Nightingale (The Sensitives)

by Dawn Rae Miller

  Time grinds to a halt. Executions are unheard of in our Society. But more than that, this man tried to kill my Mother? Who is he?

  I study Toran as the woman finishes reading the particulars of his execution. He keeps his eyes forward and his back rigid. There’s no emotion or horror in his eyes. When the Sensitive Enforcers shove him to side of the stage, he shuffles along until he reaches the stairs.

  He lifts his head and whistles four haunting notes.

  The Alouette.

  Chills run down my spine. Either he’s a human with bad taste in music or he’s a member of the Splinter group.

  From all around me comes a response: the same slow and mournful notes.

  My heart races as I shove my way through the tidal wave of people pressing toward the stage. The song is everywhere, like an unstoppable virus, corrupting everything in its path.

  This is more than one man in the club. There are dozens of members of the Splinter Group here in San Francisco. Within feet of me. How is this even possible? Why haven’t security or the Enforcers caught them?

  With one last shove, I’m out of the suffocating crowd, emerging on the far side of the street. I gasp for air as the reality of what I witnessed crashes down on me.

  My hands bunch the once luxurious fabric of my dress and I force myself to stay calm. To walk leisurely. After all, it will only take one person recognizing me before the whole crowd is on me.

  I need to find Kyra. We should never have snuck out.

  But even though I’m terrified out here alone, one thought pummels my mind: Mother is publicly executing Sensitives. It must not be a popular policy if even the Enforcers, whose job it is to distribute justice, have a hard time stomaching it.

  So what is Mother doing?

  A dank, repugnant odor hits my nose and I recoil in disgust. Cages filled with people line the walkway. More supposed criminals for the State to parade across the stage. I doubt many of these people are witches at all. Most are probably unfortunate humans.

  The crowd here isn’t as thick, and the attention is definitely on the cages, not me. Sneering men throw pebbles at the captives and taunt them with obscenities. A few of the people behind the bars sob while the more belligerent yell back. The hatred for these accused people is tangible. No wonder we, the real witches, hide.

  But how much of this has been manufactured by our own people. By Caitlin Greene, my ancestor? And by Mother? How much has the State flamed the fires of hatred? And more importantly, do the people need to hate someone in order to keep the witches safe?

  Dejected and frightened faces peer out from the dark recesses of the cages. They’ve no doubt heard the sentencing and fear for their own lives. The State has plucked humans of all ages, from mere children to the elderly. No one is safe from accusation.

  As much as I fear the crowd, I need to get away from the horror of the people in the cages. I can’t be part of this. I can’t.

  I quicken my pace. At the end of the walkway, a familiar flash of dark curly hair catches my eye. Kyra. Thank God.

  Since I can’t use my wristlet because it’s being monitored, I cup my hands around my mouth to call her name. Before I do, a feeble voice cries, “Lark? Is that you? It’s me, Miss Tully.”

  I freeze. An annoying ringing fills my ears and my head feels like I’ve stuck it under water. Someone bumps me from behind, but keeps going. I should keep going, too. It’s safer if I do. And Kyra is so close. We could be home in a matter of minutes.

  “Lark?” Miss Tully says again, louder.

  Slowly, as if being reluctantly pulled, I face the cage. Translucent white skin and a salt-and-pepper braid flashes through the darkness.

  Someone in the cage gasps. A few people back away, pressing themselves farther into the dark corners, as if to avoid my attention. But others whisper my name.

  Damn it. So much for getting away unnoticed.

  “You remember me don’t you, Lark? I helped you during the blizzard.”

  Pedestrians pass between us and I consider melting away in the crowd. That would be the easiest and safest thing to do. Walk away and don’t look back.

  Official State music pipes across the crowded square and I pray it’s enough to drown out the repetition of my name that’s traveling between the cages. If Eamon is here, he’ll find me in a few seconds.

  I shuffle to the left and something pulls on my heart. I can’t turn my back on this old woman. Not when she showed me kindness. I owe her my aid.

