16. Quicksand
Quicksand
T he 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… feel something at 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 golden caramel within them, she reminded me so much of my mother, Uncle Everett, Aunt Max, and a dark-skinned Eve from The Mummy movies all rolled into one. Her smile was a hug for my spirit.
“Welcome home, little lotus flower.” Her accent was foreign and thick but was gorgeous, wise, and warm. Her eyes twinkled as she continued. “I’m sorry your mud was so very thick for you to be here and be so beautiful.”
I sniffled, wiping my nose and eyes and clearing my throat. “W-what? What does that mean?”
“The lotus is a flower that blooms in the mud. The thicker and deeper the mud, the more beautiful the lotus that blooms. So, the more adversity, the more beautiful the person.”
“That’s beautiful. Is it like a proverb or something?”
The woman laughed. “In a way. It’s a quote from the beginning of a movie, What’s Love Got to Do With It .”
I blinked. I think I love her… a lot.
The woman helped me stand up, but she kept a reassuring hand on my arms. “Welcome to the Archive, young lotus. You’ve done well to seek your sanctuary here.”
“My sanctuary?”
“Yes, the Archive is a beacon to those who are othered and lost in need of a place to rest.”
“Oh, I don’t need?—”
“Not literally, my child. Well. Not necessarily. It’s more for your mind, heart, and soul than your physical body though it can help with that as well.”
Wow, Aunt Max would love her. My heart hurt along the scars she had just patched. It felt sore and aching.
“Ah, you are hurting. You’ve experienced pain most would never survive and withstand. The Archive feels it, it is so great. She called you here.”
“You sound like an old sage or wizard in a movie or video game.”
Her smile grew. “Most would say I speak in riddles.”
I shrugged. “I’m not most, I guess. But I am confused. You talked about the Archive like it was a person. Even gave it a gender.” I looked at the Archive, finally taking it in for the first time. “Is that this place? It looks like just a library.”
“To most, it is, but you aren’t most, right?” She winked. “The Archive is as alive as the city, you, or I. She has her own quirks and dislikes, trauma and loves. She was born to be a mother to those society hurt, neglected, abused, hated, ignored, and othered. Her walls are a mother’s arms, her magic, her unconditional love, and her favor a support.”
The Archive’s tree rustled behind the front desk. I looked up above and watched as the domed ceiling changed to a cotton candy pink sky above mountain trees with red cardinals flying across.
“She’s taken a liking to you. It’s been a while since she has done that. It’s quite rare.”
My chest fluttered. I couldn’t contain my smile and pure wonder. My eyes were wide, trying to take it all in. It was incredible . A beautiful sight. I never wanted to stop this feeling… Wait, a feeling. Finally, something else instead of the cold and the numb. It was a drop into the dark and still. The ripple was small but growing with the light reflecting in the increasing wave.
For the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe I was finding my okay at last again.
“You have lost. Now, it’s time to gain.”
“Who are you? How do you know so much? Can you read my mind or something?”
The woman laughed deeply and infectiously. It made my smile grow wider. “No, little lotus flower. When you live as long as I have, reading people becomes as easy as reading a book or solving a puzzle. Oh, and how rude of me not to introduce myself! I am the Guardian of the Archive, but the job that pays me is acting as the Director of Procurement and Acquisitions. You may call me Izzy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
R hois was kind enough to watch the desk for me while I ran my little errand. Gripping the book tightly in my arms, I practically ran across the library, my skips light if not rushed. Simone and Maisie had to almost run to keep up with me and stay close behind. Despite my shorter legs, they were not used to me basically running.
“Byrdie! Byrd! Where are we going? Who were you and Rhois talking about?” Simone asked.
“Oh, you’ll see. You guys are going to love her!” I kept going. When was the last time I had seen Iz? She was always so busy. Trying to see her these days was harder than getting a shout out from Beyoncé on social media. Rhois and Journee had even been complaining to me about how busy she’d been and how she was never home nowadays. I wonder what she had been working so hard on?
