Nightingale (25 page)

“What is this?” Mother demands, loud enough for everyone to hear.

The man gasps and struggles to speak. “Sensitives. A dozen or so, just outside, on the street.”

This throws the room into chaos. Some begin to cry while others stand stunned and wild-eyed.

Humans are so predictable.

My skin trills as their fear surrounds me. I shuffle through the crowd pulling the energy to me, soaking it up, and savoring the charge rushing through my blood.

I catch Mother’s eye and with one finger, she motions me toward her.

“Yes?”

“Don’t get carried away. Erasing a roomful of memories is not on my agenda today.”

I smile sweetly. “I’m under control.” It’s a lie. I’m anything but under control. Magic licks at my heart, taunting me. I want more.

Razor sharp pain rolls over my skin and I jump. The sensation gives way to euphoria and I move closer to the source of the pain. A woman, a little older than Mother, sobs uncontrollably. There’s a deep scratch across her nose and cheek.

“Not now, Love. I need you to help me calm the room. Can you do that? Do you feel strong enough?”

I don’t feel strong. I feel unstoppable. Every time someone sobs or worries about Sensitives attacking, my power surges.

I could stay in this room all night, savoring the emotions coursing through me. “I feel perfect.”

Mother lifts her hand so that it’s near her face, palm out.  “Do not panic,” she says smoothly. “Everything is…under control.”

I suppress a laugh and try my hardest to keep my face blank.

The crowd before me slowly settles down and the fear subsides. Along with the ebbing fear goes my growing power.

I scowl.

“It’s for the best,” Mother whispers.

I give a reluctant nod and, as I take in the crowd, I realize I am completely surrounded by diplomats from the Eastern Society.

“Why is the room half-full with Eastern diplomats?” I ask.

“They’re our permanent guests.”

“Guests?”

Mother chuckles. “Guests sounds nicer than hostages, don’t you think? Besides, most of the humans are unaware of their change in status. And the ones who were, were dealt with.”

My eyes grow wide. “You’re holding members of another society hostage? Why?”

Mother sighs. “They decided the one-hundred and fifty year old treaty they signed with Charles Channing means more than our loyal friendship.”

I lift my eyebrows in confusion.

“They declared for the Light witches. Until the Eastern Society comes to its senses, any of its members caught within our borders will be a permanent guest of the State.”

“We’re at war with another society?” I squeak. It’s one thing to handle uprisings within your own domain, but Mother is talking about something much larger.

“Of course not.” She frowns. “We’re at war with all of them.”

27

“We leave for the Midlands in thirty minutes,” Mother says as she passes my office. “Pack for several days. Ryker can join us, if he wishes, but you must not tell anyone else.”

I gape at my empty doorway. Nothing like advance notice.

As soon as Enforcers secured the State buildings, Mother spun into crisis mode. First, she called a news conference and explained that what happened today was nothing more than a test. Next, she gathered her top advisors in a room. Apparently, they decided to send her to the Midlands.

I ping Ryker. “Heya.” I rub my sweaty hands on my skirt. We haven’t talked since this morning when I made him promise to kill me. “Did you see the feeds?”

“Which ones? The official ones or the Enforcer ones?” He sounds agitated, and I bite my lip. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. After all, inviting my would-be-assassin to go on a trip with me hardly seems logical.

But then again, I am crazy.

“So you know about the uprising?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Mother is taking me to the Midlands. Would you like to come?”

“Sure. When do we leave?”

I tap my fingers against my desk and check my wristlet. “Twenty-five minutes.”

A long pause.

“I’ll meet you at home.” He pings off.

I hurry home and find our house empty. Well, not empty, Kyra waits for me in the entryway.

“Where were you today?” I demand.

Kyra wags a finger at me. “Official business. I could tell you, but I’d have to tongue tie you.”

“At least let me know you’re okay, next time. Please?”

She grins. “Yes, Miss Lark.”

I roll my eyes. “Is Ryker upstairs?”

She shakes her head. “Last I saw, he was at my house with Maz.” She glances at her wristlet. “He’s still there.”

Disappointment consumes me. Not that I blame him for not wanting to come. After all, an official business trip to the Midlands probably sounds boring. I guess he probably thinks it’s too weird.

Once upstairs, I begin handing Kyra things to place in my travel bag. “I need farming clothes,” I say, skipping over the gowns. I find a few pairs of pants and toss them to her. “Can you grab a pair of sturdy shoes for me.”

She holds the pants out like they’re toxic. “What are you planning on doing? Malin is holding a press conference, not digging in the dirt.”

