Wings of Ebony

by J. Elle

  “So did you find the tattoo in the scrapbook?” Bri asks.

  Moms’s things are in piles of boxes in one of Ms. Leola’s spare bedrooms. Most of the boxes are half taped together and falling apart. Nothing’s labeled. But the scrapbook was in my room under my bed so it should be with my stuff. Tasha and I couldn’t get two boxes open before Ms. Leola had us at the table eating dinner last night.

  “Not yet, still looking,” I say.

  “Y’all catch up.” Tasha hops up. “I’ll keep looking for it. Nice meeting you, Bri.”

  “You too.”

  “What does it look like again?” Tasha asks, heading into the hall.

  “It’s a book covered in pink heart stickers. Hard to mistake for anything else.”

  She teases me and disappears down the hall.

  Bri sighs when Tasha rounds the corner. “When all this is said and done, I need to update you on boy drama.”

  “Boy drama? I need to lay Luke out? Because I will.”

  She laughs “No. I don’t know. Maybe. He’s being dumb. Let’s talk about it later.”

  I give her the look that says, Say the word and it’s a done deal. I’ll handle his ass.

  “It’s fine. We’re fine. It’s just little stuff. I’ll give you all the details later. I promise!”

  “Aight, holding you to it.”

  “So back to the tattoo.” She grabs a bag of gadgets she brought with her. “We can probably do an image scan. That way we can see all the locations where that same snake image appears. Depending on the technological advancements here, of course.”

  “I mean, we just Google everything,” I say.

  “What’s a google?” she asks.

  “That’s actually a good question. No idea, but it’s where—”

  “Found it!” A box lands on the table with a thunk. Ms. Leola wipes her forehead with a satisfied smile. “Tucked it away real good, apparently. Almost put my back out on that one. Take a look, baby. I’ma get my peach cobbler out the oven.”

  Bri lifts an eyebrow, so I catch her up to speed on all Ms. Leola told me. The coins intrigue her the most, but Ms. Leola said they disintegrated into thin air after she used them.

  “It’s dagvaar.”

  “A what?”

  “Dagvaar. A one-use sort of magical ritual. It’s usually attached to an object that ties the giver to the receiver in some sort of pact. It’s supposed to notify the owner when activated and self-destruct moments later. So it can only be used once and never be traced.”

  “So it’s a device that summons its creator?”

  “Exactly,” she says. “I wish I could’ve seen it.” She rests her chin in her hands. “I’ve only read about them and they’re hard to make. That’s really complex old magic, Rue. Like, how would Aasim even …? It takes an old type of Ghizoni magic that they don’t teach anymore.” She taps her lip. “Actually, I don’t know if they ever taught it. And of course all the books on ancient Ghizon were lost when the Chancellor took ru—” She’s such a magpie, I swear.

  “Bri, back to Earth, we don’t have a lot of time to figure this out.”

  Had I not skipped History class back in Ghizon so much, maybe I’d have some idea of what Bri is talking about. Girl’s easily distracted, but a walking talking Ghizon encyclopedia.

  “You know you’re the shit, you know that?”

  She appears flabbergasted.

  “Girl, get up on some slang. It’s a compliment.” I slap her shoulder. “To be so book smart, when it comes to some things, you dingy as hell.”

  I laugh. She laughs too. “Well, that’s probably true.”

  I nudge her. “You’re still a keeper though.”

  “I think I’ll keep you, too. If only so I can eat Ms. Leola’s food again.”

  “Deal.” We laugh and do our special handshake thing.

  “So your mother gave Ms. Leola dagvaar, which she got from your dad—”

  “Aasim.”

  “Sorry… she got them from Aasim to notify him if something ever happened to her.”

  “I mean yeah, that’s what it sounds like.”

  “So he wanted to keep an eye on things here? Hmm.”

  I guess. I dig my toe into the carpet.

  She chews her lip, piecing together clues of a puzzle I’m not interested in. “It makes sense. I mean, coming here, touching people, let alone having a full-blown relationship, a kid… I mean that’s, like, super risky.”

  You shouldn’t have brought her here. The Chancellor’s words are a broken record in my head. She’s far more like them than us.