Around the tall stacks on the main floor toward the right of the Archive, there were long, winding stairs that led up to the second floor. This floor was dedicated to women’s fiction of all kinds. The side the stairs put out on were specifically dedicated to classical and literary women’s fiction. The whole floor was truly one of my favorites.
Upon arriving, I immediately started scouring the shelves. Simone and Maisie breathlessly appeared at the top of the stairs, their hands resting on their knees while they tried to catch their breath.
“Any… chance… we… can get… some kind of… an explanation… here?” Simone asked between pants.
“Oh, I’m just looking for a few books.”
It took no time at all to find each one I was looking for. One-by-one in the proper order, I pulled them out so just a corner peaked past the shelves and then I pushed them back into place. Beloved by Toni Morrison. Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. The Color Purple by Alice Walker. With Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston, the girls and I heard a distant ding from above.
“Uh, what was that?” Maisie asked.
I squealed with glee before I followed the noise, knowing exactly where to go and where to be. I had done this countless times in the past twelve years. I’m sure I could do it in my sleep by now. The floor’s wall was typically just a wall with some paintings matching whatever the ceiling above portrayed that day. But instead, an expansive elevator door stood now.
“Uh, Byrd?” Simone asked.
The elevator cart arrived with another ding, and the doors opened to an empty but lavish elevator with mirrors and gorgeous tiles all around. I eagerly bounded inside. The girls exchanged a glance before joining me. I pressed the button for thirteen, and the elevator dinged once more before the button lit up and the doors closed.
“So. Are you going to just keep us in suspense, or are you going to finally tell us who we are going to see?”
“Sorry! It’s just really cool to play like Batman or something with the Archive. It’s very, like, Clue or Knives Out . You’ve got to admit that it was kind of awesome.”
Maisie shook her head. “You are so lucky you are a loveable and adorkable nerd.”
“Okay, it was very cool. But all the secrecy and theatrics? I mean, you know I love the drama, but is it really necessary?” Simone asked.
“Well, you can’t have just anyone going to see the Director of Procurement and one of the Archive’s Guardians, now can you?”
“I’m so very sorry. The what ?” Simone exclaimed.
“I thought Rhois was the Director?”
“Oh, she is. Rhois is the Director of Library Services . She takes care of the people side of the Archive. So, patron support, employee management, processes for checking things out, the works. Journee, one of the Archive Guardian throuple, is in charge of the Bistro, but they do also dabble in customer requests since they know what everyone wants naturally. The other wife takes care of all the backend work: getting and stocking materials, cataloguing, spell and rune maintenance, all the above!”
“Okay, I know I sound like a broken record. But wait. Throuple ?” Maisie questioned, astonished.
“Dr. Rhois Dubhglas is married ?! Journee is married ?! They are all married to each other?!” Simone cried.
I laughed. “Of course they are! You think three immortal and beautiful folks who are all at least four-hundred years old like them would stay single this long and not try to make a play at each other? Rhois is literally a supernatural creature who drained men of their blood and spent most of her time surrounded by women. Journee is a nonbinary genie—I honestly don’t think I need to expand on that. And the woman we are going to meet can only be found by taking out books that are all written by women. I literally cannot fathom anything gayer.”
“Okay, very fair,” Maisie replied with a smile.
“You said guardians, right? I didn’t think the Archive was that in need of one, let alone three.”
“Oh, of course! It is the one of the oldest libraries in existence that acts as an ancient safe haven for society’s others. It has texts that you can’t find anywhere else from cultures and languages lost to time. There are also materials about creatures that are rare or extinct that have to be protected. Guardians act as those defenders. They are usually a special breed of supernatural, like a specific kind of shifter who act as bodyguards. They tend to be powerful with magic to link them to what they are guarding and to keep it safe and secure. Their purpose is to maintain the safety and security of what they are guarding.”
The elevator opened to a massive, airy and bright room. It was decorated in a Moroccan-style full of vibrant purples, reds, and golds. Thin curtains draped lazily from above doing nothing to filter the bright natural light coming from the Archive’s dome above. A table sat at the center of the room surrounded by large poufs. Open books, scrolls, and loose pages covered the floor, only allowing for small glimpses of the brilliantly colored rugs underneath.
