Nightingale (30 page)

“You’re too young. Maybe in a few years, but right now, they have concerns.”

“About my age?”

“And your lack of training. You have no experience working in State. When Malin took leadership, she was ten years older than you and had already secured her place among top officials through merit. You’ve only been working for the State for a few weeks.”

I expected some reluctance, but with the number of Dark witches in State, it should have been an easy vote. I spiral the strand of sapphires around my finger. “We don’t have ten years for me to work my way up the ladder. I need a ranking position if we’re going to have any say in what happens with the Splinter group or the Light witches. Now, not in ten years when it’s too late and I’m dead.”

I summon the eyepiece to me and press it over my eye. The council meeting appears and I listen intently for a few seconds. They’ve moved on to allowing diplomats from the Center the rights to use the private gym facilities of the West.

As if it matters.

“Have they forgotten I am, in effect, the leader of the Dark witches?”

Annalise puts both her hands behind her head and bends her neck forward. “The vote’s final.”

“How will this work then? I’ll lead the Dark witches, Patrick Channing has no control over the Light witches, Eamon controls the Splinter group, so who runs the State?”

“They’ve put forward a few names. Sun-Wei seems to be the front runner.”

“Sun-Wei?” I huff. “Didn’t he hide when the Splinter group attacked at Kyra’s binding?” I crack my knuckles in hope of discharging a little magic.  “They can’t pick him.”

“He’s a Dark witch and it’s better than if the Light witches or Splinter group seized control of the State. We’d be on the defensive, and that’s never a good position to be in,” Oliver says. He said the same thing to me the other day—how I had to be offensive rather than defensive with Beck.

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. “There has to be another way. We need them to give me control. It’s the only way to keep everything from falling apart. Why can’t they see that?”

Silence settles over the room. Is this really it? Am I supposed to go sit in a corner and play quietly until the “adults” decide I’m useful? I bite my lip and allow the stinging pain to grow.

“You can do what Caitlin did,” Oliver says. Excitement bubbles just beneath the surface of his words. “What she really did, not what the books say.”

“And what’s that?”

“Attack them.”

I press my finger against my top lip and lift my eyebrows. “Tell me more.”

Oliver turns on the wallscreen. A teenaged Caitlin stares back at us.

“How old is she here?” I ask.

“Eighteen. She’s announcing a treaty she formed with the Eastern Society.”

It’s mesmerizing the way she moves her hands and the tempo of her voice. “Did she secure the treaty or did Charles?”

“Does it matter? History says she did.”

“So she was in State at my age. How? Was it because there weren’t enough leaders?” That would make sense because she came to power at the end of the Long Winter.

Dawson taps the wallscreen. “Ah. For that, I think you want to see this.”

A newscaster dressed in old-fashioned clothes appears. He talks slowly, drawing out each word, and it takes me a moment to be able to understand what he’s saying. The pictures on the screen, however, are easier to interpret: tornadoes, fires, mysterious explosions.

“Did Caitlin do that?” I ask. Pride peppers my words.

Dawson nods. “I believe so.”

Annalise points at the screen. “How many did she eliminate?”

Oliver flips his hands over and shrugs. “My best guess is she started small. Maybe ten minor officials. No one seemed to suspect her at first. She was a just a girl with a strong aptitude for magic. But by the time she took control of the State, at age twenty-two, there wasn’t anyone left from five years earlier.”

I exhale loudly. “I don’t have five years. Not with the Splinter group pressing for control.” I scrunch up my forehead. “I have to go after all of them. Now.”

“Then you need a plan,” Oliver says.

I rub my neck. “We need to strike when the most officials are together. It would be the easiest way to do it. Like what the Splinter group did when they attacked Kyra’s binding.” Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at my friend. She stops picking at her nails and lifts her head just enough so that I can see the flicker of excitement in her eyes. I grin. This is the mischievous Kyra I know.

Dawson checks his wristlet. “They’re in session for another hour.”

I bounce a little on my toes. “Then we need to move fast. Before they have an idea of what’s coming for them.”

“What are you going to do when you get there?” Annalise asks. “Yell at them? Demand they give you what you want? You need a plan.”

             
She’s pushing me. She wants to know how far I’ll go to get what I want.