“It’s the Midlands, Kyra. The largest Ag Center is there.” I throw a shirt at her and she catches it. “I plan on making the most of my time.”

She rolls her eyes. “Only you.”

I take my bag from her and sling it over my arm. “Are Oliver and Dawson back?”

She nods. “They’re waiting downstairs.”

I hustle to the entryway and stop dead in my tracks. Ryker, and I know it’s the real Ryker because my heart doesn’t thrum, stands near my guards with a backpack slung over his shoulder. He’s in full Enforcer gear: skin tight, gray uniform and boots. But that’s not the part that sends a chill up my back. Around his waist, he wears a belt with a gun on each side.

His toothy, white smile lights up his face and he takes my bag. “Shall we Miss Greene?” He holds out his arm and I stare at it.

Kyra nudges me forward until I latch onto Ryker’s arm. “I’ll meet you at the office,” she says. “I still have to pack.”

I bite my lip. I don’t know what Ryker is playing at, but I intend to find out.

#

“We’re transporting onto a moving train, about an hour outside of the Midlands Center.” Annalise stands before our small group, hands on her hips. “Can the three of you manage that or should I assign you someone to piggy back with?”

Kyra gives a little snort of disgust. “Of course I can transport on to a moving train.”

Everyone looks at me. I shrug. “I don’t see why not.”

Annalise studies me closely. For a moment, I think she’s going to tell me I have to double up, but she says, “This is a surprise visit. No one is to know where we are. Not our mates or friends. Is that understood?”

We mumble our agreements and my guards’ wristlets ping in unison. “The itinerary,” Annalise says. “Lark, Malin wants to talk to you privately. Ryker, you will transport with the rest of us into one of these berths.”

Ryker’s wristlet pings and he quickly reads it.

Annalise waits for him to finish. “You’re official role is to be Lark’s consort and provide back-up security as necessary.”

That doesn’t sound good. “Why would we need back-up security?” I ask.

Annalise waves her hand as if I’m a pesky gnat. “Dawson, prep Lark for transport.”

I’m suddenly overcome with nerves. “Is it hard? I’ve only ever transported to stationary places.”

My sister-in-law purses her lips. “We can leave you here if this is too much for you.”

Heat flares across my face. “No. That’s not what I’m saying. I—”

Annalise cuts me off. “Good because we’re ready to go.”

My mouth is dry. To my surprise, Ryker grabs my hand and squeezes it. “It’s going to be okay.”

“On my count,” Dawson says. “Three, two, one.”

I drop Ryker’s hand and spin into the void. My feet strike solid ground, but the train rocks and I slam head first into a wall.

“You need to work on your landings, Love. Graceful, they’re not.” Mother folds herself into one of two chairs crammed into the tiny berth as I rub the spot that will surely swell and turn purple. Thankfully, it’s just the two of us, not our entire entourage or else we’d be standing on top of one another.

“Do you need a healer?” Mother asks.

I wince in pain. “No. I’ll be fine.” I slump into the chair across from hers. “Where’s everyone else?”

“In the neighboring rooms.” Mother touches her wristlet. “Annalise? Is everyone accounted for?”

“Yes, Malin,” Annalise’s voice says from the other end. “Is there anything you need?”

Mother stares out the window. Her eyes have an unusual distant, glassy look to them. “No. That’ll be all.”

For a long moment, neither of us speak. It’s not uncomfortable, but rather different. Usually, when Mother and I are alone, she’s explaining things or drilling me or giving orders. I’m not sure what to make of a quiet Mother.

“What do you know about our food production problems?”

I blink. That’s not what I expected her to say. “Miss Tully,” I say and Mother winces as if hearing the name of a human pains her. “She briefly mentioned not having enough rations when I was at her home.”

Mother nods. “It’s more than that now. Eight months ago, we noticed a drastic drop in production from the Midlands. We rely heavily on a handful of Light witches to produce the amount of food we need in the small amount of fertile land available to us.”

The train sways slightly as it’s devoured by a mountain pass and we’re plunged into darkness. Fear nibbles at me before the lights flicker on.

“What happened eight months ago?” I ask.

“Seventy percent of the Light witches in Agriculture vanished.” Mother plays with her necklace. “There’s no doubt in my mind, or my advisors’, the Splinter group had something to do with it. Regardless, the result is we have had a drastic drop in food production and can no longer provide for the general population as we have in the past.”

My mouth drops open. “People are
starving
?”

“Humans. Not witches. Both Light and Dark witches are being provided for. And curiously, those witches at Summer Hill, they have more food than they need. The assumption is the missing witches went there.”

“Is that why you’re fighting with them? Because of food?”