  “And then?” she asks.

  “And then he apparently came to get me and told Ms. Leola to give me this”—I point to the box—“if she ever saw me again.”

  “Well open it! I’m dying to know what’s inside.”

  My stomach flips. Why am I nervous? It’s just Aasim. Probably some kind of Oh, I wish I was a better dad gift. I resist the urge to roll my eyes, and click the latch on the box open.

  There, against a bed of black velvet, sparkles a single golden cuff and a thin golden necklace with a curvy pendant dangling from its end.

  I stumble up from the table. “N-no, i-it can’t be!” I back away.

  Impossible words claw their way up my throat. “That’s the necklace Moms was buried in.”

  CHAPTER 14

  MOMS’s favorite color was yellow.

  The sheets on her bed were the color of fading sunshine and she had a pair of yellow and black high-top J’s she’d wear when she was trying to do it up. Her lucky sneakers, she’d called them. Bright yellow, soft grayish yellow, browner yellow like deep mustard, and even greenish yellow like chartreuse—she loved every shade. She even had a yellow striped coffee mug with a chip on the handle that made holding it sort of awkward. Coffee stains on the bottom were so bad you never knew if it was clean or dirty. But that’s the only mug she’d have her morning coffee in. You’d never catch her in silver jewelry either, because gold is its own shade of yellow. She thought being around the color yellow brought happiness—luck even. She could be superstitious like that sometimes.

  The yellowish gold necklace glimmers in the dim light against the velvet box.

  And this necklace, this very one, she never ever took off. Not when she showered, not when she went to work. It never left her chest.

  It was her way of sportin’ something yellow every day.

  Or so I thought.

  “G-go ahead, p-pick it up.” Tasha had heard the commotion, saw the necklace, and flipped out too.

  “I-I just don’t understand,” I say, hesitant to move. “She wore it the last time I saw her. A picture from the day of her funeral (which Aasim made sure I got a copy of) showed her wearing it then too. Which is normal because—”

  Tasha loops into my arm. “Because she never took it off.”

  Exactly. “Ms. Leola, how’d you get this?”

  Ms. Leola fidgets her earring. “Now, I never want it to be repeated beyond this room.” She lifts her chin. “I only did what I did because I had to.” She sighs. “I-I kissed her goodbye one last time before they closed the casket and plucked it from her neck. Nobody saw me, of course. Tucked it right in my fist with my Kleenex.”

  Wow.

  Bri peers closer at the bauble with narrowed eyes.

  “Ms. Leola robbing a casket?” Tash whispers. “Now that I didn’t see coming.”

  Worry lines dent Ms. Leola’s brow. “All I know is she was gone and lord knows I ain’t want nothing to happen to you, too. Your daddy said to make sure you wore it. So I did what I had to do to get it.”

  Make a way out of no way. It’s our way of life.

  I hug her. “It’s okay, Ms. Leola. Your secret is safe with us.”

  Bri is still tapping her foot, silent.

  “So you’re not mad?” Ms. Leola asks.

  How could I be mad? Shocked, sure. But mad, no. “You just did what you thought was best. It’s like we have a piece of her—”


  “Sorry,” Bri cuts in. “Not trying to be rude, but can I see that?”

  “The bracelet or…?”

  “Both.”

  I grab the necklace from the box on the table and it’s like touching Moms all over again. I’m actually grateful to have this bit of her. “Here you go.” I drop it in Bri’s palm.

  She pulls a gadget from her pocket.

  “What in the—?”

  “I can’t use magic without setting off Patrol, but give me a sec.”

  “Huh?”

  “Just watch.” She presses a button on the top of the gadget and it whirs in midair a moment. Then, like a magnet, the device snaps to the stone fused to Bri’s wrist. “Ugh.” She pulls it free, covers her own wrists with her sleeves. “Press the button again for me. It’s sensing my stones.”

  I press and it fans over my wrists, like a crab floating in midair with a suction cup under the bottom. I brace for impact as it brushes past my onyx stones. Nothing happens.

  “It only clings to magic,” Bri whispers. Of course. And my magic is dead as a doornail. The gadget hovers, scanning past other surfaces. I dangle the necklace near its sensor and like a vacuum attacking a Lego, it clamps to the necklace and won’t let go.

