Spring Rain (16 page)

Two Dark witchlings were creeping closer to
the barrier.

Resolve settled Beck’s thoughts, and with
it, the heat of the earth and Light flowed from his feet to the tip
of his head. Lightning crackled around him, and he concentrated the
magick in his hands, reminded again of the night he faced Decker
when his brother had almost crossed to the Dark.

“You have to the count of three before I
show you exactly what the Master of Light can do,” he warned.

Several looked over, but no one left or
stopped or otherwise indicated they thought him serious. With some
satisfaction, he tested the magick flowing through him. It bent to
his will easily, and he reviewed Sam’s parting words.

No part of him wanted to kill. No part of
him liked the idea of hurting, either, but he wasn’t going to let
anything happen to those he was charged with protecting. Ever. If
that meant he got close to crossing those lines, he would.

His internal shift hardened the part of him
that had been too concerned about how to be who he was supposed to
be and he realized, becoming the Master of Light was not about
guessing what his nonexistent mentor would tell him to do. The duty
to protect was instinctual, ingrained into him by his earth magick
at birth and branded into his soul when he became the Master of
Light. He needed no other mentor than the Light itself, for no
other teacher was going to show him the extent of what and who he
was. Now that he was beginning to understand the Light better, he
had everything he needed to lead, protect and defend his
witchlings.

Like Decker, he also began to understand
there were no boundaries to what he’d do to save those he loved and
those he was honor bound to help. Being the Master meant making
hard choices about the lives of others. It also meant never
forgetting who and what he served and what was on the line if he
failed in his duty.

If he gave warning, it was out of his sense
of fairness and compassion, not because he was obligated to. The
magick would obey him no matter what. The sense of freedom, of
there being no ceiling to the amount of power he could wield, left
him feeling a little scared of his own ability and a whole lot
exhilarated by it, too.

“Last chance,” Beck said softly, his mind
bolting from thought to thought as he began to feel the change
within him, the change from viewing the Light as a victim to
realizing it was a powerful tool.

No one paid him any heed.

“Let’s get this show started.” He lifted his
hands and focused on the two witchlings checking out his
shield.

Lighting leapt from his hands and smashed
into them, driving them back twenty feet and slamming them to the
ground. It surprised him as much as them. The magick came
effortlessly when called and he didn’t feel the strain of using it
the way he had before. It was instinctive to shape and direct
it.

The others froze. Before anyone had a chance
to react, Beck sent Light smashing into the others, until everyone
was piled in the middle of the driveway. He stepped outside his
shield and tested the Light, pleased to find it still responded to
him.

The Dark witchlings scrambled to their feet,
and the air buzzed with the sudden influx of magick. Earthquakes,
waterfalls, wailing wind … Beck relished the energized air and fed
more energy into the lightning in his hands.

A mini-tornado roared towards him. He lifted
his hands and visualized a shield before him, and the funnel popped
like a water balloon when it hit. He smashed another bolt of
lightning into the witchling that sent it.

None of them moved.

“Get the point?” he asked without lowering
his hands. “The Light can defend itself, and I will protect those
who deserve it. Whatever you think is going on, whatever rumors
Dawn is spreading, think again.”

“So you can pick us off one at a time,” one
of them stepped forward. He was a water witchling with dark hair,
one Beck recognized as being two or three years older than he was.
“Everyone knows the Light is weak. You can’t take all of us.”

His words seemed to reassure the others,
most of who looked ready to reconsider challenging him.

“Bring it,” Beck replied confidently and
threw his arms out to either side of him. “I’ll even give you the
first shot.” The magick coursing through him left him giddy and
breathless and more reckless than usual.

After so many months of
self-doubt, he finally had an answer, and it wasn’t what he
expected.
He
was
the answer, and all it was going to take was stepping up to the
duty with no second thoughts. Decker had dived into the Dark, and
Beck was doing the same into the Light.

The witchlings hurled everything they had,
and Beck waved his hand in front of him, leaving a trail of
glittering Light before him. The force of the attack colliding with
his shield drove him back – but nothing got through.

He laughed in delight, amazed by the magick
now that he wasn’t fighting it and it wasn’t resisting him
anymore.

“What the hell is going on?” Decker sounded
pissed even before he materialized from the churning black fog that
appeared near Beck. The Master of Dark looked like he’d dressed in
a hurry, and his hair was mussed.

“It’s not like you to be late to a party,”
Beck teased.

The black fog cleared to reveal his twin.
Decker and his Darkness shied away from the lightening surrounding
Beck before his attention went to the Dark witchlings and the signs
of a fight between them.

“Wait, are they …” he asked.

“Attacking the school while everyone is
asleep?” Beck finished. “Why, yes, Master of Dark, they are.”

“Everyone okay?” Decker asked.

“Yep. I picked up a few tricks.” Beck passed
lightning from one hand to the other. The bolt spun off into the
night, and he watched it sheepishly. “Okay, I’m still learning. Sam
helped me shield the school.”

Decker squinted at the brilliant light. “No
offense to you and the Light, but they’re Dark and therefore mine
to deal with.”

“They’re all yours,” Beck said
diplomatically. “Nice chatting with you guys tonight,” he called to
the witchlings.

“Later.” Decker whipped out two knives, and
Beck didn’t have to ask what his brother intended to do. As Master
of Dark, there were no limits to the violence Decker was permitted
to commit in the name of curbing the Darkness to prevent it from
expanding. If that meant less Dark witchlings to call forth the
Darkness, then he made it happen.

“Wait, Decker. I need to send a message to
Dawn and anyone else who thinks it’s a good idea to attack the
Light,” Beck said to his twin, sensing Decker’s brittle mood this
night. “The Light isn’t weak or defenseless anymore. Everyone needs
to know this.”