“Considering all the good the Archive does, this place needs a Guardian. Although our best Guardian, Izzy, likes to spend most of her time reading the dark romances I recommend over translating texts or protecting the cultured integrity of humanity and supers,” I teased.
“I heard that, little lotus!”
Isidora Belgreaves-Dubhglas descended with her hand on her hip and a smirk playing on her lips. Behind her, a double set of wings the same dark shade as her hair flapped to keep her suspended above us, blowing a cooling breeze around us. I did my best to ignore the chill cutting through me in favor of smiling up at her and enjoying seeing her again. Still, I couldn’t stop the shiver that came over me. Ever the observant mother-type, she tucked her wings behind her and landed softly on the floor in front of the three of us.
“Byrd, my darling,” Izzy said, touching my face. Her hands were warm as they always were, and her dark eyes twinkled as she looked down at me. Izzy towered over us just like Rhois, and her affection for high-heeled boots that added at least five inches to her height didn’t help. But despite the almost two feet difference in our heights, I always felt like I was on the same level as Izzy, like we were equals. She was like an aunt to me, all the Guardians were.
“Long time no see! What has you so stuck up here? I haven’t seen you in months outside of a hi-and-bye!” I said, placing my hand over hers.
“Apologies, sweet lotus. We have had some rather… interesting cataloguing issues. Some books have been going missing, and I have been trying to find the culprit.”
I furrowed my brows. “That’s odd. Like, no one checked them back in or something?”
“Not quite. These books are from the Vaults.”
My eyes widened. The Vaults were the highest floors of the Archive, and they were only accessible to the highest members of management, meaning me, Rhois, Journee, and Isidora. Reaching them was difficult, even if you had the very powerful rune magic and the Archive’s blessing required to access it. It was insanely high-security, as it should be. The floors housed the rarest materials and those about supers that the Archive strived to protect. Which is what made it wild and scary that anyone would steal from there.
“How is that possible? Do we know what they stole?”
“They were only a few books from the lower levels, so nothing too serious. We just need to revamp the runes and spells there. That is for my exploration, however. I’m sure that’s not what brought you here with your friends, no doubt,” She smiled, looking over behind me.
“Oh, right. I’m so sorry!” I said, remembering my besties behind me. “Izzy, these are my best friends, Simone and Maisie. Girls, this is Isidora. But she prefers Izzy.”
“So lovely to meet the both of you. Such beauties and fantastic friends. I have heard so much about you both. Byrdie has only said good things about each of you. What brings you to my floor?”
I explained everything to Izzy, detailing the book, the rune, Maisie’s reaction trying to decipher it, our research, the magic pulse, and Rhois’s initial insights. All the while, Izzy kept her face even and neutral. She listened intently, hanging onto every word and nodding along.
When I finished, Izzy immediately pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead. Izzy was usually always warm, but, today, she felt so hot I could feel tingling under my skin. It was as if I had been out naked in a ski resort all day long and then dove into a steaming hot tub. But I cherished the heat. Honestly, I was starving for it.
I was sad when Izzy pulled away, flinching and worried, but her hands remained on my arms, still warm enough that I could feel it through my thick sweater. I wished I could bundle up in her warmth like a blanket burrito. “You are freezing cold, Byrd. Are you feeling alright?”
I nodded. “It’s just this weather, I think. No worries! What about everything I said?”
The glint of concern in her eyes remained, but she continued. “Firstly, I’m so sure this has been surreal for you, finding a piece of your mother like this?—”
A knot in my throat halted me from speaking as the world became watery. Izzy always did know how to put a voice to what I felt even when I couldn’t find the exact words.
Isidora looked over at Maisie. “And for you as well. I’m sure this has been difficult. I see a lot of rage locked within you. This can’t have helped with that.”
“How do you know that?” Maisie swallowed hard.
“I told Byrd this many years ago but often people are the easiest puzzles when you have lived as long as me. However, I will not leave you in suspense for nearly as long as I did to her.” I rolled my eyes at her teasing chuckle. “I’m a sphinx-shifter.”