  I rush to the cage, elbowing aside the foul men who are in my way. Miss Tully clenches the metal bars with her twisted fingers. Her farmer clothes have been replaced by a shapeless thin slip. She must be freezing.

  Without thinking, I shed my wrap and pass it to her. Tears glisten in the old woman’s eyes. “Thank you. I knew you’d help.”

  Fury builds in me. What has this kind old woman done to deserve this?

  “Why are you here?” I demand.

  Miss Tully drapes the wrap over her shoulders. “They say I assisted in your kidnapping. Please, Lark, please explain that I did nothing.”

  My eyebrows pull together. “Who said that?”

  “Heya, step back from the prisoners,” an Enforcer shouts from the next cage over.

  “Why did you run off? And why are you talking to this woman?” Kyra asks. She’s finally found me, and she’s standing so close that her shoulder touches mine. “We have to get you home.”

  Miss Tully shivers in the cold. I can’t leave her like this. “This woman helped me when I was lost in a blizzard. I need to return her kindness.”

  Maz shakes his head. “Haven’t you done enough tonight, Lark? If Malin doesn’t parade us across that stage tomorrow, we’ll be fortunate.”

  “Then we have nothing to lose,” I say and stomp over to the Enforcer guarding the cage. My blood whirls in excitement. It’s time to see if what my friends say is true: that everyone fears me.

  “I demand you release the old woman. To me. Immediately.”

  He laughs. “And why would I do that?”

  Make a decision, Lark. Expose yourself and save Miss Tully, or run away and let an old woman be unjustly punished.

  I lift my face so he has a clear view of who I am. Around us, a crowd has gathered.

  “Miss Lark,” he stutters. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you.” This man is a Dark witch and he’s terrified of me.

  I narrow my eyes and raise my hand slightly. “Now.”

  He hurries to the cage, slipping in his haste, and opens the door. “You. Out.”

  The crowd near me is quiet. Chills run down my spine as I imagine the Splinter group lurking just beyond the tight throng encircling me. They know I’m here. They have to.

  “Stop this,” Kyra says. “Please, Lark. We need to go home.”

  “No.”

  Miss Tully climbs through the cage and onto the street. The other prisoners fling themselves at the bars, pleading to be released too. Their cries build inside me, and my body quivers with magic. I pray to the untrained eye I simply look cold, not wild. The last thing I need right now is another demonstration of my unchecked magic.

  With my shaking hands protectively on Miss Tully’s back, I turn toward the stunned crowd. Sparks of red flash before my eyes and I gasp, trying to contain the magic flowing through me.

  In the distance, thunder rumbles and my body sags beneath the buildup of magic.

  Miss Tully hunches forward. Her fear rushes through me and mingles with my anger. The wind whips up and over the crowd, sending debris flying through the air, making it impossible to hear anything. But as I stand there, protecting the woman who once helped me, my breathing begins to slow and the fear fades. I will not fall apart before these people. I won’t.

  The wind vanishes.

  Newscaster cameras zoom in on me. I shield my face with my free hand, but I know it’s of no use. I exposed myself the minute I approached the Enforcer and demanded Miss Tully’s freedom.

  The urge to run c
onsumes me again. But the less sane part of my brain knows I’m not done here.

  With every ounce of bravery I can muster, I raise my voice and declare before the crowd, the camera, and anyone with a feed, “This woman has done nothing wrong. It was a misunderstanding to imprison her. She is a part of my household staff.”

  I have no house or staff, except bodyguards. I set the club on fire. And I just released an accused Sensitive while publically declaring the State made a mistake.

  Oh. And I’m out without permission.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  10

  “That was so stupid, Lark. Completely stupid! Are you trying to get us all in trouble?” Kyra’s curls bounce has she spits out her words.

  “Should I have left her in the cage, Kyra?” I quicken my pace to keep up with her. Since we have Miss Tully with us, we can’t transport, and are instead making the mile walk back to Mother’s home. “Miss Tully helped me when I needed her. I had to do something.”

  “No you didn’t. She’s a Sensitive. She’s not worth your time.”

