Larkstorm (18 page)

My breath catches and my knees wobble. I killed this boy’s mother. Even if it was an accident and in self-defense. “I’m-”

“Sorry?” he asks in disbelief. “You’re not. You would kill all of us, if given the chance.”

I shake my head. “No. You don’t understand. She threatened me.”

The boy lifts his eyes. Unshed tears glisten in his eyes. An older woman lays her arm across his shoulders and he buries his head into her armpit. A long, low sob fills the air.

I killed his mother.

More than ever, I want to disappear. And transporting seems like my best option at the moment. I close my eyes and focus on moving as far from this boy
—
and these other witches
—
as possible.

I concentrate on the tree and do exactly what Dasha said. But nothing. I’m still standing in the same spot.

Dasha appears next to me. “Are you trying? Or is this a big game to you? Movement should be easy with your capabilities.”

Someone in the crowd attempts to cover up their laugh with a cough. Great. Not only am I failing, I’m doing it front of an audience.

“Of course I’m trying! I have no idea what you did. It’s not like you
explained
it or anything.” Anger boils inside me.

“Try again. Failure is not an option.” She takes a step back from me. “Focus your mind, Lark. You can do this.”

The anger seeps through my brain. I’m not sure if I’m mad at Dasha for accusing me of not trying or myself for incompetence. With a deep breath, I clear all my hostile thoughts and focus on the tree.

The air rushes over my skin. A small movement and then a horrible, searing pain as I smack into an invisible barrier. I crumple on the ground a good ten feet from the tree. Blood clogs my throat and runs down my face.

“Oh my!” Dasha leans over me but doesn’t touch me. “What happened?”

I try to answer but blood pours down my throat and I gag. Unfamiliar faces lean over me to get a better look at my injuries.

I hear someone say, “That’s what she gets.”

No one offers to help me. And why would they? They hate me.

And then a man’s velvety voice says, “Perhaps I can help?”

“Oh thank the stars! Eamon.” Dasha’s voice darts between fear and concern. “I don’t know what happened. She seemed to be doing fine and then this!” She says ‘this’ as if I planned to cause myself bodily harm.

“We haven’t been properly introduced,” he says to me. “Eamon Winchell, healer.” He tugs on his red tunic. “Member of the Northern society.”

A healer. Right now, I don’t care who he is, along as he can make the throbbing pain stop.

Eamon bends and examines my nose without touching me. The bronze highlights in his hair shimmer and I try to concentrate on that as he holds his hand inches above my body
.
“Your arm is broken. And your nose
,
too.”

Dasha wrings her hands. “Can you fix it? Please say you can fix it.”

“Not a problem.” His blue eyes rest on my face. “I’m going to touch you. Don’t move.”

I lean to the side and vomit blood. Stinging tears well in my eyes. “I’ll try.”

“Give us room,” he says to the crowd and they immediately back up. Eamon places his hand on my arm. Under his touch, pressure builds until a snapping sensation takes over. My bone vibrates, mending itself. He watches me closely.

 
“Don’t move or I’ll have to re-break it.” His lips twitch into a smile before pressing together.

I focus on my breathing. In and out. In and out. The vibrating shakes my arm, shoulder, and torso in an uncomfortable but not painful way. It’s hard to stay still with my body shaking uncontrollably.

Eamon lifts his hand. “Can you bend it? Does it hurt?”

Gently, I lift my arm. It feels fine. As if nothing happened. I whip my head up to thank him and am overcome with nausea as blood pours down my throat again.

“Your nose is going to be harder.” He leans in close to me and places his hands on my cheeks. “You must hold still, no matter what. We don’t want to ruin your pretty face.”

“Eamon,” Dasha interrupts. “Should I get Margo? Let her know what happened?”

“Yes. But tell her Lark is fine.”

Dasha disappears.

“Now. Let’s see.” Eamon’s eyes glare at me, full of hate.

I instinctively pull away from him.

“Now, now
Alouette.
No need to be difficult.” He mockingly slaps my cheek. Pain shoots through my nose and into my eyes. More laughing from the group around us.

Through clenched teeth, I sputter, “My name is Lark.”

