Nightingale (The Sensitives)

by Dawn Rae Miller

  That’s what worries me: her plans for my recovery. But I don’t let on and simply nod in agreement.

  “You want that don’t you? To feel better?”

  According to everyone around me, I was betrayed by the boy I loved. My whole life has been a lie. Every shared confidence, every sweet touch, every memory were just ploys to manipulate me. How am I supposed to ever feel better? Am I supposed to wake up one day and suddenly everything will be okay? Am I supposed to just forget?

  I wrap a loose piece of hair around my finger and blink back tears. “I want to stop hurting,” I say. It’s the truth. I want this never-ending pain, the one the keeps me awake with my mind racing, to just go away. And right now, I don’t care what I have to do to make that happen. I simply want it gone.

  A satisfied smile spreads across Mother’s face. “Of course you do. And I’ll be right here, helping you.” She glances at her wristlet. “Now, please go shower while I order your meal.”

  My shoulders tense as I pass Mother. When the bathroom door clinks shut behind me, my pulse hammers in my ears and my hands tremble. Whatever magical hold she had on me has vanished, leaving only terror behind.

  There is no window in this room. No way out except through the door I entered. Most likely, Mother waits on the other side, ready to use her persuasive magic on me as soon as I exit.

  I’m trapped. More than I ever was at Summer Hill. And yet, this is supposed to be my freedom.

  With a sigh, I dig the tips of my fingers into my brow bone. I need to know if everything with Beck was a lie. But how? Who will help me? Mother ordered no one to speak of him and I don’t think anyone would dare go against her.

  Plus, every healer has given the same diagnosis: extreme fatigue, break with reality, mental manipulation, inability to recall simple truths. But how can that be? It can’t be that all my memories have been planted by the Channings to ensure I won’t harm Beck.

  But that’s the one thing both sides agree on: Beck and I will meet one day and we will battle to the death. So maybe the Channings did mess with my mind?

  I shake my head at the ridiculousness. I know what happened at Summer Hill. I saw it. I lived it.

  At least, I think I did.

  I wrap my arms across my chest as the water from the shower pounds my shoulders, and close my eyes. My heart thumps erratically and tears spill out of my eyes.

  My fingers reach for my necklace, but like earlier, it isn’t there. It’s gone, like everything else I once loved.

  Beck, I call out in my mind. Can you hear me?

  Nothing but static. No matter how hard I try, I can’t feel Beck. Not his voice, nor his emotions. It’s as if he ceased to exist, leaving a gaping hole in my heart.

  I press off the shower and take a towel from the warmer. In the mirror, a haunted girl stares back at me: listless, blood-shot eyes and ghostly-white skin. Is this what the world sees when they look at me? A frail girl? Someone who can’t fend for herself?

  There’s a light knock on the door. “Lark? Are you okay?” Mother asks from the other side. Of course she’s standing out there, she’s afraid to leave me alone.

  Just say what she wants to hear. I force a smile to my lips and yank the door open. “I’m fine.”

  Mother lets out a relieved little chortle, but her magic pushes at my heart—a sign she doesn’t fully trust me. I don’t fight her. I want to feel numb right now. I want to forget.

  She motions to a serving cart across the room where a silver dome sits, waiting for me.

  “I hope you like it,” Mother says. The lid floats into the air, exposing a salad packed with berries and nuts.

  Despite my small appetite, my mouth waters. “It looks delicious.”

  “Good.” Mother studies me with concern. “You’re emaciated. We need to get you back up to full strength.”

  I adjust the towel around my skeletal frame before sitting down and nibbling several bites of food. But before I can finish, my eyelids droop and I can barely hold my head up. “I’d really like to take a nap.”

  Mother narrows her eyes. “Are you unwell?”

  I shake my head. “I think I’m going crazy.”

  A dramatic sigh escapes Mother’s lips. She walks around the table and draws my head to her torso. “Darling, I’m so sorry this is happening to you. I promise, I’ll make the Channings pay for what they did. I will never let them hurt you again.”

