Phoenix (19 page)

Before he can reach me, the invading darkness surrounds him, and he vanishes.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

I sit up straight in my bed, my heart racing, and my breath merely jagged gasps.
 

Beck was with me at Summer Hill, insisting he could help me, but then he began bleeding, just as I was.
 

And then he disappeared. Blotted out. Almost as if had succumbed to the darkness.

It was just a dream. Just a dream, I repeat. But it felt so real. The pain, the blackness. It was like being back in the garden or those damn boxes again.

I place my hand over my thundering heart and inhale deeply. The sheets don't feel right - more rough and scratchy than smooth and silky, and the noises are off - it's too quiet except for the loud chiming of an old-fashioned clock. Two in the morning.
 

It takes a minute for me to remember where I am: Summer Hill. Mr. And Mrs. Channing agreed to let me stay the night to continue our talks in the morning - provided I don't search out Beck. And after what happened yesterday, I have no desire.

That's a lie. I want to be with him, but I don't want to hurt him. There has to be a way to do both.
 

There has to be.

In the bright moonlight, I survey what used to be my and Beck's room, but now only houses me. Like during my last visit to Summer Hill, I'm alone in this room. Unlike last time, I've grown used to it.

Still, lying all alone in this room brings back too many memories. Things I want to forget. I roll out of bed and quietly put on a pale yellow day dress and ballerina flats.
 

Kyra stands outside my door, guarding me. "Where are you going?" she asks.

"I need to get out. My brain won't stop racing, so I thought a walk would help."

"You want to walk in the middle of the night?" She sighs. "Really, Lark, that's such a
deso
thing to do."

"You don't have to come. Stay here," I retort. "I'll be fine. This is Summer Hill after all. High security and all that."

Kyra crosses her arms. "You're just trying to sneak off to see Beck, and I can't let you."

"No, I'm not. I just want to go for a walk."

She narrows her eyes. "Fine. Let's go."

We tiptoe down the squeaky old wooden stairs - the ones I snuck down a million years ago to see Beck under the willow tree, only to have Henry whisk me off to Mother - and out the front door.
 

The starlight and moon cast shadows around us. A falling star shoots across the midnight sky, and like a child, I hold my breath and make a wish.

Let him be okay. Please, let him be okay.

I turn toward Kyra. "How's Beck?"
 

"Better. More in control," she answers. "His parents have been with him all day working on his self-control issues." She shrugs. "Reminds me of you when you first started out. He'll be fine."

"Good." I like Kyra's optimism. I may not believe it myself, but it's nice to hear someone else thinks Beck can beat this thing. I let my eyes rest on the stars. The sky over Summer Hill is always so clear at night. The memory of Eloise standing in the meadow harvesting the energy of the moonlight flits through my mind. It feels like years ago.

Before me, Summer Hill glows a soft yellow. Despite everything that happened here, I still feel safe. Perhaps even calmer than usual.

The sound of chirping crickets fills the warm night air.

"If Maz were here, it would be so much more fun," Kyra says. "We could go skinny dipping or something equally as outrageous. Can you imagine the trouble the boys could cause if we were all together again?"

Her words sting. How can we all be together when Beck is being consumed by my darkness? It's an impossible dream - at least for now.

"Your dress for the Founders' Ball is going to cause a stir," Kyra babbles. "I can't believe it's a masquerade this year. That seems so glamorous. I can see it all--"

"Kyra, if you don't mind, I'd like some privacy."

"I'm sorry, Lark." She blinks rapidly. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," I say trying out my powers of persuasion.

Kyra scrunches up her face. "It doesn't work on me, remember. Nice try though."

I hang my head. "I'm sorry."

"You should be. You don't always have to have your way, Lark. Sometimes other people are right, too." She angrily blows a loose curl off her forehead. "We're not all idiots, Lark."

"I didn't mean--"

"Of course you didn't. You never do." She locks her arms across her torso and turns away. "If you want to be alone, fine. I'll go. Who cares if it gets me in trouble. You'll just fix it anyway." She yells the last part over her shoulder as she runs back toward the house.
 