“Send everyone an email,” Decker
grumbled.

“Decker!”

“Fine. I’ll leave someone alive enough to
deliver it.” He strode towards the Dark witchlings.

Beck watched, a little uneasy with the level
of violence he knew his brother was capable of committing. In fact,
it made him feel ill. He would defend and protect, but in no way
did he relish hurting others, or even the chance of causing harm,
in the scope of any of his duties. Decker took things one step
further and often killed where it wasn’t warranted. A triple
element, fire-water-spirit, he was ruled by the least stable
elements with Summer providing the earth-air stabilizing elements
that kept him sane.

Yet when he was performing his official
duties, Summer stayed home, and Decker unleashed everything he was
upon those who broke the Dark Laws.

It was enough for Beck to almost pity the
ten witchlings who thought to attack the school this night.

Black fog engulfed the Dark witchlings and
their Master. Seconds later, it cleared, and all of them had
vanished.

Beck lowered his hands and released his hold
on the magick. It slid down his body and into the earth once more,
though more remained within him than usual. He buzzed with
energy.

The porch light of the log building behind
him splashed on.

Beck turned to see Amber standing on the
porch in a fuzzy robe squinting into the night. He trotted down the
driveway towards her and paused at the foot of the stairs.

“Beck?” she asked. “What’s going on?” Her
eyes were on the top of a smoldering tree struck by one of his
lightning bolts.

He hesitated. There was a time he told her
everything. She had been his teacher, and that of the other Light
students, for most of his life, and he had shared many of his
frustrations with her upon becoming a clueless Master of Light.

Gazing up at her, he began to see her
differently. She was another Light witchling, someone he was sworn
to protect. Their teacher-student relationship had ended when he
turned eighteen and he became the Master of Life. It was the
natural course of things, only he hadn’t really understood that
before tonight. He was the Protector now, not the student, and she
was another of the many witchlings he was meant to lead and defend.
It wasn’t fair to burden her with his duty any longer, now that he
was finally beginning to understand his relationship with the
Light.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he said with a
smile. “I’ll be enforcing the ban on Dark witchlings being anywhere
near the Light source. I’d like for you to keep the Light students
on campus for the time being. I can let you know when the forest is
… safe again.”

Amber studied him. For a moment, she looked
ready to either object or question him. As if sensing the shift
between them, she nodded slowly instead. “Okay, Beck. Will you let
me know if you need anything?”

“Absolutely,” he replied. “Have a good
night, Amber.” He turned away and headed to the tree that was on
fire from lightning.

The porch light went off behind him, and the
front screen door closed with a bang.

“Sorry little guy,” he whispered to the
injured tree. Its spirit was sorrowful yet welcoming, and he pushed
warm earth magick and Light into it. “Can’t fix your hair, but
it’ll grow back.”

The tree sent him a picture in response,
that of its birth when it pushed through the dirt, transforming
from a seed into a tree.

Despite his distress over the attack, Beck
smiled. The elements rarely spoke directly in words or scenes that
didn’t require some sort of interpretation. Their language was very
different, but he guessed the tree was assuring him it would grow
anew.

After healing it quickly, he summoned his
fog.

This time, he had it take him home, to his
room where the fire burned and Grandpa Louis had left his dinner on
a hot plate. It smelled of roast beef and mashed potatoes. His
adrenaline began to wane, and Beck sat down near the fire before
recalling he was soaked from his day in the rain.

He changed and sank into the chair once more
to eat dinner and check his cell. He had several, short messages
from Morgan. One telling him she was alive, another that she was
heading back from her trip and a third asking if he was okay since
he hadn’t responded all day.

I’m great,
he texted back with a small smile.
You
?

Despite the time, she
responded quickly.
Don’t worry. I’m
working on protecting you.

Beck chuckled, always touched by her
insistence she had to take care of him. He was learning more about
himself, his magick and what it really meant to be the Master of
Light. She had to distance herself for the time being, but he would
never give up his hope of finding a solution soon that would let
them be together.

Somehow. Whenever he thought on it too long,
he became concerned and distressed once more. Tonight he felt …
different. Confident. Energized. Certain where he hadn’t been
before. The circumstances hadn’t yet changed, but …

“I have,” he murmured and
drummed his forefingers on the table. He didn’t quite know what it
meant, though. The soul stone was every bit as dangerous as it had
been, and Morgan’s duty to it was still an issue. He typed a
response to her.
I think it’s time for me
to take care of you for once.
He tapped
send then took a huge bite of tender, flavorful roast
beef.

Whatever,
she responded.

Beck laughed, always intrigued by her
combination of sweet and spicy. Morgan was a good person. It had to
be enough for her to pass her trial and turn Light. His hope
flickered whenever he remembered who and what stood between her and
the Light. It wasn’t just Dawn but the odds of a fire witchling
choosing Light.

“You can do it, Morgan,” he whispered. “You
have to do it.”

Whatever
it
was. He had no way of
knowing what her trial would turn out to be. He hated feeling
helpless, that his own fate was tied to what she chose to
do.

He stared at the screen of his phone, not
wanting to release the connection to her yet not able to tell her
what he wanted to. Finally, he typed what felt like the lamest text
of his life and sent it.

I believe in you, Morgan. You won’t face the
Dark alone. I swear it.

The words were meant to be said aloud while
gazing into her eyes, not in a message.

“One day at a time,” he said, uttering the
family motto. Soon, Morgan would be at his side, and he’d never
have to worry about losing her again.

Morgan read the text in the darkness of the
coach of the bus. She was scrunched up in her seat, her flames
warming her while the bus’s air conditioning blasted. Her eyes
misted over at Beck’s message. She wanted it to be true with all
her heart, but as far as she knew, it wasn’t possible that she’d
end up with Beck while carrying the soul stone.