I spin slowly, pulling the energy of the room to me, and unleash it on the piano. It turns into a ball of fire. “I’m going to teach them to never say ‘no’ to me again.”

#

Our plan is simple: Kyra and I will enter through the front door of the meeting hall while my other guards transport into the back of the room. The five of us will then hold the Council hostage until they give me what I want.

Outside the door, I pause and wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt. For this to work, I have to show I’m strong, not just with magic, but also in politics. I have to convince every Dark witch in the room I can make difficult decisions. That while I may be young, I’m my mother’s daughter, and I’m fully capable of being in charge.

Kyra jumps up and down in place. It’s almost hard to believe she was sobbing not even two hours ago. I knew if I could just get her up, she’d be better.

“Ready?” she mouths.

I nod my head once.

With a flick of Kyra’s wrist, the door flings open. Heads jerk in our direction, drinks are set down, and silence settles around us.

“Don’t let us stop you,” Kyra teases, clearly enjoying the fear I strike into the people in the room. It’s nice to hear her happy.

Sun-Wei, Mother’s advisor, shoves his chair back and jumps to his feet. “Lark. What are you doing here?”

“Taking what belongs to me,” I say, keeping my voice light and bouncy.

Annalise, Oliver, and Dawson appear at the rear of the room and between the five of us, we surround the table of advisors and diplomats. Several of them jump to their feet, but Annalise uses her immobilization skills and wraps them up stiffly. All they can do is sit or stand.

Confused and panic-stricken, the various members of State yell at me. They demand I release them and explain myself.

Oliver told me the first thing Caitlin did was show her enemies no mercy. Anyone who questioned her was silenced.

I chuckle. This should be fun.

A waiter stands near me holding a tray in his frozen hands. Fear flashes in his eyes and I walk my fingertips over his arm before snatching a canapé from the tray.

“What are we discussing today?” I ask the crowded room. A wall of silence greets me.

“Let me remind you.” I take a nibble of the canapé. “You were voting to allow me to take my mother’s—no, my
family’s
—spot in State.”

More silence.

“Annalise, you didn’t tongue tie our friends, did you?”

My sister-in-law’s crimson red lips part into a sweet smile. “I did not.”

With a little skip, I position myself at the end of the long table, behind a witch I can’t immediately place. Kyra moves to my left and her hand gently rests on the witch’s. That’s good. Perhaps she can influence this one into helping us.

“Kyra, are you cold?” I eye her sleeveless dress, and keep my voice conversational.

She shivers and runs her free hand over her bare arm. “I am.”

With a casual toss of my hand, a fire leaps to life in the middle of the table. Smoke, thick and gray, billows above the heads of the members of State. Those nearest immediately choke on the fumes and smoke, and a woman sitting directly in front of the flame yelps, “Sun-Wei! Stop her. She’s out of control.”

I toss my head back and laugh. “Yes, Sun-Wei. Stop me. I’d love to see you try.”

Sun-Wei’s glare is a sharp as a dagger, but we both know he can’t hurt me. Not when he’s tied up in Annalise’s spell. And certainly not when ordinary Dark witches think I’m their savior. He’s screwed and he knows it.

“What is it you want, Lark?”

I study my hands as I splay my fingers and wiggle them. The magic inside me gnaws at my fingertips and I momentarily debate whether or not I should set something else on fire. But what’s the point? Everyone knows
that
I can do that.

“I want my place in State.”

Sun-Wei’s jaw clenches. “You’re too young. You haven’t earned it.”

I raise my eyebrows. “How old was Caitlin Greene when she became head of State?”

No one answers me. I toss the witch sitting next to me to the ground and she yelps in pain. With one leap, I land on the top of the table. The fire roars in the middle of the table, but it doesn’t stop me. I sashay down the long mahogany surface toward the far end and toward the fire, knocking over glasses and scattering papers as I go.

“She was twenty-two.” I reach the edge of the flame and take a deep breath. The easiest thing would be to extinguish it, but I need to show them nothing can hurt me. Not their magic, nor their lies. “Twenty-two,” I repeat, stepping into the flame. My eyes don’t waiver from Sun-Wei.

Behind me, Kyra gasps. “Lark. Don’t.”

But I’m already in the flames. Heat licks my skin, singes my dress and yet, it doesn’t burn me.