“Wait,” Simone said. “Like the Great Sphinx? The one with the missing nose in Egypt? That sphinx? For real?!”
“Indeed. That monument was modeled after my uncle. I wasn’t too fond of the old bastard, and he definitely wasn’t too interested in my—well, we’ll call them proclivities . So. I used my magic to get rid of his stupid nose. I didn’t have a good grasp on it, so I accidentally cursed the nose to never be able to be put back on. The whole thing is beyond hilarious to me even still, especially when anyone brings it up. To respond to your most obvious question, however, I’m well over fifteen-hundred years old. Journee often jokes that I must be part cougar instead of lion.”
Isidora rolled her eyes, but we all chuckled. “I wanted to express all those things before we went any further. I have a feeling this is not going to get easier, so it’s important to acknowledge your feelings. Now, may I see this book of your mother’s, Byrdie?”
“Of course!” I handed the book over to Isidora. She examined it, looking at the cover, the spine, and the back. She skimmed the pages before turning to the rune in the back. Shifting the book to one hand, Isidora’s eyes brightened. The golden caramel flakes in her eyes took over the dark chocolate brown there, but it didn’t stop there. Her gaze heated, glowing more vibrant until they became ochre. Just like with Maisie’s magic when she used it, the golden yellow sparkled and overflowed from her eyes like stardust.
Unlike Maisie’s magic, Isidora’s pupils narrowed into black slits among the almost-orange color. Her nails lengthened becoming something closer to talons instead, and she traced the air above the ink of the rune with their sharp tips. Isidora’s magic was linked to her shifterness. When she used her magic, she had to tap into her shifter side, even if it was a simple amount. Summoning one meant bringing out the other, too. They went hand-in-hand and enhanced one another like a feedback loop. It made Isidora ridiculously powerful in turn.
I watched as Isidora glanced over the intricate linework and symbols of the rune for a while. Finally, she blinked. Her eyes and nails returned to normal, and I released a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
Isidora closed the book softly and returned it to me. “Puppy is correct. Roughly so, but right, nonetheless.”
“Puppy?” Simone asked.
“Her nickname for Rhois because of her ability to shift into a wolf. Journee’s is Jenny. One because it’s a play on the word genie and also?—”
“Do not tell me it’s also because of the show I Dream of Jeannie ,” Maisie teased.
“Rhois and I loved watching that and begged Jenny to do the nose thing when they made wishes. They refused to,” Isidora shrugged, smiling.
“What was Rhois right about?” I asked, recentering us.
“The rune located in the back of the book is an Archaic. Very old magic indeed. I would say this Archaic dates back to the 1800s maybe, but there have been adjustments to it as recently as about fifteen years ago, give or take.”
“1800s?” I exclaimed. “How can that be if this was my mom’s, and it is that old?”
“While your mother was the last possessor of this book, she was not the only owner of it. That book has history to it, lotus, a magic that has been passed down through generations, changing hands related to each other. Its magic feels to me more like a grimoire than a regular book, to be quite honest.”
Maisie stiffened next to me. I didn’t fail to notice it and the shift in the air.
“But I thought grimoires were only a witch thing? Does this mean that Byrd is actually a witch?” Simone asked.
Izzy shook her head. “I don’t believe so. Grimoires are far from specific to only witches. Just about any supernatural being can have them. They are books of wisdom passed through families. That wisdom isn’t just spells, runes, hexes, and curses. It can be shifting secrets to make the initial change easier, elemental tricks for communicating with nature better, you name it.”
Just about any supernatural being . That phrase didn’t fail to escape my notice. I didn’t know much about grimoires, but I knew that humans didn’t have magic ones like the one in my arms. Was I not human—? I did my best to shrug it off and keep going. I could deal with my feelings later. We needed information now to find answers.
I pressed on. “If this is a family book—a grimoire—then why are the pages blank? Shouldn’t I at least be able to read them?”
