29
Annalise clings to me. Her tears dampen my hair.
“Beck Channing murdered your mother,” she whispers as I thrash against her tight embrace.
“No. You’re wrong. No.”
“He murdered her,” she repeats. And repeats. And repeats until my heart shatters, unable to withstand any more pain.
Beck, I scream in my mind. Where are you? What’s happening?
Silence.
I know you can hear me. Tell me you didn’t do this. “Tell me,” I yell out loud.
“He killed Malin,” Annalise says, her voice cracking. “If…if I had been there, maybe I could have stopped him.” Her face contorts and she presses her lips together as if to hold in a cry.
Please answer me. My nails dig into my palms. “No. It’s a mistake.” It has to be. Mother can’t be dead. She can’t be.
“Close your eyes, Lark.” Annalise’s magic washes over me. “Close your eyes and rest.”
My name is Lark Greene. I am a descendant of the Founder Caitlin Greene. I live in the big blue house at the end of a cul-de-sac with my housemates and Beck. Bethina is my housemother. In a few weeks, Beck and I will be bound and will receive our placements and our lives will be settled. I have a good life. A perfect life.
Fear swells in me and I bolt upright. My eyelids flutter, trying to adjust to the dim light, and my groggy brain struggles to place exactly where I am… Not Summer Hill. No. Somewhere else.
My hands grasp at the soft sheets covering my legs, and, as I slowly realize I’m in a bed, fear is replaced with terror.
Beck? I jump off the bed and run toward the window. Where are you?
With one quick movement, I yank back the curtains and the brilliant sunlight blinds me. I scan the scene outside the window. Everything looks as it should. Guards pace the edge of my property and people – no more or less than usual – wander past the house.
It’s as if nothing has changed.
And yet, I don’t feel right. Something…something…
The pain starts small, just a pinprick on my finger. I shake my hand thinking I can rid myself of it.
Heat and chills alternate along my spine, and I pant for breath as the sensation gathers steam, barrels down my arm, across my shoulder and into my heart.
I double forward and vomit all over my bare feet.
With a shaking hand, I push my wristlet. “Annalise? Please, I need you. Something’s wrong with me.”
The pricks intensify as they attack my heart. I jam my fist against my chest and a long, moan erupts from me as my knees collapse and I slump to the floor.
“She’s convulsing,” Dawson shouts. “We need a healer.”
My mother peers down at me. Her red-rimmed eyes study me carefully, with a strange curiosity. “It’s almost done, Love. It’s almost over.”
My throat burns, but I manage to say, “Mother? I thought you were dead.”
Annalise grabs my leg and her wide eyes are full of concern. “What’s wrong with her? Why is she hallucinating?”
“Can’t you see her?” I whisper.
The pain builds and stretches until I’m completely consumed. Mother cocks her head and places one finger over her smiling lips while resting her other hand against my forehead. “Shhh. The Dark magic is making you whole.”
Pain shoots into my heart. It surrounds the one good thing in me – Beck’s Light – and obliterates it.