Mother sighs. “If the Light witches refuse to work with us…” Her shoulders round forward and she reclines in her chair in a very un-Mother-like way. “There are certain things Dark witches can’t do well. Food production is one of them.”

As her words sink into my brain, things begin to make sense. A group of Light witches became upset over the continuing restrictions of the State. They respond by cutting off the one vital service they had almost complete control over: food. Now there’s not enough and the Splinter group is using that to incite the general population.

“You brought me along to help with food production, didn’t you?” I don’t bother to hide my excitement. For the first time in weeks, something is going my way. Perhaps, if Mother sees firsthand how valuable my skills are, she’ll let me stay.

I’ll be far away from Beck. He’ll be safer. And I can live the rest of my life, however long it may be, doing what I love.

“You are the one Dark witch who is talented in that area. Henry says you’re the best.”

“But if I perform that type of magic, won’t it give away the fact that I still have Beck’s magic in me? Wasn’t I supposed to kick it out after my birthday?”

“Everyone who matters knows your father was Light. Still, I’ve taken every precaution. The Ag Center is on lockdown and all communication is handled by our people. No one outside the center will know.”

“But I can’t possibly make enough food for the
entire
Western Society by myself.” At Summer Hill, Henry and I had a hard time keeping three fields growing. The Ag Center is a hundred times that size.

“You can.”

My fingers ache from digging into my arms. “No. This is ridiculous. You could get every one of those Light witches back if you’d stop persecuting them.”

“It’s not that easy.”

I huff and she holds up her hand. “We have no value to them beyond protecting our kind from humans. Do you understand? We rely on them to produce food and as our healers, and they need us for absolutely nothing. If they seize control of the State, I guarantee their first order of business would be to get rid of every Dark witch. And they’ll try to turn our children Light. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen.”

I tilt my head and study her. “Is that what happened to you? Did Henry’s mother try to turn you Light?”

Mother’s hands fly to her chest. “How do you know about Livia?”

My tongue smarts under the pressure of my teeth. “I found your journals.”

Mother closes her eyes. Her chest rises and falls slowly. “She thought she could change me. That’s what she wanted, to mute the magic of our family. And I tried, Love. Oh how I tried to be everything Livia wanted. But it was never enough.”

“So you killed her?” I ask.

“It was an accident. I hadn’t been properly trained and Livia insisted I could be fixed. But one day, she pushed me too hard and my magic exploded. Unlike you, I didn’t have anyone showing me how to control it. My father was never around and by the time I was old enough for the Dark teachers at school to take notice of me, it was too late.”

She reaches for my hand. To my surprise, there’s no magic flowing between us. No attempt on her part to persuade me.

“I don’t want that for you. I may not be the best teacher, having never had one myself, but I am trying, Love. And you are getting stronger.”

I lay my hand over hers. “But that was Livia, not all the Light witches. Can’t you try to work with them? There has to be a way to balance what both sides want.”

Mother scowls and yanks her hand away. “I do not negotiate with terrorists.”

#

There’s no crowd at the station to greet us. It’s strangely…normal. Or as normal as it can be until people begin to realize who we are and openly stare.

Mother’s guards and Annalise work the outer perimeter of the station while my other guards stay closer to Mother, Ryker, and me. Mother walks calmly, with confidence, across the platform. I hold my shoulders back and try to emulate her poise, but who am I kidding? I pale in comparison.

Every once in a while, Mother lifts her hand and waves to the crowd. But unlike in the past, no one shouts her name and the stares are more icy than welcoming. Shivers explode in my heart and creep along my arms and legs.

Ryker nudges me gently with his elbow. “Look at them.”

I knit my brows together and swing my head around the station trying to figure out who he means. My guards?

“The people. Look at them.”

Sun beats down on me and burns my skin. I lift my hand to shield my eyes. The platform teams with people.

“They’re starving, Lark. Can’t you see it?”

My eyes focus on a small group near the toll takers. Most of them wear dull and ragged clothes two sizes too big. But that’s impossible. Our clothes have smart fabric, every garment fits every body perfectly.

A small girl with hollowed out eyes stares at me and I’m suddenly conscious of my immaculate sundress and sandals. Her gaze lingers on my wristlet before settling on my face.

Without warning, she darts toward me. Oliver steps before her and grabs her by the arm. “Ah, ah, ah, little Miss. Back you go.” He turns her around and gently shoves the girl in the direction of her group.

The station is dead silent.

“I’m hungry.” Her voice has a hard, brittle quality that should come out of a bitter old woman, not a child who can’t be more than seven. “Why don’t we have food?”