“You can ask me anything, Sweetness,” Quinn said, whether it was from sensing my indecision from the bond or just how well she knew me was anyone’s guess.
I smiled. “Are you going to keep hunting?”
That gave her pause, her folding slowing as she searched for the answer. “Maybe? I don’t think Icanstop. Not completely anyway. I’m what hunters call a First Blade, which is a fancy way of saying I’m the next in line to lead my family like my father used to and like my mother is doing now. At some point, I will have to take over.”
“Take over? What does that entail?”
“Essentially, it’s choosing which missions we take and the direction of the family. I’ve always wanted to have us not do certain missions anyway. They are too dangerous, and we aren’t hurting for that money. So, I would have us take a step back.”
“How do y’all even get your assignments?”
“They come from the Hunter’s Council. They are our governing party, making our rules, dishing out judgments and punishments, and organizing missions for us. With how old and powerful my family is, we get to pick and choose our assignments.” Quinn sighed. “My father tended to choose the long-distance or big monster missions. He loved the danger, the money, the prestige. But, those are way too fucking messy. It never felt like we were helping there or making a difference. I think it’s because the cities were too big or the targets weren’t as impactful to the population. I always preferred the more local contracts, the ones with the small towns and weird, niche creatures terrorizing them. They were more fun to explore. More so, the people living there were far more grateful for the work we did. It felt like… I don’t know, like it mattered more?”
Quinn smiled faintly in nostalgia, and I couldn’t help but grin, too. “Would I be able to come with you on some of your missions? At least explore the tiny cities with you?”
She raised an eyebrow, her smile shifting to pure amusement. “What, so you can distract them like you did to me earlier?”
I gasped, dramatically feigning innocence. “Absolutely not! That’s just for you, babe. I’m not showing off my goodies for some wendigo.”
“You had better not!”
“Hey! Give me some credit. Besides, who wouldn’t run the other way at the sight of afucking dragon? They’d be too scared shitless to fight back. You would have them taken out in seconds.”
Quinn laughed. My heart soared into my throat, trapping my words in its tenderness and affection for this brilliant woman of mine. It was hard not to bask in the sound of her laughter or to want to hear it all the time.
Suddenly, an idea struck me. Maybe I could find something for us in Little Salem? An adorable house nestled in town with a bakery underneath for Quinn to not just cook in but sell her goods. I could see it so easily: our house would always smell like sweets and bread day and night. We’d have a backyard for Clarkson to run around in. When assignments came in, we’d travel to the small towns and explore them together before Quinn saved the day. If the targets were obscure, Quinn could come and see me at the Archive, or I could research them myself for her. We’d be the dream team. But then, when we weren’t working, the cousins and the girls would come and visit for game and movie nights. Our families would come for holiday dinners. Every day, though, it would be me and Quinn waking up and going to bed next to each other. What thrilled me the most were the lazy days we would have going up to our built-in bookcases full of books and picking from the stacks, both her collection and mine, married together.
Married.
Together.
My breath hitched.Married. Together.I hadn’t thought about those words when it came to me and Quinn before. I hadn’t allowed myself to think about it before. It had always felt distant. Being obsessed with everything love, I had always dreamed of being a bride, but now I was imagining what it might be like to be a wife.Quinn’swife. Our future had seemed like some kind of impossible fantasy before. Yet now, it felt socloseand so tangible.
That’s the future I want. I can’t wait.
“Hey, Sweets? What’s this?” Quinn asked, bringing me back to the present. She had just finished putting her rolled clothes in the nightstand’s drawer and was pointing to a book sitting on top. She went to pick it up and quickly realized that she needed both hands to grasp it, the tome thick enough to make her handslook small, like mine. She raised her eyebrows. “Mierda, this book is thicker than your thighs.”
I burst out laughing. “That’s my grimoire.”
Quinn’s brows drew together, looking between me and the book. “Grimoire? I thought only witches had those.”
“Apparently, that is a common misconception. I used to think the same until I found that book, well, untilitfoundme,actually, but any supernatural being can have a grimoire. They are like an ancestral how-to guide.”
“You said that itfoundyou? What do you mean by that?”
“Well, you remember when I was researching my scars and you saw them as a tattoo instead?” I waited for her to nod. Then, I told her about the Forget-Me-Maybe spell, how the grimoire had found me despite that, how it was passed down from my mom’s side of the family, and how it gave me stories from my mom and her life. I even told her about some of the stories I had read already. Quinn listened intently, hanging on every word I said. Her brilliant hazel eyes never left me, even as she moved her duffle bag to the floor before sitting beside me on my bed.
When I finished recapping everything to her, I said, “It’s been a while since I opened it to read it, to be honest. I hadn’t even opened it since my dragon manifested. Things have just been so crazy. I had forgotten about it.”
Quinn nodded. “That’s understandable.”
“Is it though?” I asked, eyeing the book in Quinn’s lap while clinging tightly to the warm black stone around my neck. The colorful crystals and glittering gold lines on the thick leather cover caught in Cleo’s light, creating a moving kaleidoscope of color on the walls that seemed to move and flow on their own. A stinging wash of cold rain went through me. “I mean, this book has all of my mom’s memories in it. It’s one of the few connections I have left to her. Now, I have full access to it, and I just… I just left it on my nightstand and abandoned it. I have away to get to know her that I didn’t have before, and I just tossed it aside. What does that say about me? That it’s so easy for me to get caught up in my life that I forget about her and how much she helped me to get to a place where I can do that and not miss her so much it hurts?”
“It says that you are okay and that she did her job well,” Quinn answered, making my jaw go slack in surprise. “Your mom wouldn’t want you to live in the past,mi vida. She would want you to keep moving forward. All those stories you read from it were to help guide you onward, not hold you back. You said the book could open on its own, yeah? Well, there’s a reason it hasn’t opened on its own recently. It’s because you are doing all right enough where you don’t need it.”
My vision became blurry with unshed tears. When I spoke, my voice trembled and cracked with admitting something I had never said out loud. “I don’t want her to ever think I don’t miss her or that I have forgotten her, but what if I do? I don’t remember her laugh like I used to. I can’t remember how she used to say my name or her mannerisms. It just feels like… I’m constantly losing her again and again.”
“Oh, Sweetness.” Quinn pulled me into her embrace. I thought I needed to cry, but the tears never fell. She kissed the top of my head before saying into my locs. “You could never lose your mother completely. She is too ingrained with everything that you are. Time steals the little things, but it will never take your memories of her away from you. Not missing her isn’t a bad thing. It means you are living as her legacy intended and as she always wanted: happily and fiercely and with all the love she passed onto you.”
