Nightingale (20 page)

Kyra shoves herself between the two of us. “Take your hands off of her.”

His fingers uncurl and I take a step back.

The inside of my cheek bleeds, but it doesn’t stop the fury building in me. How dare Ryker keep me from Beck and then run around with Lena.

“I have to go,” Ryker says as he turns to leave.

Kyra wiggles her fingers at him. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Before I can stop her, she throws magic at Ryker and he falls to his knees in pain.

“Holy hell, Kyra!” he pants and grabs at his temples.

I laugh. “Serves you right.”

“What…what did you do to him?” My head snaps to the left. Lena’s pressed herself against the rough bark of the tree. Her whole body shakes and even without her saying it, I know what she’s thinking: Sensitives.

Kyra and I glance at each other. How do the two of us keep digging ourselves into deeper holes?

“I’ll take care of it,” I say as I take short, measured steps toward Lena. I’m not sure what I’m going to do, but my mind reaches out to hers, and while I can’t hear her thoughts, I can sense her energy. Mother told me the first step in persuasion is finding the other person’s energy. The second step is to implant your desires in them. But making someone forget actual events is very different than convincing them to do something for you.

Air rushes out of my lungs and the words tumble from my lips. “You didn’t see anything here. In fact, you never saw any of us.”

Lena’s fear surges through me and I draw it into my core, enjoying the way it pulses in rhythm with my heart.

Behind me, I hear Kyra say, “You better hope this works.”

“I’m not the idiot who used magic in front of a human,” I snap.

Lena’s eyes slowly turn blank.

“Stop it, Lark!” Ryker shouts from his spot on the ground. “This isn’t right and you know it!”

I tip my head back toward the sky and laugh. Now Ryker’s going to see what it feels like to have the person he loves ripped away from him.

“You don’t want anything to do with Ryker. In fact, you despise him.”

“You bitch.” Ryker staggers to his feet. “You soulless, evil bitch.”

I raise my eyebrow at him, daring him to make me stop. “Go home to Timothy,” I say. Lena immediately sprints through the trees. Drunk on magic, I spin around to face my friends. I roll my shoulders in satisfaction and grin.

“Don’t ever mess with me again, do you understand?”

Ryker keeps his fists balled at his sides.

“That was amazing!” Kyra screeches, jumping up and down in excitement. “You completely replaced her memory, didn’t you?”

I bob my head and dart my eyes between my hot-headed best friend and the cold-blooded assassin who will be my mate as of tomorrow. One looks like she wants to celebrate and the other looks like he wants to…destroy me.

A chill runs down my spine and suddenly I don’t feel powerful anymore. Rather, I feel dirty and wicked. I gather my scarf tighter around my neck.

“I’ll see you two later,” Ryker say with jagged breaths. He keeps his dark eyes trained on me. “I have things to do.”

The magical fog surrounding my brain lifts and horror over what I just did replaces it. “Ryker, wait! I’m sorry!”

His eyes flash with anger. “That’s the thing. I don’t think you are.”

21

I have to stop whatever is happening to me. Or at least get a better understanding of how to control it. That’s the only thing that will prevent me from hurting more people.

And I have less than a day to do it.

Old news feeds of Caitlin Greene wait in a neat row on the wallscreen. It’s a little creepy seeing her as a young woman giving fiery speeches about the Sensitive threat side-by-side with a shot of her fifteen years later, wild and angry. She looks completely crazed.

My breath rushes out of me. I need to know what happened to Mother and Caitlin.

If I were Mother and I wanted to hide something, where would I put it? I’ve turned the house upside down searching for her journals. Images of different places flash through my mind, but none of them seem right. Oliver said I needed to know what to ask for and I’d be able to find it. But I’m not sure what, exactly, I’m looking for. Searching for journals has given me nothing.

I tilt my head and study the wallscreen. Something is off, but what?

Caitlin out among the people with Charles at her side; Caitlin delivering State of the State addresses; Caitlin holding her daughter in her arms, sobbing as she announces Charles’s death.

A daughter.

I shake my head at how obvious it is. There are no feeds of her as a child. Every one is of Caitlin between the ages of seventeen and thirty-five. Why?

“Images of Caitlin Greene when she was…fourteen?” I ask.

