Byrd was a dragon-shifter. And, she was beautiful in every way. Not in spite of her power, but because of it.
When she fought Zaria? Fuck, when she fucking kicked her ass? She held her own against the huntress, scales glinting in patches along her skin, wings fluttering to give her all the speed, tail slashing the air as if daring anyone to get close enough to touch. Each blow she dealt was precise. Each dodge was planned and purposeful. Dangerous and divine, her fanged smile was brilliant, and every bit a predator ready to land a fatal blow against her prey.
Fuck me, it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.
When I entered the fray, I wanted to finish it so I could worship her accordingly. What I hadn’t expected was for Byrd to look at me like I was a stranger. No, worse than that. The look she gave me was one of pure betrayal and heartbreak and pain. It haunted me to this day. I would rather rip my heart out than ever see that expression on her stunning face ever again.
So, I did that and gave it to her.
After we captured Zaria and the dust had settled, I told her everything. About my family. About the code. About how things were but also weren’t when it came to my family and dragon-shifters. About how none of that mattered. Not compared to her. Not compared to us.
And then, Byrd gave me her heart, too. She told me about her parents and how she had killed hunters before. About how she felt safe with me, despite logic saying she should feel otherwise.
When we left the elevator, our clothes were torn and our wounds were healing, but the bond was getting ready to settle between us,even before the bite, like it had been waiting our whole damn lives for us to realize it.
It was hard not to think about all this on the quiet elevator ride to the Vault. Here, Byrd’s absence was so heavy. It was like a bag had been placed over my head after I was gasping from being drowned. My chest felt so painfully constricted that I wondered how my heart was even beating still. I crossed my arms over my chest to assuage it, but my hands still shook with the desire to make the Blood Fitch feel a fraction of the pain she had caused me. My blood boiled at the idea, my anger rising like a building tide. In so short of a time, so much had changed, yet so much remained the same.
Nothing showed this more than when the elevator doors dinged open.
The topmost floor of the living library, the Vault was the crown of the Archive. As Byrd once explained to me, it held materials on supernaturals that were so rare or dangerous that they had to be protected and kept here. A wide branch created a walkway from the elevator to the tree’s exposed trunk. Thick railings made of their own trees curled around the perimeter. The once-toppled shelves had been righted and stacked into neat rows that seemed to stretch on forever. All the scrolls, parchment pages, books, slabs, and more were nestled in their homes on the shelves. Sturdier than before, the fresh wood and intricate designs on the new tables and chairs gleamed underthe soft light of the floating candles. I realized for the first time how much closer we were to the ceiling of the Archive as the snowflake stars glinted brighter and the snow fell closer to us. Still, the air was cozy here, the light from the white-blue orbs hovering about bright enough to see everything easily. It was as if the events of before had long been forgotten and now all the wounds were healed.
At least that was true for something, I guess. Must be nice.
Izzy spoke for the first time since we all boarded the elevator. “Welcome back to the Vault, everyone. We cleaned and replaced everything since the last time you were here. Well,almosteverything.”
“I promise you, Pussycat, the Archive’s tree looks perfectly healed. There aren’t any scars there,” Journee reassured, coming up behind Izzy to kiss her on the cheek.
I turned my eyes to the Archive’s tree fully. As soon as I focused on it, they were impossible to ignore. There were long, glossy scars of burns and gashes healed but etched deep into the bark of the tree’s trunk and branches. Their smoothness glinted faintly in the light, but their darker color compared to the rest of the tree was hard to miss. How did the other Guardians not see them?
It’s just like Byrd’s back scars.
When I first saw them on our date at the ice skating rink, I thought it was the most realistic ink I had ever seen. It was huge and took up most of her back, but the detail of it was what took my breath away. The way they curved so elegantly across her shoulder blades. The dark and delicate lines and shading that made them look so real and life-like. They looked like they could lift off her back at any time. I thought that calling them beautiful didn’t do them justice. They were just one part of the beauty I saw in Byrd, even from that first moment, that made me fall in love with her. But, when I asked her about it, her face hadgone so pale. There was so much panic and confusion there that I thought I had fucked up this beautiful thing we had before it could fully blossom. In actuality, I was the only one who saw her scars as a tattoo.
Look at me, I’m a little hipster. I saw her tattoos before they were cool.
Now, when she isn’t shifted, her wings look just like her tattoo did before that only I could see. I loved tracing my fingers over their lines and seeing the small shiver of pleasure course through her because they were so sensitive and perfect. When she was shifted, her tattoos came to life from her back, allowing her to soar and become a beautiful living perfection. Her scars, once a sign of how she had not just survived but thrived, had become a sign of how powerful she was. They were hers. And, these scars were the Archive’s sign of how powerful healing was and how much stronger you could grow from it.
No wonder they were so close, no wonder she felt so safe within her walls.
I caressed the markings on one of the Archive’s lower branches that I could reach. The branch slowly curled around my hand and down my wrist and forearm. Her embrace was tight and comforting. She squeezed once. Twice. Three times. It was like a mother’s farewell hug and kiss. Then, the branch pulled away to return to where it was before.
That fucking Blood Witch-Fae was going to pay for this. I would burn my entire legacy to ash and tear the whole world apart to find Byrd and make that fucking bitch pay. I swear it.
“So,” Nat said as she turned around to take the Vault in fully while the rest of us followed the Guardians toward the shelves. “What’s our plan, ladies and theydy?”
“To locate Byrd and make contact with her, we will need witches,” Izzy answered.
Maisie gave a low whistle. “Wait,witches? As in plural? This must be one hell of a spell to need more than one.”
Journee chuckled. “It is going to be quite a fewspellsactually, little fitchling.”
Maisie raised her eyebrows incredulously. “Spells?! Okay, now Ireallyneed to know what we’re doing.”
Now, it was Izzy’s turn to chuckle. “You will be among the first to know, young one. But, we have some light reading to do before we come up with anything for certain.”
Just shy of reaching the shelves, Izzy stretched her wings out fully, bent her knees, and pushed off the ground. She flew around the shelves, scouring each one. As she collected various books, scrolls, slabs, pages, and other materials that she needed, they flew over to a table on a flare of golden fire that didn’t burn them, Rhois and Journee waited to begin reading over them as they landed. They didn’t touch the works, only used their magic to hold and read them, I’m assuming to avoid touching the pages for the sake of preservation.
“So, how many fitches will we need?” Simone asked.
