“Here.” He pulls back the sheet and touches my forehead with his fingertips. The pain subsides. “Is that better?”
“Where’d you learn that trick?”
He grins. “While you’re out running around with Eloise, playing with rainbows, I’m learning useful stuff.”
“Oh, whatever. Eloise is a great teacher—she’s taught me how to attack imaginary people.”
Beck bows. “Miss Greene, I concede.”
“Nutter.” I kick my feet at him playfully and he catches them. For the first time in weeks, it feels like old times. “Fine, I’ll go for a walk with you.”
“Meet me under the weeping willow in ten minutes?”
I nod.
“Bring a heavy sweater.”
When he’s gone, I roll off the bed and onto my knees. I wish I knew what time it was—it has to be after midnight. We’re going to be exhausted tomorrow morning. I have a hard enough time in class as it is.
My clothes from earlier lie folded on the chair. Bethina must have picked them up. I put them on, find a cardigan—it’s too warm for a heavy sweater—and carry my sandals in my hand. No need for extra noise,especially on the already squeaky steps.
I tiptoe down the stairs, shifting my weight from side to side and doing my best to not topple over. My toes tap each spot lightly before I place my full weight down. Shift, tap, shift, tap—all the way to the bottom.
Between Beck’s clandestine visit to my room and the sneaking out at night, I can’t help but feel like I’m performing a criminal activity. Still, a little flutter of excitement tickles my stomach. We’ve barely had any time together, and even though I know the stakes, I can’t change the fact that I long for him.
The kitchen door is nearest the weeping willow, so I sneak through the dining room and kitchen. Once out the door, I slip on my shoes and run to the tree.
Beck’s already there, leaning against the trunk and looking nervous.
“You might want to put this on.” He takes my sweater from me and holds it open, waiting for me to slip my arms in.
“It’s not cold,” I protest.
“It will be in a minute.”
“Really? Because it feels like a typical humid night to me.”
The moonlight casts an eerie glow across Beck’s face. It saps the normal golden color from his skin, leaving it ashen.
“Take my hand?”
Such a strange thing for Beck to say, so formal. But I place my hand in his, eager to feel his warmth. “Where are we go–”
But before I can finish, I’m hurtling through a black void.
#
The ground is frozen beneath my feet and the icy wind burns my naked legs.
Ice and snow—I’m not at Summer Hill anymore.
Where am I? Outside the dome? The snow falls heavily—I can’t see the protective bubble of Summer Hill or anything else.
“Beck!”
There’s no answer. Where is he? What happened?
I rotate, trying to place myself, but all I see is blinding white.
“Beck!”
The wind slows and the snow is now nothing more than an occasional flake drifting from the sky. Unlike the last time I found myself out here, the weather is acting in direct opposition to my feelings. I’m not controlling it.
“It’s okay, Lark. He’s safe.”
Henry? I whip around looking for him but he’s nowhere. This makes no sense. What’s Henry doing here?
Something brushes my arm and I jump. “Henry? What’s going on?”
The full moon’s glow reflects off the snow and illuminates everything in an icy blue hue—except the gray shadow stepping out from the trees.
My mother.
With each step she takes toward me, I take one backward. I stare at Mother, my eyes unmoving, until something snaps and I turn to run.
“Hello, Lark.”
The fear evaporates. My body is poised midstride, but can’t remember why. Confused, I place my foot softly on the ground and pivot to greet my mother properly.
Though she’s wearing gorgeous open-toe heels, the snowdrifts pose no problem. She glides toward me with such elegance, I wonder if her feet even touch the ground. With one fluid movement, Mother slips out of her long cream coat and wraps it around my shoulders.
“I thought I told you to have her dress appropriately, Henry.”
“I told her to bring a heavy sweater, but she wouldn’t.” Henry appears next to my mother and points at the sandals on my feet. “And shoes. I told you to grab shoes, didn’t I?”
Henry told me? No, Beck did.
“She’s confused.” My mother studies me closely with a worried expression.
“I had to stun her.”
She sighs. “Completely unnecessary. She would never hurt you.”
Mother touches my forehead and the fog lifts, sharpening my mind. Henry impersonated Beck. He brought me to my mother. He betrayed me.
Adrenaline pumps hard through my veins. I need to get out of here before she takes me away. Before she turns me against Beck.
“Ah ah ah,” my mother tsks. “None of that. Unlike the others, I’m still much, much stronger than you—all by myself.”
My pulse slows. She’s right—where would I go anyway? I have no idea where I am.
Even though I’m wrapped in her heavy coat, my teeth chatter. “Why do you want me?”
“To make sure you’re unharmed. I worry about you, love.” She presses the back of her hand against my cheek. Her voice is high and clear—and soothing. So very soothing. “You’re freezing. Let’s get you inside.”
She claps her hands and a thatched roof cottage materializes. The windows glow with warmth and I want so badly to run inside and out of the freezing air.
“It’s such a treat to use magic openly. I can almost see the allure of a place like this.” She smiles wide, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and points toward the shadows. Through the trees, Summer Hill’s dome glows. We’re just feet from the barrier.
“Are there others with you? Besides Henry?”