“However, she was only seventeen when she brought the world to its knees. Not even a mature witch.” I step out onto the other side of the fire and wave my hand over my dress. It immediately mends, and I grin. “At eighteen, she formed treaties with the Eastern Society to deal with the problematic witches in the North.”

I stop before Sun-Wei. “She was nineteen when she killed her first man.” I drop down so that my face is level with the Minister’s. “I killed my first when I was seventeen,” I stage whisper. “You know that, don’t you, Sun-Wei? You know I’m stronger than Caitlin ever was and that’s why you don’t want me in State. You want all the power for yourself.”

Terror ripples across his face. It’s there in his paler than usual skin, the beads of sweat on his brow, the way his eyes anxiously search behind me, as if hoping someone would come to his rescue.

Too bad for him, there’s no one who can.

“Listen to me,” I say slowly as I stand. The heels of my shoes scratch the table as I pivot, and my eyes move down the table, stopping briefly on each face. Imprinting them to my memory for future use. “I may not have an official office within the State, but I am the descendant of Caitlin Greene. You will include me in all meetings. There will be no decision made without my approval. Is that understood?”

My words are greeted with a low chorus of “Yes, Miss Lark.”

“Good, because I really hate having to do things like this.” Sun-Wei’s body convulses in his seat and his face twists in agony before sliding to the ground. I suck on the inside of my lip and let my mind work through the different ways I can hurt this man who defies me.

“Please, Lark. Please.” He gasps as I slowly squeeze the air from his lungs with just my thoughts. His face flushes red, then purple, and then a weird gray color.

When I release him, Sun-Wei rolls to his side, unconscious.

Like air escaping from a balloon, the spell holding the room’s occupants releases. Not a soul tries to flee. They all sit in their seats and wait.

“Now, who would like to explain this to me?” I point at the map on the wall.

A grizzled old witch raises his hand. “I will.”

“Good.” I nod. “Tell me everything you know. It’s time I learned what’s really going on.”

32

I’m exhausted, but that doesn’t mean I can stop work anytime soon. There’s simply too much to do. My brain swims with all the things I’ve learned the past few days. We’re at war with every major society, and ours is the only one controlled exclusively by Dark witches. Everything else is in the hands of the Splinter group, and Beck is trying to rally the Light witches against me, the State, and the Splinter group.

I sigh.

How am I going to fix all this? The wars, the problems with food production and riots, and the whispers about Mother grow daily. Not to mention my two ex-mates and the Splinter group want me dead.

My head rests heavily in my hands.

Many of the problems could be eliminated if we rounded up a few Light witches and made them increase our crop output. If only we had a handful of Henrys, then this wouldn’t be an issue. The humans would be content if we took care of them and the Splinter group wouldn’t have anything to use against us.

Mother told me people don’t revolt when they’re well-cared for.

Which is why the Light witches refuse to work with us, and the few we have left, our healers, for example, must be kept under constant guard.  We can’t let them defect.

Mother left a fine mess in her wake.

A warm breeze passes over my skin when I stand and walk toward the window. If someone had told me six months ago that this would be my life, I would have laughed. Me, in charge of the State? Ridiculous.

“Lark?” Miss Tully waits by the bedroom door, a saucer and teacup perched precariously on her palm. Part of my agreement with Kyra included the transfer of Miss Tully to my home. Kyra may not have appreciated her, but there’s something comforting about Miss Tully. She reminds me of Bethina, only older.

“Come in.”

She hobbles across the floor like a little mouse and miraculously doesn’t spill a drop of the tea. It’s impressive. She sets it down on the side table.

“Thank you.”

Miss Tully knots her grizzled hands together. “You’re a good girl, Lark.”

I draw my brows together. “Am I?”

“You saved me. It would have been easier to walk away. I know that.”

I huff under my breath. She doesn’t know anything. Especially not the steep price I paid for her freedom.

“That day I found you, I knew there was something unusual about you. Even if you didn’t.” Instead of fear, sadness settles into the creases of her face. Without asking permission, she sits opposite of me.

Deep inside me, something trembles, and a low sob builds. When Miss Tully reaches over and takes my hand, every emotion that’s been locked inside since Mother’s death, rushes out: fear, anxiety, misery. And confusion. So much confusion.

