Larkstorm (11 page)

I knew I was being followed, and now he believes it too.

“Callum
—
what? Where did you come from?” I resist the urge to fly at him and beat my fists against his chest. Callum can’t see me angry. He needs to believe he doesn’t scare me. “Where’s Annalise?” I scan for my beautiful sister-in-law among the crowd.

The corners of Callum’s mouth move upward in a sliver of a smile. He holds me at arm’s length and runs his eyes over me in a peculiar manner. Shivers race along my back. If only I had Beck’s warm arm wrapped around me now.

“Annalise is
attending
to things.” He pats my head, much like Maz did last night, and straightens his coat.

Maz slinks further away and turns to run but slips on the ice.

I’m suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of panic. It gathers with my anger and grows in intensity before pushing out from my chest
—
sharp points looking for a target.

Calm. Stay calm. I can’t let Callum know I’m frightened. And I can’t let him notice Maz.

“Have you come for me?” I ask.

“Of course. Can’t let you go running off after someone like Beck.” He waits for me to answer; his blue eyes bore into me.

I fold my arms across my chest and stand with my legs wide. I feel powerful like this, much bigger than I am. I don’t move my eyes from his. “I’m not going with you.”

“Look at my little sister.” Callum flashes his icy grin. “All grown up.”

It’s obvious he doesn’t see me as a threat. And why would he? I’m so much smaller than he is. But that can work for me. Like in wrestling
—
no one expects a small person to be stronger or faster. Maybe the best thing to do is be direct and catch him off guard. “What do you want, Callum? I know you and Annalise accused Beck.”

His eyes dance beneath his sculpted eyebrows and he chuckles. “We couldn’t have you paired off with someone like that. Bad for the family.”

“And since when did any of you ever give me much thought? Beyond the fact that I’m birth-mated to another Founder’s descendant
,
which is great for Mother’s political career.”

“That’s not the case anymore, is it?” Callum adjust
s
his scarf and his eyes soften. “Mother sent me to bring you home. She wants to help you.”

“She can help? How?” I keep my face blank. Since Maz first suggested it, I’ve had time to ponder involving my mother. But I don’t know how she can give me what I want most: Beck.

“Mother can fix this
—
you can still claim a spot in State, if you want. She’ll see to it.” His tense posture contrasts with the soothing sound of his voice. “She can even find you a more suitable mate.”

 
“A different mate? Mother wants to pair me with someone else?” I choke out the words.

Callum clenches his jaw. “Don’t act surprised. You are not compatible with Beck. And you’re not legally bound yet. Surely you understand.”

His words work their way into my mind. Each one presses down harder than the previous.

A different mate, just like Bethina and Maz said. The idea rubs an already raw spot in my heart
—
Beck is my mate. I can’t possibly be with anyone else.

“Best you come home until we can get this all sorted out.”

Home. To San Francisco. To my mother who can make everything better. It almost makes perfect sense. The best thing to do is let Mother figure this mess out. I can still have a career and a future.

But not with Beck. And he’s the only thing I want.

I need to get away from Callum. If I stay, I’ll never see Beck again. Maybe if I go along with him…I bite my lip and nod. “Right. We need a plan.”

His lips curl back to reveal perfectly straight white teeth. “Exactly. A plan. Mother has some ideas and she’s anxious to see you.”

Something in his tone alarms me. Beck was right to not trust Callum. There’s something wrong with him.

I assess my situation. All I need is for Callum to relax and let his guard down. My mind flies through a series of questions, trying to pick the best one.

“Were you on the train? How did you know where I was? I don’t have my wristlet.”

Aggravation settles into his features and ages him beyond his twenty-two years.

“No, I wasn’t.” He glares at me.

It was the wrong question.

“Finding you was easy, Lark. We expected you to try to reach him. Of course you’d come here.”

With great effort, I keep my face empty, without emotion, while I ponder his use of ‘we.’ Did he mean he and Annalise, or he and my mother, or all of them?

“We should go see Mother. She’ll know what to do.” I give Callum my best high-voltage smile and hope he believes me.

Callum extends his arm and waits for me to take it. His cool blue eyes skim over my shoulder to something behind me.

“Shall we?” he asks.

It’s my chance to run. Maz stands just beyond Callum, and if I can get to him first, we can disappear into the crowd.

