Nightingale (16 page)

“Magic.” My voice drops. “I’m doing magic.”

“No. They’re uncontrolled and childish.
You
are better than this, and you know it.”

I do. I’ve seen it tonight. The destructive nature of my power. But I don’t want to accept it. I don’t want to give myself over to the magic because I fear losing myself and whatever small part of me remains good.

I close my eyes. “I’m not going to practice Dark magic. You can’t make me.”

“Do you want Eamon dead?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation. More than anything, I want him to die. And not just die, but suffer for what he’s done to my friends and family.

God help him if he harms Beck. My vengeance will know no end.

“Then let me show you how. You’ll have more control than you ever thought possible. You can hunt Eamon if that’s what you choose.” She holds out her hand to me. “I cannot, however, continue to tolerate outbursts like this.”

I place my hand in hers. Because really, I’m just pretending to be good. Deep down, I’m a type of Dark more inky and malicious then
the
rest of them.

And I want Eamon dead.

17

“What is this?” I say, trying to decipher the kaleidoscope of color covering Mother’s tablet. Mother has kept me by her side all day. She seems afraid to let me out of her sight.

“Riots, uprisings, and general unrest.” She touches a symbol that looks like a curling snake. “This indicates the Splinter Group.”

I point at a spot on the screen. “Where
is
this?”

Mother swipes her hand over the tablet and the image of our Society superimposes over the symbols. “The Southland. So far, they’ve remained mostly outside Austin, but we’ve had reports of unrest in the Midlands as well. And, of course, you know we’ve had sightings here.”

I nod, remembering the crowd outside the nightclub. “How are you keeping it hidden? Surely, the surrounding population realizes something odd is happening.”

“We control all means of communication, Lark. The public only knows what we allow.”

“And what the Splinter group tells them.”

Mother shakes her head. “Have you forgotten with whom you’re speaking? I can convince the public of anything I wish. Even if it has been blasted all over gossip feeds.”

That may have been true once, but I’m not so sure anymore. In order for Mother to persuade the people, she has to speak to them either in person or via the wallscreen. But if humans aren’t listening to her morning addresses, then they’re not affected by her power.

Which means the Splinter group message could be better received. 

“Can’t you try working with the Light witches? It seems like all they want is a little more power. Maybe you should give them some?”

Mother thumps her hand against the arm of her chair. “Do you think I haven’t tried to find a solution? All Bethina and I did for years…” She sighs and sinks back against her chair. “I’ve tried. Please believe me when I say this.”

The question I’ve wanted to ask since I found the picture of Mother, Henry, and Bethina pops out of my mouth. “How well did you know Bethina?”

“Why?”

I lick my lips. “You left me in her care. You must have trusted her.”

Mother stares past me with glazed eyes. “We were friends once. Raised in the same house even.” She shakes her head and shudders. “But that was long ago.”

“You were housemates? But she was a Light witch. Why was she at the school?” My understanding is that Beck was the only Light witch student in the State school. All other Light witches are taught at home, by their families.

“When the State began enforcing schooling, all human and witch children were sent. They kept children with magical lineage together, and we often mixed within houses.”

“So what happened?”

“Accusations that the schools were nothing more than an attempt by the Dark witches to raise Light witches as their own. Within a few years, the only Light witches left were a few teachers, and Henry and Bethina.”

Mother shifts in her chair. “Which is why they were both Singletons. There was no one to pair them with.”

Everything makes more sense now. Still, Mother didn’t have to be friends with Bethina. “The two of you were best friends?”

With narrowed eyes, Mother says, “I didn’t say that.”

“No…I” There’s no point in lying. “I found a photo of you, Henry, and Bethina as teenagers.”

Mother’s mouth forms a round, little ‘o’. She turns her head and looks off to the side for a moment before casting her gaze back at me. “Where?”

I hesitate. She doesn’t seem angry, but what if she destroys it? What if there’s more information about her past she doesn’t want me to discover? So I lie. “At Summer Hill.”