As bad as I feel about hurting Kyra's feelings, I need time to think - something I can't do when she's constantly yammering at me.

As I walk along the dirt path toward the lake, flashbacks of my dream fill my brain. It was as if Beck were trying to reach out to me, to save me. How can we possibly be dangerous to each other? Especially when we fight so hard to be together? Are we just plain fools?

At the end of the path, I walk closer to the lake and enjoy the reflection of the honey-colored moon.
 

Tomorrow, I need to convince the Channings to get the remaining Light witches on my side. It's going to take tact, something I've lacked time and again, and a lot of groveling - which I'm not opposed to at this point. Our people need to eat.

The hairs on my neck prick up.

I turn my head slightly and see Beck stepping from the shadows. Tears sting my eyes. This moment is so much like the night we danced here and kissed – really kissed – for the first time.

"You're stronger now. I can feel it," Beck says. His voice is low and deep. Different than it used to be. Battle-worn. "Stronger than me. At least for now."

He positions himself so that we stand side-by-side looking at the moon hanging low over the lake.

"Am I?" My fingers curl, and a wave rises before us. I hold it up, demonstrating my newfound ability before releasing it backward in a spray of foam.

"Impressive," Beck says. "What do you plan on doing with that power? Wiping out the coasts with tsunamis?"

"I have more imagination than that."

We're silent for a few minutes while I play with the water, stopping and starting the crash of waves, throwing the water back, rushing it forward. And my personal favorite: lifting it to create a wall of water.
 

"How'd you get out?" I ask. "I thought you were under heavy guard."

He shakes his head. "Do you think they can stop me? They can't stop you. You should have a complete guard with you, but here you are alone."

"Except I'm with you. The one person I shouldn't be anywhere near."

"Do you believe it? That you're somehow slowly consuming my Light magic and turning me Dark?"

"Yes. It seems eerily similar to what happened to Charles Channing." My great-grandmother several times removed and Beck's great-great-something grandfather were twins. She was Dark; he was Light. In his early thirties, Charles went crazy and died. Many claim Caitlyn's magic fed off his - which is exactly what we fear is happening with Beck and me. She simply overwhelmed him.

I drop the piece of water I'd been holding and turn toward Beck for the first time. Standing this close, I can see the freckles in his olive eyes clearly. The wind tossles his shaggy blond hair, and light stubble covers his cheeks and chin. He's beautiful.

"Would me being a Dark witch be all that bad?" he asks. "After all, look at you. You're doing okay. You're not evil."

I rub my eyebrow. "But I was born this way. From what I understand going Dark will kill you. It's not your natural state."

It's so strange to be so close to Beck and not have him hold my hand, so I slip mine into his. "Do you still want to run away?" I say, breaking the silence.

Beck's head jerks up. "Do you?"

I shake my head slowly. "No."
And even if I did, we wouldn't get very far
I add silently.
We'd turn on each other.
 

He nods.
 

"Are you able to block the darkness? Or am I still draining you?"
 

Beck moves his free hand over the back of his hair. "I think it will always be there, but I'm getting better at resisting it. I don't feel the pull as much since this afternoon. I spent time with Henry learning how to control it."

"Good, because I can't bear the thought of having to be away from you ever again. I don't want that."

"What
do
you want?" Beck asks, yanking his hand away from me and folding his arms across his chest. "You keep stomping around saying what you don't want, but what is it you do want?"

Fire and ice chase each other down my spine, and I stare off into the distance. No one has ever asked what I want. At least what I truly want.

Lark?" Beck's mouth opens slightly. He hesitates before opening his arms to me. "Come here."

After all these months of fighting with him, being in his arms is exactly what I need. I turn and bury myself into his chest.

"I think I love you more now," he says.

"Even with everything I've done?"

"Even with all the things you've done." I rub my face against his chest. "We're going to get through this. Together," he says.
 

 
"I know what I want." I swallow the lump in my throat. "I want to feel safe again."

