Larkstorm (20 page)

He rips at my necklace. The links dig into my neck and the friction burns my skin. When it breaks, Eamon tosses it across the room. “You enjoy flaunting your power over him, don’t you?”

A piercing stab in my temple. Then another, more intense. My body won’t move. It’s immune to my commands. Waves of energy build and begin pulsating, but they can’t escape.

“See? You can’t do anything. Not even help those monsters out there. Do you really think we’d let that happen? That we’d let them have a weapon of destruction like you?”

My body shudders. The energy pounds behind my eyes. It wants out but is trapped. My vision is gone.

“Stop. Please.” My words should be lost to the din around us, but I know he hears.

“I should kill you. It would solve everything.” His large hand reaches behind my head and pulls me close to him. The motion makes me dizzy in my blind state. “What do you say, should we end this? Save everyone?” His words are little more than snarls.

I bite my lip. The metallic taste of blood works across my tongue. No. I’m not going to let Eamon hurt me. I pull my breath in sharp and focus on this piece of nothing in front of me. This animal who’s attacked me.

I spit my words at him. “Take your hands off me.”

And then he’s gone. I’m free.

The house has stopped pitching. Everything is eerily quiet. Too quiet.

The sound I hear next isn’t what I expect.

“I won’t let anyone hurt her. Do you understand?”

Beck.

The stabbing in my temple eases. My sight is clouded, but I can see them. In front of me, Beck towers over Eamon.

“Of course you won’t. You’re no better than she is, are you?”

Beck’s fist strikes Eamon’s jaw and he stumbles backward. But Eamon only laughs. “That’s right, Beck, show me how angry you are. Show me how pissed you can be. Because that’s her, you know. She’s controlling you.”

Beck lunges for him and lands a punch square in his gut.

A twinge of delight ripples through me. Eamon deserves this.

Beck grabs Eamon by the shoulders and throws him across the destroyed room. His body smashes into a toppled bookcase.

A laugh threatens to leave my lips, but I swallow it. Beck’s head swivels toward me. His eyes flash a warning. A small, disapproving move of his head. It’s all I need to pull myself away from the emotion. Beck can feel my pleasure
—
he knows I want him to hurt Eamon. And it’s wrong.

Sprawled on the broken bookcase, Eamon doesn’t stop. “Next thing you know, you’ll be trying to convince all of us how it’s in our best interest to accept their demands.” He pulls himself up and squares off with Beck.

Beck charges and the two fall into the glass shards. They
roll over each other, jockeying for the top position. Beck’s arms, face and neck bleed from deep cuts.

“Beck,” I cry. “Stop. This is what he wants. You have to stop.” Beck has Eamon pinned beneath him. “Don’t do this.”

Horror and regret fill my body. Beck ignores me and drives his fist into Eamon’s face over and over again. A sickening crack fills the air.

I’ve never seen Beck like this. Out of control. Furious. I know Eamon’s right
—
Beck’s acting on my emotions and I need to stop him.

A bright red stain spreads across Beck’s shirt. I lay my hand on it. “Beck, think. He isn’t worth it.”

His body relaxes beneath my hand. A deep breath, and then he shoves Eamon down hard before standing up. His strong, bleeding arms reach for me and I fold into him.

A burning runs down my spine. It’s not the same as the painful energy. It’s relief. The pain at my temple is gone.

Behind me, Eamon stands. I refuse to face him.

“I see how it is. You’d rather protect an evil bitch than fight to save the rest of us from them.” He points out the window at the shuddering dome. “She’s the enemy, Beck. The sooner you realize it, the better.”

I hold my hand to Beck’s chest. “No, don’t,” I say when he tenses at Eamon’s words. “Let him go.”

Eamon slides behind me and out the door as a large crack shakes the house. I tumble forward into Beck arms.

Cool, calming air rushes back into my lungs. I tilt my head back and pull in another breath. “Please tell me that didn’t just happen. You didn’t pummel Eamon because you know I wanted it.”

Beck’s eyes search my face. “Listen to me. Don’t tell anyone, do you understand? You can’t tell anyone what you suspect.”
 
 
 
 
 

“Suspect? I saw you, Beck. You don’t act like that.”

He runs his hand over the back of my head until he finds the tender, swollen spot. “Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m not the one who’s cut and bleeding. What were you thinking?” I shake my head at him.

He kisses my forehead. “That’s the problem. I wasn’t.”

24

“I guess we can’t see the healer for these?” Beck flips his forearms over. Deep gashes ooze blood. The smaller cuts form a network of red lines across his arms and hands.

The sirens are silent and the ground still. The battle must be over.

“Bend down.” I lift his shirt over his head as gently as I can and examine his back. A large piece of glass is stuck in his skin. Over the years, I’ve watched Bethina administer medical care to my housemates. Even though I know it’s best to leave the glass in for now, I ask, “Do you want me to pull it out? I don’t have anything to stop the bleeding.”

