34
The house sits on the edge of the road. There’s no sidewalk or landscaping. Just a three story-high house that looks like it may tip forward at any moment.
“Are you sure this is it?” I ask Kyra. Dawson stands off to the side, his back to me and his eyes scanning for any sign of trouble. On the way here, I occasionally caught strains of the Alouette, another reminder the Splinter group is seeping into my city. It also proves that what I’m about to do is absolutely the right decision.
Kyra half-glances at her wristlet. “Positive. Three sixty-five Fourth Avenue.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I can’t imagine living like this. Stacked on top of another family with no privacy. It’s like being at school all over again.”
“I don’t know. It’s not that bad.” Kyra turns to my older guard. “Where do you live Dawson?”
“A few blocks over. In a house much like this.”
Sometimes I forget my male guards have families. They rarely speak of them. “I’m sure your home is lovely,” I say and glare at Kyra.
I squint at the house. “Does she know we’re coming?”
“No.”
“Ring the bell.”
A deep boom sounds inside the house. We wait a few seconds, listening, and then I hear it: feet rushing down a flight of stairs. The door flings open, and Lena stands before us. “Kyra! I thought you weren’t coming today.” Her hands fly to her mouth, and she blinks in confusion. “Lark! What are you doing here?”
Her voice is a little too high and her hug a little too enthusiastic.
Kyra taps her foot. “You’re being rude. Invite us in.”
“Of course.” Lena holds the door open and motions us up the stairs. “Timothy isn’t here right now. But if I ping him, I’m sure he’ll hurry home.”
“No need,” I say, taking in the home’s meager furnishings. “It’s you we want to see.”
“Can I get you a drink? Something light to eat?”
“No, but you can tell me where Ryker is.” I smile sweetly.
Lena’s mouth drops open before she quickly snaps it shut. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen Ryker since he was kicked out of our house.”
“I know that’s not true. I saw the two of you together, but you don’t remember, do you?”
I jerk my head and Kyra walks toward our old housemate. Lena’s eyes grow wide, but she doesn’t pull away when Kyra lazily drapes her arm over her shoulder. When Kyra told me she believed Lena had been hiding the boys, she was livid. But not for the same reasons as me.
“Has he contacted you?” Kyra asks.
Lena grimaces and her jaw locks shut.
“Someone tongue-tied her,” Dawson says from his station behind me.
I circle Lena and she spins with me. “He was here, wasn’t he? I can see it in your eyes.”
She shakes her head vigorously.
“Lena’s lying,” I singsong. “You’ve always been a little too…”
“Bitchy?” Kyra offers. The anger in her voice radiates across my skin and I draw it into my core.
I tap my finger against my lip. “I was going to say ‘mean girl’, but bitchy works.”
Lena scuttles backward, slowly, like a crab. Her chest heaves.
“Do you fear me?” I ask, closing the distance between us.
She shakes her head again, but she’s lying. The fear radiating off her oozes into me and I savor it.
“Oh, Lena. That wasn’t the right answer.” I flip my hand over and a ball of energy bounces in my palm. “Ryker told you what I am, didn’t he?”
She keeps her arms tucked into her sides, as if trying to become as small as possible. “Please don’t hurt me,” she begs.
A knot forms in my stomach as I stare down at my former housemate’s quaking figure. The energy ball blinks out, and I run my hands over my face. What am I doing?
“Leaders don’t hesitate, Lark.” Dawson’s voice booms from the corner of the room.
This is wrong. So, so wrong. I don’t need to hurt Lena. I take a half-step away from her.
“Is this how you show strength? I thought you were a leader, Lark,” Dawson chides. “Malin would never back down.”
My gaze flits between my guard and the girl on the floor. Dawson’s right, I need to show strength, but at what price? What has Lena done besides love the wrong boy?
“Please,” Lena whimpers. “I don’t want to die.”
As she speaks, her fear floods my body, and I gasp. Horror follows and my blood sings. It’s absolutely intoxicating.
“I could,” I whisper. And looking down at Lena, I realize it’s true. If I wanted, I could end her life.
The thought sends a thrill rippling through me.