“
Alouette
. Lark.
C’est la même chose
,” he says, his voice like honey as speaks the official language of the nearly non-existent Northern Society
—
one I don’t understand but recognize. “You still need to be a good patient and listen to what I tell you. Never know what will happen if you don’t.”

I tense. “You don’t like me.”

“No one said I had to like you. I just have to do my job.” His hand glides over my nose and the bleeding stops. A flick of his wrist and pain ripples through my head. I scream and cover my face with my hands, in an effort to block whatever he’s doing to me.

“Move your hands or I can’t fix it.”

I grit my teeth and lower my hands, prepared to cover my face again if the pain returns. I can’t open my eyes, but I feel Eamon’s breath as he leans over me. A strong vibration runs through my cheeks and nose, but this time it doesn’t hurt.

I open my eyes as he stands up. Behind Eamon, Dasha and Mrs. Channing appear. There’s no sign of the other witches who surrounded us just moments ago. And still no Beck. It’s like he’s vanished and left me here all alone.

Mrs. Channing blanches. “Let’s get you cleaned up. You’re covered in blood.” She turns to Eamon. “Thank you, Eamon. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

He tilts his head at the women and disappears, leaving nothing behind but a faint rustling sound and a cold lump in my chest.

22

Time passes quickly at Summer Hill. The days slip away, bringing us closer to October and mine and Beck’s birthday. Closer to whatever’s waiting for us. Days I can never get back.

This morning I’m supposed to work with Eloise. I’ve given up on seeing Beck. Either the Channings really are keeping us separated, or like everyone else, he’s afraid of me. I want to believe it’s the first reason.

As I cross the expansive South Lawn to my next lesson, I’m not sure what to expect. After my experiences with Dasha and several other teachers, I’m not optimistic about my lessons. I’m either too hopeless to learn magic or my teachers are too afraid of me. Regardless, when it comes to magic, I’m a miserable failure.

All I want right now is to learn how to control myself. Maybe that will be enough to keep Beck safe and me from falling deeper into darkness. I really don’t know since no one’s told me anything and I haven’t been able to find Bethina. My stomach knots at the thought of her abandoning me here. Surely she wouldn’t do that?

The sun moves higher in the sky and its unrelenting rays beat on me. Other than the ever-present crickets and butterflies, there’s no one here.

Huh, maybe I’m in the wrong place. I scan the field one more time and then turn to head back toward the house. Mrs. Channing will know where I’m supposed to be.

A faint rustle causes me to turn. I recognize the sound of a witch materializing near me.

Crouched low in the swaying grass is the copper-haired witch, the one who waved at me during breakfast last week. In the sunlight, her wavy hair shimmers like the vintage pennies Mr. Channing collects and displays in little glass boxes on the walls.

“Oh, heya, Lark.” She stands and dusts her hands on her short
—
like barely-covering-her
short
—
skirt. Kyra would love it. “I’m sorry I’m late. I hope you didn’t have to wait long.”

She offers me her hand in greeting.

I stare at it. Is this a trick? Surely she can’t be that comfortable around me. No one is. She waits, her big eyes friendly.

Everything about her reminds me of Kyra. Not in looks, but in bubbliness. Loneliness gnaws at me
—
what I wouldn’t give to have Kyra here right now. She’d have a thing or two to say about my current situation, I’m sure, and I’d love to see Mrs. Channing take her on. Kyra can wear anyone down.

I hesitantly accept Eloise’s greeting and shake her hand.

“Sorry, it took me a lot longer to repair the dome than I thought it would.” She has the same faint accent as Eamon and I wonder if they’re friends.

Eloise flings herself back into the grass, her fingers point upward. “See up there?”

I squint, my head tilted back, looking for what she sees.

“It was getting weak and the Channings were worried that it may not hold out the Dark witches. But I took care of it.” Her lilting voice is full of pride.

 
My mind races with that information. There are Dark witches on the other side?

I stare upward, but see nothing except bright blue sky. They’re out there. Waiting. That can’t be good.

“Yeah, can’t have Dark witches mixing with Light witches, you know,” I say, half-joking, but more serious.

