Phoenix (24 page)

Tonight, Callum dear, you exposed us and undid over a century of hard work. You want to erase the safety we've enjoyed for so long because why? You're a spoiled, sullen little boy?"

My brother's jaw tightens and he folds his arms across his chest. "Why hide in the shadows, Mother? Why not let the world now who we are?" Callum asks. "All my life, I've had to hide who and what I am. And for what? Because a few humans may be scared of me? Because you couldn't accept me?"

The magic flowing from Beck is toxic. It gnaws at me, but I keep moving forward, keep focusing on holding on to Mother's image.

"You see how the humans despise Sensitives, Callum. If they knew what we were, they'd come after us. Our youngest children - those who haven't come into their powers - would be vulnerable. They tried to eradicate us once before, let's not give them a reason to do it again."

Callum glares at me. "Do you think I'm that stupid, Mother? I plan to retain control of the State. I plan to keep the humans in their place."

"Through food shortages?"

"That and war," Eamon pipes up. "The people will have no choice but to follow us. At least we won't be lying to them the way you do, Malin."

Drop dead, Eamon
, I think.
 

Suddenly, metal and dust rain down on us. The roof cracks and crumbles. Panicked guest rush from the falling building.
 

But me, I've my eyes locked on Callum and am desperately trying to hold onto the facade of Mother.

My thoughts are focused. Maybe too focused. Because when it comes, I don't see it or sense it.
 

It's just one moment. I'm locking eyes with my childhood tormentor - my seemingly harmless brother.

And the next second Eamon drops to the floor, dead.

#

"What have you done?" I cry out, rushing forward. There's very few people left in the room other than Beck, our guards, and myself.
 

I let the mask fall away and turn back into normal Lark.

Callum gasps and points a shaking finger at me. "You? How did you?" He glances at Eamon's body and lets out a blood-curdling scream. "You will pay, Lark. You will pay."

My guards lunge for him, but he's too fast and vanishes before their magic can reach him.

Next to me, Beck stands staring at his hands, as if they are covered in blood. Blood that's currently flowing from the two large slashes crossing Eamon's body.

"I...I..." Beck can't finish his thought.

"You killed him!" I don't mean to yell, I don't, but I can't help myself. Beck is not a killer.
 

"I stopped them from hurting us. I did what needed to be done." There's no remorse in his words. No regret. And hearing him speak so easily about it is like having ice water poured in my veins. "I did as you wished."

Once, before Beck came back into my life, I would have been capable of such things. I nearly killed Ryker, Lena, and Minister Sun-Wei, but to see Beck do it. To actually have killed Eamon...

Everyone has been right, I just didn't want to believe it. Beck and I are toxic to each other. I love him. I love him so dearly my heart aches, but I can't be near him. I need to learn to be strong on my own, and I can't let him feed off my Darkness. I can't let my wants and needs consume him until he, like his ancestor Charles, is nothing more than a mad, feeble-minded man who dies an early death.

No, I need to do the right thing and walk away now before we become anymore intertwined.
 

I kiss him briefly on the lips while I unclasp my wristlet and push it into his hand. Before he can stop me, I spin into the nothingness.

I transport to Northwoods.

CHAPTER THIRTY

The house is nothing more than a burnt-out stone shell. Against the glistening snow, its charred remains look like phantoms hovering above the ground. I'm not sure what I expected, but this isn't it.

"This is where you grew up?" I whisper into the darkness.
 

"It didn't always look this way, Lark." Mother stares at the house. "Once, it was full of life, a beacon in the North."

Even with a warming spell, it's freezing, so I conjure warmer clothes and a fur coat and pull it tightly around myself.
 

"You're back," I say to my phantom mother.
 

"I come when you need me, Love. Can't you see that I was always there for
you
. Everything I did was to protect
you
and make you stronger."

I shake my head. Arguing with ghosts is a bit disconcerting, but it's all I have right now. "You did what you did for selfish reasons. You stole other witches' powers, and you put me into positions time-and-again that could have killed me."