I use all my strength and shove Callum. Before he can respond, he’s flat on the ground, gasping. Beck would be proud
—
all those years of wrestling paid off.

“Run, Maz! Run!” I sprint toward him, slipping but staying upright.

But I’m not moving. The air is heavy and my body feels as if it’s submerged in water. All around me people walk normally, but I struggle to take a step.

In front of me, Maz holds his leg up midstep. He’s trapped also. And terrified.

“Lark,” he says before falling in slow motion.

“Maz!” My head swivels toward Callum.

He smirks and looks to my right. I turn. Annalise waves at me from the next platform.

“Heya, Lark! So nice of you to stick around.” Her body sways in a slow circle. The air around me tightens like a boa constrictor squeezing its prey.

Fury. Absolute anger grows in my heart, like a million fireballs erupting from a volcano.

“You! You did this?” I scream.

My brother appears at her side and kisses her hand. His cheerful voice rings out, “Surprise!”

“Callum, your mate
—
she’s a Sensitive?” My words hang in the air as I frantically try to get someone, anyone’s attention. But no one’s looking at us. How can they not see this?

The squeezing intensifies and forces the oxygen from my lungs. If this lasts much longer, I’ll be unconscious.

Callum touches his lips with his forefinger and winks. “Shhh…Birdie, don’t tell.”

Annalise’s laugh echoes off the cold, hard surfaces of the gleaming train station.
 

The shell around my heart shatters.

“
Don’t call me Birdie
!”

A thundering snap resonates through the station and still, no one even looks at us. With one final squeeze, the thick, suffocating air releases me, and I stumble. Somehow, for some reason, Annalise has let me go. I don’t waste time wondering why, and once steady on my feet, I run.

I look back at Maz. Callum and Annalise flank either side of him. They hold him upright and he looks terrified. I hesitate and debate whether to go back for him.

Go
, Maz mouths.

And I do.

13

The smell of fresh hay teases my nose and my eyelids drift open. I’m in a barn, curled up in a clean stall empty of animals.

As I stand and stretch, the image of Annalise on the platform, surrounded by the snow, resurfaces like a bad dream.

She’s one of them. And Callum knows and doesn’t mind, just like Maz doesn’t mind about Kyra. And yet they’re trying to keep me from my Sensitive mate. Why?

 
Unsure of the time, I sneak to the edge of the barn door, hiding in the deep shadows, and peer outside. The snow’s gone and it’s still light outside
—
probably late afternoon. The vacant barnyard shimmers like a mirage under the unrelenting sun. For someone like me, who prefers winter, it’s too warm. But it seems safe, and for now, that’s all I can ask.

I pass an extra bale of hay and decide to lug it back to my stall. It’ll make a good bench. It’s too hot for long sleeves, so I change into my t-shirt and pull my hair up into a ponytail.

Better.

I find a dinner roll Maz must have placed in my backpack and take a nibble. That small discovery reminds me of him, terrified and helpless on the platform. I know he told me to go, but I feel awful about leaving him. Callum wanted me, not him. Maybe if I had given myself up, they would have released him. And then he could have found Beck and told him how I tried to find him.

I break off a piece of roll and pop it in my mouth. What do Callum and Annalise want with me, anyway? It can’t just be that Mother wants me home. Annalise wouldn’t dare show her Sensitivity for something like that. The risk is too great. There has to be something more.

Maybe they’re trying to keep me from Beck because they know I’ll try to make him good? Maybe they want him to be bad so he can work with them? Maybe Annalise is mind-controlling Callum, my mother and everyone else in hopes of assuming Head of State?

I realize, for the first time, I have no idea what Sensitives can actually do beyond vague notions of ‘destroy the world,’ ‘kill us,’ ‘control us,’ and the like. We never actually learned about their specific abilities in school.

The jangling of keys startles me and a tight ball forms in the pit of my stomach. I hide myself in the furthest corner of the stall and cover my legs with loose hay. The noise comes closer and stops at the stall next to mine.

On the other side of the slats, an old woman stands next to a wheelbarrow. She’s dressed like a farmer
—
knee-high rubber boots, wool jacket over a loose cotton shirt, hair pulled into a braid. Only an old lady would wear
such
a jacket in this heat. Still, I’d hoped someday to wear an outfit like that.

A sigh escapes my lips.

“Is somebody here?” she asks.

