Larkstorm

by Dawn Rae Miller

  And then I hear the one voice I didn’t expect: Eloise.

  “You’re going to have to let her go, Beck. You know that.” I rock back on my feet and nearly fall into the wall of the neighboring tent. Eloise lied to me. I grasp a cord hanging from the side of the tent to steady myself.

  “Getting back to the topic at hand.” Mrs. Channing’s speaking. “Let’s discuss Lark’s known capabilities.”

  Voices shout different answers. There must be over twenty people in the tent. I hear snippets—molecular combustion, cyrokinesis, conjuration, elemental—and can’t believe they’re talking about me. I don’t know what the words mean, let alone how to do any of them. My lessons make that clear.

  A commotion followed by more silence.

  Henry speaks. “I must point out that she has one power which is greater than all others: Lark can love. Or more correctly, she loves.”

  My ears tingle. Henry is telling them I love Beck. He’s telling a room full of strangers! And more importantly, he’s telling Beck.

  “So you say, Henry. But I not only question the methods under which you obtained that information, but also your objectivity.” Eamon again.

  “It’s true.” Bethina says. “The love Lark has for Beck is pure, honest. She’s loved this boy longer than even she realizes.”

  Eamon’s voice rises above the others. “Lark has the ability to kill. She did it at the school, remember? And she’ll do it again if given the chance. She’ll destroy Beck. And when she’s done with him, she’ll do what Malin can’t on her own—kill the rest of us.”

  There is no air. It’s vacated my lungs. The word ‘kill’ sticks in my mind and a scream grows in my throat.

  Another scuffle. I force myself to pay attention.

  “No, Beck. You listen to me. To all of us. We know what we’re talking about. She will drain all the happiness from you and leave you ruined. You’ll be a shell of a person.”

  “I don’t believe you. I know Lark better than anyone. She wouldn’t.” The tension radiates from Beck’s voice.

  I want to run through the tent and tell him he’s right. I want to throw my arms around his neck and inhale him. I want him to believe I’m none of these things. I’m just Lark, the same as I’ve always been.

  He needs to fight for me. Please, Beck. Please fight for me.

  “They’re telling the truth, Beck. That’s what she’ll do—is doing—to you.” Mrs. Channing’s voice trembles. “Every time you calm her, it pulls from you, weakens you.”

  There’s a quiet conversation I strain to hear. But it’s just unintelligible whispers.

  “Beck,” Bethina says softly. “We were wrong. You don’t block Lark’s darkness. You balance each other. It’s very different.”

  “Why? How is it any different? She’s still Lark.” Beck’s voice cracks.

  “You each have a piece of the other’s power temporarily locked inside of you.” Bethina sounds exhausted. “You draw from each other, but Lark pulls from you more. Your light is how she’s able to stay calm.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, once the temporary binding is broken, Lark is going to be dangerous and she’ll have nothing left to balance her out.”

  “Then leave my piece there permanently.”

  “It may kill you. And we need you to be strong. Whole. The Gathering wants you to reclaim your piece first. If you can, you will be stronger and Lark…” Bethina trails off, unable to finish.

  “What? What will happen to Lark?” Worry crowds out the fragile thread of control in Beck’s voice.

  Mrs. Channing finishes for Bethina. “She’ll most likely die.”

  “Absolutely not!”

  Something slams and rocks the tent.

  I choke back another scream. They want me to die. Bethina, Eloise, all of them. They’re planning my death. Vomit rises in my throat and I swallow it down as an intense energy builds inside me, like a million spiders crawling along my arms, face and back. The air around me shudders.

  “We are not killers. I will not do this.” Beck is steady and firm.

  “Don’t be dramatic. We’re not asking you to kill Lark,” Mrs. Channing answers. “We’re asking you to make yourself strong. Strong enough to help us defeat what’s coming. To protect us from the Dark witches. We need you.”

  “I can’t. I won’t. I can’t hurt her.”

  “Beck,” his mother pleads, “if Lark is the stronger of the two of you, no one knows if the Light witches can survive. Think of Bea. Think of your friends here. Is that what you want?” Mrs. Channing lets out a sob.

  Mr. Channing finishes for his wife. “It’s already taking the power of over a thousand witches to contain her, and she’s not yet mature. She has no idea how to control her powers.”

  “You’re asking me to push away the person I’ve always been told to keep close!” He’s irate now. “What kind of sick game did you play with us? I love her! What don’t you understand about that? I love her because of what you—all of you—did.”

  “Beck, you need to think as a leader. Not as a boy,” Eamon’s deep voice booms.

  “As a leader? Is that what you were acting as when you threatened to kill her? Because if so, I don’t want to be your leader. I never asked for any of this. And neither did Lark.”

  Beck walks closer to where I’m wedged. He knows I’m there; he senses my panic. He’s so close, his warmth radiates through the tent, and I draw closer.

  Eamon lashes out at him. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “Maybe that’s because, for weeks, you’ve done nothing but tell me what I can’t do: I can’t talk to Lark, I can’t love her, I can’t protect her. Why hasn’t anyone tried teaching me what I can do? What kind of magic do you have for that?” Beck’s voice falters.

