Spring Rain (25 page)

You changed a Dark witchling to Light. It is
a method of purifying Dark by lessening its hold on someone.

“But I want to be able to help Beck grow the
Light. How can I, if I’m always stuck outside it?”

Sam held out his
hand.
Place your hand on mine.

She obeyed, resting her palm on his downy
fur.

Warmth like Beck’s moved through her:
powerful, relaxing, grounded. Sam appeared to be testing her
magick, prodding and confronting the flames rather than moving
around them. She relaxed and let him work, praying he would come
away with an answer she could live with.

You are so strong,
Morgan,
Sam seemed pleased. His magick
retreated.
I do not have the answer you
seek now, but I can tell you, you are meant to find it. You are
meant to help Beck restore the Light, push back Darkness and to
find your own peace with him at your side. I will help you in what
ways I can. The stone right now can only be handled by you. If that
were to change, if you could bind it well enough, it might open up
more options.

Her eyes watered at the gentle words.

You are on a path only you can travel to a
destination that won’t be clear until you see it.

“So I have to do something. With the
stone?”

You have to trap Bartholomew inside it. It
will take more than fire for this.

“Yeah but there’s Dawn between Bartholomew
and me,” Morgan murmured, thoughts turning to the bigger threat
facing the school and Beck.

She has crossed the point of no return.

“That’s what Beck said. Are you certain I
can’t burn the Dark out of her?”

You cannot. She is no longer Dawn, but a
vessel for Bartholomew. If he hasn’t taken over her mind already,
he will, and the Dawn you know will no longer exist.

Morgan listened, her heart dropping to her
feet. Noah didn’t know his sister was gone; he had agreed to be
burnt to a crisp in the hope of saving her. Morgan wasn’t sure how
she was going to tell him the truth.

But … there was a part of her that accepted
the truth without a fight. Perhaps because she had despised Dawn
since the first time she heard her threaten Beck, or maybe it was
the incidents at the lake in winter. Either way, Morgan wasn’t too
surprised to hear that Dawn was a lost soul.

“I’m not good enough like Beck to feel bad
for her,” she said. “Is that wrong, Sam?”

As long as you always act
out of Light and out of the intention to protect the Light, how you
think is your personal business.
He said
with a chuckle.

“So I can’t burn the Dark out of her, and I
can’t let her have the stone. I feel like that leaves me
nowhere.”

You can protect Beck’s child.

“What?”

Bartholomew is the Darkest of the Dark
souls. He has taken Dawn’s body. I believe her baby is safe inside
her, but when she is born, Bartholomew will have a new vessel. One
that is not being hunted by both Masters, one he can mold and claim
for a second coming.

Morgan’s heart pounded. The scene he painted
was terrifying. She hadn’t paid much attention in class, but the
stories of Bartholomew had interested her, as much because of the
fire witchling that stopped him as the atrocities themselves.

The same skill that lets you bind the soul
stone will let you bind the child in the womb and prevent Darkness
from claiming her.

“Sam, I don’t know how to do that,” she
whispered, sparks popping off her as she began to panic.

We will practice. Starting now. You are
strong, Morgan. Your challenge won’t be learning to do it. It will
be outmaneuvering Bartholomew to bind the child.

“And not burning Beck’s baby to a crisp.”
Her thoughts raced for a moment, and she had the urge to run, until
she realized this might be the only way she could help Beck, since
she was sentenced away from the Light. “Teach me.”

This will take some time and practice. And
bending your will and magick to that of another.

She considered his words.
“I can do it,” she said fearfully. “I can let go.”
I did it for Beck last night. I fell – and he
caught me.
“Let’s do this, Sam.” She said,
mirroring Noah’s willingness and uncertainty from the night
before.

Sit down and release your
magick.
Sam squeezed her hand.

Heart racing, she obeyed and closed her
eyes, starting to sweat from the fear of being vulnerable to
someone else.

Call for your fire and
visualize it forming around our hands
, Sam
instructed her.