“Then let’s leave it. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as my hand. I think I broke a finger.”

I touch his hand. Beck winces and yanks it away. “You broke more than your finger.”

“Probably.”

I rip his shirt in half and then half again. Beck raises an eyebrow at me. “Bandages. Not big enough for your back, but should work on your arms.”

He nods.

With a piece of the shirt, I dab at a cut on his arm. “Why didn’t you just use magic? Wouldn’t that have been easier?”

“I’m not a bully, Lark.” He sees my confusion. “It was fairer this way.”

“But he could have used magic on you. He could have really hurt you.” Latent worry creeps into my voice.

Beck shrugs. “He tried.”

He doesn’t need to say anything else. I understand. Eamon tried to use magic, but Beck blocked him. He’s stronger than I realized. Which means, underneath this encasing, my dark power may be too.

When I finish bandaging him, Beck places both hands on my shoulders. “You’re missing something.”

I scan the room, and then run my eyes over Beck’s bare chest. Even in his cut and bleeding state, he looks amazing. Lean, muscular and a little too amused by my admiration of his physique.

I give him a playful shove on the only non-injured part of his body
—
his chest.

“What?”

He traces his finger along my collarbone. A heavy blend of chills and sparks follow in their wake.

Beck’s eyes brighten when I sigh.

“Your necklace.”

“Eamon broke it.” My hand cups his as it runs down my arm. “He threw it somewhere.”

The room is a disaster. The possibility of finding it without cleaning up first is slim.

“We can find it later. Let’s go see if anyone needs help,” I say.

“How ‘bout now?” He holds his hands in front of him, palms up. “We’ll find it with magic.”

Even though he’s covered in makeshift bandages and probably has broken bones, Beck’s standing in front of me, smiling and asking me to find a silly necklace. How can I refuse?

Easily. My lips press tight. “Beck, I can’t do magic. Eloise, Dasha
—
they’ve tried. It doesn’t work.”

Undeterred, he grabs my hand between his. “You haven’t tried with me.”

I start to shake my head but he stops me. “Put your hands on mine. I want you to close your eyes and envision your necklace back where it belongs.”

This is futile, but if he needs to see it himself…I close my eyes and picture the little patina bird hanging around my neck. I imagine the weight of it and the coolness on my skin.

Beck’s laugh causes me to throw my eyes open.

I knew it wouldn’t work. Plus I probably looked ridiculous, the way I scrunched up my face in concentration. “Don’t laugh at me. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

He points to my chest. “Doesn’t look that way.”

I lift my fingers to my neck and find the soaring bird. It hangs there, just as it has since the day Beck gave it to me. The weight, the coolness
—
I hadn’t imagined it.

It was magic.

“I did that? By myself?”

“I only gave you the freedom and space to do it.” He runs his hand over my hair. “It was all you.”

“I did it.” My fingers run over the raised markings on the wings, like they have so many times before.

“You did.” He kisses the top of my head flooding me with a sweet comfort.

“But the encasing?”

“The encasing is still in place. I don’t know how to break it. But I figured out a long time ago
—
when we were kids
—
how to combine our magic. And our magic together…well, it’s very powerful.” He lowers his voice. “I don’t think they can stop us
—
and that’s why both sides are scared.”

I gasp. “You think they’re lying? About the curse?”

He ruffles his hair. “No. The curse is real. But your mom doesn’t seem to want us to fight anymore than my parents do. I thought it was an ingrained family tradition. Shouldn’t they be encouraging us to hate each other?”

I’d hoped he had a reason, but the answer is simple. “They’re trying to protect us. In their own way, I guess. Your parents drilled that into me the other day. Keeping us apart makes the most sense.”

“But they placed me in a school full of Dark witches to be with you,” he says. “And you’re here.”

I wrinkle my forehead. “That, I don’t understand.”

Beck pushes a stray hair off my face. “Until we know more, promise you won’t tell anyone
—
not Bethina or Eloise
—
about what we can do with our magic.”

I purse my lips. Something feels wrong, but I can’t quite figure it out. But if I can trust anyone, it’s Beck. “I promise.”

He steps away from me and surveys the room. “If it’s this bad in here, it’s going to be worse outside.” Books, shattered glass and overturned furniture litter the floor.

“Did my mother do this?”

“Yes.” Beck swallows hard . “Well, her people did. Malin doesn’t do the dirty work.” He
takes my hand and
draws soft circles on the back
,
and I allow myself to relax. “I could hear them calling your name.”

My stomach drops. They wanted me. Just like Eamon said. “If it would keep her from attacking
—
keep everyone safe
—
maybe I
should
go to her.”