  She snatches the sensor and reads the numbers flashing on the top. “Just as I thought.”

  “And that means…?”

  “This is from Ghizon, Rue. And that”—she shows me the numbers on top of the device: 356103—“is the code for a cloaking protection spell. Rue, this necklace makes whoever is wearing it invisible to…”

  “To anyone in Ghizon,” I say.

  The weight of both my worlds comes crashing down at once. The epiphany fumbles from my lips before I even fully understand the words. “This necklace kept her off the radar all these years. Kept her invisible to them—all of them. Including…”

  Ms. Leola’s hand warms my back.

  “… Aasim,” I say, under my breath.

  The world’s spinning and I plop in the nearest chair. He gave her this, put it on her to keep her safe, knowing he’d never be able to even find her again? Th-that’s not quite the asshole picture of him I’d had.

  The thoughts roll around in my head, slamming into and cracking walls I’d erected.

  He wanted to protect her. And me.

  Still, all those years of struggling with Moms working trying to make ends meet. How much more good could he have done if he’d stayed here? Protected us here? Leaving… I’ll never forgive him for that. There had to be another way.

  And if there wasn’t, he should’ve made one.

  “What about that?” Tasha points at the cuff, resting inside one of two impressions the box.

  “Was there another one?” I ask. The velvet is soft, dotted with a few specks of dust. “Looks like there’s space for two here.”

  “I don’t know nothing about the bracelet, baby. That was already in your mom’s things. It looked expensive so I put the necklace with it to keep both of ’em safe.”

  “Definitely Ghizoni metal, I’d bet.” Bri grabs the cuffs edge. “Ahhhh!” It thunks to the carpet and she sucks the tip of her finger. “It burned me!”

  Burned you? I squat, studying the bracelet. “It doesn’t look hot.”

  “Well it is.”

  “Let me get some ice on that, honey.” Ms. Leola scoots into the kitchen with Bri on her heels.

  I press a fingertip to the edge of the golden metal and remove it quickly. Definitely warm to the touch. I scoop it up and its warmth coats my hands like I dipped them in chocolate—warm, but in a homey sort of way.

  Its heat travels through my wrists and strange voices swirl in my ear.

  Huh? I strain to hear as the heat creeps farther up my arm.

  What’s happening?

  I grip the metal tighter.

  Louder now, the voices speak a tangle of sounds I can’t make out.

  Everything’s still, so still, as I sit there listening, my heart in my throat.

  The doorbell startles me, and the cuff hits the floor.

  “Get that, would you?” Ms. Leola shouts from the kitchen. “Probably them boys from ’round the corner coming to help with some housework.”

  I can’t take my eyes off the cuff. What was that?

  Tasha moves toward the door and I scoop up the cuff, zipping it up in my hoodie pocket. The door swings open and my stomach drops. Standing there in Ms. Leola’s doorway, in ripped jeans and a white tee, covered in tats with a blingy smile that makes my knees weak, is my first boyfriend, the first lips I ever kissed and only boy I ever loved.…

  Julius.

  CHAPTER 15

  HE STEPS INSIDE AND all the air in the room leaves. What’s wrong with me? I’m over him.

  Tasha gives me a look. The look. “I’ma get back to looking for that book.” She tiptoes off, mouthing the words “He is fiiiinnneeeee” as she heads back to dig for the scrapbook.

  “Rue?” He steps inside and licks his lips.

  “Julius? Demarcus? That you, baby?” Ms. Leola returns from the kitchen with Bri on her heels, holding an ice pack on her hand.

  “Yes, ma’am. Just me today. Demarcus couldn’t make it.” The bass in his voice does something to my insides and I suck in a deep breath.

  “Ain’t seen you in a minute, girl.” He smiles and dimples split his cheeks in that perfect way that always made me melt. “How you been?”

  “I-I’m good.” A lie. “Just back for a visit. See my sister, the old crew.”

