Larkstorm

by Dawn Rae Miller

  “Eloise, you look stunning tonight.”

  Her copper hair is twisted into a careless up-do; little pieces cascade across her shoulders. Her grass green dress contrasts beautifully with her milky skin. I wonder if I can even compare.

  Eloise shakes her head at him.

  “I don’t know how you can even notice me when that gorgeous creature sits there.” She dips her head toward me. Her wide smile makes her look even more appealing.

  Julia, the girl next to me, scoots over, giving Beck room to swing one of his long legs over the bench. He straddles it and our bodies are just inches apart.

  “Lark is amazing, isn’t she?” he says to Eloise, but his eyes stay on me.

  My heart lurches forward.

  I love him. You. I love you.

  I want to lean closer and whisper in his ear. Instead, I chew on my thumbnail—a nervous habit I gave up when I was twelve and realized torn fingernails were disgusting.

  Damn encasing.

  Are you feeling better? He asks in my mind. I gasp, still not used to hearing him inside my brain.

  Lark? Can you hear me? Panic creeps into his voice—or whatever it’s called when he does this mind-talk thing.

  Yes.

  Lark? It’s like a bad wristlet connection—I can hear him, but he has no idea.

  I try yelling I can hear you and place my hand on his. A sharp, painful current pulses through me.

  “What the hell?” Beck yanks his hand back.

  I stare at mine in disbelief. “Did I?”

  Eloise clears her throat and subtly motions with her head to my right just as Mrs. Channing walks by our table. She pretends not to see us.

  “Excuse me for a minute.” Beck leaps up and walks briskly to his mother’s side.

  They’re too far for me to hear the conversation, but it’s clear they’re arguing and that Mrs. Channing is agitated. She places her hand on Beck’s chest defensively. Beck stands still, not moving a muscle. Finally, he storms off toward the house.

  My jaw clenches. Eloise, pushing the food around her plate, scrapes her fork along the bottom, unleashing an awful scratching sound. Unable to bear the noise or my anger anymore, I slam my fist on the table. The impact knocks over my water glass and captures Eloise’s attention. She rights the fallen glass and throws a napkin on the spill.

  “Lark, hey. Don’t worry about it. He’s not upset with you.” Eloise sits next to me now, her arm around me. “It’s just his mom’s worried, that’s all.”

  “I know.” My nails dig into my palm as I attempt to calm myself, but it’s not working.

  “It’s stupid, honestly. If she really thinks keeping the two of you apart is going to make this easier on anyone, she’s delusional. Or blind. Everyone can see what you mean to each other.”

  She hugs me tight, trying to comfort me, when all I want to do is find Mrs. Channing and show her just how badly she upset me.

  “C’mon, let’s get you back to the house, so you can calm down without everyone watching you. You have evening lessons tonight. Can’t have you miss those.”

  She releases me and gives me a hopeful smile. Over her shoulder, the rest of Beck’s friends watch me cautiously.

  “Maybe Eamon’s right,” one of them says.

  “Don’t be stupid. If Beck says she’s okay, then she is,” Julia whispers.

  “Look at her—she’s quivering. That’s the magic. She’s trying to hurt us.”

  I glare at them. “I can hear you.”

  They shut up. Before I can say anything else, Eloise leans into me. “Can you compose yourself enough to make it back to your room?”

  I nod, thankful that at least one person cares about my feelings. She links her arm through mine.

  “Ignore them, Lark. I’ll take you back to your room and go find Beck. We’ll get this straightened out, I promise.”

  My anger doesn’t lessen as we cross the lawn to the house. Thankfully, no one pays me any attention.

  “I thought maybe...” I sniff, my nostrils flaring. “Things were going to be better. That Henry could convince the Channings to let Beck and I spend some time together.”

  “Saw Henry, did you? Beck thought you’d like having him here. He argued hard to get the others to allow it.”

  I freeze. “Beck discusses me with others?”

  The thought of him talking about me with a group of Light witches bothers me.

  “Oh, we all do. It’s the Gathering. Everyone is curious about what you can do.” Eloise’s mood is light, her voice matter-of-fact.

  I increase my pace. The familiar whirling beats against my chest. “So, I’m a lab rat? A Dark witch you all sit around discussing and observing?”

  Eloise jogs to catch up. “No! Lark, really it’s not like that. We’re just trying to figure out what you can do, that’s all.”

  Hot red flashes dance in front of me. “That’s not all and you know it! You’re trying to figure out what I can do before my eighteenth birthday. Why do you think that is, Eloise, huh? Why would anyone be interested in that?”

  I’m running now. The pulsing in my chest is now a million sharp stabs.

  “I don’t know.” She sounds confused.

  “Oh c’mon! I don’t believe you! You’re a smart witch.”

  “Really, Lark, I have no idea.”

  I glare at her. Eloise is no longer trying to come near me. Her normal easy manner is gone and her eyes wide.

  “They want to know how to stop me, Eloise! You know, KILL ME!”

  Energy bursts through my chest and sends me flying backward.

  Eloise screams. “Lark, get control of yourself. You have to stop this!”