She scoops me into her chest and holds me tight. We sit there, my head pressed against her frail chest, my shoulders heaving, and my tears staining her thin shirt for what seems like hours.

Eventually, I pull away and drag the back of my hand across my face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t behave like that.”

“Never be ashamed of showing your feelings, Lark.” From her pocket she pulls a handkerchief and hands it to me.

Before I can stop myself, I blurt, “I’m a Sensitive.”

Miss Tully braces herself and for a moment, I fear she may have stopped breathing. “Well, that’s not exactly what I meant when I said I knew you were unusual.” Her eyes search my face. “You don’t look frightening.”

An awkward grimace-smile forms on my lips. “You haven’t seen me in action.” My shoulder rises up briefly before falling. “Actually, you have. The storm that hit your home, that was me. Only at the time, I didn’t know it.”

She’s eerily calm. “Kyra and those boys, they’re Sensitives also?”

“Yes.”

“And Tom, her house manager?”

I play with the end of my loose hair. “That was Beck Channing. He has the ability to mask his identity.”

Her mouth drops open. “What in the world is going on? Is he really an enemy of the State or are the two of you working together?”

If Annalise were here, if she tuned into my wristlet and heard this conversation…

“Do you have a full pot of tea?” I ask.

Miss Tully settles back into her seat. “Lucky for you, I do, and I have nowhere to be.”

Maybe Mother and the rest of the witch world had it wrong. Perhaps humans don’t fear us. Maybe we can co-exist.

Or maybe I’m being too trusting again.

#

Dawson pulls another set of data from his tablet and positions it on the massive wallscreen. “These,” he says, pointing at a list, “are the names of humans we caught attempting to break into the Agricultural Center in the Midlands.”

“Because they were hungry?” I ask.

“They were breaking the law.”

I glance at Henry. It’s been two weeks, and I still don’t have a handle on everything. Every decision I make seems wrong. But at least in this matter, I have Henry to guide me.

“Let them go,” I say.

Dawson raises his eyebrows. “I don’t think that’s wise, Miss Lark. You need to show you’re strong.”

“They’re starving, Dawson. The people need to eat. And if we don’t give them food, it only strengthens the Splinter group’s hold on them.” I’ve become more convinced of this during my conversations with Miss Tully. She’s explained how her rations dwindled until, most months, she subsisted on rice and beans. She told me how there’s an underground movement that distributes food to the hungry in exchange for attending their meetings. No one knows how they get it, but no one is asking. Food is food.

I have no doubt this is the Splinter Group, but when I told my advisors, none of them seemed to care.

The wallscreen lights up under his bare hand, transforming from the list of names to a map. “We have severe shortages in these areas.” He touches the wall and almost every inch of our society, save for San Francisco and Calgary, light up. “The easiest solution is to lessen the number of mouths to feed.”

“By letting them starve?” Henry asks. “Or do you propose Lark sends in a battalion of witches to ‘get rid of’ the extra mouths.”

My guard darts his eyes between my uncle and me. “A plague would work equally well. It’s been used in the past.”

I balk. “If we could only get a few more Light witches, I could teach them how to grow food. And under Henry’s guidance, we could train even more”

My guard slams his hand down on my desk. “Damn it, Lark. You wanted to be in charge. That means making hard decisions and not living in a fantasy world of breaking up underground food distribution centers and getting all of the Light witches to somehow accept you.”

Anger bubbles inside me, and I bite my cheek, trying to hold it in. “Can we discuss this again in the morning?”

“Don’t stay up too late.” Henry turns off the wallscreen.

When they’re gone, I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling. Maybe the Council and Sun-Wei were right: I’m not ready. Dawson obviously thinks so. Annalise acts like she supports me, but I’m sure she thinks I’m a disappointment, too.

“You okay?”

I startle upright at Kyra’s voice. “As good as I can be.”

“I guess this isn’t the time to tell you about Annalise’s day with the Council?”

Since we took over the Council, Annalise and Oliver, along with several of Mother’s former guards, have kept them under constant supervision. “What happened?”

“They want an official advisory role.” From the tone of her voice, I can tell this is something she approves of, but doesn’t want to tell me.

I shake my head. “I can’t. Annalise said I need to set up my own committee, with my own people. If I don’t, the Council could wrest control away from us.”
Which may not be a bad idea.