“I do not know how or why, but a very complex and powerful cloaking spell was placed on the book. Some other things were added as well. I cannot make out the full details or anything as witches rarely leave those and fitches, especially, notoriously do not. But I can tell that the spell was recent, the fitch was powerful, and they were rushed for some reason. The spell has a desperate tenacity to it, like someone wanting to fulfill a dying wish before someone moves on to the next plane from this one.”
I clutched the book close to me. A feeling gnawed deep that hit too close. “Well, speaking of fitches, can you tell us more about them? Why doesn’t the Archive stock their books downstairs? What happened to them?”
“Ah. Now, that is a good question. And a great tale. It will require tea. Join me?”
Isidora gestured with an open arm to the low table surrounded by sitting pillows. The four of us sat down at the table, sitting cross-legged on the pillows. I sat the book down on the table near me. A teapot on a cloud of orange-yellow stardust floated over the table’s center. It was gorgeous, painted with swirls and filigrees of ultramarine blue against a smooth white ceramic. Its handle was made of real gold, as was the top of the pot. I knew from countless times of sitting up here with Izzy as she told stories, we read together, or she listened to my rambles that it was her favorite tea set. A gift that Journee had given her on their wedding and bonding day. Steam came from its spout with steeped tea inside. It waited above the table patiently as four matching cups settled in front of each of us. The rest of the set followed with a bowl of sugar cubes and a carafe of creamer landing on the table. With our cups before us, the teapot served our tea before settling in the table’s center near the sugar bowl and creamer. We each prepared our teas and quietly enjoyed it for a moment before Izzy cleared her throat and began.
“Among supernaturals, you have many types. Vampires, those creatures that need energy or life to survive. Shifters, those who are connected with the primal and duality of nature. Fae and their ilk who are in sync with nature and can coax her to bend. Witches, who can use their humanity to work with or against nature, pulling power from their own will. There are others like orcs and poltergeists, but the main supernatural groups are plentiful, powerful, and capable of creation and destruction, of beauty and disaster.
“With this power, many of the Old Ones thought it best to find ways to reign in and control. They sought balance. Sunlight and starvation, human forms with weaknesses, and feelings and spells. For creatures that proved too powerful for these weaknesses, they got crafty and cruel. The Old Ones believed in snuffing out a problem before it began or got worse. So was the curse with witch-fae.
“Witch-fae are the product of a union between a fairy and a witch. The child has the will of a human witch and can coax nature like a fairy. They do not get tired when they use too much magic like witches because they can pull from nature if she allows. They are intuned with their feelings because they have their witch side. Add to this that both sides of a witch-fae amplify each other like a feedback loop, and you have a spellcasting creature that is damn near invincible.
“The Old Ones were frightened of them. So, they did what any group of old men do when their power is threatened by what they couldn’t contain: demonize, ostracize, wage war, and commit genocide.”
“Wow, great to know that this isn’t just a human thing. Patriarchy ruins things for supernaturals, too,” Maisie said, earning a smile from Izzy.
“Indeed, my dear, it does. With this campaign, the Old Ones hunted the witch-fae down in an attempt to eradicate them. When that failed, they stigmatized them and drove a wedge between witches and fae that lasted for millennia.”
“Oh, I’ve heard about this in covens and my courses,” Maisie said, her eyes sparking like they always do when she has her brain in academic mode. “Fae used to frown on witches, thinking they were lesser versions of fairies, and witches thought Fae were like super-suprematists.”
Izzy nodded. “Exactly. Your generation and the ones beyond are the first to begin accepting supers as equals across the board. But your parents’ generation weren’t so level-headed. Fitches still exist now, but not so prevalently as they did in the past. They are ignored and blatantly discriminated against at all levels of society. They are effectively endangered, othered. So, the Archive wants to protect them.
“We keep books on fitches and their history locked in the Vaults along with books on Archaics since a fitch is one of the few still able to read, study, and create them?—”
“Wait, witches can’t read Archaics? I thought witches just couldn’t make them like Rhois said. They can’t read them either?”
Isidora shook her head to Maisie’s question. “The magic is too powerful and old for them to even try to access. It is like the difference between trying to power a whole house using triple A batteries and trying to do so using a large generator with solar panels and wind turbines. A witch, while formidable, cannot handle that kind of power. If a witch tried to read an Archaic, their power would simply short out and nothing would happen.”
