Page 8 of Memories Like Fangs
Uncle Harry’s breathing was the only sound in the room as we fell into silence, my mother and father having a wordless argument with their glares. I didn’t pay them much attention because I was too focused on Uncle Harry.
I knew that breathing pattern.
It was a Death Rattle.
There was no saving him now.
My uncle was lousy. He was a good-for-nothing, never being there for his kids or his wife. He was a loser, but he’d always cared more about climbing the ladder than about me. He used to call me “the spare” when he thought I couldn’t hear him. Still, I didn’t want him to die. What would the triplets and Natassa do? What about Aunt Carol-Kay? Mama was right. This wasn’t my fault. Yet, Dad was right, too. I had taken no action today. I’d turned my back and ran. How did I expect to head this family if I was going to shit the bed before the start? Ididwant to be the leader—well, I once did. I imagined a world where I changed the family for the better. But now?
How could I do that when I turned away at the first sign of danger that I didn’t want to face? What would I do when I had no other choice?
There was a knock on the door that broke the silent staring contest between my parents. My father shook his head, his fists clenching, as he went to answer the door.
Walking by me, he said under his breath,“Qué jodida decepción.”
What a fucking disappointment.
He walked on as if he hadn’t just shattered me with three words. My bottom lip quivered as I fought from crying anymore in front of him. I had already broken that rule. Enough had broken tonight.
After my father left with the front door closing behind him, my mother swooped in almost instantly and embraced me tightly and closely. I tried to push her away, but she held strong.
“Mama, no. Uncle Harry needs you.”
“No, baby, you need me more right now.”
I managed to push her back enough for us to look at each other. I shook my head. “He has to be healed though, Mama! Think about Cooper, Cody, Cole, Nat, and Aunt CK! How will we tell them if he dies?”
“Quinn-Quinn, my love,” Mama took my face in between her hands, wiping the tears away with her thumbs. She wasn’t gentle about it, and there was a part of me that appreciated the force. It felt like she was swiping away some of the edges I was feeling. “None of that is your concern right now.”
“But, it will be?—!”
“Not now. That is allmyworry.”
“But—”
“You arefourteen.Your only worry is losing your uncle and grieving the friends we lost on the mission today.”
The Death Rattle sounded like it grew even louder. So, he was going to die. And, they had lost some from the mission, too. I should have felt upset about that, but I couldn’t think about anything beyond my father and his words. This wasn’t my fault. There was no way… Right? I mean, me being there wouldn’t have made that much of a difference. It’s not like I would have saved anyone… Right? Was I just a weak coward? What else could he possibly be right about?
“How many, Mama?”
“Quinn January Garcia, what did I just say?No.”She pushed my curls away from my tear-streaked face. I was sure it was red from everything that happened tonight, too, but she didn’t seem to care. “You are thechild,and you need to be a child. I will not let you grow up too fast. Your father is wrong. You don’t need all this pressure on yourself, Quinn. Let the adults handle all of this. When it is your time to take the mantle, you will know. Until then, I will do this.”
“I love you, Mama.” I couldn’t hold it back any longer. With my mom’s words, I started bawling, becoming a slobbering mess.
“I love you very much, angel girl,” she said, pulling me to cry into her pajamas. She didn’t care that I was ruining her luxurious, silky gown with my snot and spit. She just rubbed my back, kissed my face where she could reach, and whispered praises to reassure me about how smart, kind, powerful, and good I was. It eased some of the hurt, the bits that would not last forever as a scar on my soul.
Nothing survived that day. Not my family, not our friends who died trying to kill that dragon-shifter, not me, really. We never took another dragon-hunting job after that. I never saw my father for longer than two weeks out of the year from then on. When I did, I never spoke more than a greeting and farewell to him. I had nothing further to say to him.
My father terrified me when I was small, but I wasn’t small anymore. I had run before, and I had learned.
Now, he wouldatone.
Artillery
QUINN
Idon’t know how long Byrd and I stayed that way with her curled into me on the floor, my arms wrapped around her like a shield protecting her from the quiet aftershocks of the past crashing and exploding our presents.