“Please,” Lena begs. “Please, Lark. “
Across the room, Dawson gives a curt nod.
Kyra stands at my shoulder, her breath ragged in my ear. “You’re not going to hurt her, are you?”
“And if I did?” I challenge. “Would you be disloyal and try to stop me?”
Panic radiates from Kyra. “No. Never.” Her eyes search the room madly. “It’s just that, if she’s hurt, she’s of no use.”
My head aches and I rub my temples. She has a point. If Lena’s incapacitated, she can’t tell me what she knows. However, she’s tongue-tied and can’t give me the information anyway.
“Lark.” Dawson’s firm voice jerks me from my thoughts. He stands just inches from me. “Do not show weakness.”
A fluttering grows in my chest and my muscles tense. I am not weak. I’m Lark Greene. Descendent of Caitlin Greene. Daughter of Malin Greene.
I am not weak.
Lena whimpers and I throw my head back and laugh.
“Oh, Lena. Do you know what I do to girls who don’t give me what I want?” I push my face in front of hers so that my lips are just inches from Lena’s colorless skin. “I eat them.”
I snap my teeth and she curls tighter in on herself.
A ball of energy vibrates in my hand again. “I’m afraid there is no mercy for the wicked. And you’ve been helping Ryker hide. That’s very wicked indeed.”
Kyra grabs my wrist. “Okay, you’ve scared her. I think that’s enough.”
“Mind yourself, Kyra,” Dawson orders.
“Mind myself?” my friend shouts. “What’s the point of this? Why are you encouraging Lark to lash out? Malin never did.” She jabs her finger in Dawson’s direction. “What’s wrong with all of you?”
“Enough.” I whirl on my friend. “Lena still hasn’t told us where Beck is. Once she does, she can go. I promise.”
“She’s tongue-tied.” Kyra shakes her head with mouth wide open. “She can’t tell you even if she wants to.”
Damn it, Kyra’s right.
I study the trembling blond girl. I can’t leave her here. Not after what she’s seen.
Dawson’s sharp eyes watch me intently.
My mind scurries through several options, none of which end particularly well. If I let Lena go, I’ll have to wipe her mind again, which could leave her in a vegetative state. If I don’t wipe her mind, she could expose me.
I can’t let her go.
“I’m sorry, Lena,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
With a flick of my wrist the glowing orb strikes her chest and a blood-curling scream fills the room. Her pain floods my system and re-invigorates me.
Lena’s body spasms on the cold, hard floor.
Kyra shrieks and yanks at my arms. “What have you done?”
“I…I…” What have I done?
With numb legs, I stumble toward Lena, but Kyra shoves me out of the way. She kneels next to our former housemate and holds her head against Lena’s chest. “She’s barely alive. She needs a healer.”
My brain races in a chaotic mess of images, feelings, and memories. I blink hard, trying to push them away, trying to make sense of what just happened. Across the room, Dawson stands with his arms folded, coolly watching Kyra and me.
“It was the right thing to do,” my burly guard says. “You did well.”
I rub my temples and try to still my thoughts. I have to fix this. I have to show Dawson I’m strong, but I can’t let Lena die.
“Take Lena to my house, Dawson, and fetch a healer.”
My guard lumbers across the snug room, and Kyra scoots back so he can lift Lena’s motionless body.
“Wait,” I order. “Bring her here.” Dawson holds Lena’s body before me and with one, swift movement, I unfasten her wristlet and toss it to Kyra.
“No one can know she’s injured other than the Healer. Do you understand?”
Dawson nods. Seconds later, he blinks out and Lena disappears with him.
“What are you doing?” There’s a sense of desperation in Kyra’s voice.
Somewhere deep inside me, my heart trembles as if it were crying. I press my hand against it as I stride across the room, hoping the pressure will ease some of the pain. “The boys probably ditched their wristlets, but I bet Ryker has a way to listen to the secure feeds.” I’m moving forward with my plan, trying not to think about what just happened. “How often do you talk to Lena?”
Kyra’s lips are nothing more than two thin lines. She refuses to answer me.