Beck shakes his head. “Please don’t say that. The thought of living without you…”

I squeeze his hand. “You and Bethina are more my family than my mother and Callum. I’d rather spend the rest of forever hidden away here, with you, than be with them. But if being here puts you in danger, than I need to consider my options
—
sooner rather than later.”

He frowns. The back of my hand tingles when he presses his lips to it. He pauses, then says abruptly, “Should we see if anyone needs our help?”

While we’d been talking, the roar of the battle ended and I hadn’t noticed. With my hand in Beck’s, we pick our way through the wreckage of the room. His mom will be livid when she sees what we’ve
–
-

I freeze. The lawn is destroyed
—
the once tall, swaying grass is flattened and witches lie scattered, like forgotten toys, moaning in pain. Eamon, seemingly uninjured, darts around the battlefield, tending to the wounded.

 
I narrow my eyes. If only something would fall from the sky and smash him.

A fierce tug yanks me out of my thoughts and back to the scene before me.

Beck.

“You can’t think like that,” he says, leaning into me.

I turn to face him, and catch a glimpse of the house over his shoulder. My hand flies to my mouth and tears well in my eyes. It’s in ruins
—
many of the windows are blown out; the roof is missing along the right side; the far end of the porch has collapsed.

“Oh heya, Birdie. That’s nothing. We can fix that. Today, even. It’ll look like new.” Beck wraps his arm
—
his injured arm
—
around me. “Don’t cry, okay?”

The nagging knowledge that Beck’s injuries, the injuries of the others
,
and the destruction of the house is all my fault weighs heavy on me. If I wasn’t here, my mother would not have attacked.

“It’s destroyed,” I whisper and whip my head around, surveying more of the scene before me. A small tremble forms in my core and releases a wave of heat, which radiates along my nerves. If Bethina, or Eloise, or even little Bea are hurt, so help me, I’ll
–

“Well, yeah. That’s what Dark witches do, Lark, they destroy things.” Beck’s factual voice snaps me out of my internal monologue.

“Like how I’m going to destroy you.”

He tilts his head. His eyes are guarded, closed to me. “I don’t believe that.”

Before I can argue, Beck’s head swivels to the left, as if he heard something. I follow the direction of his gaze but only see more injured witches and destruction.

“Over there.” He points to a distant figure, nearly dwarfed by the tall grass. Eloise.

She’s not moving. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, her head thrown back staring at the dome. My feet carry me to her side faster than I thought possible.

When I realize Beck isn’t next to me, I glance over my shoulder to make sure he’s okay. I expect to see him limping along, but he’s surrounded by witches touching him. Hanging on him. The normally playful glint in his eyes has grown dark and serious.

I kneel, legs shaking, next to Eloise.

“It held,” she says, lifting her trembling hand toward the dome. I lean in to better hear her. “I made it hold.”

Relieved she’s not injured, I pull her head to my chest. That one small act seems to uncork a tidal wave of emotions. Eloise’s tiny body convulses with sobs and she presses her face deeper into my body.

“All they want is you.” Her words come in spurts. “They need you.”

Hearing it said aloud numbs my mind. Hardens it. I belong to no one and they
—
Dark and Light
—
need to understand that.

Fury builds in my chest, and I breathe deeply, trying to calm myself. I force myself to do what I know I should: help.

Eloise lifts her tear-stained face. “Lark, I was terrified.”

“Shhh. It’s okay.” She lays her head back against my chest. I glance over at Beck. I need his help to calm Eloise.

I’ll be right there.

My breath hitches in my throat. Surely he didn’t just
talk to me in my head
?

Yeah, I did.

Our matching olive eyes meet. As clear as day, he says,
Don’t look so surprised.

The whole experience lasts maybe three seconds and I’m not sure I trust my mind or if it’s wishful thinking.

And yet, he immediately untangles himself from his admirers and heads toward us, wincing as he walks. I’m not sure what worries me more: Beck talking to me in my head
,
or him trying to help others with a large piece of glass stuck in his back.

I turn my attention to Eloise. No matter how hard I try, the calming circles I draw for Eloise don’t work. Maybe I’m still too angry over Eamon’s attack to calm her properly?

Beck understands. He bends next to us, gritting his teeth in pain. His hand replaces mine. After a minute, Eloise’s sobs slow and her shaking eases.

She lifts her head again and looks into my eyes. “I don’t know what it is about you, Lark. I should be scared of you, but I’m not
—
you’re not frightening at all.” Her copper hair hangs around her face and matches the redness in her eyes. She squeezes my hand. “You’re worth fighting for.”

I gape at her, trying to make sense of her rambling. All I can think about is that I’m sitting in a field surrounded by chaos and destruction and my first thought wasn’t to help people, but to hurt Eamon and seek revenge if anyone I cared about was injured.

I shouldn’t be thinking like this. I should be offering my assistance. I should be trying to help.

Except I’m Dark. A destroyer.

And this
is
all my fault.