30
“Beck Channing murdered your mother.” Annalise offers her tablet to me. “The evidence is overwhelming.”
Words cover the screen. I don’t feel like reading any more damning accounts and wave my hand in refusal.
“Who is he working with?” I ask in a choked voice.
Annalise scans the document. “The Light witches are in chaos and many of them are now following Eamon. However, it appears Beck wanted to show he was strong and get the Light witches to rally around him.”
I rub my fingers over my eyebrows. In my bedroom, he told me he wanted to lead the Light witches. In the garden, he said he was sorry. That he hadn’t wanted whatever he did to happen. He confessed, but I thought he was talking about getting caught with me.
He told me and I didn’t understand. Or maybe I refused to believe the boy I’ve known my entire life would be capable of doing something like this.
Of betraying me.
Air lodges in my throat and I squeeze my eyes shut. How…how…how could he do this to me? How?
Sweat rolls down my chest, and I yank my top away from my skin, trying to cool myself. Waves of nausea wash over me and I lay my head down on my desk.
“Are you okay?” Annalise asks softly. Ever since my hallucinations the other day, she’s been fawning over me.
“No.” I turn to stare up at my sister-in-law. “Am I really that naïve and stupid?”
She sets the tablet down next to me. “You trusted him. That’s what a master manipulator does: they draw you in and betray you.
“I understand politically why Malin felt she couldn’t tell you about all this sooner, but I’ll never understand how she thought leaving you with him was a good idea.” She sits down on the sofa. “Look what happened.”
What happened is, I exploded. Or more correctly, my Darkness overwhelmed me, and I turned on the very people trying to keep me safe. My priorities were out of line, but with Annalise’s help, I’m starting to rebuild and get things straight.
In many ways, this week has been harder than any other—including when Beck was taken from school
and
when I was rescued from Summer Hill. At least then, I believed if I tried hard enough, I could change him. I could make him not hate me.
But it was all lies. Every kiss. Every sweet look. Just lies to take my guard down. Everyone—Mother, the Channings, Henry, Bethina—told me he’d do this. The problem was, I refused to believe them. I let him get too close and he killed my mother.
And even more damning, I gave him an opportunity to explain himself, but he chose to remain silent. He hasn’t even tried to clear his name.
Annalise clears her throat. “Lark?”
I tap my head lightly against my desk. If Beck has an army of Light witches, the only way to keep myself, and my people, safe is to strike first. Hunt him down and finish what he started when he assassinated Mother and came for me.
“How did he do it?” I lift my head and grab the tablet.
“He impersonated one of her guards.”
“Clever.” I allow a tiny bit of magic out of my core and the tablet blinks out. It reappears on the sofa next to Annalise. Not an impressive display, but my control and precision have improved vastly from when I first arrived.
“How’s Kyra?” I ask. When Beck disappeared, Maz and Ryker did too. Not that it’s surprising. They hid him and are, most likely, his accomplices, but Kyra is having a hard
time
accepting Maz’s role. While I understand her reaction, she can’t hide in her home all day, sobbing.
“Still in bed crying, but I’m forcing her back to work tomorrow.”
I stare blankly at the wall. “Good. The faster she gets back to normal, the faster she’ll be able to move on.”
#
Beyond the bay window, a crowd has gathered in front of my home. Wails of mourning fill my ears and gravity presses down on me, cementing me to the spot I’ve occupied next to the window for at least twenty minutes.
My mother wasn’t supposed to die. She was beautiful. Strong.
Invincible.
My lungs seize and I rest my head against the wall, while continuing to observe the growing crowd.
Do they know Mother’s death is my fault? That I trusted in the wrong people and it was completely stupid of me? Would they turn on me if they knew?
“You need to address the people.” Oliver stands in the doorway of my bedroom. “They know you were with Malin, and they need to see you’re unharmed.”
I’ve put off this task for days. Somehow, it feels less real if I don’t say anything publicly. “I’ll come down in a moment.”
Oliver crosses the room and touches me lightly on the shoulder. It’s not proper, but in this moment, it just feels nice to know someone cares.
“You were born for this, Lark.” He squeezes gently. “You’re very much like Malin.”
“Am I?” I turn away from the window and his hand drops. “That’s what I don’t know. I’m powerful, but can I lead? Can I step into her shoes?”
“You’re a fast learner. And you have Annalise. Whatever you don’t know, she does. Malin confided in her.”
I know he’s trying to be reassuring, but dread sits in my gut. I’m young and have no experience. In fact, all I have is my heritage, and the fact that the witch world fears me. Or at least, in theory they do.
The truth is, I don’t fully understand the politics of either the witch world or the larger international world the State operates on. My knowledge of the Splinter group is fuzzy and, while Mother has hinted that witches run every society, she also said we were at war with all of them.
What have I fallen into?
“Lark?”
I tear myself away from my post at the window and brush past Oliver. “I should change.”
Once he’s gone, I slip out of my simple sheath and select a light blue wrap dress. Instead of tights, I wear lace hosiery, and from my jewelry armoire, I select a long strand of sapphires I’ve never worn. Next to it, my bird necklace lies in a tangled heap. It looks cheap and gaudy next to my finer jewelry. Like something a child would wear.
When I’m done, I check my reflection.
I look too healthy and rested. I need to look as distraught as when I arrived from Summer Hill, if not more.
With dark shadow, I create bruise-colored circles under my eyes. An application of foundation and powder washes out my complexion. The overall effect is sleep deprived, but I need to look like I put some effort into appearing presentable. I dig through a jumble of make-up and find a tube of lipstick. A slash of bright red and a low chignon completes my transformation.
