Page 8 of Scars Like Wings

We’ll always be around to keep you safe.

My mom’s voice. She promised I would always be safe with the family around me.

Now, I had no idea where she was.

I had no idea if she was even alive.

And I had never felt less safe than I did now.

I felt as shattered and broken as the crystal shards I had thrown to protect myself.

Asteroid

Isat up too suddenly.

My back protested in thousands of places, making me gasp. I was tangled in my bed sheets from a sleepless, dreamless slumber. Pops’ old police academy shirt and a pair of my shorts clung to my body from a cold sweat. My braids were scattered around my shoulders, with some plaits wrapped around each other.

I put on my glasses, combing out the snarls in my braids with my fingers. I was back home. My room was dark for the most part. The soft light of my bedside salt lamp cast shadows against the walls. My cracked bedroom door also brought in a bit more light from the hallway.

This room was the only bedroom I had ever lived in, but the air of it just felt… different. Before, it felt like it was always going to be the same house, always full of laughs and smiles, always smelling like my mom’s cooking, always full of life.

Whenever I was in my bedroom, there was constant noise outside. The house wasneverquiet. Maybe it was Pops telling a joke along with Mom’s deep laugh. Possibly, Uncle Ever or Auntie Max telling a vivid story. Perhaps it was Mom talking toa coworker on the phone. Either way, the house stayed loud and full of a fun, infectious energy.

But now, there was only silence.

I threw back the sheets and got out of bed, tiptoeing to the door. The last thing I remembered was being carried by Pops through the forest. My back and legs had been hurting too much to walk. At first, we were quiet. The rain had stopped, leaving the air muggy. The sun had set already with night settling in, and the clouds covered any stars we would’ve been able to see through the trees above. Pops’ flashlight on his shoulder was the only source of light to guide us.

“Nothing is ever going to be the same now, huh?” I whispered.

“I won’t lie to you, baby Byrd.” Pops’ voice was like a plate of soul food to my starving heart. Pops was born and raised in Louisiana, with the Southern Cajun accent to show for it. “Thingswillbe different. But wewillfind your mother.”

“What about Uncle Everett?”

“He’s alive. After you ran away, he took on as many of the hunters as he possibly could. But some slipped by to capture you and take Doe away. He couldn’t take on everything at once. So…” He let his words trail off as the reality sank in. “We’ll find her. Your Uncle Everett is searching for her as we speak. I have him scouring the skies while your Aunt Max is on the ground. Between those two, we will find her. I know it. Wewillfind her.”

So, Mom was missing. She was hurt and missing. She was hurtrealbad, and she wasmissing. I tightened my grip around Pops’ neck.

It was going to be okay. Pops was right. If anyone could find Mom, it would be my Uncle Everett and Auntie Max. Uncle Everett was a master at tracking people. Like Pops, he knew how people functioned like no other. It was part of his charm andproof that he was the embodiment of the animal he could shift into: proud, regal, and powerful.

Auntie Max was as much my aunt as Everett was my uncle. Aunt Max had grown up with Pops. They were next-door neighbors for decades until he married Mom. Then she became Mom’s best gal-pal. But, they were polar opposites. Whereas Mom was more materialistic and more structured, Aunt Max was far more spiritual and free. Plus, Max’s head-in-the-clouds personality was directly at odds with her true nature. She was a hellhound shifter. A legendary demonic creature meant to guard hell’s secrets, she was a trained fighter from some sort of career that she had before I was born that she also refused to talk about with me. Now, she used her skills to watch over those who mattered most to her—only whenabsolutelynecessary. She was non-violent to her core, never even swatting at flies. On the rare occasions she became aggressive, she tore the world apart to bring hell to earth.

She was tall and willowy. Her black Bohemian goddess locs flowed down her back. But she always had them styled out of her face. Her face was covered in piercings: her eyebrows, nose, cheeks, lips, and ears were a dazzle of gold charms and chains. Her light-brown body was equally covered in tattoos from her neck down to her toes. Aunt Max’s terracotta red eyes were always bright with wisdom and amusement, especially when it came to my antics. I always went to Auntie Max for real-world advice: how to handle friends or how to choose a future. I even went to her for love advice, as she always had some new lady friend around. Of course, she would never tell Mom or Pops anything we talked about. It was our secret until I was ready to say otherwise.

I could see Uncle Ever and Auntie Max now. Uncle Everett was in the skies with his brown wings spanning the length of a large heavy-duty truck. His golden hazel eyes would scan downsearching. Meanwhile, Aunt Max’s paws would pound as she raced through the forest. Her black fur was covered in locs, too, her pointed ears pierced, and her body the size of a Clydesdale, she would follow her nose to pursue Mom’s trail. Between the two of them, they would find Mom. There was no way they wouldn’t.

I just couldn’t accept a reality where I was and Mom wasn’t.

Under his breath, Pops said, “We’ve gotta find her. We will find her. For your sake. Wehaveto.”

He kept repeating this as a mantra. His eyes and feet focused forward. I knew that look and feeling. I tightened my grip around his neck.

That’s the last thing I remembered. I must have fallen asleep in Pops’ arms not long afterward.

I opened my bedroom door and stepped forward to look down from the stair banister overlooking the living room and the kitchen island. From above, I could see the heads and legs of Uncle Everett and Aunt Max lying on each of the couches. However, I didn’t recognize the person standing in front of the fireplace. They appeared to be a tall, white woman. Her hair was wavy and half-dyed blonde and ginger brown under her black sun hat. She was in a vintage black dress with a matching thin long-sleeved robe and high-heeled platform boots. From under the brim of her hat, I could just make out a black lip to go along with her aesthetic. I loved her look, but I couldn’t place her face.

Their conversation trailed off into silence as they all turned to look up at me from below. They were already talking, barely above a whisper. Their super hearing must have caught when I was coming so they could stop their conversation. Their faces were mixtures of great sadness and concern.

It made my stomach churn.