“I’m not stupid. I know you’ve kept in touch with her.” I keep my voice even, trying not to betray the confusion of emotions rolling through me.
With her chin to her chest, she says, “Once a week.”
“Good. I want you to ping Lena’s wristlet and say you’ll stop by in an hour. That you have to run an errand to the school with me.”
She lifts her eyes to meet mine. “And then what?”
“We wait for Beck to show up.”
No sooner does my foot touch the bare earth then I link my arm through Kyra’s and pull her into the Presidio. Small purple flowers dot the hills, and when the wind blows, they look like they’re dancing. We pass beneath the lone grove of trees until we reach the small creek that snakes across the Presidio down to the Bay.
My friend is unusually quiet as we trudge along.
“What’s wrong?” I ask when her silence becomes unbearable.
She pulls in a deep breath before releasing it. “You didn’t need to hurt Lena. It was pointless.”
Her accusation stabs at my heart, but the truth is, she’s right. I know she is. “I don’t know what’s happening to me,” I say for the hundredth time, swallowing hard. “Sometimes I feel like I’m in control, and other times, it’s like I’m watching some horrible version of myself.”
“Beck can help you.”
Even in my confusion, there is one thing I’m sure of: I need to find Beck Channing. Whether or not he can help is a different story.
“You think Ryker told Lena about us?”
Kyra brings her shoulders up to her ears. “I don’t know. Probably.”
“You didn’t ask her?” I say in disbelief. “What good is the power of persuasion if you don’t use it?”
Kyra stops abruptly, and I nearly bump into her. She scrunches up her face. “I couldn’t get close enough to her before someone tongue-tied her.”
“Then she knows,” I say matter-of-factly.
With one hop, I jump over the tiny stream and land on the opposite muddy bank. I race up the small hillside to a tree and lean against it.
“What are you doing?” Kyra calls.
Something doesn’t seem right to me, but I’m not sure what. “Thinking.”
Instead of leaping over the water, Kyra transports to my side. “About what?”
“If Lena could keep away from you, why would Mother let someone she didn’t know close enough to strike? She was the most heavily protected person in our Society. How did someone get close enough to assassinate her? And how did none of her guards see it?”
“You don’t suspect an inside job do you?”
I frown. “I’m not sure what I think.” My mind flits back to my suspicions of Annalise. “If it wasn’t Beck, as you insist, it had to be someone close to her.”
Kyra rubs her throat. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
An animal moves through the nearby brush and we both startle. “I think we should go,” Kyra whispers. “This is a stupid idea, and we shouldn’t be here alone. If Annalise finds out, we’re in trouble.”
A sharp shock of electricity pricks my neck and I stagger to the right. Before I can make sense of what’s happening, Kyra catches me and pulls me behind the tree.
I fix my eyes on a spot on the other side of the creek. The air around it crackles with magic and a salty-metallic smell fills my nose.
“Who’s over there?” I whisper.
Kyra’s wristlet hums softly. She shakes her head. “No wristlet.”
I swallow. If I’m right, it’s Beck and his friends. If I’m wrong, it could be anyone. Even Eamon.
A bolt of magic cracks the tree and it groans.
“Dawson, Oliver. I need backup. Immediately,” Kyra shouts into her wristlet.
My two male guards materialize feet from Kyra and me, and the three of them try to form a protective triangle around me. But my heart explodes with adrenaline and I push past Kyra so that I’m standing before them, like the point on an arrow. I won’t be hiding. Not from this fight.
My hands curl inward, the way Dawson taught me, and I prepare for whatever is about to hit us.
Silence.
Then I hear a low whistle. The haunting melody of the Alouette. Which means only one thing.
A long, low chuckle erupts from my throat. “Hello, Eamon.”
Magic whizzes toward me, but with one small movement, I toss it aside. “Is that all you have?”
Oliver’s back is pressed to mine, protecting our rear. “There are only three of them.”
I could have told him that. “Who’s with you tonight, Eamon? Dasha? Who else?”
A deep gray shadow shifts and oozes across the ground. As it comes closer, the shadow solidifies until Eamon stands a mere twenty feet from me. Two women I don’t recognize, flank him.