Nothing. I suck on my upper lip. How could Mother hide all the feeds? There have to be hundreds, if not thousands, of them.

I toss a pillow at the wall. This is getting me nowhere.

Orange and purple streaks stretch across the night sky. I’ve been up all night and have nothing to show for it. And there’s no way I’ll be able to poke around today. Not with the pre-binding activities Mother has scheduled for me.

I snort. Maybe I’ll get lucky and my intended will go missing. Or maybe someone will attack the binding hall again.

Or maybe I’ll go so crazy, Mother won’t be able to parade me in public.

I flip over on my bed and stare at the wallscreen upside down.

Huh.

“Charles Channing,” I say. “I want images of him when he was fourteen” Dozens of images, and not one with Caitlin, flash onto the wallscreen. As I’m sorting them into groups, it hits me. There are no feeds of Caitlin Greene at fourteen because Caitlin Greene didn’t exist. At least, not under that name. She didn’t take Greene as her surname until later.

A smile forms on my lips. “Caitlin Channing. I want every feed on her.”

Hundreds of images clog the wallscreen and I grin. I’ve found her.

What if Mother hid her childhood data under her father’s name?

“Malin Trevern,” I recite. Image after image of a young Mother flash across the screen.

I wiggle excitedly in my seat before pressing my hands together and bowing my head. With every ounce of concentration I have, I focus on the journals of Malin Trevern.

The air around me pops like little firecrackers.

Dozens of antique books sit in neat stacks across my floor, casting off a strange vibration of magic. I frown. Mother must have placed extra protective wards on them.

I slide off my bed and slowly circle the books. At Summer Hill, Eloise taught me how to use these old relics, but I can’t touch or open them with magic, because knowing Mother, the books will probably explode or disintegrate if I do.

“Is there a password on the books?” I say aloud. My wristlet chirps twice and I glance at the screen.
Enter password
, it flashes.

Taking a chance, I say, “Malin Trevern.” My wristlet goes blank.

“Damn it.” My heart sinks. I tap at my wristlet, softly at first, then harder. The screen remains blank. It won’t even turn on.

My finger pounds against the small screen and in desperation, I say, “Ping, Kyra.”

Nothing.

I lean against my bed. Wonderful. Mother will know immediately what I did.

“What happened at Northwoods that you don’t want anyone to know, Mother?”

My wristlet buzzes. The screen flashes and the shimmer of magic surrounding the books disappears.

“Northwoods?” I say with a smile. “That’s the password?”

With my hand flat against the top book, I say, “Northwoods and Bethina.” Hopefully, it’s the right combination of words to find what I’m looking for.

Two books float through the air and hover before me. I tap the one on the left and it flips open to a section in the middle. I pluck it out of the air and climb back into my bed.

My eyes travel over the page. Mother used old-fashioned loopy handwriting that I have a hard time reading.

“Translate.” The words smooth out, unbending the strange curly strokes, until neatly printed words line the page.

Bethina arrived today. I love the girl, but she travels like a commoner. One trunk and not a single gown. Father hopes I’ll have some influence over her questionable fashion choices, but honestly, she’s hopeless. If she would only let me do something with her hair.

But what does it matter? We all know she’s headed for a career as a housemother. It’s all she talks about. Personally, I think she’ll be brilliant at i
t.
Look how she is with Henry. Always letting him tag along, wiping his nose, keeping him entertained. I couldn’t do it. I have none of the sisterly devotion she does.

Oh! I received a letter from Iso today. Apparently our new Ag teacher is a sight to behold. And young
—

I lay the book down in my lap and scrunch up my face. Sisterly devotion?

Like a million spiders, a chill races across my arms and legs. “Trevern family tree,” I whisper.

A tree, similar to the one Mother showed me of the Greene family, appears on my wallscreen. I follow with my eyes until I come to my name and backtrack. Mother sits above me, by herself. Above her are her parents, Anja Greene and Jones Trevern. But next to her father is another name, Livia Brioden. Beneath
them
is Henry.

My hand flies to my chest. My grandfather had another wife? I check the marriage and death dates. My grandmother died when Mother was just a baby.

Jones must have found a new mate. He would have been obligated under witch law since he only had one child.

I tap my finger against the side of my nose. Which means his new wife only had one child too since, according to witch biology, he had to produce one more offspring—a boy.