The image staring back at me has very little in common with the girl who went to the Midlands. I look older, more in control.
“Are you rea—” Annalise pauses in the doorway with wide eyes. “You look like…”
“Mother?”
“A leader,” my sister-in-law replies.
“Then I look perfect.”
As we walk downstairs and across the foyer to the front doors, Mother’s voice echoes in my mind, telling me what to do.
Shoulders back, Love. Head high. Speak clearly.
The household help crowds the foyer and huddles together, comforting each other. A few sob, but mostly, they look at me with a combination of hope and pity.
Lead them, Love. That’s what you need to do now. Be a leader.
With strong, even strides, I walk out to the wide front porch and face the gathered throng. The grief of the crowd courses through me and sends my magic into a frenzy. As I grasp the railing to steady myself, I let magic drip from my fingertips the way Mother taught me. Slow, even discharges. But even that can’t stop the onslaught of overwhelming, intoxicating emotions, and I fight the urge to do something bigger. Like send a tornado down the street or blow up the streetlights.
Instead, I focus and a breeze rushes over the crowd. The burning in my heart eases, but it’s not nearly as satisfying.
With tears streaming down her face, Kyra leans into my sister-in-law and rests her head on her shoulder. Normally, it wouldn’t be allowed since Annalise and Kyra both have a duty to protect me, but Mother’s guards are providing security today so that Annalise can mourn properly.
Kyra’s sob pierces through the others. I grit my teeth and shoot her a dirty look. She needs to stop crying for a boy who chose a criminal over her. Maz did this to himself. She needs to accept it. Just like I’ve accepted that Beck betrayed me.
“The Sensitives must be stopped!” someone shouts.
The crowd rumbles and women strike their breasts with their fists.
“They’ll kill us all. We need to stop them.”
My mother was loved. She was a great woman.
Callum, my useless brother, squeezes in between Annalise and me, and snakes his arm around his mate’s waist. “I don’t see why you get to address the people,” he mutters. “I’m her eldest child.”
I turn my gaze on him. “I was there. You weren’t.” He scowls and for the first time ever, I sense a bit of magic flowing from him. Huh. Maybe he’s not so useless after all.
“The people love me, Callum, which is more than I can say for you.”
Before he can respond, I hold up my hand and a hush falls over the crowd. A battalion of newscaster cameras zoom into position. All of them train their lenses on my face, ready to broadcast my words to the entire Western society.
Deep breath
. “My mother died doing what she loved: serving the State. There was no public servant more dedicated than she.” Words of appreciation circle the audience. “Her first priority was always the safety of our people, and, after meeting with Minister Sun-Wei, I can assure you, we are safe from the Sensitive threat. My mother’s…” The next word lodges in my throat and I choke it out. “My mother’s assassination has served as a wake-up call. The State has implemented new security measures, including mandatory checkpoints in an
d
out of the City.” Not that this will stop transporting witches, but as Annalise explained, people need to feel like something is being done even if it’s relatively pointless.
An appreciative
murmur
runs through the crowd, and I force myself to not smile. Annalise reaches behind my brother and touches my arm. “You need to say it.”
Even though I know she’s right, I clench my jaw. I had hoped to deflect attention from the fact that I’ve had not one, but two traitorous mates. A fact Callum has taken immense pleasure in pointing out. I lift my hand again, and the crowd hushes.
“Beck Channing will die for what he did to my mother.” I spit out my words with hatred. “I will hunt him until I take my last breath.”
A cheer ripples through the group.
“Does the State know where he is?”
This is a tricky question. I’m not an official representative the State. Actually, I’m just a junior-ranking administrator who should have no knowledge of such things.
But I’m also Lark Greene, Malin’s daughter and Caitlin Greene’s descendant.
“Please direct questions about the State to me.” Annalise holds her wristlet to her mouth and her voice booms out across the street. “The State is actively searching for Beck and his accomplices.”
“What does that mean?” A floating camera hovers a few feet before us so we can see the newscaster on the screen. “Is there a pack of highly skilled Sensitives on the loose?”
Someone in the crowd gasps. Fear vibrates off them and I lap it up, allowing the sensation to feed my power.
I compose my face into a mask of concern.
“Not at all,” Annalise says. “It means—”
“That there is no place Beck Channing, Maz Matsu, or Ryker Newbold can run or hide where we won’t follow,” I finish. “Those boys have no chance against the power of the State.” I slam my fist into my thigh and exhale loudly.
The people cheer and stretch their arms toward me as if to embrace me. I glide off the porch, into the crowd, and my fingers graze those nearest me. The frenzied group consumes me.
Oliver was right.
This is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
#
I sit behind my desk, hands folded on the top. Kyra’s been sent home with two of Mother’s former guards. I can’t trust her to not harbor Maz. Especially with the way she’s crying over him and begging me for leniency.
Annalise, Oliver, and Dawson sit scattered about my office. Since the press conference, we’ve had countless meetings with Minister Sun-Wei and Mother’s other former advisors.
One thing has become clear: they don’t think I’m capable of stepping into Mother’s shoes. Which may be true, but it infuriates me. I’m a descendant, a powerful one, and they want to deny me my rightful spot.
I run my tongue over my teeth. “If I capture Beck and turn him over to the State, do you think I’ll be welcomed into the inner circle?”
“Do you think you
can
capture him?” Annalise asks. Her voice is full of doubt.
I give a half-laugh. “Beck can’t control himself when I flood him with emotions. If I can somehow draw him out, he’ll be easy to pick off.”