Oliver shifts his position so that he’s on my left. Dawson stays to my right and Kyra begins swinging out along the perimeter, like she’s going to try to circle behind the three witches.
“Well, well, well.” Eamon clenches his jaw and his cruel eyes glint in the fading sunlight. “It looks like we caught a bird in the bush. Next time, tell your guards not to send your whereabouts over a public feed. Not very smart.”
One of the women laughs. I take advantage of the distraction and hurl a wave of lethal energy at Eamon. At the last second, he whips his hand, sending my spell back toward me.
I’m too slow.
The magic rolls past me, narrowly missing my arm and hits Oliver. As he falls his eyes meet mine. “Tell Lisi…” He hits the ground hard and his body jerks once before going still.
A roar, like the ocean pounding against rocks, rages through my mind. The noise grows until it blocks out all other sounds around me.
Time moves slowly as Dawson charges the small group on the other side of the creek, his magic sparking from his fingertips. Kyra stands stock still with her mouth wide open. My eyes glance at Oliver’s lifeless body. Flashes of red dance before my eyes.
“You bastard!” The air around me rolls like waves and the thunder booms.
“Go,” Dawson shouts over the clash of magic. “Take him and go, Kyra!” He shoves my best friend toward Oliver’s body. “You need to bring him home. To Annalise.”
She wraps her arms around Oliver and transports.
Heat burns through my insides, and I try to focus on the lopsided battle before me. How Eamon and the women try to position themselves around Dawson while keeping an eye on me. I move stiffly, as if in a dream, magic dripping from my fingers. Slowly, like being forced through a tunnel, I feel myself waking up. First my toes, then my fingers, and then with a jolt, my mind.
I focus my narrow gaze on Eamon as adrenaline rushes through me.
“Lark,” Dawson calls without a hint of breathlessness or worry. “Do you remember what you did at Kyra’s binding?”
“Yes.”
“Do it again.”
My fingers spasm as Dawson’s magic enters me. It races up my limbs, into my core, and pressure builds in my chest. When I can’t hold it anymore, I lift my arms. Wind lashes at us, and dirt swirls around our heads making it difficult to see. The water in the creek bubbles and begins creeping up the sides of the bank.
The blond woman begins chanting. The water quivers, but it keeps climbing the bank.
But what’s a little water going to do? Get their shoes wet? With my palm turned up, I slowly raise my hand, and the water rises into a sheer curtain separating Dawson from our attackers. I form a fist and punch my arm toward Eamon. The wall of water crashes down on them.
And they’re gone.
“Lark?”
A scream erupts from my throat and I stumble backward.
Beck Channing stands before me. My heart accelerates into an erratic pattern and sweat beads along my hairline. I swing my head around wildly, looking for Eamon. How stupid of Dawson and me to not protect our rear. How stupid of me to think Beck wasn’t working with Eamon.
The easiest thing would be to transport. Immediately.
No. I’m not a coward. I’m stronger than him. And I always have been.
“If you didn’t notice, Eamon isn’t here,” I sneer, hoping I sound more threatening than I feel. Beck, Ryker, and Maz stand near the tree, looking down at Dawson and me. I may not be a tactical genius, but I know we’re in the weaker position.
My eyes meet Dawson’s. “Behind them,” I whisper before transporting to the other side of the tree.
The three boys turn in unison and Beck throws up his hands. “Lark, stop. I just want to talk to you.”
Every muscle in my body tightens in anticipation. Dawson stands at my side, waiting for my command. Where the hell is Annalise? Why hasn’t anyone sent backup?
“Talk to me?” A shaky laugh escapes my lips. “Is that what you call it when you send Eamon after me? You can’t even fight your own battles?”
Beck runs his hand through his blond hair. “I didn’t send him.”
I snort. “Right.” I focus on Maz. “Kyra’s not going to be happy about this Maz. You’re in so,” I launch a tiny spurt of magic at Maz’s feet and he jumps, “much trouble.” The ground before him catches fire.
“Not funny,” Maz says as he blots it out with his foot.