“Livia Brioden.” My voice shakes. The name flashes on the screen. And beneath her two names: Henry Trevern and…
Bethina DeSoto
.

My mind whirls as I sort the information. Henry and Mother were half-siblings, having the same father. And Bethina and Henry were half-siblings, having the same mother. Which means, Mother and Bethina were step-sisters?

I cup my hand over my mouth. Why doesn’t Mother want me to know? Did she do something to Bethina? Hurt her in some way?

No. She couldn’t have. Bethina would never have taken me. Unless Mother forced her.

I fling the books off my bed and roll onto my stomach. There are too many secrets in my family. It’s
a
giant puzzle.

A thought nibbles at me and I grab my tablet from the side table. I make three columns: Mother, Henry, and Bethina. Under each one, I write Mother and Father.

My grandmother had to be Dark since she was a direct descendant of Caitlin, so I write a D next to her name. I’m positive Bethina’s parents were both Light. I mark L’s under her name. Since Livia was Light, I mark an L under Henry.

Bile raises in my throat. Henry told me his parents were Light and Dark. If his father was Dark, not his mother as I was lead to believe, that means my grandfather was Dark.

I stare at the screen.

Mother isn’t a mix. She was only
raised
by a Light witch—Bethina’s mother.

She’s one-hundred percent Dark.

And she has no idea what’s going to happen to me on my birthday

22

The day passes in a blur. People rush in and out of my room. My guards read things to me. Mother visits twice. Kyra whispers in my ear about how amazing I was. How amazing I’m going to be once I have full use of my powers.

Food is brought and taken away untouched.

But I just sit and listen to the minutes ticking away.

Finally, in the early evening, after everyone else has gone, Annalise crouches next to my chair. She touches the back of my hand softly.

“Are you afraid?” she asks. “I was. It’s normal to be.”

I close my eyes.

“I thought you’d like this.” Annalise sets a cup of Sleep Tea on the table next to my chair. My fingers clench the knot of the cashmere wrap draped over my shoulders. “It will help you sleep.”

Sleep is the last thing I want right now. I want to remember every second of every minute of this day for the rest of my life. Maybe if I can hold on to this, I won’t turn into a monster.

But I already am, aren’t I? The explosion at Kyra and Maz’s binding, my outburst at the hospital, the way I’ve taken so readily to Mother’s lessons on manipulation. And Lena. What I did to her, the way I overrode her freewill and changed her reality, is despicable.

And no matter what Mother says, she doesn’t know what will happen to me. The rational part of me knows Henry and Callum transitioned fine. But they are male. And Light.

I stare at my hands. All the horrible things I’ve already done. The people I’ve hurt. Will it only get worse tomorrow?

The clock continues to chase down time. There’s no stopping the future, no matter what type of magic I’m capable of.

“Would you like me to add more wood to the fire?” Annalise asks.

The flames died down long ago. Only orange glowing embers remain and the persistent damp chill of San Francisco creeps closer and closer to me. “No. I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Is there anything else I can do?”

“When will we know about me? How strong I’ll be? I feel the same right now, but how will I know?”

Annalise shrugs. “It’s different for all of us. My powers came on very suddenly a few days after my birthday. One moment, I was simply transporting like I had a hundred times before, and the next moment I felt like I was churning through space. It took me a good while to figure out where I was and get home.”

I’d never heard this story before. Actually, I know very little about my sister-in-law. “Where had you gone?”

She keeps her face blank. “The Eastern Society. My parents and I had lived there briefly when I was a child. They were diplomats, and it must have been sitting in back of my mind.”

“So you’re good at transporting?” Such a random ability. And completely useless for anything other than…well, moving between locations.

“I am, but that’s not where my true talent lies. It just happened my magic surged at the particular moment I chose to transport.”

“Do you think I’m going to go crazy?”

“No.” She sounds exasperated. “You’re Dark, just like the rest of us. And in a few hours, a mature witch. Trust me, having full control of your powers is a blessing.”

She lifts the cup of tea and hands it to me. “I think you’re overanalyzing everything and making yourself worried for nothing.”

I take a sip of the tea. Obviously, she doesn’t know what I did to Lena. “How do you know I won’t?”