She nods to herself, as if having a private conversation. After a minute, Mother says, “We were close, but Bethina didn’t understand my choices.” Her voice sounds rougher than normal. “I trusted her with you and that’s all I’m going to say on this topic.”

There has to be more to this story. Henry, Mother, Bethina—all three of them hid their friendship from me. No, scratch that. From everyone. And if Mother won’t tell me the entire story, I’ll have to go to Henry.

With a sigh, I check my wristlet for the time. “Mother, I want to visit Henry at the hospital. He hasn’t left Eloise’s side and I’m a little worried about him.”

“We’re not done yet.” The tablet lights up and Mother pushes it toward me. She stands and walks toward the far wall. A wallscreen appears. “Do you know why I do all this? Why I fight so hard to protect us?”

Because you’re power hungry?
“No.”

Her hands flutter quickly and an image appears on the wallscreen. “This is what humans have done to us throughout history.”

Ancient image after image of women tied to stakes flicker past. Photos of young girls with their hands and feet bound, being tossed into icy rivers. Lifeless bodies of teenage girls swinging from ropes. I rub my hand over the pocket of my dress where I keep my necklace, but even that can’t quell the horror welling in me.

“Did you notice anything?” Mother asks.

I pause. “They were all dead?”

“They were all girls.” Her voice breaks on the last word. “Not one of them past the age of eighteen. Most probably had just started learning about magic, but they weren’t mature. They didn’t stand a chance against the hangman’s noose.

“If humans know what we are, they will round up every one of our children and do those terrible things to them. They will slaughter them in their sleep and set their beds on fire. Is that what you want? To have our future taken from us?”

I don’t bother to remind her that she has set me on fire. Instead, I drop my head and cover my eyes with one hand. “No.”

“Hiding is our best defense, Love. Every time we lose one of our young people, we lose a little bit of our future.”

“And yet, you want me to kill Beck. That’s completely illogical, Mother.”

She flicks her wrist and the wallscreen fades to black. “I don’t
want
you to kill him. I’ve explained that to you. But if only one of you can survive, I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure it’s you.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Do you know where he is?”

“There is no news,” she says. “My best guess is Eamon has him.”

My heart sinks. No news. According to Annalise, Ryker lost sight of him during the fight.

“Don’t frown, Love. I hate seeing you sad.”

It’s strange how I believe her. Despite the things she’s done to me, I really do think she’s done them with good intentions. She bound Beck and I to keep me safe; she insisted we be raised together to protect me; and in a weird, twisted way, I think she even left me with the Light witches because she thought it would keep me safe. 

I can’t say I completely understand Mother’s thinking, but I do see I’m important to her.

“Is that all?” I ask.

“Give Henry my best.” Mother slips back around her desk. “And please don’t be late for dinner.”

“I won’t.”

“And Love? Stay alert. Annalise has assured me the City is secure, but things change so rapidly.”

“Yes, Mother.”

To be honest, I didn’t expect her to let me out ever again after what happened last night. I scurry toward the door. Oliver and Dawson wait in the hallway. From the looks of it, I interrupted their card game.

“Are you going home, Miss Lark?” Dawson asks, shoving his cards in his pocket.

“No. To the hospital. And since the weather is pleasant, I thought we could walk.”

The air is balmy, almost spring-like. Another reminder that my birthday is rapidly approaching and with it, whatever my fate will be.

After the second block, we pick up a following of three newscaster cameras. Someone must be monitoring the City’s street cameras and tipped of the gossip feeds.

“I could get rid of them if you’d like, Miss Lark,” Dawson says. “No one would be able to tell.”

As tempting as the offer is, I can’t allow him to use magic in public. At least not for something as silly as gossip feed cameras. “Thanks, Dawson, but it’s fine. Besides, if my taking a walk is in any way scandalous, I’m doing something wrong.”

We climb the short hill to Washington Street and are treated to the lovely view of the City in spring. Shortly after Caitlin came to power, the City planted thousands of cherry trees to replace the ones that had died, and every year since, they bloom in a riot of pink and white.

“Can you help me pick a few of these?” I ask my guards and point up to the blossoms over my head. “Enough for a bouquet, please?”