“Beck did a visualization exercise with me
when I first got to the school, and I tried it again yesterday with
Noah,” she murmured. “It didn’t work so well.”

Let me guide your magick so you can
experience what it should feel like.

Morgan summoned her fire. It raced through
her body and sizzled in the air around them. Sam’s gentle earth
magick pushed and channeled it.

It is as much intention as
it is fire,
he told her.
You need to will it to do what you
wish.

“I’ll try.” She felt his magick yield to
give her room to practice and made an attempt to shape it around
their hands. It sparked and flew off in a different direction, and
she sighed in frustration.

Calm your center.

She tried again, and the fire fizzled and
spun angrily away.

Sam’s magick
increased.
It is possible the fire is too
strong,
he mused.
Remain open. Let me test it.

She waited to feel what he did. Earth magick
swept into her, as strong as Beck’s, suppressing the flames. She
relaxed under the influence of warmth. “Beck does that,” she
murmured, enjoying the temporary relief from the constant pacing
and pulling of fire in her blood.

Can Beck tame it completely?

“Yeah.”

I cannot.

Morgan opened her eyes at the statement.
“But why not?” she asked dismayed. “Are you saying I’ll never be
able to control it?”

It is not a bad thing. It
is to be expected that the most powerful fire witchling since
Tranin is too strong for even me to control.
He chortled.
What color were the
flames you used to burn the Dark out of the witchling
Noah?

“Purple then purple-black tipped with white
… tipped with a rainbow then boom. Pure white,” she said, recalling
the change in colors from the night before.

You burn hot enough to create Light.

“What? How?”

Light is energy. You burn hot enough to fry
the impurities in the energy.

“I create Light. Like Beck does,” she said,
starting to smile. “You’re serious.”

I am.

“But I can’t control it?”

Only the Master of Light can control Light.
You can create it and burn the Dark out of others, but Beck alone
can manage your Light. I know of no other witchling in the past
thousand years who had this ability who wasn’t also a Master or
Mistress.

He released her hand.

“So how do I bind something if I can’t
control it?” she asked, disappointed.

You and Beck can work together.

“What if we can’t work together, Sam? What
if I confront Dawn alone and try to bind her baby?”

Then do so carefully. You have some measure
of control until you burn white. At that point, you cannot control.
Learn to keep the flame purple. It will be hot enough to bind, but
it will also destroy a person’s body. You need a healer with you if
you are to try this on anyone.

She swallowed hard. She needed time to
practice and felt like she had no time whatsoever to learn to
master her magick.

“Burn purple.” She lifted her hand and
focused on calling forth the purple flame then controlling it. Beck
had been able to form visions, complete images, with his magick.
She struggled to direct hers to go one direction or the other. The
white fire had been happy to chase the Darkness out of Noah, hungry
for the Dark in his blood. She strained to make the purple magick
hug her arm without touching her skin. “Sam, I’m scared.” She
lowered her arm. “I’m afraid I’ll let Beck down or hurt his baby if
I try to bind her.”

There are risks when you
deal with magick this powerful,
Sam
acknowledged.
But you would not have this
gift if you couldn’t handle it. You need to learn to work with
Beck. It’s your best chance at defeating Bartholomew.

She made a sound of disgust. “So I guess
he’s right. I do have to stick around.”

Sam laughed.

Morgan suppressed a pleased smile, thrilled
whenever she thought of spending another night with Beck. “I just
wish I was able to do more. Go to the Light. Something.”

Your duty is sacred. You will learn to
manage.

“I hope so.” Hurting Beck wasn’t an option.
The mere thought robbed her of breath and made her want to weep. He
was too good, too Light, to suffer.

“Morgan!” the cry was familiar.

She turned to face the direction she’d come.
“Connor?”

I must leave.

“Wait, Sam!” she rose frantically. “You have
to show me more! Or practice with me!”

Family is
important,
he said.
Go see your brother, then come back here. I’ll be
close.