“Because Malin didn’t. And neither did Callum. Or Henry. Or any of the other witches on your family tree other than Caitlin Greene.

“The Light witches filled your brain with nonsense. They wanted to scare you and they did.”

I’m not convinced. Bethina wouldn’t have let them do all those things to me if she felt it was unnecessary. My stomach rolls.

Unless she saw what happened to my mother.

I rest my head against the back of the chair and stare off into the distance. “I’m feeling tired.”

“Good night.” Annalise dips her head. “When I see you in the morning, I promise you’ll feel exactly the same as you do now.”

Once she’s gone, I lay my cheek on my knees. There’s no more time. Tomorrow, I turn eighteen. Tomorrow, I will be bound to a boy who was once Beck’s friend and who hates me. I wonder if he’ll ever be able to forgive me for what I did to Lena.

             
I reach into my pocket and feel the familiar cool, metal of my necklace. Not even it can comfort me tonight. The scars of my heart bleed raw and for the first time, I allow the tears to pour down my face and don’t bother to hide my sobs. I don’t care anymore.

Oh, Beck.
Snot bubbles in my nose and I sniff it away.
They can make me not say your name and pretend you don’t exist, but they can’t stop my thoughts.

My head rol
ls
against the side of the chair and I close my eyes. Maybe sleep isn’t such a terrible thing after all.

All my life, my day has started and ended with you. Always you.

Like every other night, there’s no answer. Just more endless static.

#

Something soft brushes my jaw and I yawn. Darkness obscures everything, but I can see the shadowy outline of a man standing over me. I rub my eyes and squint. Surely it’s too early for my guards to wake me?

The man kneels down before me and his fingers grasp each side of the armchair I’ve fallen asleep in, trapping me. Even in my half-awake state, I know neither Dawson nor Oliver would approach me like this. My heart whirls into fight mode and I pull my arms into my chest, palms facing out, ready to strike.

“Shhh. It’s me.” Ryker’s familiar voice surprises me.

I startle but don’t drop my hands. If he’s as upset as he was earlier, who knows what he’ll do. “Why are you here?”

In an oddly intimate gesture, he gently places two fingers over my mouth and uncurls his other hand in the direction of the fireplace. A fire immediately roars to life. When he drops his fingers from my lips, they tingle. “I know you love the cold, but I can see my breath.”

My mind struggles to wake up and make sense of what’s happening. Ryker is in my room, in the middle of the night. Seemingly no longer upset. How did he sneak past my…

Kyra. She’s on duty tonight. Damn it.

“She’s hoping for a love connection.” He lets out a low laugh. “Anyway, it wasn’t too hard to convince her. I told her I needed to talk to you about what happened. In private.”

I draw my brows together. Maybe I misread him. Maybe what I mistook for hatred was actually interest? It’s not like I have a ton of experience with boys. 

“Ryker,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry about that. You have to believe me. I can’t always control myself, but I’m trying.”

“I know you are.”

“You have to go. If my mother finds you here, she’ll be irate. It’s improper to see me the night before the binding, remember?”

To my surprise, he reaches out and strokes my cheek. The energy in my body hums to life and I suddenly feel wide awake. Everything is crisper, more tangible. Amplified.

You can hear me, can’t you?

My eyes grow wide. I…I don’t want to say it out loud. If I’m wrong…

I clench my hands against my whirling, vibrating heart. He takes a step back, then another. Behind him the fire roars and casts a yellow glow around him. A beautiful golden hue that I’ve only seen once before.

His image blurs. Then flickers. And then…

Beck stands before me, his dimple and grin lighting up the room.

“I heard you crying. I can’t let you do this alone. Not tonight,” Beck says. His eyes are on fire, burning right through me until every nerve in my body is electrified. His blond hair hangs a little longer across his eyes than the last time I saw him, but it only makes me want to run my fingers through it even more.

“You heard me?”

Beck slips off his wristlet and I do the same. He tosses them both into the bedside table before answering me. “I’ve never not heard you, but I thought it would be better to have a clean break. I thought it would be easier for you. Didn’t work so well, did it?”

I push on his chest. “
You
can’t be here. It’s too dangerous. What I did yesterday is horrible and I could do it again.”