“I’m not exactly known for my sense of humor.”
Dawson touches my arm. “I need to remove you. Now.”
“But I’m just getting started.” I bat my eyes and smile at Beck and his friends. “I think the boys have missed me. Haven’t you?”
Beck steps into the empty space between his group and mine. “Look at you. Gnashing your teeth like a feral animal, circling me. You don’t know what to do, do you? Why is that, Lark? Is it because you know this is wrong?”
The wind swirling around us picks up, and the canopy of leaves rustles. I turn my face toward him. My chest constricts under the pressure of my racing heart. “Are you upset because I’m bad, or because I’m so damn good at it?”
“This isn’t you.” He plants his feet wide and folds his arms across his broad chest as if he can force me to feel things I don’t.
“Yes, it is,” I scream. An irrational sense of misery pummels me. Why do I care what he thinks?
Beck lunges at me, and it takes me a second to understand that he’s attacked me not with magic, but with brute force. I’d expected a magic-on-magic battle, but he surprised me.
I fall backward, my mind racing to recall Mother’s lessons, as the air around us snaps and cracks from Ryker’s attack on Dawson.
Beck reaches out to me, his hand hovering in my face and I twist it. I want to throw him to the ground, but he grabs hold of my arms and pins them to my side.
I thrash, pushing against his body, and attempt to wrap my leg behind his in hopes of knocking him off balance, but he anticipates my move and avoids my knee. Once, long ago, we used to play fight like this. He taught me how to escape every hold possible.
So why can’t I escape?
Calm down, Birdie, Beck says to me in his maddening mind-speak.
My lungs deflate. How dare he use that name. How. Dare. He.
“Get out of my mind! Out!” I ram my head into his chest, but his arms tighten and he clutches me closer.
A low snarl forms in the back of my throat and with a surge of energy, I bash my hips backward. Beck stumbles, but he doesn’t loosen his grip on me and we fall to the ground. Our bodies roll over and over each other. Rocks jab into the soft parts of my skin and sticks break beneath us. Just when I think I’ve finally got the upper hand, Beck grabs one of my flailing fists and pins it over my head.
“You love me,” he says. There’s a hint of urgency and worry in his voice.
My heart hammers at the wall of my chest. I channel my energy and visualize throwing his weight off me. But instead of the typical rush of magic flooding my system, I feel like I’ve hit an invisible block. Like the slippery space between two like-sided magnets. My magic creeps along his, searching for a way to penetrate whatever shell he’s pulled over himself. Nothing works.
I bang my head against the ground in frustration. “Get off me,” I order. “Or I’ll call for help.”
Beck shakes his head. “Call everyone you know. Show them how I caught you.” Tears drop from his eyes and splatter on my chin. I watch each one fall with growing horror. This boy, my enemy, is crying.
And despite his obvious weakness I can’t—no, I don’t want to—hurt him.
“Birdie,” he says, loosening his grip on my wrist. “Please, stop this. It isn’t you.”
I squirm beneath him and get just enough leverage to throw Beck to the side. I scramble to my feet as he leaps up.
“Are you trying to drive me insane?” I shout. I don’t know why, but my heart thrums, not in fear, but with some other type of feeling. “Is that what you’re doing?”
He reaches for me, but I jump back. “I told you once, I’d never hurt you. And I won’t. But I can’t watch this anymore and not try to help you,” he says.
“I don’t need help and I don’t need you.”
Sorrow fills his eyes and he takes a quick step forward. “You can bruise my hands and scratch my skin, but you can never make me not love you,” he whispers, stretching his arms out to me.
I hold my hands behind my back and imagine the cool, hard metal of a restraint. I reach out to the item, like Oliver taught me until it’s physically in my hands. Behind me, Dawson continues to fight with Maz and Ryker, but I keep my eyes on the prize: Beck Channing.
A slow smile forms at the corner of his lips as I step forward to greet him. I don’t pull away from Beck’s kiss. He presses harder, his tongue darting carefully along my mouth until I yield and let him devour me. With a shudder, he grasps the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair.
And when he least expects it, I slap the restraint around his wrist.