I pause and weigh the risks. She looks harmless, but you never know. Sensitives are everywhere.

She calls again. I watch her through the narrow gaps of the stall while analyzing the situation.

I need help. I have no idea where I am or how to get to Summer Hill. Maybe, living out here away from the major towns, this old woman won’t recognize me?

“Yes,” I say softly, half hoping she doesn’t hear me and turns away.

 
She inches over to my stall.

The woman clenches her hands over her heart and drops her keys. Her mouth hangs open.

I leap to her side, concerned I’ve given this poor elderly woman a heart attack.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that I’m lost and–”

“Oh good gracious, child!” She grabs my hands. “Do you know how worried everyone is? Your poor mother has been on TV begging for your safe return and here you are hiding in my barn!”

“What?” I stammer. So much for my hope she won’t recognize me.

“Let’s get you up to the house. We’ll ping the authorities and get you back where you belong.” She pulls me toward the barn door.

I attempt to process what little information she’s given me. My mother’s been on TV asking for my safe return. As if I’d been…kidnapped.

“You must be terrified.” She pats my hand gently. “I saw the look of that boy they caught at the train station. Shifty fellow. You can tell by the eyes.”

“At the train station? Maz?” I say. What is going on? Maz is being accused of kidnapping me?

“Him and all those others.”

I let her lead me toward the barn door. The old woman pauses mid-step. “What in the world? Where did this come from?”

Long, spiky points of ice hang from tree branches as if waiting to impale the next passerby. It coats the ground, slick and dangerous. An obstacle course of death.

Like the destruction left by the Long Winter.

Then it hits me.

The snow is connected to Annalise
—
she somehow controls the weather. Every time she’s around, it’s as if the icy, cold edge hidden beneath her silky purr manifests into a roaring storm.

It makes sense
—
the strange dancing snow at school, the freak ice storm that caused the train delay
—
all Annalise. That’s her magic.

Pangs of panic rise in me. She’s coming for me.

“I have to go,” I say, as I scan the storm. Annalise could be just outside the door, and I wouldn’t know it.

“Nonsense.” The woman’s watery blue eyes question my motives more than her words do. “Let’s get inside and ping Ms. Greene.” She holds up her wrist, exposing her blue wristlet
—
mated but not a States woman. A common worker. “This storm seems to be interfering with my wristlet. We’ll have to ping from the wall screen.” She smiles at me again. “Ms. Greene is going to be relieved to know you’re alright.”

I can’t think of any way to refuse without causing her physical harm. And I don’t want to hurt this woman.

I follow her blindly, through the snow, to her house. The sun is now but a faint glowing orb obscured by the gusting snow. The transformation from sweltering summer to frozen winter is unnerving.

“Poor thing! You’re shaking like a leaf!”

I hold my hands in front of me. They tremble, but not from the cold.

It’s because I’m trapped.

The woman leads me up the side stairs and into the house. The warmth of her tiny kitchen greets me, a sharp contrast to the blustering storm outside. She points to a small table shoved against a wall.

“Have a seat.” She picks up the kettle. “Would you like tea?”

“Yes, thank you.”

My mind races. I need to get out of here. I can’t let her call my mother.

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything to eat, my food ration has been cut and…” She looks at me apologetically, as if I should understand.

“You don’t have enough food?” I ask. How is that possible? The State provides for everyone.

“No, of course I do,” she stammers and stares at the table. “Where are my manners?” Her lips curve up gently. “I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Miss Tully.” She offers her hand in greeting.

“Thank you, Miss Tully. It’s very kind of you to take me in.”

“It’s the least I could do. Especially after seeing that story. The way those
–
” Her mouth puckers as if tasting something bad. “
–
those Sensitives, took you like that. You’re lucky someone found your wristlet. Such a smart girl leaving a clue like that.”

She beams at me, impressed by my craftiness. The safest thing to do is play along with the kidnapped scenario. But my heart sinks. How much trouble is Maz in?

“Well, I needed to think fast,” I say.

“Like a true leader,” she says, her wide smile growing.

I eye her wristlet. “Is your mate home, too?”

“Oh, no. She died many, many years ago.” She sets her cup down on the table and shuffles to the wall
screen. “I need to find the hotline number for the authorities. I bet you can’t wait to get home.”

I nod and hope I appear grateful, but my heart hammers in my chest. I have to get out of here. Before she calls Mother.

