Page 75 of Scars Like Wings

“Dr. Du—I mean, Rhois. I’m getting my literal Doctorate in Witchcraft. I have no idea what in the fresh hell you’re talking about.”

“Hmmm, well, well, well,” Rhois continued to make her way into her office with the three of us in tow behind her. Rhois’s office was just like everything else within the Archive: bespelled and deceptively large compared to its outside. Her office was the size of most regular boardrooms with beautiful furniture and finishes that were both medieval but also somehow timeless. She placed her bag down in one of the two chairs in front of her massive desk. She bent over to turn on her computer.

“I don’t know that much about witches and the like. Being what I am, a vampire-shifter-fairy of sorts, I’m sure you can understand why that might be. We don’t tend to be the best of friends. But I can tell you the little I picked up throughout the centuries.”

Rhois straightened her back to face us head-on and cleared her throat. “Witch-fae are just as the name implies, the productof a witch and a fairy. They are quite powerful beings, being a blend of the two most powerful beings of the magical world. They date back to antiquity—maybe even before then—to a world where humans feared the dark, unknown, and unseen. At one point, like a lot of supernaturals, they were worshiped, or at the very least respected. Vampires had the world before the Industrial Revolution—or, now, arguably. Shifters had Rome. Witches had the Medieval Age and are rising to take their power back once again. But these reigns all have to come to an end as all things inevitably do, even if they are due to start back up again. I can’t remember if it was a plague or something, but last I heard, the witch-fae were all wiped out. That book in your hands, Byrdie, is the first I’ve seen of a fitch since… maybe before the Salem Witch Trials ironically? At the latest perhaps?”

My jaw dropped once more, but I allowed that to sink in for a moment. I gripped the book tightly against my chest, suddenly even more protective of it than I ever was before.

“So, why can’t we summon books about these fitches or witch-fae or whatever? Shouldn’t some books have appeared when Byrd asked for them?” I glanced over at Maisie as she asked. She was clearly just as shocked and confused as me, but she was at least able to form coherent words to ask the same questions I had.

“The Archive protects endangered species, especially those that have been attacked in the past or made extinct. You will not find any books on them to look over or browse out here. Those are housed elsewhere and magicked away from the public to maintain the safety of the creatures they impact.”

“But… h-how can that be?” I stuttered out at last, my voice barely above a whisper as I still struggled to process what I was hearing.

“How could what be, mo wee hen?”

“Well, this is… It’s just…” I choked back my emotions fighting to surface. I sighed and resolved myself to just spit it all out. “There’s no way that’s possible because this is a book I found that has my mom’s handwriting in it. I think it’smybook. Or at least, it’s meant for me from my mom. What I mean to say is that it can’t possibly date back as far as you said. It just can’t.”

“Oh, my darling babe.” Rhois covered her mouth. Her eyes glistened on the brink of tears. If anyone knew how much this meant to me, it was Rhois. Like I said, she was more than a boss to me. “Have you tried to speak to Everett about this? Where did you find this book?”

“We found it while he was going through some stuff he was going to donate, but I have never seen this book before now. I literally have no idea where it came from. And it’s magicked so Everett can’t even see it and he gets so fucking weird when I ask about it, Ro-Ro. I just… I just want to find out more about it.”

Rhois shook her head. “Oh, my dear. Bless your heart. But I’m the last person you should be talking to about any of this. Like I said, witchcraft and witch-fae are not my wheelhouse. You had better take this to the one upstairs.”

“Not sure God is listening in on this. Seems kinda blasphemous by His book, I think,” Simone said, scrunching her eyebrows.

I smiled in spite of myself and the whole situation. A feeling of giddiness starting to take the place of the stress in my gut. “No, she doesn’t mean Him, Sea. She means ashe,actually.”