Mother sighs dramatically. "And each time you came out stronger and more in control of yourself. Look at you now."

"I'm hiding from Beck at a burnt-out house."

Mother survey's the damage. "Yes, my temper was legendary, even as a young woman."
 

"Why is Northwoods so important to you?" I ask. "There's nothing here."

"Tsk, tsk, Lark. Surely you know better, Love."

I take a few slow steps forward. The deep snow nearly covers my knee-high boots.
 

"You hid something here, didn't you?" I ask my mother. "Why else would you make sure I knew about Northwoods and Livia, your step-mother?"

Mother taps her forefinger against her chin. "Very good, Love." She beams at me. "When I was a young woman I often spent time at the Caretaker's cottage."

I shrug. "It's worth a try."

Mother says, "It's by the river bank. Transporting will be easier than walking through this." She lifts her boot and shakes some of the snow off. And then she's gone, vanished back into ghost-land.

The Caretaker's Cottage is right where Mother said it would be.

It's small, but cozy with a stone exterior, and it's in too good of condition to be abandoned. In fact, the walkway looks recently shoveled.

How odd that someone lives out here. I pause before the solid wood door with an evergreen wreath hung on it. Should I knock or just enter?

Clearly, it's someone's home, so I raise my arm and rap on the door twice.

"Coming," comes a gruff reply.

The door swings open exposing an elderly man with gray hair and a beard - something that's completely out of fashion with Statespeople. My eyes flit to his wrist - no wristlet.
 

What has Mother walked me into this time?

"Can I help you?" Does this man not know who I am? I peak into the cottage. There's no wall screen, and the furnishings are rustic.

"My name is Lark Greene," I say. "I was told you may have something for me?"

The man cocks his head, like Beck does, and studies me for a moment. "So you finally came. Did Malin give you permission, or did you do this all on your own?"

I blink in confusion. "What?"

"Are you hard of hearing, girl? I asked if Malin sent you."

Hmmm. How to explain that one? "My mother is dead."

The old man reaches out a trembling hand and rests it on my shoulder. I'm afraid he may tip over if I move.

But how can he not know? Who is this man?

"When?" he asks.

"Several months ago. I'm the Head of State now." Only maybe I'm not because I disappeared and told no one where I was headed.

"Where are my manners? Come inside." He moves out of the doorway to make room for me in the cramped space. There's a wooden table in the middle of the room with rough hewn benches on each side, and off to the right--
 

I blink. It looks exactly like the cottage Mother brought me to when she smuggled me out of Summer Hill. What in the world?

 
"Can I offer you a drink?"

"No thank you," I say. "I'd rather discuss how you know my mother."

"Well, in that case, let me properly introduce myself." He extends his hand, "Jack Kuo, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Lark Greene."
 

I shake his hand.

"Please, take a seat. Nearer the fire, the warmer we'll be, but I can see you have a warming spell about you."

I blink again. This man can sense my magic and tell me what it is? What kind of witch is he?

Jack motions to a chair, and I sit, allowing my warming spell to dissipate.
 

"Now, what did you want to know? How I know," he corrects himself. "How I knew Malin?"

He speaks so easily of Mother, like she didn't frighten him.

"Yes, she never mentioned you."

"Hmpf."

The old man brushes his hands along his pant legs. "Well, can't say I'm too surprised after what happened with Sebb and all."

I furrow my brow. "Sebb? You mean my father."

The old man laughs. "You mean my son."

#

"Malin used to spend all her free-time here when Sebb was around before he went off to school. He was a few years older. By the time Malin left, she and Sebb had become too close, in my opinion. Don't forget, Malin was a Dark witch and a powerful one at that. Sebb, on the other hand, was Light, a nice, bright boy with lots of talent. I think, in many ways, Malin idolized him."

I lean forward, fascinated by the story of my parents. For so long, I've known next to nothing about them – especially about my father. Mother was reluctant to speak about him.