  Her words chip away at the flimsy barricade I’ve erected around my heart. My lip trembles and tears flow down my face.

  “They encased me. And Eamon…he…” My voice shakes at the memory of the Light witches encircling me, chasing me across the lawn. “They were trying to kill me?”

  “Shhh…Eamon will never harm you. I promise.” Mother’s hand strokes my hair lightly before she takes me by the shoulders and peers into my eyes. “Beck Channing tricked you into binding with him. For what reason, I don’t know. But the Light witches will kill you for it.”

  Horror grows inside me. I remember. The Light witches…no, Eamon’s Splinter group…they weren’t just coming for me. They wanted to hurt Beck too.

  They wanted to kill both of us.

  Panic builds in my chest as events begin to make sense. I left him. Alone. To face the Splinter group.

  I can’t hear him. I can’t feel him.

  My breath grows ragged.

  Beck could be dead. Because I ran. I left him all alone.

  “Love?” Alarm overrides Mother’s typically calm voice. “What’s wrong?”

  My lips part to tell Mother everything, but my teeth act like a fortress, keeping the words locked inside. I shake my head and focus on speaking, but the more I fight, the tighter my throat becomes. My body convulses and I tumble from my chair.

  Mother’s cool hands press against the sides of my face and she peers in my eyes before yelling into her wristlet. “I need a healer. Immediately.”

  Her arms encircle me, and a deep sense of relief rushes through my core as my throat loosens and air rushes to fill my deflated lungs. “It’s okay, Love. Everything is okay.”

  “Water,” I croak. Mother places a glass into my hand and I gulp mouthfuls.

  “I’ll find out what spell they did on you, and we’ll undo it. I promise.” Her lips graze my forehead.

  A healer bursts through the bedroom door and sprints to my side. He holds his hands over me, concentrating.

  Eamon did the same thing.

  And then he tried to kill me.

  The towel falls away as I shrink away from the healer, scurrying backward, crab-like, until I’m cowered into the corner of the room.

  “You’re among friends, Love.” Mother holds out her hand to me, trying to coax me forward. “You’re safe.”

  I close my eyes and focus on drawing air into my too-tight lungs, but instead of calming me, half-forgotten memories skip through my mind, each one searing an image that ensures I’ll never forget: Beck playing lacrosse, Beck with his arm wrapped around Bethina in our kitchen, Bethina waiting for us on the stairs. Our room. The lake. Beck lips tickling mine.

  Silent sobs spill out of my body and I ball my fist against my mouth. My hair sticks to my face like spider webs.

  “Let her be, Malin,” the healer says. “Her mind is fragile. She can’t take much more stress.”

  “I have to help my daughter. Don’t you see what they’ve done?” Mother’s shrill voice pummels my ears. “They’re trying to steal the only thing in this world I care about. I won’t let them. Not my daughter.”

  I rock back and forth, digging my fingernails into my upper arms. The pain and the movement calms me slightly.

  “Is Beck dead?” I cry. “Is that why I’m going crazy? Because he’s dead and his magic is no longer balancing mine? Is that why I can’t feel him? Are we no longer bound?”

  The healer’s mouth drops open in horror and his eyes grow wide. “They’re bound?” he gasps and jerks his head toward Mother. “How could you hide that information, Malin?�
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  Mother’s icy eyes narrow and she curls her fingers, once, twice, three times.

  The healer makes a strange gargling noise as his fingers tear at his neck. His eyes bulge from their sockets and his face turns red, then purple.

  He drops dead at my feet.

  3

  My name is Lark Greene and I may have already killed the boy I love.

  4

  Hours. Maybe days have passed. I don’t know anymore.

  I can’t remember.

  “You understand, don’t you? Why no one can know about you and Beck?” Mother stands at the end of my bed. Dark half-circles fill the space under her eyes and fly-away pieces of hair stick out of her normally tidy up-do. Exhaustion has stolen all remnants of the polished Malin Greene I’m used to seeing.