  I imagine the anguish on his face and tears roll down my cheeks. I wish I could tell him everything will be okay. But I can’t. I don’t know if it will be.

  “You don’t need magic, Beck. You need a miracle,” Eloise’s clear voice answers.

  The tent falls silent.

  I push myself down further and wait for someone to say something, anything. But no one does.

  In the silence, everything becomes clear. I’ve been selfish, worried about only me and my actions.

  But Beck—Beck is in love with the person who will kill him if given the chance. He has to sit back and watch me change from the girl he loved into a monster. He has to decide if he’s going to try to defend himself, his family and his friends. If he can’t, if he feels anything for me and what we once had, it will turn deadly for him.

  No longer able to contain myself, I let out a strangled cry and shove my way from between the tents. In the distance, flashes of lightning streak the sky and thunder rolls.

  Eloise calls my name.

  “Lark! Wait!” Beck shouts.

  But I can’t stop. I need to save him. I need to be far away from him. I run to the edge of the lawn and disappear into the trees.

  32

  I’m a monster. Or I’m going to be. I know Henry and Mother explained everything to me, but hearing it from those I care about—who see me as a monster and dangerous—makes it real.

  Sadness overwhelms me, but I can’t cry. That time has passed. Now is the time to make this right.

  If only someone could show me how to control my powers so I wouldn’t be completely Dark. Or at least not Dark in an unpredictable, erratic way. That’s worth something, isn’t it? Mother told me to love him—if we weren’t a threat to each other, maybe she’d let us be together.

  But I know this fantasy can’t be true. I heard my teachers and the others. It’s hopeless. I’m hopeless.

  The moon is full and illuminates the path. Fireflies dart in and out of low hanging branches and the hum of crickets fills the sticky, warm air. Ahead, the lake shimmers in the moonlight. Thunder rumbles, but the lightning has disappeared.

  I survey the lakefront, checking to make sure it’s deserted.
This is as good as any place to stop. Besides, it’s not like I can get out of Summer Hill’s protective dome without someone coming after me. I’m stuck here until they throw me out.

  I walk along the shore until I find a suitable spot. The icy water tempts me—I long to feel pain, something physical to take my mind off the turmoil in my heart—so I kick off my shoes and dip my toes in the gentle waves.

  Small ripples circle away from me, growing larger and swallowing up more of the lake with each ring. How fitting—everything is moving away from me these days.

  My choices are limited. Up until now, I’d been hoping and believing that this would all work out. But I know now it was just a dream. An impossible dream. Even if I can control my abilities and fight Caitlyn’s curse, Beck and I still can’t be together. Being bound will kill him.

  In the quiet, unanswered questions assault me. When I leave here, will the Dark witches descend to bring me to Mother? Will I forget the Light witches I’ve come to care about? Will I go mad, like Caitlyn, causing destruction everywhere I go?

  If someone could just tell me what to expect, then maybe it won’t be so bad.

  The chirping of the crickets grows louder and I allow the sound to force out the difficult questions. I close my eyes and will myself numb.

  The air shifts and a soft breeze moves across my skin. My heart speeds up and I know Beck is nearby before he says a word.

  “Lark? Are you okay?” He stands in the shadow of the trees, hidden from view.

  I shake my head and hope he’ll go away. I don’t want him to see me like this.

  “You need to leave, Beck. You can’t be around me.”

  He ignores my order and crosses the expanse of sand. “I need to talk to you.”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea. They’re probably already looking for you.” I hide my face from him.

  “Doubt anyone is looking for me,” he says. “They sent me to find you.”

  So that’s how it is. Beck’s here to do what I know he has to: send me away. Tell me he doesn’t want me.

  He’s here to tell me things we both know are lies.

  I twist the chain of my necklace around my fingers and wish this moment away. Even though I know he doesn’t mean it, I still don’t want to hear those words. I take a deep breath and prepare to have my heart ripped out.

  But instead of doing what he needs to, Beck sits next to me. His warmth envelops me and pushes some of the sadness and worry away.

  “Not the best day, is it?” His voice is heavy, but there’s not a trace of sorrow.

  “You could say that.” I stare out into the night. Tears stain my cheeks and I pray he doesn’t notice. I hug my knees to my chest and rest my head on them.

  Beck’s hand strokes my hair. He tugs at the ends and wraps them around his fingers. I close my eyes and savor the feeling of being close to him again.

  With that one gesture, I realize he’s not going to do it. Beck won’t tell me to leave. He won’t lie to me.

  I turn my head toward him, my hair falling across my face. Through the strands, I study him, trying to discern whether or not it’s really him or Henry again. His eyes look hopeful, not sad. Not at all worried. I sigh. Only Beck would be optimistic when everything seems hopeless.

  He’s making this worse.

  All my life, I’ve turned to him when I haven’t known what to do. But now, it’s my turn to lead. I need to be strong and do the right thing: If Beck won’t let me go, I’m going to have to make him not want me. I’m going to have to force him away.

  I fumble with the clasp of my necklace. When it falls away, I gather it in my hand and force it into his. A faint tingle runs along my skin when my hand brushes against his.

