Page 22 of Blood from the Marrow (Lilith’s Legacy #2)

Marisol shrugged sympathetically. “It’s possible,” she admitted despite the lump in her throat and churn in her stomach. “But I don’t think it’s likely.” Her shoulder blades burned. “You’re going to have to ask yourselves how much you’re willing to gamble for a chance at living.”

Marisol’s wings tore free from her body, unfurling huge and translucent just before they turned solid white and heavy in a way they never had before.

The fabric of her shirt ripped for the first time when she curled the wings around her body.

She’d never seen them so clearly before.

Stretching them, she couldn’t take a deep breath as they responded to her mental commands as easily as her fingers curling.

Behind her, Librada gasped—a sound dripping with wonder.

Across from her, a handful of Aglion had stood.

Wings sprang to life one by one. First Clara, hers a white so bright it was nearly blinding.

Next to her, Dutch’s wings were the gray of storm clouds, sparks like lightning dancing along the edges.

Nearly half the group responded in kind, but it was Judith’s wings that were staggering.

Pitch black, they spanned wider than Marisol imagined possible. Judith seemed to grow when she stood between the crowd and Marisol, blocking her view. Voice the heavy rumble of an earthquake, Judith thundered, “No.”

Marisol stumbled backward into Librada. She reached for Lib’s hand as fear turned her blood to ice. Lib clutched her hand, but she was petrified too. Frozen in place by a power both awesome and terrifying.

Heart pounding, Marisol couldn’t make herself form words.

Couldn’t do anything but stare at the invisible force vibrating off Judith.

Why the hell were they hiding when they had someone like her?

What kind of creature would willingly chase after her?

Every animal instinct in Marisol told her to run.

Run until she couldn’t feel her legs and hope that she was far enough away when she crumbled.

And then a small figure with feathers as white as Marisol’s slipped under the black expanse of Judith’s wings.

“I want to go,” the petite girl said when she reached Marisol.

At her proximity, Marisol’s body thrummed with a high voltage current. When the girl reached for her hand, Marisol was sure she could take off in flight if she tried. She feared she might propel into the air against her will.

“Samantha!” a man called from the crowd. “Get back here!”

“No!” the girl shrieked in a pitch only available during adolescence. “I want to have friends and live in a house and be normal!”

Dozens of conversations erupted while Marisol tried to remember how to breathe. She couldn’t absorb the sight of so many people like her. White and gray and black. Wings different but the same. Knees weak, she leaned against Lib.

“Are you alright?” Librada’s voice was low, distracted. She probably couldn’t believe what she was seeing either.

Marisol had been so consumed by the anxiety of seeing Clara that she hadn’t considered what it would be like to be in a group like this. In a place where, at least on the surface, she could belong without effort. Without adjustment.

“We will need to discuss this,” Dutch said to Judith. Then he looked at Marisol. “You’ve given us quite a bit to consider.”

Senses coming back to her, Marisol nodded. With tremendous effort, she let go of the young girl’s hand and forced her wings to disappear. What Dutch was too polite to say was that they needed to discuss her offer among themselves. Among real family.

Marisol returned the moisture to her mouth at the same time that Samantha’s parent snatched her away. She managed to look at Librada instead of letting the emotion burn the back of her eyes.

“Can we find somewhere else for them to stay?” Marisol’s voice was faint and her head light.

Librada looked around the squalor as if seeing it clearly for the first time. She gave a curt nod.

“While you consider our offer, we can move you somewhere safe and comfortable,” Librada said to Dutch like it had taken effort to gather herself too.

“I’m not going anywhere—”

Dutch lifted a hand, cutting Judith off and confirming that he was the true leader of the pack. “If these folks wanted to harm us, they would have done so—”

“Because Clara couldn’t keep her fucking mouth shut,” Judith thundered.

When Clara shrank, Marisol sprang forward.

“You have nothing to fear from us,” she roared when she’d intended to deescalate the mounting tension.

Shaking her head, Marisol started again.

“At least let me offer you a clean place to stay with electricity and running water before you move on,” she added, because it was the absolute bare minimum she could do.

The crowd murmured, and Marisol was sure that it was in agreement. At least to more humane accommodations.

“We’ll give you a chance to talk about it.” Marisol signaled for Librada to follow her out. “We’ll wait in the car, and if you agree—”

“Elena has a home on a private island. It is secure,” Librada promised. “No one gets onto the island without our notice.”

Marisol remembered the ostentatious mansion Elena had presented to her and Zuri. The one they’d turned down like it was a leftover turkey sandwich.

Outside, Marisol took a greedy lungful of autumn air. It hadn’t felt cool until she had the stagnant dank to compare it to. Next to her, Librada pulled up her hood, and before Marisol could ask her if she was okay, someone opened the door to the arena behind them.

“Marisol,” Clara said when she met them outside.

“The vote to accept your offer of help while we consider aiding Elena was nearly unanimous.” Her tired eyes were too big and too full and too disquietingly familiar.

“I don’t know how to thank you.” She swallowed so hard it echoed in the pit in Marisol’s stomach.

“I will convince as many as I can to help your partner. Just give me a little time. I know I can do this for you.” Her eyes were so wide and so heavy with unbearable pain.

Marisol wanted to tell her that just because she was her mother, that didn’t make her her mom.

That she shouldn’t join them in some misguided attempt at connection.

Doing so wouldn’t change the past between them.

Couldn’t undo the damage. It was about Elena and Zuri and the family who had chosen her when Clara hadn’t.

But she couldn’t form the words. Instead, she nodded and followed Librada to the waiting SUV. In the backseat, she let herself sink into the comfort of Lib’s familiar silence.

An hour later, a ragtag caravan of old cars and battered vans was following them to Elena’s island estate. The sight of the vehicles in her rearview mirror filled Marisol with a weight she hadn’t anticipated.

Chest aching and heavy with doubt, Marisol thought about Elena alone in the penthouse. Of Zuri, fighting so hard and refusing to let any of them fall apart. She closed her eyes and prayed this was enough. That she was enough.