“You’re funny.” Eloise laughs and shakes her head. “So, what do you want to do first? Protection charms, weather enchantments, you name it, we’ll do it.” Her smile extends from ear to ear and seems genuine. I can’t help but smile back, not just because she’s so likeable, but because I miss having someone to smile with.

My heart drops. If Beck were here, I’d have someone. “Well, since I can’t really seem to do anything, why don’t you pick something and I’ll give it a try.”

Eloise rubs her hands together, like she’s warming up and then closes her eyes tight. She’s quiet for a moment and I wonder if I’m supposed to do the same.

“I know!” she says suddenly. “Beck told me you can manipulate weather. Let’s give that a try.”

She stands on her toes and reaches both hands over her head. With measured steps, she turns in a silent slow dance. Her face is blank and her blue-gray eyes fix on a spot in the distance. Eloise’s tiny body vibrates and blurs in front of me.

“And voila.” She makes a grand flourish in my direction. “What do you think? Wanna try?”

I look around and try to figure out what she did. The sun looks the same, perhaps a bit higher, but still bright in the sky. I feel no wind and see no snow.

“Ummm, Eloise? What did you do?”

She laughs, a soft trilling sound, and points beyond the house. In the distance I see not one rainbow but two, interlinked and forming an ‘m’ shape.

“
That
is no small feat on a sunny day like today.”

Rainbows. This much-too-pretty witch wants me to create a rainbow? What a waste of time. I laugh out loud at the absurdity.

“That’s great and all. But apparently I can cause earthquakes, storms, blizzards
—
powerful, destructive stuff. I don’t see how playing with rainbows is going to help me.”

To my surprise, she’s nonplussed. “Oh, it’s completely relevant, Lark. Really. You just need to be able to
feel
where your power comes from. Once you can do that, you’ll be able to better control it. That’s what we’ve all been trying to teach you.”

I’m not sure how moving around by thought or inventing rainbows or any of the other lessons I’ve been subjected to achieve this. But what do I know?

“Isn’t that dangerous?” I frown. “Beck told me Dark witches draw power from fear and anger.”

“Each of us have a different way of accessing our power. For me, it’s something happy, like dancing.” She pirouettes. “Do you know what yours is?”

“I think the main problem is I wasn’t aware of what I was doing when I used my powers.”

She crosses her arms. “Maybe you should think about what was happening. Maybe that will give you a clue.”

The desire to be a good student surfaces. If I can figure out how to control this power, than maybe I can keep Beck safe. With a deep breath, I channel my concentration.

I was trying to get to Beck.

My heart whirls.

I was angry that they were keeping him from me.

A sharp pulse stabs me.

I have to stay away from him.

There’s an intense pull, deep inside me, and then it’s gone. My heart slows to normal and I fall forward, landing on my hands and knees. My breath exits my lungs in one giant whoosh
—
I didn’t realize I had been holding it.

“Interesting.” Eloise crouches next to me. She offers me her hand and helps me up. “What were you thinking about?”

I smooth my dress and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Beck. Or rather, how angry I am about Beck being kept from me.”

She tilts her head and looks up toward the sky. “Were you concerned or worried about him?”

“I guess so, why?”

Her eyes wander over toward the East Lawn. Even from this distance, I can see Beck playing a chasing game with his younger sister, Bea. Her blond braids move in opposite directions as she dodges past him.

My pulse races and I start walking through the shorter meadow grass toward him
—
not caring about the promise I made to the Channings.

A loose group of witches surrounds him and he says something, which apparently is funny, because they all start laughing. Beck grabs Bea and tickles her. Her shrieks and laughs drown out all other noises.

Well, isn’t that nice? He’s off having fun and I’m stuck getting my nose broken and being treated like a dangerous criminal.

I’m halfway across the lawn when something invisible yanks me back. I struggle against it, pushing back, but its grip tightens until I double over and gasp for breath.

Eloise jogs to my side and helps me up. “You okay?”

I don’t answer. My eyes narrow into slits. A girl stands next to Beck, her glossy, golden hair blows in the light breeze.

“Who’s that?” I don’t disguise my jealousy.

“Oh, her. That’s Quinn. She’s an amazing singer.” Eloise twists her hair into a loose bun.

