Bare Bones by Debra Dunbar

sat down beside her, curling my fingers around the fine crystal of my own glass. Silently I looked over to the window, across the rooftops to the north of the city. This one’s for us .
    It might not be an hour after sunset, but it was the thought that counted, right?
    “I see you’re looking into chupacabra,” Mom commented, looking down at the Peterson book. “I took one out in Puerto Rico a few years back. Nasty thing. Much taller and bulkier than the werewolves up in the Appalachian Mountains. They usually have a set of spikes that run from their shoulders to mid-back. Not always, though. There are a group in southern California that look more like overgrown coyotes with a bad case of mange.”
    “That was a chupacabra in Puerto Rico?” I asked. “You never said.”
    Mom was a Guardian and most of her responsibilities lay with the Temple and the Holy Lands, but every now and then a Guardian was sent off to dispatch a troublesome supernatural creature. Templars had become rather live-and-let-live about the monsters we would have killed centuries ago, but when one threatened a religious institution we stepped in.
    Who was I kidding? It was all about the money. If a city or a Cardinal waved a bunch of “donations” in our face, we were happy to go kill chupacabra in Puerto Rico. Things hadn’t really changed all that much since the Crusades.
    “Yeah. Nasty thing. Hope I don’t ever have to face a nest of them again. There was a moment in that fight when I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.” She sighed and took a sip of her wine. “Wow, this is really nice, Solaria. Excellent choice.”
    And that was my mother, casually discussing her near-death experience at the claws of a violent goat-sucker, then praising my selection of wine in the next breath.
    I loved her. I admired her and growing up I’d wanted to be just like her. I guess I kind of was, in my own not-a-Knight way. Same sword, different path.
    “But I’m not here to discuss my adventures in Puerto Rico.” Mom set her wine down on the table.
    No, of course she wasn’t. She was here to lecture me about taking my Oath. She was here to tell me my little juvenile tantrum needed to come to an end. She was here to inform me I needed to be a responsible adult and become a Knight as all my family had, as all my ancestors before me had. I took a big gulp of my Chianti, sending a silent apology to Dario who would have scowled to see me slugging down a quality wine like this.
    Then I stiffened my spine. I might be a child having a rebellious tantrum in my mother’s eyes, but plenty of people saw me as an adult, as someone they could trust, as someone they could rely upon to protect them from the monsters of the world—human or otherwise. Tremelay didn’t see me as a child, neither did Dario. And Raven hadn’t either. I’d be polite. I’d be welcoming. But ultimately my mother was going to leave here disappointed.
    “Well. Let me see it,” my mother demanded.
    That hadn’t been what I expected at all. I gaped at her. “Huh?”
    Mom actually looked hurt. “Solaria. Something this serious and you didn’t think to come to me? I’m your mother. Show me the demon mark.”
    I was speechless that she knew. And speechless with anger that Athena had betrayed my confidence and told my secret. If she hadn’t been adjusting to motherhood, I would have been tempted to drive down to Virginia and punch her.
    “Come on. Let’s see it.”
    Things might have been strained between us, but she was still my mother. My Dad was brilliant. He was the best researcher, the best Librarian I’d ever known, but Mom…she was fierce. If anything had threatened Dad or us children, she would have moved the stars above to defend us. And she would die before seeing a demon take our soul.
    I lifted the edge of my shirt, scooting over on the couch so she could see the round mark on my waist.
    Her fingers brushed the mark and I told her everything—the innocent Goetic