Black Wings Read online

  “Tell me it’s not going to get worse when she’s a teenager,” she said.

  Dean laughed, but after a pause. “I hope not. Were you a pain in the ass when you were a teenager?”

  “Of course not,” she said with a grin, because she knew she’d given her parents their share of her attitude. This sobered her after a moment, though. Testing curfew and wearing too much eyeliner was different than Briella’s rapidly swinging moods and backtalk. “Why don’t kids come with instruction manuals?”

  “That would be too easy.” Dean stood and looked into the cage one last time. The bird didn’t move or make a sound. He tapped the wire bars for a second and got no reaction. “Hello, Onyx. Say ‘hello’.”

  The raven said nothing. Marian scowled. “Don’t encourage it. It’s creepy.”

  “They mimic sounds, babe. That’s all. Nothing to be creeped out about.” Dean looked at Marian. “Maybe the kid should have a pet. She’s old enough to learn how to take care of something, and it’s a good responsibility. I always had dogs growing up.”

  “You know I don’t like dogs.”

  “I know a dog bit you when you were small, and you’re afraid of them enough that you’ve made sure to never talk to Briella about why you don’t like them,” Dean said calmly.

  “I don’t want her to be afraid of dogs,” Marian said, defending herself.

  Dean nodded. “Right. But what about you?”

  “I do not want a dog,” Marian said, which wasn’t really the answer to the question he’d asked, but she was going to pretend it was. “And you’re allergic to cats. Anyway, we’ve had fish. We had that hermit crab.”

  It had died and fallen out of its shell, its rear end a horror of stumpy, segmented flesh with tiny flipper things that had made Marian shriek as she dumped it into the trash. Thinking of it now made her nose wrinkle. Dean laughed, but under his breath.

  “I’m just saying, Marian. I know we can’t keep the bird. But we could get the kid something. It would be good for her to have something to take care of. Might make her a little less…umm…self-absorbed.”

  Marian gave him a sharp glance. “Is that how you’d describe her?”

  “Yes,” Dean replied evenly. “It is. She’s an only child who’s never really learned to share, first of all. She’s obviously been having some trouble making friends, or rather, keeping them. Whatever she’s going through, babe, it’s probably related somehow to that.”

  “You think having a pet would change that?”

  Dean shrugged.

  Marian sighed and looked into the cage. “Is it really illegal to keep this?”

  “Yeah, I think so. So we’ll give it a week or so to get back on its feet, or its wings, I guess. And then we can take it out back and release it. Hey, don’t worry,” Dean said when he saw her expression. “We’re not going to get in trouble.”

  From upstairs came a dull thud. Marian looked at the ceiling. “What the hell is she doing up there?”

  “Being pissed off because we told her she can’t keep the bird.”

  She frowned. “I’ll go talk to her.”

  “Kiss me first,” Dean said.

  “Oh, like that’s a hardship.”

  “I’ll show you something hard,” he said, “and it’s not a ship.”

  Marian burst into a flutter of laughter, her heart swelling with love for the man in front of her. He’d taken on every burden she had, and in the eight years they’d been together, had never let her down, not even once. She didn’t deserve him. She thought that often. But she was really grateful to have him.

  “Later,” she promised him. It was his night off, and then he had the whole weekend, too. “I’ll even do that thing you like.”

  “Baby, I like all the things you do,” Dean replied with a waggle of his eyebrows and a sexy smirk that sent a rush of heat through her.

  Upstairs, her mind still on the night ahead of them and how much she was looking forward to it, Marian stopped abruptly at Briella’s closed door. The kid never shut her door. She still slept with a night-light on in the bedroom and one in the hall. Marian raised a hand, then thought better of it and pressed her ear to the door for a moment to listen.

  She didn’t hear anything at first. Then, the low mutter of a voice. Not Briella’s. Masculine, British, droning. She must be watching nature videos on her tablet.

  Marian knocked. After a second, the male voice quieted. Briella didn’t answer, so Marian knocked again and turned the knob to let herself in.

  “You’re supposed to wait until I say come in,” Briella said from her spot on the bed, where she sat cross-legged with her tablet on her lap.

  Marian hesitated. “You don’t usually have your door shut. Can I come in?”

  “May I,” Briella said.

  Marian’s temper snapped. “You want to watch your mouth, Briella. You’re the kid. I’m the grown-up. You best remember that, if you don’t want to face the consequences.”

  “But I don’t want to watch my mouth,” Briella said. “I mean, I can’t even see my own mouth!”

  She burst into tears, loud and braying and hoarse. Surprised, then worried, Marian went to the bed and sat next to her. She stroked the girl’s hair, curly as Marian’s but unwashed and tangled. Marian worked her fingers through a knot at the base of Briella’s neck. It had been easier, when Briella was young, to keep her natural curls soft and well-kept, but she’d been fighting all of Marian’s attempts at grooming. The girl needed a shower in the worst way, but now wasn’t the time to tell her so. Instead, Marian hugged her daughter and stroked her messy hair off her forehead.

  “Bean, what’s going on?”

  “My head hurts.” Briella buried her face against Marian’s chest. She hitched with sobs. Her tablet fell to the side, sliding off the comforter so that Marian had to grab it before it could hit the floor.

  “I’m sorry. I can give you something to make it feel better.” The nurse had been adamant that there was no suggestion of a concussion, but Marian was suddenly unsure if she ought to let the girl sleep.

  Briella pulled away, her eyes red and wet, her nose leaking a bubble of snot. “More ice cream?”

  “Not any more tonight, no. It’s bedtime.”

  Briella frowned. “I want to see Onyx.”

  “You can see it in the morning,” Marian said firmly.

  “I want to bring him up here, with me. He’s going to get lonely. What if he needs something in the night? You’re not going to take care of him!” Briella’s voice rose almost to a shriek, hysterical and desperate.

  Marian pulled Briella close again, trying to soothe her. “I take care of you, don’t I?”

  “You don’t know how to take care of Onyx. You’ll probably put him out in the yard!” Briella lashed out, one small fist catching the underside of Marian’s chin.

  “Dammit, Briella. Watch what you’re doing. That hurt!” Marian rubbed her tongue along her teeth. She’d clipped the tip of it and tasted the coppery flavor of blood.

  “Sorry,” Briella said.

  Marian shook her head. “You know what? Saying sorry only matters when you mean it, and when you don’t keep doing the same things over and over again. You’ve been getting a very bad attitude lately, and I’ve had it. I’m not going to argue with you any more about this. It stays in the den. In the cage.”

  “Him. You keep calling him an it, but he’s a him!” Briella drew in a shaky breath and added in a whisper, “I’m sorry, Mama, I didn’t mean to hurt you. My mad feelings just want to come out so much.”

  Marian sighed, but didn’t hug her again. “It’s okay to be mad. Or sad. But it’s not okay to hurt someone else because of it.”

  “I know that.” More icy derision.

  “It’s a bird, Briella. How do you even know it’s a boy bird? How can you tell?”

  “I just