"When it was announced Sebb was to be bound to Emma, a girl he met at school, Malin sobbed for days. She begged me to stop the binding, but what power did I have? Sebb and Emma loved each other and were both Light witches. Keep in mind that at the time, the State didn't arrange bindings the way they do now - that all came after Malin took office. But Light and Dark never inter-married. We kept the lines pure - until you and your brother."

"My son married for love, and took a teaching job at that school of yours. It wasn't even three months before Emma drowned. Sebb was devastated, but Malin was right there to comfort him, just like a good friend would.

"After she graduated, Sebb informed me he was going to propose to Malin. Well, you know how that turned out, don't you?"

"They married, against tradition, and had Callum and me."

"And then Henry and his posse got together and killed my son. For what? Loving the wrong person?" Bitterness drips from his words, and my heart sinks. My grandfather thinks I'm the product of a bad marriage.
 

"Next thing I know, you're at that school with Bethina - even though we begged Malin to let us raise you - paired off to the Channing boy. None of us could understand why she was surrounding you with Light witches, or why she'd pair you up knowing what she did about Caitlyn's curse. It was like she was setting you up for failure."

I find my voice. "Mother and Mrs. Channing placed a protection charm around us. We had to stay together."

"Well, I heard that part later on, but at the time there were a lot of hurt feelings."

Anxiety trails through my body like a clingy, old friend. I can't shake it. My brain is spinning with different scenarios. What if...

"Jack," I say. "What exactly was the curse? Because it seems like Mother is indirectly responsible for Sebb's death."

My grandfather clenches the arms of his chair. "It's vague. Caitlyn cursed both sides of the family saying that the Dark and Light lines will fight to the death."

I cock my head. "But Patrick Channing and Mother didn't fight to the death."

Jack strokes his long beard. "That's true, but there's more to that story than you know."

Now isn't the time for that story. The whirling in my brain intensifies and my breathing becomes more rapid. "Do you think – is it possible – that she didn't necessarily mean the separate branches. Just that Light and Dark will fight? Could the curse be applied to Callum and me?"

If I believed in such things, I'd cross my fingers.

Jack studies me. "You know, Lark, no one has ever asked that before. It seems logical. Why do you ask?"

I quickly fill him in on the night's events.

Deep nods of the head greet my words.

"But you say, when Beck's around you, he feeds off your Dark magic?"

"Pieces of our magic are locked in each other – it's part of the protection charm our mothers placed on us."

"Self-fulfilling prophecy," my grandfather mutters. "They made you into Caitlyn and Charles."

"What?" I exclaim. My heart flops over itself.

Jack thumps the arm of his chair. "They locked up your magic in each other just like those twins had. You weren't born to kill each other. You were made that way."

I slump in my seat. If what he's saying is true...then maybe...
 

"Maybe we don't have to hurt each other?" I whisper to myself. "Maybe we can beat this thing."

Jack nods his head. "That's what I'm telling you, girl."

Flutters of hope. If Beck and I can learn to control our magic exchanges, we can be together. I stand to go, buoyed by this news.

"I have one more question," I say.

"Go on."

"My parents loved each other, didn't they?"

"Let me tell you something, Lark. Loving someone is a dangerous thing. It means trusting and giving yourself over to them without losing who you are. Malin couldn't do it. If she had loved you, or your father, she would have done what was best for you, not for herself. She should have never married Sebb in the first place. But she did, and now we have you and your brother."

I turn to leave. "Thank you for talking to me. I have a clearer idea of who my mother was now."

Jack squints at me. "No, girl. You have a better idea of who you are. You're not just a Dark witch, I can see that about you. And it's not the boy's doing either. You're Light. You are. That's why Malin wanted all those Light witches around you. She wanted to make sure you learned those skills too. And that's what makes you dangerous."

"Jack, wait," I say as he shuffles me off toward the door. "It makes no sense that I'm dangerous because I'm both Light and Dark. Shouldn't it be a good thing?"

Jack furrows his brow. "Can't you understand what I'm saying?"

Maybe I am stupid. "No."