  But I can’t. Energy gathers around me. In the distance I hear a crack of thunder. Chaos spreads across the crowded lawn.

  Eloise leaps into the air and within seconds, I’m surrounded by Light witches. Each one connected to their neighbor. They circle me like a caged animal.

  “You did this to me!” I lunge at Eloise. A strong desire to hurt her percolates but isn’t able to break through. “You made this happen. I thought you were my friend!”

  My body rocks against my control. Everything fades away and I feel myself tumbling through space.

  A searing pain tears at my heart and crushes it. It eats away at every piece of my body. Over and over again the pain comes. Unable to tolerate it anymore, the world around me turns black as I slip into unconsciousness.

  28

  The pain doesn’t go away. It just lessens enough to make me aware of it. My body is on fire. The hair brushing my neck feels like flames licking my skin again and again.

  There’s a muffled hum rising around me. I try to turn my head to unblock my ears, but I’m paralyzed. Behind my eyelids, colors flash—red and orange—followed by blackness. I want to open my eyes, to see what’s causing these flashes, but again, I can’t.

  Air moves over me. But it’s not a gentle, caressing air. No, it feels like sandpaper being raked over my skin. It rubs me raw.

  Someone, or a few someones, carries me. Close to my ear, I hear Eloise’s voice. “Lark, you need to hold still. Stay still just a bit longer. This will be done soon.”

  Does she not know I can’t move? What’s happening, I want to ask. I can’t.

  The pain releases me slowly. My lungs fill with air and I take two large, gasping breaths. The sensation nearly chokes me. There’s chanting now.

  “Illuminae hvit,” they repeat.

  My eyes, while heavy, are no longer glued shut. I force them open. All around me, white lights whiz and skip through the air as if choreographed.

  One floats near me and I reach for it. Without warning, the ball of energy turns and hits me directly in the chest. My insides are ablaze. I scream, but nothing comes out. My body convulses, unable to control itself.

  “Stop!”

  The command comes not from me but from Bethina. I can see her near my feet, watching me. Her face contorts in pain.

  “That’s enough
. Lark has had enough. We do not practice magic that harms.”

  An angry voice—Mrs. Channing— “Bethina, surely you’re joking. Lark just tried to kill all of us. You saw it.”

  “I saw no such thing, Margo.” Bethina cool hand rubs my leg. “What I did see is you push this fragile girl past what she could handle. What I saw was you acting irrationally and causing a much larger problem.”

  A deep voice, Henry’s, joins in. “Margo, Lark doesn’t want this. She wants to learn to control herself, but if you keep having these encasings put on her, how will she?”

  “That is just your theory, Henry. We don’t know if it’s true or not.” Mrs. Channing sounds irritated. “Have you forgotten whose daughter this is?”

  “What proof do you need?” Henry booms. “She can’t perform any sort of magic when you have her heart locked up so tight it can barely beat. How will she learn to control it if you don’t give her the chance?”

  Another voice invades my prison, Patrick Channing’s. “I think I’ve seen enough of her darkness to know I don’t want it anywhere around me or my family.”

  I try to lift my head to say I don’t want this either. I don’t want to be Dark. I just want a chance to live the life I thought I was going to have. A life with Beck. That’s all I want, I try to say. But still no words.

  Bethina cradles me in her lap. “Shhh, Lark. I know you can hear. I know you want to say something, but you can’t. Soon, just wait a minute.”

  From my core, the familiar calming warmth radiates to my limbs. It’s the same sort of peace I feel when I’m with Beck. He must be nearby.

  Bethina addresses the group. “This is what we’re going to do. We will give Lark a few more days of trying to learn like this. If that doesn’t work, we’ll remove the encasing.”

  “Bethina, that’s unwise.” The edge in Mrs. Channing’s voice could cut steel. “You can’t just let her walk around here like that. Besides, this encasing isn’t going to be as easy to break as the last one. I made sure of that.” She glares at Henry. “There will be no mistakes this time.” She storms off, followed by her husband.

  Henry kneels beside me. “Can you hear me?”

  I move my head.

  “Good. Can you talk?”

  I swallow hard, the saliva moistening my tongue. “Yes.”

  “All right. I’m going to help you stand up. Bethina?”

  Two pairs of arms lift me and I press my full weight on them. The field spins and I stumble forward, but Bethina and Henry steady me.

  “How much of that did you hear?” Bethina’s voice is barely audible above the drone of crickets.

  I give a dry cough. “I remember hearing you say ‘stop’.”

  “So you know you were encased again,” Henry says.

  “Yes. I heard that. But why? Why didn’t the first one work?”

  Henry shifts under my weight. “I cracked it when we were on the path. When I took your hands, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember.” The locking sensation—that’s what it was. Henry unlocked the encasing so I could confess my love for Beck.

  Bethina tugs on my arm. “Lark, the Channings and most of the other witches aren’t happy about your outburst. You can’t do anything like this again. Do you understand?”