  Beck stares at the necklace before clenching it in his fist. He holds it for a moment, closes his eyes, and then drops it into his pocket. When my lip trembles, I realize I’d been hoping he’d refuse it, or maybe even clasp it around my neck again.

  “What do you want, Beck?” My flat voice sounds empty, like I feel.

  “You.”

  When I begin to protest, he says, “We don’t need to do what they say. I’m tired of being a pawn in their sick game.” A raw, determined edge taints his mellow voice.

  “What are you saying?” I try to remain distant and unemotional, but my resolve is fracturing. Because more than anything, I want him too. I want our life together.

  “I don’t think they can stop me if I decide to leave with you.”

  I should have seen this coming. I should have known, after what I heard in the tent. But still, I’m caught off guard.

  “Why would you want to come with me? Are you crazy?”

  “Why?” He brushes the tips of my hair against his face. “Do you even have to ask?”

  Beck’s eyes are sharp. He’s serious.

  Why does he have to make this so hard? Stay firm. Don’t let him see how torn you are.

  “You can’t come with me! I’ll kill you! What part of that don’t you get?”

  His pushes the hair off my face. “I know you like I know myself, isn’t that what I’ve heard you say?”

  I close my eyes, unable look at him right now. I don’t know whether to be secretly pleased or extremely angry.

  “I don’t think you’ll hurt me, Lark.”

  “Beck!” I yank my head up. “I can’t control myself. You know that. I’m like–” I try to find the right words, “–a massive black hole, sucking you in and destroying you.”

  He shakes his head. “Not so. I’ve spoken to Henry about it. He thinks there’s a way–”

  “Henry isn’t telling you everything, Beck. This is bigger than you and me.”

  Beck places his hands on my cheeks and stares into my eyes. “What don’t I know?”

  I pull my head away from him. “I met with my mother.”

  “You what?” His hand squeezes my arm.

  “It’s a long story. But there’s a group of Light witches—a splinter group—that wants to kill her. She’s looking for a reason to attack—that’s why she’s letting me stay here. You and I,” I say as I motion to the two of us, “are but one small piece in the puzzle.”

  Beck grabs my other arm and yanks me toward him. “And you believe her? She’s evil, Lark. You can’t trust her.”

  I shove him away. “Were you paying attention tonight? Eamon wants to kill me, Beck. Kill me. Before he has any reason to.” I glare at him. “What more proof do you need?”

  His head slumps forward and he covers his face in his hands. “I had hoped it wasn’t true. I thought maybe…”

  “You knew about Eamon?”

  “I suspected.”

  He doesn’t need to say anything else. I understand—Beck’s never wanted to believe the worst of people. Me included.

  I lace my fingers through his and lay my head on his shoulder.

  “What if we run away?” he says again. The words tumble out of him fast. “Just the two of us. We don’t have to take part in this, Lark. Besides, Henry told me I’d be safe around you.”

  “Because I can love, right? That’s your protection?” I ask, and continue before Beck can answer. “If you think they’ll just let you waltz out of here with me, you’ve lost your mind.”

  “They can’t stop us.”

  “Yes, yes they can. How will we get past that?” I point at the dome. “And the thousand plus witches sitting on your lawn? Not to mention the Dark witches on the other side of the dome.”

  Despite the ridiculousness of this conversation, hope builds inside me again. I want Beck to have a reasonable answer.

  “Simple. You.”

  “Me?” I glare. “That’s your plan?”

  “Birdie, no one has ever seen anything like the two of us. If we’re together, I don’t think anyone could stop us from doing what we want.”

  “You seem to have forgotten that, one,” I hold up my finger, “despite everyone’s worries, I have zero magical talent; and two, I’m encased—I couldn’t cas
t even if I knew how; and three, being near me will kill you.”

  “You’re not going to kill me, and you have done magic. We’ve all seen it.”

  I give an exasperated groan. Why is he so difficult? “No. No, I haven’t. What I’ve done is just little sparks of nothing. I needed you to help me find my necklace, if you’ve forgotten.”

  He tilts his head and listens to my emotions. “But you’d consider it? If you weren’t encased and could do magic?”

  Reason and desperation play tug-of-war with me. With every piece of my being, I want to believe in his plan, but I can’t. Beck puts too much faith in me. He asks too much of me. I can’t make a decision like this based on possibilities. I need evidence.

  “No.” I attempt to hide my internal struggle. He needs to believe this. “I wouldn’t do it. I won’t risk hurting you.”

  “Look at me.” His deep, gentle voice surrounds me.

  I press my eyes shut.

  “Lark, please. Look at me.”

  His breath caresses my face. My eyes flutter open. Beck’s mouth is inches from mine.

  “Bound or not, you are my heart. There is a piece of you wedged deep inside me, and I’m not going to give it back without a fight.”

  “But that’s just it!” The tears come freely now. “That’s exactly what will happen. I’ll fight you for it. I will kill you for it. Please.” I wrap my fingers through his and kiss each one. “Do this for me. Don’t allow me to hurt you. You have to let me go.”