“If you don’t, you may lose the entire Society to the East. Or to the Splinter group.” She shifts her weight. “You need help.”

I throw up my hands. “What do you think Dawson and Oliver and Annalise and Henry are doing, Kyra? Sitting around acting
deso
while I make bad decisions that lead us closer to failure?”

My friend sighs. “I don’t mean them.” She glances away for a moment, as if trying to decide what to say next. “And I’m not sure they’re actually helping you.”

“Since you’re a great political mind, what do
you
suggest, Kyra?” 

She grimaces. “I never thought I’d say this, but maybe you need Beck.”

“That’s your plan? Have you lost your mind?” If it were anyone but Kyra suggesting this to me, I’d question her loyalty and motivation. “He killed my mother, Kyra. He murdered her in cold blood.”

Kyra tilts her head and studies me. “Did he? I was there that day. The two of you looked happy, and he didn’t act like someone who just carried out an assassination.” She lowers her voice. “He didn’t seem like he was about to kill you.”

“Who else would have done it? Ryker? Maz?” I cross my arms. “If either one of them did it, it was on his orders. He’s still responsible.”

Kyra sighs. “It doesn’t make sense, Lark. Think about it. Why would he hurt your mother, when you are his main threat? Why would he do that to you when he claims to love you?”

“He’s a skilled liar and he wanted to prove himself to be a leader. He told me, to my face, that at Summer Hill he hadn’t wanted it, but now he does.” The words sit strangely on my tongue, as if they don’t quite belong there. “It was all a ploy to get me to trust him.”

“No. I’m sure he didn’t do it.” She slips off her wristlet and indicates I do the same. It’s funny, even now, when I technically control all the information and we have secure wristlets, we still feel the need to do this. I hand mine over and she drops them into her satchel.

“Don’t you remember anything about that day? Or anything that happened between the two of you?”

I shake my head. “It’s a big blur. I vaguely remember events. Dr. Hanson said I’ve blocked out my interactions with Beck to protect myself.”

“Dr. Hanson is an idiot.” Kyra straightens herself. “Annalise is keeping you from remembering. Just like Malin did.”

My hands fly up. “Be careful, Kyra. Think about what you’re saying.”

She straightens her shoulders. I’ve never seen her so determined. “It’s just weird, Lark. Not just that Beck would turn on you, but the way you’re acting.” When I begin to interrupt, she cuts me off. “You didn’t hate Beck on your birthday the way everyone said. It wasn’t until after Malin died that you changed.”

The back of my neck smarts from the pressure of my massaging fingers. “I didn’t hate him before?”

“No. That’s why we need to find Beck. He may be able to help you.”

It’s obvious what she’s doing. “You want to find Maz.”

A faint blush creeps across Kyra’s cheeks. “I love him.”

We’ve had this conversation yesterday and the day before and the day before that. Kyra refuses to see Maz as a traitor. “He betrayed us. Both he and Ryker chose to fight with Beck.”

Kyra tugs on one of her curls and lets it spring back into place. “Beck could help you get control of the Light witches. Maybe convince them to come back to the Ag Center. Don’t you want to end the food shortages?”

I lick my lips. “Even if I thought it was a good idea, I can’t let you run around on your own, chasing them. Ryker is an assassin. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

Kyra’s lip quivers. “Maz would never let anyone hurt me. He loves me. Just like Beck loves you.”

“If Beck loved me, he wouldn’t have killed Mother.” My chest tightens and the room suddenly feels ten degrees too hot. Kyra’s onslaught is getting to me.

“Once I find him, you can decide what to do. But let me at least try.”

“Aren’t you worried I’ll do something horrible to Maz if you bring them to me?”

She shakes her head. “You promised you wouldn’t.”

My heart sinks. Kyra is too trusting. And that’s what will get her hurt. Or worse, killed.

Still, her offer is a tempting one. If she can locate Beck and bring him to me, I may be able to force him to work with us on the food shortage issue. If he refuses, I can I parade him across the Sentencing Stage and claim I captured the mastermind of my mother’s death.

Either way, I win.

I shoo Kyra away with the back of my hand. “Fine. Find Beck and bring him here. But
I
want to be the one to question him.”