Oliver reaches over his head, cuts away several small branches with the pocketknife he keeps with him at all times, and hands them to me. I bury my face in the blossoms and inhale deeply. Eloise will love them.

As we cross through a small park, children swarm around us, some playing chasing games, others throwing balls. So many of my afternoons were spent in parks like this. My housemates and I played while Bethina visited with the other houseparents.

A little girl with auburn hair sprints past me. She stops and twirls around, before collapsing on the ground in a giggling heap.

How innocent she is. And full
of
life.

I can’t help but wonder if she’s a Dark witch? Is she—and are all the children like her—who Mother is protecting by keeping the real Sensitives hidden?

Only a few healers loiter near the hospital entrance when we arrive. Their heads jerk up like well-trained pets as I glide past them. Not one asks me to stop or where I’m headed.

We take the mover to the third floor. The light fixtures I destroyed the other day have been replaced and a sliver of remorse creeps into my mind. As much as I don’t want to admit it, Mother was right. I was throwing a tantrum.

Eloise’s door is slightly ajar. There’s no need for Dawson to scan it since I know what I’ll find.

“How is she?” I clutch the small bouquet of blossoms in my hand and peer inside. My guards stand behind me.

“The same,” Henry says, barely lifting his head.

From leafing through Mother’s reports, I know Henry hasn’t left Eloise’s side. He also hasn’t showered or changed out of his ruined clothes, and an air of damage clings to him. Sitting in this room all day long isn’t helping.

I step into the frigid room. “Wait outside, please,” I say to Dawson and Oliver. Neither protests which means they find Henry unthreatening. Or Mother told them to let me visit as I want. Either way, I’m thankful for the privacy.

Eloise’s copper hair spills over the edge of the pillow and hangs off the side of the bed. My eyes focus on the white bandage swaddling her torso, hiding the deep, angry gash across her chest. The healer was able to stabilize Eloise, but she hasn’t woken up since arriving. I refuse to ask how long she can stay like this because I don’t want to know. I am, however, thankful Mother is providing everything she can to keep Eloise comfortable.

A plate of cold, uneaten food sits on the side table. “Henry,” I say, picking it up. “You need to eat.”

He sighs. “I’m afraid I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”

“Then at least let me pour you some tea?” I touch the teapot sitting near his food. It’s ice cold. I fold my hands around it and direct my magic at the pot. To my delight, the water begins to boil. I pour two cups. “It’s chrysanthemum,” I say holding out one to Henry.

“Thank you.” He takes it from me and I place a few small sandwiches on a plate for him.  After I set it on the side table, I walk over and pull back the curtains, letting the late afternoon sunlight filter in. The room immediately feels less like a death watch.

I settle into the chair opposite Henry and wait. I want to bombard him with questions, but he seems too fragile right now.

“Why don’t you go to Mother’s tonight? Get some rest. I’ll stay with Eloise.”

Henry runs his tongue over his teeth. “Malin may have forgiven my transgressions, but trust me, she doesn’t want me sleeping under her roof. It wouldn’t look good. Besides, I want to stay close. In case Eloise needs me.”

“Have you been working for Mother for a long time?” It’s a guess, but one I think is true.

Henry rubs at his elbow and hangs his head. “Only a few months.”

Well, that explains why Mother wouldn’t let me mention Henry when I first arrived from Summer Hill. She didn’t want anyone to know Henry was there. “Why are you doing it?”

“I owe her. For what I did to your father.” His olive eyes meet mine. “And because I think we can fix this feud if we can get both sides to work together.”

“You really think that’s possible? With Eamon running around and my mother determined to remain in power at all costs?”

“Yes.”

“I wish I had your optimism.” I take a long sip of my tea and study my uncle as he fidgets with the buttons on his shirt and keeps his eyes fixed on Eloise. The way he observes her, with such tenderness, causes my breath to hitch.

Perhaps it’s unwise for him to care about her. After all, Eloise went on dates with other witches at Summer Hill and laughed when I mentioned Henry. Is this what being allowed to choose your own mate is? Unrequited feelings?