  But no matter how troubled Mother appears, I can guarantee I look a hundred times worse. I haven’t been able to eat more than a few crackers. My stomach feels like it’s in a constant state of distress, prepared to toss back anything I give to it. And I haven’t showered or crawled out of bed for two days.

  “I understand,” I say, pulling the covers up to my chin. My back and hips ache from lying around all day, but I’m too tired to climb out of bed. To ease the pain in my hip, I roll onto my side. “You’re not going to kill Kyra are you?”

  I’m half-joking, but more serious. I haven’t seen my friend in days and I’m growing worried, since Kyra knows about Beck and I being bound. And after what Mother did to the healer…

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Lark. Kyra is a sworn member of your guard, entrusted to keep your secrets. Just as Annalise is.”

  Mother tugs the blanket away from my face. “I don’t think you understand the seriousness of your situation, Love. People are already whispering about whether you’ve been brainwashed. We absolutely do not need them thinking Beck Channing can control you.”

  “People or witches?” I say.

  “People and Dark witches are the only ones that matter.” Mother picks up her tablet, consults it for a moment and sets it back down. “So far, I’ve been able to control the information leaving Summer Hill and no one believes the Light witches’ version of events.”

  “Because you paraded me on television and made me denounce Beck.”

  Mother closes her eyes, inhales, and opens her eyes. “I’m doing what needs to be done. To protect you. You’d be wise to remember that.”

  “Like killing that poor healer.”

  Mother bows her head. Her lips move, as if speaking to herself.

  I watch her closely, studying the way her hands quiver as she continues her silent chant.

  “Is Beck okay?” I whisper. The words leave my mouth before I can stop myself.

  Mother startles. Her blue eyes bat rapidly and numbness creeps from my toes to my legs to my torso. Panic races through my mind. Not again. No.

  I wiggle my fingers and my blood runs cold. Mother jumps, waving her hand before her as if batting at an annoying gnat. When she smiles at me again, a deep sense of relaxation replaces the panic.

  “Why would I know?” The smoothness of her voice is almost convincing, but when she turns toward the window, I notice the tenseness of the muscles in her neck.

  “Because you know everything that goes on in the Western Society.”

  Mother shakes her head. “You give me too much credit, Love.”

  “Would you tell me if you did?” I challenge.

  Mother purses her lips as if carefully considering her words. “No. I wouldn’t. Dwelling on a boy you should have no part of isn’t healthy. Trust me, I have experience in this.”

  “With my father?”

  Mother clenches her jaw and doesn’t answer me.

  “Why won’t you talk about him? You had no problem with it at Summer Hill. Or was that just a ploy to get me to trust you? So that I would believe you were on my side? Was it all just a way for you to start a war with the Light witches, Mother? Henry told me—”

  “Enough!”

  The chandelier above us explodes into a million tiny slivers of crystal. I duck and cover my head with my arms, preparing for the inevitable pain of glass piercing my skin.

  But there’s nothing.

  I slowly open my eyes and lift my head. The shards hang suspended in the air, each one reflecting the light of the fireplace and sending a cacophony of color dancing around the room.

  Mother stands just to the side of my bed. A red, mottled flush covers her exposed chest and neck. “Do not push me, Lark. It may appear I’m in control of my emotions, but I assure you, that is not always the case.”

  I open my mouth but she glares at me and I snap it shut. “You are a Dark witch. It’s time you behaved like one.”

  With a flick of her hand, the shards of glass fly back into place and the chandelier looks like new.

  My heart seizes. I hold my hand before me. It quivers and shakes, but unlike in the past, my magic remains trapped inside me. The restraint somehow prevents me from using it.

  “This isn’t fair,” I scream, sitting up. “This isn’t what was supposed to happen. Beck was supposed to be safe and you were going to teach me how to use magic.”

  “Beck was supposed to be safe? From who? Me? You?” Mother paces along the edge of the bed, her fingers twirling her long necklace. “His own people? Who was he supposed to be safe from?”

  I bang my balled fists against the bed. “Me.”

