Page 158 of Jinxes and Drumsticks

They’re all very quiet for a long time. I don’t blame them. I don’t really know what the fuck comes next either. If the shoe were on anyone else’s foot, I wouldn’t know what to say to them.

In the end, it’s Bastion who speaks.

“You sound like you’re giving up,” he observes.

It’s quiet, almost hesitant. Like he fears that saying it out loud will make it so.

I heave out a long, exhausted sigh. “Guys, listen. I know from an outsider’s perspective, it doesn’t seem like I’m missing out on much. The bloodline curse is a drag, but hey, all things considered, it could have been a lot worse. But the thing is... Gods, I want to be able to dream. I don’t think you really get it, because you’re not confined to just this city like I am, but for one short moment I thought I was free. Really, really free. And then this happened.” I gesture to my neck.

“I want to... see Niagara falls. I want to go hiking in Malibu. I want to visit Alcatraz, or see a lake. I want to go to a different country and try learning a language while I’m there. I’m thirty-three years old, and all I have stretched before me is the shop and The Buried City, forever and ever and ever. I’m good about keeping a positive outlook for you guys. But... I just... getting to want something, and think it might actually happen, only to have that hope ripped away...” I sigh. “I don’t have much room in my heart for more disappointment.”

A long moment of silence passes again, and Wren rises from her seat, coming to sit next to me on Bastion’s little loveseat next to his table. She pulls me into a silent hug and just... holds me. She holds me in silence for so long that I do that awkward pat on her back. But when she doesn’t let go, I lean my weight against her.

Bastion follows after, pulling us both against his chest for a three-way hug. Two silent tears slip down my cheeks and I sniffle. “I should be with Damien right now,” I hitch under my breath.

“You should be,” Bastion agrees. “I’m sorry, Lilipad. It really is criminal how so many Nightingales have lived their lives locked in a cage.”

I look at Aemon, and he looks distracted. He’s examining a spot on the floor like it’s going to spill magical secrets. More tears slip out as I close my eyes. There’s a long silence; I can’t tell if it’s contemplative or resigned. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

But being held by my friends. It feels good. Because they’re family, too. They’re everything I have. And to have them finally acknowledge how miserable it’s been to live like this feels like I’m releasing myself from a generational curse, even if I’m still trapped.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” Bastion says as he holds me. He fusses with my bangs, getting the center point of them to lay flat against my brow, a bit of familial care he used to do when we were kids. “We’re going to eat this stew I made. And then we’re going to read. A lot. An obnoxious amount, quite honestly. And when that’s done, we’re going to do whatever we can to break this subjugation spell. It won’t fix everything. But it’s our first priority. Because we need to sever that connection if the rest of everything else is going to fall into place.”

This is what Bastion is best at. Assessment and strategy. His mind is built to find the first correct thing to do.

“And then we’re gonna have a fucking sleepover,” Wren says, nuzzling against my cheek. “Because we need to get your mind out of the dark spot you’re stuck in. Girl time, yeah?”

“It’d be nice not to be alone...” I mumble. “I miss Damien a lot.”

“I know. You’re so down bad,” Wren says indulgently.

“I’m so down bad,” I groan.

Aemon sighs and pushes off the wall. “I’m going to get started looking through the archives. Alright with you, Lovely?”

Lovely? Who is he calling—

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Wren answers.

I stare at her, mouth agape, as Aemon once again blinks out of existence. Bastion must sense my immediate tension, because I hear him heave out a sigh as he releases us from our group hug. “I’m going to serve the stew,” he says with a resigned sag in his tone.

Wren blinks her too-big-too-innocent eyes at me.

“I know you’re not hiding another hookup from me, Wren Constantina Regina Laluz Alonso!”

“All of the middle names? Really?” Wren whines.

“Wren.”

“It’s not that serious,” she says releasing me and spreading her hands with a shrug. “We just... kind of hit it off.”

“SO WELL THAT YOU FUCKED?”

“NO,” Wren cries. “We just kissed. Honestly... it was kind of nice. I can’t remember the last time a guy just kissed me, without trying to go for more. Aemon’s kind of a gentleman.”

“I don’t even know what to think about this right now. You were sleeping with Satoshi like, four days ago!”

“Not all of us are lucky enough to have a hot drummer become instantly besotted with us and devote themselves to us entirely, Lillith! Satoshi... eugh. Okay, he’s fun. I have had more orgasms with him than I have with any other man. It’s BLISSFUL. But every time we hook up, he ghosts me for days at a time! No texts. No calls! I’m not tied down to him, and he’s not tied down to me! No harm, no foul.”