  I choke and clear my throat. “Bethina, you know I don’t want to! But no one has shown me how to not do it.” I sound whiny, even to myself. “My classes are useless. I still don’t know how I do anything. Don’t you believe I would stop if I could?” The long answer wears me out. I drag my feet to let Bethina and Henry know I need a break.

  Bethina’s voice is soft. “I believe you Lark.” She touches my forehead with her fingers. “I believe you.”

  We start walking again. When we reach the porch, Henry swings me up into his arms. Shouting drifts from a far off room. I nudge Bethina with my foot. She confirms what I know: Beck is fighting with his parents. Again.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that. Henry, can you get her upstairs?”

  “Of course.”

  Bethina walks toward the argument, leaving Henry and I alone. I rest my head against his shoulder. He carries me up the stairs, past the pictures of the Channings—the good ones—lining the walls.

  With his toe, he pushes my bedroom door open. He crosses the room and lays me down on the bed.

  “Do you want me to stay? Keep you company until Bethina comes back?”

  Even though I enjoy Henry’s company, I want to be alone. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.” His fingers touch my forehead. “Good night, Lark. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  When he’s gone, I bury my face in my pillow. Loud, choking sobs rattle my body. From outside my window, a bird lets out a mournful warble. It matches my mood perfectly.

  Downstairs the arguing grows louder and a door slams. Footsteps on the stairs warn me to pull myself together. But there’s no hiding my red eyes or tear-streaked face.

  Bethina doesn’t bother knocking before slipping into the room.

  “Oh,” she says. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

  I shake my head, afraid tears will spill if I talk. The bird lets out another pitiful chirp and falls silent.

  She walks to the chair nearest the window and sits down. I lean back into my pillows and pull the covers to my chin.

  “What happened down there?” I ask.

  “You need to stay away from Beck.”

  Before I can protest, she raises her hand to quiet me. “That’s not my rule, that’s Mr. and Mrs. Channing’s. And as your hosts, you’ve got to respect that.” She purses her lips. “Now if someone could just talk sense to Beck.”

  “Good luck with that,” I say. We both laugh, the sound oddly out of place with the current mood.

  “Beck is a stubborn one, isn’t he? I always thought he was the easier going of the two of you, but I’m starting to rethink that assessment.”

  She looks out the window. “If you can keep yourself pulled together and really try to learn from your teachers, the Channings will let you stay until your birthday.”

  “And after?” I already know but have to ask.

  “You have to go, Lark. We can’t risk having you near Beck.”

  My face crumples, and she changes direction. “I know how you feel about that, but what if I came with you? Helped you find your way?”

  It wouldn’t be Beck, but at least I’d have someone who cares about me. “Really? I wouldn’t have to be alone?”

  “I’d never leave you alone.” The gentleness of her voice reminds me of the old Bethina—the one who tended my bumps and bruises; who always had cookies waiting for me on Friday afternoons; who cared for me.

  “We’re not at school anymore, B. No one is making you take care of me. And you’re not my parent.” I toss a pillow across the room.

  “Maybe not, but I still think you need me.”

  In the uncomfortable silence, a thought occurs to me. “Who’s taking care of the rest of the house? You’ve been gone a long time. Are you going to get in trouble?” The last thing I want is Bethina losing her job because of me.

  “Oh, I was fired, more or less. Three strikes and you’re out, as they say.”

  “Three strikes?” I ask.

  “Kyra, Beck, Max, Ryker, and you.” Her lips form a tight smile. “Make that five strikes.”

  “Oh,” I say softly. Bethina loved her job. “But what about the other kids? Who’s guiding them toward their bindings?” This was a major part of the last few months of school and also an extremely emotional time for both the students and the housemothers who raised them. Not having Bethina there must be difficult.

  “Most likely an apprentice.” From the way the corner of her eyes crinkle, I know she’s trying to hide her hurt.

  “Well, since you and I both have nowhere to go, let’s go there together.” My joke falls flat.

  “We’ll have to leave the day before your birthday, if you can make it that long.” Bethina fol
ds her arms authoritatively. It’s her “You better or else” look.

  From outside, the bird lets out another series of mournful chirps. Bethina moves closer to the window to observe it. “Strange, if I didn’t know better, I’d think that little bird was trying to talk to us.” She shakes her head. “Well, good night, Lark. No class for you tonight. Just try to get some rest and remember, tomorrow is a new day. A fresh start. Make the most of it, Lark Greene.” She taps my forehead and leaves me alone.

  I roll over and hug the covers tight around me. An endless flood of tears roll down my cheeks as I bury my face deep into my pillow and scream.

  29

  “Lark, wake up.”

  A hand softly pushes my hair back from my sleeping face.

  Beck.

  My eyes try to open, but they’re swollen shut from the tears. I rub hard, trying to unglue them. “What’s wrong?”

  He sits on the edge of my bed. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I say and move over toward the edge, giving him room to lie down next to me, but instead he stands up.

  “Feel like going for a walk?”

  That’s the last thing I feel like doing. The new encasing, combined with my sob-fest, has given me a massive headache. I roll onto my back and pull the covers over my head. “Not really. I have a headache.”