  Agitation simmers in her voice. “Perhaps it’s better if you don’t know where he is.”

  Her words are like a slap to my face. Because as much as I don’t want to admit it, if Beck is alive, there’s a good chance he’s hiding. From me.

  Because he understands I’m a threat.

  And I have no idea what I can do to him. Set him on fire, like Mother’s done to me? Melt his flesh from his bones? Choke the air from his lungs like the poor healer? Freeze his eyeballs? What?

  I slump back into my pillows and pull the covers over my head. Mother is right, if Beck is alive, he needs to stay away from me. The rational part of my brain understands this. My fragile, empty heart does not.

  Mother lifts the edge of the comforter and peers into the warm, comfortable darkness of my cocoon. “I don’t want to fight with you, Lark. Please believe me when I say this.”

  I nod.

  “Would you like a visit from Kyra?” Mother’s voice is soft. All the anger from the past few minutes has disappeared.

  Other than an endless stream of healers, I haven’t seen anyone besides Mother in two days. Not even Annalise.

  I sniff loudly and clear my throat. “I’d like that.”

  Mother points to my closet. “Then get dressed. She’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  I slide off my bed and shove my feet into a pair of fleecy slippers. Mother strokes my knotted mess of hair as I pass her. “Wear purple,” she says. “You look lovely in that color.”

  I run my hand across the day dress section until I find a soft lilac sleeveless dress. With one hand, I tug my night clothes over my head.

  Once I’m dressed, Mother hands me a brush and a hair tie. The brush catches in the tangles as I try to glide it through my hair. “It’s no use. I need scissors or something to get these out.” I drop the handful of hair I’m holding.

  Mother lifts the brush from my fingers and begins gently working on the ends of my hair. She repositions my body so that I’m looking in the mirror and I watch as she transforms my hair from a wild halo of knots, to a low sleek bun. Just like the one she often wears.

  Mother gives me the once over. “You look much better.”

  “I feel better.” I stare at my reflection, realizing it’s true. I’ve never worn my hair like this before. It makes me look more mature.

  “Kyra,” Mother says into her wristlet. “Lark is ready to see you.”

  Not even three seconds later, the air across the room pops and Kyra steps out of nothing. She rushes toward me and draws me into a bear hug. As usual, she’s full of e
nergy and immediately launches into a rapid-fire series of questions. “How are you? Feeling better? What do you want to do? I found this new gossip feed that only reports on the latest fashions. It’s insane.”

  “Slow down!” I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’ll leave you girls alone. I’m sure you have much to discuss.” Out of the corner of my eyes, I notice Mother point to her wristlet.

  Kyra gives a barely noticeable nod before grabbing my hand in hers and leading me over to the fireplace. She sits on the floor in front of me, cross-legged, elbows on her knees. I copy her. Behind us, a subtle pop lets me know Mother has transported from the room.

  “Maz said to say ‘heya.’ He and Ryker can’t wait to see you! We’re planning a fun night out once it’s okay.”

  Going out has never been something I do. Even when we reached year ten and were allowed to visit the social center in the evenings, I preferred to stay home.

  “I don’t know. I don’t feel like going anywhere.” The thought of venturing outside of my safe cave frightens me. What if I hurt someone?

  “Where are you living?” I ask. “At our house? Maybe I could come over?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Malin told everyone that Maz, me, and the others were State spies or something. We weren’t allowed to move back home since we’re heroes and played an important role in rescuing you.”

  Ah, so that’s how Mother explained how my once Sensitive friends are no longer enemies of the State: they weren’t actually Sensitives.

  “Not that it matters,” Kyra continues. “Everyone was sent to their parents’. Only a few of us are still in the City: me, you, Maz, Ryker, Lena, and Matson.” She tugs at the fibers of the shaggy carpet. “It’s boring without everyone around. Empty.”

  I nod. I can understand that. Despite having my own room at Summer Hill, I’m still not used to being alone at night. Sometimes, I wake and imagine Beck sleeping across the room, his arm flung over his head and a book resting on his chest.