“Henry’s not with me, but yes, there are others. I can no longer travel without an entourage. Too many dangers.” She waves her hand dismissively. “However, you needn’t worry, and my guard won’t interrupt us. Unless, you would like to visit with Annalise? Or perhaps Kyra? They’re keeping an eye on you, after all.” Mother raises her eyebrow at me and waits for a response.
Kyra’s here? And she watches me with Annalise? From the other side of the dome? That’s inner circle stuff—no wonder Annalise and Callum were sent to find me. But Kyra?
I snap my head up at the familiar rustling of a witch materializing.
“Lark!” Kyra’s thin body slams into mine and pulls me into a deep embrace.
Bewildered, I stand still, my mind trying to make sense of the surreal scene around me. Mother, Henry, Kyra—the cold. Nothing seems real, but Kyra squeezes me so hard I can barely breathe, so she must be here.
“Kyra?” I gasp. “What are you doing here?”
She extracts the air from my lungs one last time before releasing me and embarking on her typical, lightning-fast, one-way conversation. “I’m working! Are you coming home with us? It’s so boring without you—all we do is train and train and train.” She pouts like I’ve seen her do a million times before when she wants her way. “And I’m deso about not having anyone besides Maz and Ryker to hang out with—the older people aren’t any fun, you know? Maz really loved spending time with you. Said he likes you so much better now!” She tosses her curls back and beams at me. “Plus, I miss you so, so much.”
The thought of going home, to people who like me, appeals to my inner sense of safety. It would be so easy—Mother and Kyra, they could teach me, and I’d be surrounded by people who didn’t fear me. I wouldn’t be encased. I could learn.
But I wouldn’t have Beck. And they’d want me to kill him.
“I don’t know.” It’s an honest answer.
Kyra’s eyes wide
n in disbelief. “You would choose him over us?” She stomps over toward Mother. “Can she do that?”
To my surprise, Mother says nothing. Kyra touches Mother’s arm and screams, “But she can’t! She can’t choose him over us! It’s not right.”
Mother smiles at her, lifts Kyra’s hand and lets it drop. Kyra’s chest heaves in anger.
Seeing Kyra upset physically hurts me. The longest week of my life, other than my current stint at Summer Hill, was when she refused to speak to me for spoiling her birthday surprise for Maz. But now, her anger and confusion feels a hundred times worse. They radiate off her and nip at my surprising calm, threatening to unleash my uncontrollable powers.
But defusing Kyra’s emotional outbursts has been my specialty since childhood, and I waste no time doing it now. Her favorite thing is speaking about herself—so I change to the subject to one I know she’ll like better. “What are you training for?”
A flash of understanding crosses her face. She knows what I’m doing but doesn’t fight it. “Inner guard,” she mock-whispers behind her hand. Her wide grin threatens to swallow her face—this is the job she dreamed about. Kyra had no interest in politics or agriculture or really any of the subjects we studied in school—she’s always wanted to work in security or be a spy, which, to be honest, I find amusing. But here she is, apparently guarding my mother.
Correction: guarding me.
“You’re working with Annalise?” I spit out her name, not caring if anyone else picks up on how I detest her.
Mother leans closer to me. “Is there a reason you dislike your sister-in-law?”
The words tumble out, with no restraint. “She was mean to me. And Beck. And she wrapped me up in some weird heavy air.”
Kyra giggles and I pause, knowing I sound like a three-year-old tattling, but can’t stop. “She scares me.”
The air around us vibrates. Remembering the attack on Summer Hill, I duck, throwing my arms above my head and clenching my eyes tight. I should have known the Light witches wouldn’t let me go without a fight.
But instead of battle sounds, there’s a long silence until Mother snaps, her voice icy and hard, “Annalise!”
My eyes open halfway, but I continue to cower. Mother’s eyes flash with fury.
“Yes, Malin?” Annalise appears to my left and bows slightly.
“Did you purposely frighten my daughter?”
“I,” Annalise grips the sides of her head in pain. “I’m sorry,” she cries out as she doubles over. Her raven hair falls across her face, obscuring it. “We didn’t mean to—we only wanted to scare Beck.”
“Did I tell you to frighten either of them?” Mother glares at Annalise. “Did I?”
A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. After what she did to me—to Beck—Annalise deserves everything coming to her.
Still bent over, Annalise recoils. “No, Malin. You did not.”
With a quick jerk of her head, Mother dismisses Annalise, who disappears instantly. I stare at the spot where she had been standing and a deep satisfaction rolls through me, pleased to see Annalise punished. If only I could command that kind of respect from others.
Kyra winks at me, blows a kiss and follows Annalise into the void. An emptiness eats at my heart once she’s gone. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how much I missed my friend. As much as I enjoy Eloise’s company, she’ll never replace Kyra.
Mother runs her hands over her dress and adjusts her necklaces so they lie evenly. “See, my love? I will never let anyone harm you.” Her voice is soft and chime-like again. “Shall we?” She takes my hand and leads me toward the cottage. Even though I should fear her, nothing about my mother frightens me.