“Really?” A small, hot mass lodges itself in my heart. This girl, Quinn the great singer, is standing too close to Beck. I clench my fists. Quinn laughs and reaches out to touch him. When her hand brushes his back, she jumps back as if shocked. Unaware, Beck continues playing with Bea.

Eloise squeals in delight. “You did that, didn’t you?”

I shrug.

“Oh, yes you did!” She puts her hand up, waiting for a high-five.

I ignore Eloise and try calming myself by rubbing my pendant. The hatred toward Quinn lingers, so I turn my back on the scene across the lawn and ball my fists against my thighs.
You’re stronger than this, Lark. You don’t need to give into these emotions.

Shame floods my conscience. “You think that’s a good thing? What kind of teacher are you? I hurt that girl!”

Eloise draws her eyebrows together and tiny wrinkles appear between her eyes. “Okay, so what would you say if I told you I invented Quinn? That only we could see her?”

“You what?” I look back at Beck and his group. Quinn stands in the same place, not moving. No one pays her any attention, even though she’s now in the middle of some sort of raucous ball game. My mouth hangs open. I somehow affected Eloise’s power. Even though I’m encased and supposedly not able to hurt people, I did. Or maybe my power only works on imaginary people? Huh.

“Why would you do that?” I ask.

“I needed to see how you worked.” She arranges herself in the grass, legs tucked to her side. Eloise pats the ground next to her. “Come sit with me.”

I hesitate, unsure if I should trust her. She did just manipulate me into hurting someone
—
even if that person was a figment of our imaginations.

“Did Beck give you that?” At the mention of his name, I look back toward the spot where he’d been playing with Bea. They’ve moved off further toward the village and I watch them disappear into the tents.

“What?”

She motions to her chest. My necklace. Again with the necklace. “Why is everyone so interested in it?”
 
 

“It’s his token. It means he likes you.” She pats the ground again and waits for me.

I must look confused because Eloise laughs. “He likes you and when you walk around with it on, everyone knows what it means
—
he’s devoted to you.” She raises her eyebrows in a conspiratorial way. “It’s driving his parents, and some of the others, crazy.”

“Well, in that case, I’m never going to take it off.”

Eloise giggles. “Now that’s the spirit.”

Her kindness toward me is strange and I almost feel like a normal girl again. Almost. Before I can stop myself, I blurt out, “You’re not afraid of me?”

There’s no way to take it back, but Eloise doesn’t seem to find the question strange. “Of course not. You’ve got a lot of spark.”

“You mean that in a good way, right? Not like I’m going to start a fire or something.”

“Oh, absolutely!” Eloise pats the ground again and I sit next to her. A little flutter works its way around my stomach. I have a friend, finally.

Eloise lies back in the grass and looks up at the sky, or rather, the dome. “I wouldn’t worry about Beck. He’s devoted to you. In fact, he gave us a few problems during the encasing.”

“What do you mean?”

She holds a dandelion puff to her lips and blows, scattering the white fibers across her prone torso. “That night on the lawn, when they encased you, it took every Light witch around to perform the spell.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” Eloise chuckles and props up on her elbows, a glint in her eye. “Beck kept blocking us. It took a while for us to understand what was happening
—
we all thought it was you
—
but once we did, we were able to encase you fairly quickly.”

Well, well, well. Eloise is a source of information. Maybe my new friend isn’t a bad teacher after all.

“Why would he do that? And how?” He must already be very strong to overcome a Gathering of so many witches.

“The
why
isn’t hard. He’s very protective of you, if you haven’t noticed. In fact, I’ve never seen two people more hell-bent on looking out for one another. Even if it means…” She shrugs and lets me fill in the rest. What I hear is: Beck isn’t afraid of me. He doesn’t hate me. Relieved, I sigh.

Eloise picks up a blade of grass and presses it between her fingers. When she opens her hand, it’s transformed into a small, white flower. She lets it drop to the ground.

“
How
is a different thing all together. None of us could figure it out and he wasn’t talking. Bethina finally put the pieces in place. Looks like you guys have some weird thing going on.” She falls back into the grass.