  “There’s a plate.” Ms. Leola stacks a few Styrofoam containers next to a plate piled with food with a wedge of pound cake twice the size of the one I had. “And be sure you take that back to yo momma ’nem. There’s a plate for Demarcus, too.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Thomas. And yes, ma’am.” He plants a kiss on her cheek before settling at the table. Ms. Leola leaves us to catch up, and I guess even Bri senses the tension because she joins Tasha in the back to look for the scrapbook.

  “I thought you came to work?” I joke.

  “You know she ain’t gonna let me do nothing before making sure I eat.”

  “True.” I laugh, trying to look at something besides his umber eyes. I don’t know what I expected him to be like after a year, but it’s like a lifetime has passed. Staring at him now, the drama and how everything ended is a faint memory. Funny how time does that—makes some things feel smaller than they used to. We shared a lot of good times, even though he was acting dumb at the end.

  “You looking good, as usual.” He flashes a gold smile and shifts his posture, his shirt clinging to the rounded muscles rippling beneath. “What you been up to?”

  “Just hanging tight, handling business. You know.” That’s code for I can’t tell you or I don’t wanna tell you, or both.

  “That’s wassup. You been aight since everything went down? I been thinking ’bout you. Came by here a few times, hoping to catch you. I didn’t know where you went. No one on the block did. Shit, had me thinking the worst, you know?”

  “I’m managing.” I pull my hoodie tighter over my shoulders, trying to ignore my burning cheeks. So much history with him. So many feelings. He was my person—the person I went to.

  “You always been tough as nails, girl.” He playfully shoves my shoulder and his touch, even through my hoodie, sends a jolt through me.

  I loved him. Like, really loved him.

  “Like a diamond,” I say. “So, what’s good with you?”

  “Been working a lot. Got this gig at the car parts store I been holding down, then helping Ms. Leola around here. Graduating in a few weeks, too.”

  I don’t know what I thought he’d be doing, but this ain’t it. “So you ain’t kicking it at Dezignz no more?”

  “Nahh, done with that whole crew. Not trying to get caught up. Ain’t ’bout that life anymore. Trying to own mine, not let these streets own me. Plus, my moms got a good job downtown so we ain’t hurting for the cash like we was.”

  I
’m smiling. “Proud of you.”

  He nudges me with his shoulder. I shift, careful to keep his skin away from mine.

  “Proud of me too.”

  Our eyes lock and time zaps backward. I’m in high school again and it’s just me and him. I feel funny all over and I scoot my seat backward. When did our faces get so close?

  “The fam, good?” I ask. His little brother was like a brother to me. Smart like him too. High cheekbones sit beneath his deep-set eyes and his teeth glisten when he smiles.

  “Yeah, we good, everybody’s good.” He tries to tuck a strand behind my ear, but I pull my skin away as I breathe in his scent. Notes of vanilla and cedar make gooseprickles dance on my skin.

  “It’s really good to see you,” he says.

  I pretend not to notice the way his tongue runs across those plump lips I used to kiss. “Good to see you, too.”

  “Am I interrupting?” It’s Tasha with a giant heart-covered book cradled in her arms and a kitty circling her feet.

  Oh god, could she have worse timing?

  He looks at me and the book and grins, huge. “Wait, wait, wait.” His chest muscles clench as he chuckles. “Is that what I think it is?”

  Tasha sets the book between us and I am mortified. She flips open the page, past pictures and tests and movie ticket stubs, and I am dying inside. He’s getting a kick out of this, grinning and looking at me like I been sitting here this whole time pouring over our relationship, reminiscing.

  “This is not what it looks like, I swear.”

  “Aye, yo. It’s cool. You ain’t gotta front. I missed you, too.” He laughs into his fist, trying to slow down the page turns. “Remember this?” He points to a frayed red ribbon from our first Valentine’s Day. He allegedly brought me these “pretty flowers” and wrapped them up in this ribbon. Even tried to tie a bow. Well, windy-ass Houston. By the time he made it to my door, all that was left was the ribbon and a few stems. We laughed to tears and he never lived that one down.

  “OMG, staahhhhp.” I swear if I was white my cheeks would be beet red. “Tasha, what did you find? Anything useful?”

  “No, that’s what I was gonna say. There’s plenty of pictures of his tattoos in here.”