Miss Tully fidgets with the wall screen’s manual controls. Nothing happens and I give a silent prayer of thanks. The feed must be down.

My relief is short lived when an image flickers on the screen. The storm causes it to fade in-and-out before solidifying. But when it does, my mouth drops open.

There, on the screen, is Beck leisurely walking back to our house. His head’s down, as if lost in thought. How can that be? What’s he doing there?

The newscaster speaks over the image. “We’ve attempted several times to contact Beck Channing, the missing girl’s mate, but he remains in seclusion, unwilling to take interviews.”

I study Beck’s image closer. Something about it isn’t right. He walks up the front stairs, his backpack slung over his shoulder. He reaches the door and enters.

 
The backpack! It’s the one I left in the barn. He can’t be carrying it because I have it. Beck’s not at home. This is an old feed. But why and when did they shoot this?

I move closer to the wall screen and hope the hotline number doesn’t come up anytime soon.

“He’s rather handsome,” Miss Tully says. “You’re a lucky girl.”

Unable to tear my eyes from the screen, I mumble, “Yeah, he’s great.”

Beck’s image disappears from the screen. In its place are headshots of Kyra, Maz, Ryker and two other students who I recognize but don’t know. Under their pictures are the words “Accused Sensitives: Kidnapping Suspects.” So they’re saying Maz kidnapped me
and
is Sensitive?

Miss Tully jabs her finger at the screen. “Those children need to be punished for trying to abduct you! And the sum of money they tried getting from your family. Despicable!”

I sort through the information. There are five pictures on the screen. Five, including Maz. Five. The same number as the Sensitives discovered at school. And Beck’s not included.

Maz’s words ring in my ears:
I bet she’s in major damage control mode right now.

That’s what this is. Mother’s damage control. No one knows Beck is Sensitive. And I didn’t run off. I was abducted as part of a plot by Sensitives to extort money from my family.

On cue, Mother’s image appears. She looks haggard. Strands of her normally neat blonde hair have fallen out of her chignon. Dark circles line her blue eyes.

“We just want Lark back. Safely. Please.” She clutches a lace-trimmed handkerchief to her mouth and turns from the cameras as if to hide tears. My mother never cries. She’s the backbone of our society, the one people turn to for strength. Even when the last Head of State was assassinated, she didn’t shed a tear. She kept right on doing her job.

And yet, she’s on the wall
screen, crying about me.

Newscasters shout questions at her, but she refuses to answer and disappears into the center of her security detail.

I watch some more interviews
—
the ticket agent who sold me my fare and insists he thought I was being controlled by “unnatural forces.” The bartender in the dining car who noticed Maz and I arguing
,
but feared for his own safety. And so on. Each interview more fantastic than the last. The only person they didn’t interview, besides Beck, is Bethina. Even some of my housemates posed for the cameras.

The teakettle whistles and Miss Tully pours two mugs. I look outside. The storm rages, but if I want to get to Summer Hill, I don’t have a choice.

“Miss Tully?”

“Yes, dear,” she says.

“I believe I came here once, as a child. On a field trip. We stopped at Summer Hill. Is that very far?”

“Is that where you were headed? To that old relic?” She stirs her tea.

“Yes. It was the only place I could think to go in this area. After I made my escape.” It’s not exactly a lie, I think.

“I never understood why people make such a fuss over pre-Long Winter artifacts. Who’d want to live surrounded by all those old things?”

I smile politely, not wanting to sound like I’m prying for information.

“Well.” She stops stirring her tea and takes a sip. “You were headed in the right direction. It’s normally about an hour by foot. But I don’t think you would have found it. The trail is behind the barn. You can’t see it from the road.”

“Oh.” I pretend to look relieved. “Good thing I didn’t wander out then. Especially with this storm.”

The Newscaster interrupts us. “If you have any information about the location of Lark Greene…”

Miss Tully scurries across the room to the wall screen controls in anticipation. “Please contact the San Francisco Missing Person’s Bureau.” A number flashes across the screen and Miss Tully taps on her wristlet.

“Oh nutter,” she mumbles. I hope that means she needs to re-enter the number.

I have to go. Now. Fast. If Miss Tully calls, it could be mere minutes before Annalise and Callum arrive. Because if the blizzard outside is any indication, they must be near.