“So. What does it mean if I can read Archaics?”
My eyes widened. Everything seemed to stop. The tension was so thick it was suffocating and I could hardly swallow around it. It felt like we were holding our breath. Maisie was so tense between me and Simone. I could feel her coiled energy radiating off of her, like a rubber band stretched to its limit and ready to pop. Her hands were fists on the table. Her eyes were locked on Isidora, the only being still in motion as she peacefully sipped her tea.
If I knew Isidora at all, I knew that she had been expecting this question and wasn’t at all surprised.
“What does that mean?” Maisie asked.
“Maze had that reaction,” I asked, finally able to speak, but it was only slightly above a whisper as I voiced my thoughts out loud. “Could that mean—? Does that mean?—?”
Isidora sat her tea down and locked eyes with Maisie. They were full of empathy for my best friend and her plight. “I’m so sorry, Marceline. What you are thinking is the truth. Fitches have magic like witches, and it manifests as witch magic. So, it is possible for a fitch to go their whole lives being none the wiser to the truth or even knowing about the existence of witch-fae. The fact that you could read the Archaic and see it was enough proof. However, accessing it unlocked your true nature. The spell on the Archaic to ensure the safety of the grimoire has special defenses put in place to maintain its security. That is why you had the reaction that you did when you tried to use it to locate the source of the Archaic. It was fighting back. You absorbed the brunt of the spell’s attack and somehow turned that around to manifest and reveal yourself to you and your friends. It’s very complicated magic and spellwork, but the fact that you are still alive is a testament to your power. ”
“Oh, my gods,” Simone said.
“So… I’m …” Maisie trailed off as the news sunk in. Simone and I each grabbed one of her hands and scooched to be shoulder-to-shoulder. She swayed against us. Her world had been turned upside down in such a short amount of time. I totally knew that feeling. Still, she squeezed our hands as we gave her a second to cope with the news.
But there was one more thing that was nagging in the back of my brain. “But what about that pulse that I felt? The magic that both Maisie and I felt? Why didn’t Simone feel it? What was that?”
“This grimoire is yours, Byrd. It’s connected to you. It sought you out because it thought you were ready for it. It even asked you if you were. Do you remember how we have talked about your crystals going missing in the past and returning in a place that seemed strange but not enough to be concerned with? This grimoire disappeared from your family about fifteen years ago and here it is. Just like your crystals.”
Wait.
Fifteen years?
Fifteen years would be when…
“Now, as for why Maisie could feel it—” Isidora started before I could spiral like my brain so desperately wanted to after all of this new information.
“It’s because I’m a fitch, r-right?” Maisie stuttered but finished Izzy’s thought.
Izzy nodded. “Fitches can sense each other and are connected to each other. Their magic is attuned to one another. Few can kill a witch-fae and live to tell the tale, but a fitch can kill another fitch.”
“But if I’m a fitch, that would mean that… my mom’s a… then, my dad…” She trailed off, zoning out for the briefest moment. Then her eyes started to blaze.
“Maisie? Hello?” Simone called.
“I’ve got to go.” Abruptly, Maisie got up and left toward the elevator. Simone followed closely behind her, calling after her.
Isidora and I stood. I grabbed the book and gripped it tight. Learning it was a grimoire with an ancient rune inside of it somehow didn’t make me want to fling the damn thing across the room like it probably should. For some reason, knowing that and that my mom’s handwriting was still curled inside made me want to never let it go. I wanted to keep it as close to me as the obsidian pendant around my neck.
Isidora placed a hand on my shoulder, bringing me back to the present. I looked up at her. She smiled down at me, her eyes twinkling. “Remember, little lotus, you never really lose anything.”
My eyes narrowed toward her. “I can’t tell if you are doing that thing where you can see into the future after you looked at my tea leaves left in my cup, being a riddler, or just repeating what you saw on a fortune cookie to fuck with me.”
Isidora’s laugh rang out in the room before I hugged her and followed my friends to the elevator.