  “She’s done nothing wrong.”

  Maz wedges himself between the two of us and holds up his hands. “Stop it. Arguing isn’t going to make this better. We need to figure out what we’re going to do.”

  Kyra’s fist strikes Maz’s chest, but I know she wishes it were me she was hitting. “Malin is going to kill me, Maz. Me. What part of that don’t you get?”

  Maz gives me a pleading look and I soften my stance. When Kyra is like this, it’s best to not feed her anger, it only makes things worse. “I can talk to her. Explain it was all my idea and you only came to keep me safe.”

  “I didn’t alert the rest of your guard, and I let you out of my sight.” Tears run down my best friend’s face. “I not only helped you sneak out, but I put you danger. Malin won’t forgive that.”

  We’ve stopped in the middle of a deserted street not far from the nightclub. Ryker stands off to the side with Miss Tully. His back is to us, keeping lookout. Something about his silence bothers me.

  “Do you have anything to add, Ryker?” I call out.

  He pivots around and shakes his head before turning his back on us again. So far, he hasn’t said a word about the situation. But he did give Miss Tully his dinner jacket. So there’s that. Still, I’m getting a strange feeling from him. First, he told me Beck was alive and well. Next, he encouraged Kyra to go against her better judgment and allow me out after dark. And finally, when Kyra, Maz, and I found him lurking along the perimeter of the sentencing crowd, his mouth dropped open like he was shocked to see me.

  And he hasn’t spoken since then. He’s just marched ahead with Miss Tully.

  Whatever warming spell Kyra did on me earlier has worn off and I shiver against the frigid September air.

  “We need to go home.” Even though it’s the last place I want to be. The fact that guards haven’t immediately swooped down on us, gives me hope Mother hasn’t heard about what I’ve done. But it’s only a matter of time.

  “We can’t go home. Not with her!” Kyra’s juts her thumb in the direction of Miss Tully before stomping off towards Mother’s house, leaving the boys and me behind. “Just set her free or something.”

  “Kyra,” I shout. “Come back. Please. I need your help.”

  She pauses and her shoulders heave. I have a strong suspicion she wouldn’t have actually left me. Not when she’s already afraid of getting in trouble for letting me out of her sight.

  “What are you going to do with her?” she asks, walking back. “Even if Malin hasn’t heard about your,” she waves her hands in front her torso, “crazy behavior, you can’t march someone like her into Malin’s home.”

  Kyra’s right. Every person working for Mother is a witch. Miss Tully can’t be exposed to that. “Can you take her?” I say. “Maybe she can work in yours and Maz’s house or something? Then Mother won’t have to know.”

  “You think Malin’s not going to hear about this?” Kyra gives a half-laugh and scrunches up her forehead. “You accused the State of making a mistake, Lark. In front of cameras! It’s already all over my gossip feeds. She’s going to boil both of us alive.”

  I’ve never seen Kyra so scared. She stares at the bright red wristlet that encircles Miss Tully’s wrist and cries, “I can’t have a Sensitive working for me!”

  “We’ll take the wristlet off. Maybe we can get Oliver to show us how.”

  Kyra stares at me in disbelief. “Why would he do that? That woman is an enemy of the State. You may be Lark Greene, founder’s descendant, but you don’t make the rules.”

  “You’re right. She can’t come home with me. There’s too much magic there.” I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to figure a way out of this mess. “Please, Kyra. Have Maz take her. Just for tonight while we work this out.”

  Maz stares first at me, then at Kyra as if deciding which of us is the more dangerous to upset. “I can do that.”

  Kyra crosses her arms. “Fine. But I swear to God, Lark, if I lose my placement because of this, I will never speak to you again.”

  It’s an empty threat and we both know it, but I nod in agreement. “I won’t let you lose your job. I swear.” I peck my friend on the cheek. “Thank you, Kyra. You’re fabo.”

  Kyra clicks her tongue at me and glares at Miss Tully. “What can you do?” Kyra calls out across the short distance separating us from Ryker and the old woman.