Quicksand

The first time I ever set foot in the Archive Library, I was not a student at the University like I would be that following year, curiously looking through the stacks for research or reading for pleasure. Nor was I the always-happy-to-be-of-service employee like I would be when I finished my bachelors and masters jointly in the four years that followed while also working as a Library Assistant. No, the first time I entered the Archive, I was in search of sanctuary and stability after my world had been so torn asunder I was floating in space without a tether to hold me in place.

I was fifteen at the time. I was still reeling from my mom’s murder. But then, I had lost my Auntie Max, my best friend, and Pops, my biggest defender. In a matter of a couple of years, I was made an orphan. I had lost almost everyone who meant the world to me. It felt like I was losing everyone around me. Was it me? Was I the cause? It felt like it all came back to me somehow. It felt like it was all my fault.

Everett and I were in a hotel back then until we found a new place. My parents had chosen Uncle Everett to be one of my godparents before I was born, and now he was my guardian… the only family I had left.

Everett had fallen asleep, so I ran downstairs to think or grab a snack or to just… feelsomethingat the very least. I sat down on a couch near the entrance to people-watch and experience people living. There was a family with three little kids laughing and the parents smiling. A man sat nearby reading a newspaper. A woman hummed softly along to the music in her headphones. There was so much life here, so many reasons to appreciate how alive I was, to enjoy the simple things.

I took a whiff of the fresh batch of cookies one of the hotel managers placed on the welcome counter nearby next to the coffee and fruit-infused water. It was then that I caught it. It smelled just like her favorite perfume, a sweet and tart green apple fragrance that I knew too well. My breathing quickened. My stomach dropped, and my whole body tensed up. I clutched the black pendant until my knuckles turned white. The corners bit into my hand, and the wave of calm I usually felt did nothing to defeat the anxiety threatening to drown me. She’d put the perfume on before work and when her and Pops went on their date nights. Even though she only put a little on, it would mix with Pops’ herby citrus scent and made the whole house smell like, well, home. That’s not the only thing that would fill the house. Mom’s laughter. The safety of Pops’ presence. The smell of Auntie Max’s cooking. Mom. Pops. Aunt Max. Them. Those I had lost. Times I would never have again or experience again with them.

They were gone.

Forever.

I got up from the couch and ran out the door of the hotel. I wanted to run away from everything. To keep running until the pain from my legs, feet, and lungs were enough to eat through the bottomless grief inside me or maybe swallow me whole to leave nothing behind. I was just so broken and tired and lost.

I had to have been running for ages through the city, going from the crowds of suits in the Business District to the quiet of Blackbell’s center. I have no idea how I ended up at the Archive that day.

I burst through the doors of the Archive. Immediately, I tripped on my two left feet and fell in the faux grass near the front desk. Just as I fell to the floor, I fell apart at the seams. I sobbed, soaking the Archive’s floor underneath me. I was barely holding it together before. Now, I was in pieces with no chance of recovery.

I remember the then-Library Manager was yelling at me to get off the ground. I honestly don’t know how long I was there. But the Manager was quieted by… something. Or rather, someone.

I felt more than saw the person bend down next to me. Then I was pulled off the ground and brought in close to someone’s chest. They rubbed my back and started humming something soft and sweet and… It spoke to a deep part of me, like literal chicken soup for my soul. I didn’t move away. Instead, I sunk further into their embrace. I couldn’t explain the energy I felt, but in this moment, it felt like the broken shards were being pushed together and hot gold was being poured in the wounds to keep them together, just like the kintsugi pottery that Maisie had in her house.

I don’t know how long they stayed there before I had no tears left to cry. It was then that I finally pulled away.

A woman looked down at me with all the patience in the world on her face. Her warm, dark terracotta skin reminded me of the pots for the plants Mom used to keep at the windows throughout our house. She had long loose black curls that were a stunning wild mane around her face. She had a gorgeous regal face that also had a softness to it like a queen mother. Coupled with her dark chocolate brown eyes that had flecks of goldencaramel within them, she reminded me so much of my mother, Uncle Everett, Aunt Max, and a dark-skinned Eve fromThe Mummymovies all rolled into one. Her smile was a hug for my spirit.