She hesitated, torn between the excitement
of seeing her brother once more and the need to learn her duty to
help Beck.

Sam made the choice for her and turned,
walking deeper into the forest.

Morgan spun and ran towards the cabin. She
spotted Conner not far from the road. Her brother was pale, his
dark hair trimmed and green eyes riveted to her. He looked ready to
have a heart attack. Michael Turner was near the cabin, watching
with a smile. He turned and disappeared into the depths of the
house.

“Connor!” she exclaimed and dashed to her
brother. Joy replaced her worry. Without waiting for him to digest
she was alive, she flung herself into his arms.

Connor hugged her hard enough she could
barely breathe. He was murmuring her name, and she heard his voice
crack as he began to cry.

The sight of her strong, caring brother in
tears undid her. Morgan breathed in his familiar scent and began to
cry as well.

“What the … hell happened?” he whispered in
anguish. “My god, Morgan! How are you … alive?”

She squeezed him, unable to speak, and let
her brother support her as they cried together in the forest.

Biji didn’t notice the drop in temperature
or the fact they were the only ones in the cafe. Her eyes were on
Noah’s handsome features as she pulled out the chair to the
table.

“Don’t get comfortable.”

She froze at the familiar voice and turned.
“Dawn!”

The Dark air witchling was flanked by at
least seven other witchlings, dressed all in black with her very
pregnant belly protruding. Her features were pale, her blonde hair
pulled back in a messy ponytail.

Her once beautiful blue-grey eyes were
black, and the inky ebony hue filled the whites of her eyes. Biji
shuddered internally as the black gaze shifted from Noah to
her.

“Get the humans out of here,” Dawn ordered
one of her men, indicating the waitress and cook looking on.

“Dawn,” Noah’s tone was hushed as he stepped
in front of Biji.

“Your time is up, boy. Dawn asked me not to
hurt you – unless it’s self defense. I find you too troublesome to
care what she wants especially since you betrayed us,” Dawn spoke
words Biji knew were Bartholomew’s.

“Where is she? Is she gone?” Biji asked,
edging around Noah.

He took her hand to keep her beside him.

“You could say that,” was the chilling
response. “Take the girl. You get one chance to walk away,
Noah.”

The Dark witchlings closed in around them.
Biji stepped out in front of Noah, not wanting him to get hurt if
he had a chance to escape.

“No way,” Noah replied.

“Noah, go,” Biji peered up at them. “I can
take care of myself.” She was gathering her air magick as she
spoke, testing the power of those around her. At least one was also
air magick, which her element was able to sense.

“Like hell you can,” he retorted. “Who
almost froze to death in December?”

She rolled her eyes. “Then go get help!”

“I’m not leaving you, Biji.” He gazed down
at her. “I’ve risked everything to be here right now, and I’m not
going anywhere.”

Any other time, she’d swoon over the words.
But right now, Biji viewed his ill-fated heroics as annoying.
“Fine. Stay and end up murdered with me! You think I want
that?”

“I don’t care.” Noah faced his sister once
more. “If you take her, you take me.”

“Done,” Bartholomew said.

The Dark witchlings approached. One snatched
Biji’s arm. She yanked away, and Noah nudged her behind him again.
“We can walk. We don’t need to be forced,” he said.

“Fine. Go.”

Biji glanced at Noah once more. She wasn’t
about to tell him her plan: if she were alone, she’d have a shot at
flying away, assuming she could catch the Dark air witchling with
Dawn off guard. But she doubted she was going to fly with Noah’s
weight. She’d never tried to fly with anyone else before.

Worse, he was now in as much danger as she
was. She didn’t think she could live with knowing she might’ve
saved them both if she had known to practice flying with someone
else before this.

The Dark witchlings herded them out of the
café and into the parking lot. The storm overhead had broken, and
rain dropped from the sky. It was colder out than when they’d gone
into the café, and the rain left strange puffs of fog in its wake
as it landed.