  Miss Tully lifts her head slowly, like she’s just now listening to the conversation. “I’m a farmer.”

  “Fantastic,” Kyra says sarcastically. “She can shovel snow or something for you, Maz.”

  As we walk, Kyra’s anger recedes like low tide—still there but much less noticeable. Maybe it helps that Maz has his arm around her waist, hugging her tightly.

  “You okay?” Ryker asks. He and I stay to the rear, following Miss Tully. “You look terrified.”

  “You’re talking to me now?”

  “Don’t be like this.” He lays his hand on my arm and I flinch. Ryker doesn’t touch me and yet tonight, his hands have been on me numerous times. I narrow my eyes and curl my arm closer to my body, away from him. Perhaps, like Kyra, he has the power of persuasion. That would explain why I felt compelled to do all the stupid things I did tonight.

  “How should I act?” I snap.

  “I thought my news would make you happy.”

  Ryker is a Dark witch. I’m not even sure what career he’s been assigned. And somehow, I’m to believe he’s privy to information about Beck when Mother claims to be clueless. I blame my complete inebriation on not realizing all this earlier.

  Either he knows nothing, or Mother is using him to bait me.

  But that doesn’t explain why he seemed surprised to see me with Kyra and Maz after I set Miss Tully free.

  I choose my next words carefully. “Is that what you wish? To make me happy? Because it takes more than a few whispered words to excite me.”

  He leans into me, so that only I can hear him. “Was Beck there? In the crowd?”

  “What?” I stop walking and stare at him in disbelief. Unease builds inside me. Why would he ask that? Unless this is another of Mother’s tests. I grind my teeth. “No. I didn’t see Beck. Do you think I would fail to report it if I did?”

  He studies me. “I don’t know. Would you?”

  Before I respond, Kyra races back toward us. Her hand darts out and latches on to me. “Maz is taking your pet to his house and we’re going to transport to the alley near Malin’s.”

  “Can’t we go straight to my bedroom and pretend we’ve been there all night?” I ask hopefully.

  Kyra shakes her head. “We can’t transport into the house without prior clearance. And since no one knows we’re out, we won’t be able to get inside.”

  I press my eyes tight as dark air envelops me and I fly through space. I land between Kyra and Ryker. This time, I leave a respectable amount of distance between us.


  “Go first,” Kyra says to Ryker. “Make sure no one sees us.”

  Ryker scans his wristlet and the secure door swings open. He steps around it and the door latches shut again.

  Kyra doesn’t speak and neither do I. Tonight was supposed to be fun and instead it turned into a nightmare. I set an off-grid club on fire, exposed myself to a crowd of Light Witches and humans, and rescued an accused Sensitive. But what worries me the most is what Mother will do to Kyra and me.

  “It’s all clear,” Ryker’s voice says from my wristlet. Kyra scans her wristlet and exits before me. I walk at her back until we get to the corner of the street. Ryker joins us and the two of them flank me until we get to the walkway leading to Mother’s front door.

  Standing here, on the street, knowing Mother has most likely seen what I’ve done, is more terrifying than facing Eamon and his Splinter group.

  I have to go into the house and face the consequences of my actions.

  And I don’t want to.

  “Best wishes,” Ryker says. “And I’m happy you didn’t get yourself killed.” He pats my back. Touching me. Again. “Let’s not do this again, okay?”

  The three of us stare at the brightly lit house. Silhouettes dance across the large, thick windows to a tune we can’t hear.

  My stomach churns and I reach for Kyra’s hand, but she shoves it into Maz’s dinner jacket, which she wears draped over her shoulders.

  “Ready?” I sigh.

  Kyra nods slowly. Gone is the confident guard. She’s been replaced by a nervous, scared girl.

  We leave Ryker on the sidewalk and walk with leaden feet to the front door. My breathing becomes heavier, more rapid, and next to me, Kyra trembles.

  “We could run away,” I suggest.

  “And Malin would find us and drag us back. I’d be up on that stage. Probably sentenced for your kidnapping in place of that old woman you rescued.”