, wasn’t what Little Me cared about at the time of this memory.
I’m scared.
In the literal blink of an eye, the landscape around us exploded with life and vibrancy. Christmas decor filled the space around the ice skating rink. Garland ropes of pine, families of snow-people, and Christmas lights were everywhere, giving the scene jolly cheer. There was a crowd now, both on and off the ice skating rink. They were diverse, ranging in not just race, height, gender expression, and age, but also in species, with supernatural beings from across the spectrum coexisting together. It reminded me so much of Blackbell that my heart ached with homesickness. Patrons lined up in front of the bustling booth for tickets and to rent skates if they didn’t have their own hanging from their shoulders or in bags. The line in front of the Concession Stand was even longer, but moving at a quick pace as customers ordered various delights to find warmth in the winter’s cold. There were people at the barrier around the rink watching the skaters while they chatted. Some were parents happily cheering on their kids while they cared for a baby ina stroller. Others were a significant other who didn’t want to embarrass themselves, or had already. The benches were all taken up by folks and little ones putting on their skates or taking them off or just enjoying their snacks with their hair windblown and their cheeks rosy from the sting of the icy breeze. The mirth of the crowd was almost too loud, the whole area full to bursting with such activity, but it was so joyous that it put a smile on my face.
“I’m scared.”
I turned when I heard the voice again, this time so much louder as it filtered through the mass of people like someone had isolated it and turned up the volume. The sight caught my focus almost instantly. There, on a bench across from me, was four-year-old me. My legs swung because they were nowhere near long enough for my feet to touch the ground. My tight, kinky ringlets were long and sectioned into pigtails with the cutest and largest bows. The dusty pink coat and brown boots I wore then weren’t too different from the ones I wore now, except smaller and with a little duck stitched on the pockets. Everything about me then was smaller and cuter. Even the frown I wore was adorable.
“What are you scared of, Baby Byrd?” Mom asked from where she sat on the bench next to me. You would think I would be used to seeing my mom alive in one of Lilah’s mind tricks, but it took my breath away the same way every time. She was just so beautiful and vibrant, even in my memories. If anything, here she seemed to glow more radiant, the dusting of gold and silver along her dark sepia skin shining even brighter. On this day, her afro was pulled up into a pouf. In perfect contrast to Lilah’s coat, Mom’s was also red, but hers was fashionable and chic with a knitted cream scarf and ear muffs to really tie her look together, like she always knew how to do.