The cottage is rustic, like pictures I’ve seen in textbooks from hundreds of years ago. A fire roars in the corner, warming the room and casting a soft glow. A rough wood table, covered with an amazing feast, dominates the room and floor-to-ceiling bookcases full of oddities line the far wall. Cello music plays softly in the background.
“Eat what you want.” Mother helps me remove the jacket. “I’m sure the Channings have tried to force their awful culinary habits on you.”
Henry shakes his head at her. “I’ll never understand why it’s okay for you to kill people, but not animals.”
“Animals are innocent, Henry. You simply can’t say the same about people.”
He shrugs and fills three glasses with brilliant red wine and passes one to me. I’ve never had wine before—but I’ve never been in a cottage with my Mother talking about witches, either. The acidic aroma stings my nose while the sweet and bitter taste of the wine shocks my taste buds. I force myself to swallow, but immediately drink from a large glass of water that has appeared in front of me.
Mother laughs, her blue eyes twinkling in the candlelight. Even if she weren’t a witch, I’m positive people would flock to her. She’s amazing.
“Why am I here?” I ask.
“Despite her previous disobedience, Annalise told me about what happened tonight. I wanted to see you myself and make sure you were unharmed.”
“But how did I get here? I’m encased.”
Mother sighs and takes a dainty bite of a pastry. “You did not arrive at Summer Hill by accident, Lark, and I can come get you any time I want.”
My breath gushes out of me. “You’re letting me stay there? But Callum and Annalise–”
“Were doing exactly as I told them. We couldn’t have it look like I delivered you—you had to work for it.”
Just like Bethina. Mother wanted me to go to Summer Hill, but why? “Bethina said–”
“Bethina.” Mother sighs as she places the pastry on her plate. “Yes, I suppose she’s done a fine job raising you. But never forget, she’s a Light witch. She’ll only protect her own.”
“And yet, here you sit with Henry.” I glare at Henry the Betrayer.
Mother bats her large blue eyes at me before pressing her hands together and bowing her head. The music plays on and the fire roars. Henry takes a long swig from his glass.
Despite the peaceful setting, the most horrible question tumbles out. “Why did you bind us?”
The cello music stops abruptly, leaving a void of noise that hangs over us, waiting for her to address me. She turns away from me, toward Henry and nods to him. He moves around the table and runs his hand over Mother’s face. Satisfied with whatever he’s done, Mother smiles at him and he returns to his seat.
“Sit with me?” She extends both hands toward me.
Even if I wanted, I couldn’t refuse her. Her smile draws me in and I want nothing more than to please her. I allow Mother to guide me to the chaise lounge near the fire. Her shimmering eggplant-colored dress drapes across her legs as she reclines. I position myself on the edge of the chaise, my body turned slightly toward hers.
“Bind?” Mother takes a long sip of her drink and places the glass on the table. “Is that what they’ve told you?”
“Henry did.”
Mother raises an eyebrow at Henry before her laugh rings out, the sound sweet and melodic. “No love, I didn’t bind you, no one can truly do that but yourselves. I placed a protection spell around you—to prevent the Light witches from hurting you.”
“Malin,” Henry snaps and slams his glass down, shattering it. The pieces scatter across the table, throwing glimmers of light from the fire around the room.
Mother sighs. “Oh, very well.” Her long fingers drum against her knee and Henry’s glass repairs itself. “It’s a type of binding. But I would never intentionally harm you, you must understand that. You are my daughter. And if only one of you can survive, I’m going to do my best to ensure it’s you.”
I squint at her, trying to understand her words.
“Stop wrinkling your face, love. It’s unbecoming.” She waves her hands and Henry’s glass refills. “I wanted you to have a chance to mature and be able to defend yourself. This was the best solution.
“And the spell has worked wonderfully, hasn
’t it? You’re nearly mature, and possibly stronger than Beck underneath this thing they’ve done to you.” She fingers the fine gold necklaces hanging from her neck. “For being Light, he is such a nice boy and so handsome.” She sighs. “It’s too bad.”
She speaks about Beck like he’s just some thing. Not the boy I love. Not someone who matters. “What if I do nothing? Just run away?”
Her radiant smile twists into a grimace. “Doing nothing is not an option. Besides,
even if I hadn’t performed the spell, you would have battled eventually.”
Henry clears his throat, causing Mother to throw her arms up and glare at him. “They would have, Henry, you know that. Caitlyn’s curse ensures it.”
“Did she really kill Charles and curse us?” I ask as I slip my sandals off and tuck my feet beneath me.
Mother swirls her glass and studies the contents. “Yes and yes.” She pats my hand.
I watch the firelight shimmer across her dress. “You didn’t have to kill my father. Why do I have to kill Beck?”
“Your father wasn’t a direct descendant of Charles. He was unaffected by Caitlyn’s curse.”
“I don’t want hurt Beck.”
“While it’s true you don’t want to kill him yet—you will. I promise. Our leaders always do.” She speaks without emotion, as if giving the daily morning report, and strokes my arm. “You aren’t meant to be together. If Margo and I hadn’t interfered, you would have despised one another. Just like Patrick Channing and I do—it’s simply the way things should be.”
Larkstorm Page 23