“It can be fixed. Lena will be fine.” Beck wraps his arms around me and lifts me out of the chair so we’re face to face, our noses touching.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he says. “When I saw you at Kyra’s…the way you looked at me, Lark…please, don’t ever look at me like that again. Please.”

I ball his shirt in my hands, afraid that if I let go, I’ll wake up.  “What happened to you?”

He runs his hand down my back and warmth spreads over the jagged piece of my heart. “After you left, Henry, Eloise, and I fled. We went into hiding. The hope was my parents would send for us when it was safe.”

“Did they?”

He shakes his head. “I’m the leader of no one. Isn’t that ironic?” His laugh is low and cynical. “At Summer Hill, all I ever heard was that I needed to act more like a leader and I didn’t want it. And now that I do, no one wants me to.”

“How did you end up here? Henry said you came for me.”

He lifts my chin so that our matching olive eyes meet. “I had to know you were okay, and it seemed like you were in danger. Malin hasn’t been kind to you.”

“I saw you with Eamon and I thought…” My voice warbles.

He runs his fingers through the sides of my hair. “No. He cornered me. I had no choice in that battle until Ryker distracted Eamon just enough for me to transport.”

“Where did you go?”

“Back here. I thought maybe they’d bring you here, but Ryker found me first. He took me to Maz’s.”

I drop my eyes. “I’ve been awful to Ryker. I thought he wanted to kill you.”

Beck chuckles. “Naw. Nothing will ever come between Ryker, Maz, and me. You know that.”

His fingers trace my jawline. I want to tell him how badly I ache for him, how I need to feel his skin pressed against mine, wrap my fingers in his hair, and hold on to him so he’ll never leave me.

But that’s not possible. “You have to go. What if someone catches you?”

“I don’t care.” His mouth moves to the hollow of my neck and he lingers as his hands dart under the thin straps of my nightgown. He pulls his head up. “You’re missing something.”

“No. I have it. It’s always with me.” I sink my hand into my pocket and retrieve my necklace. He takes it from me and I lift my hair while he clasps it behind my neck. As soon as it touches my skin, a sense of contentment washes over me.

“Better,” Beck says just before his lips flutter over mine, like he’s testing to make sure it’s okay. A soft moan forms in the back of my throat and he kisses me harder. My labored breath pulls at my chest.

“You really need to go,” I whisper, not really meaning a word of what I’m saying.

“I just want to be with you. Tonight. Can you give me that?”

My body trembles beneath his touch. “Yes.”

He scoops me up and carries me to the bed. When I lay back, my hair fans around me as I stretch my arms up to him.

Beck doesn’t hesitate to climb into the bed with me. It’s as if nothing has changed with us.

“Everything is going to be okay. Ryker won’t touch you. I promise,” he mutters between kisses.

“Do you plan on masquerading as a middle-aged man forever?” I tease.

Beck’s finger traces tiny circles down my arm. When he gets to my wrist, he lifts my arm and plants a kiss against the sensitive underside. His lips move to my palm and a flash of heat races through me. “If I have to.”

I can’t let him do this. He needs to go, but telling Beck to leave is like ripping out my own soul. I can’t. Not again.

He pulls me toward him and I curl into his arms. A calmness falls over me. My fingertips stroke his cheek and a deep sigh rumbles out of him.

I don’t want to be anywhere but here.

My eyes linger on his face, memorizing every piece of it. “If you’re pretending to be Ryker, where is he?” The words come out in a breathless whisper.

Beck points to the side table. “Ryker is right there. Or at least his wristlet is.”

“Where is he really?”

“With Lena. He slipped off his wristlet and left it on his bed before he took off.”

I raise my eyebrows. “He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

Beck laughs. “No.”

“Because he wouldn’t let you come.” Beck leans closer to me and his breath tickles my neck. “If you get caught here looking like Ryker, he’s going to get in trouble.”

Beck sighs. “Less trouble th
a
n if I get caught looking like Ryker with no wristlet. If anyone catches me, it’ll seem like Ryker sneaked over to see you.” He kisses my collarbone. “Now, please stop thinking, Birdie. Just enjoy the moment,”

I close my eyes. Everything feels right. Whole. Like every piece of me is right back where it is supposed to be.

But it can’t stay like this. I know that. “Promise me you’ll leave tomorrow. That you’ll go far away from here. Please.”