His hand runs the length of my loose tresses. "I've got you, Birdie. I've always had you."

But in my mind I know the truth: he doesn't. How can someone who is falling apart make such promises?

#

Breakfast is a disgusting mix of animal products and pancakes. Nothing at all like the delicious fritatas or omelets Bethina used to cook, or the berry parfaits I get at home. But since I'm the guest, I can't complain. Still, the thought of eating pig makes me sick to my stomach, and I refuse the plate of brown grossness when it's offered to me.

I look down the long table. As I thought, all the Dark witches are eating only pancakes, while the Light witches - except for Henry - are eating the sausage.
 

At least there's orange juice.

Now seems as good a time as any, so I say to Mr. Channing, "This is a beautiful feast you've prepared for us, Patrick."

"Thank you."

"It's a shame more of our people can't enjoy breakfasts like this."

I'm testing the limits of what I can and can't do. But the truth is, I'm not leaving here until I get at least fifty Light witches to commit to the Ag Centers work.
 

"It is. You'd think the Dark witches would have come up with a way to feed the people on their own."

"Patrick, you know we can't. We need you. We need the Light witches."

"Malin didn't think so." Patrick Channing grimaces and stabs a piece of something called bacon. "In fact, she did everything she could to keep us contained and away from the State."

Is that true? Did Mother really keep the Channings out? I thought they chose to live off the grid by choice.
 

"I am not my mother." I set my fork down. "I'm telling you, I - the entire Society - need you. We need you badly."

"How convenient," Margo Channing says. "For years, Patrick offered his services, but no. She banished us here, away from everything. Paraded us out for the Founders' Ball and then put us away. We weren't needed or wanted then, so why should we be now?"

My face is a mask of non-responsiveness, but inside my brain whirls. The Channings feel like they were banished and kicked out, and Mother alienated them for some unknown reason.

"I'm sure you weren't banished. Surely you exaggerate."

Mrs. Channing purses her lips. "Surely, Lark, I don't."

I throw my hands up in the air, and everyone at the table jumps, including Beck.
 

Wonderful. Everyone is afraid of me. What was it that my imaginary mother said, "Make them fear me?" Well, I think I have that part down.
 

"I'm just frustrated, that's all," I say, and everyone relaxes. "I've offered you Council seats; I've offered to bring more Light witches into the State; and I'm trying my hardest to be inclusive, and yet you keep telling me 'no.'" I rest my hands on the table, a sign that I'm trying to be peaceful. "What is it that you want?"

Margo Channing tilts her head, much like Beck does, and says, "First, I want to keep my son safe. Something you have very little concern about."

"Mom," Beck shouts. "Lark is my mate. We're bound for life, you know that."

Mrs. Channing shoots Beck a narrow-eyed look, and he backs down. "The second thing I want is something Malin stole from me years ago while I was visiting her at Northwoods."

"Northwoods?" I exclaim. "You were there?"

Down the table, Henry goes slack-jawed. How odd, wouldn't he have been there too?
 

"Was I there? I visited Bethina every summer. Don't you remember, Henry?"

He shakes his head. "I don't recall ever seeing you."

"Are you calling me a liar?" Mrs. Channing asks, her tone implying insult.

Desperate to get the conversation back on track, I say, "So you knew my mother well?" I'm curious about the connection the two women may have had beyond Bethina.
 

"No one knew Malin well. Apparently, not even her own brother." Mrs. Channing scoops some fruit from a bowl to her plate.
 

This is going nowhere, and I decide to dive in to what I really want to know. "What is it you want back?"

Mrs. Channing touches her middle left finger. "My ability to see glimpses of the future."
 

I grit my teeth to keep my gasp inside. Like Annalise, Mrs. Channing is accusing Mother off being able to steal people's magic. How many others has she done it to?

I shove back from the table and drop my napkin on the chair. "We can discuss this later - after you give me fifty Light witches for the Ag Centers.

Mrs. Channing laughs. "Good luck with that." She dips her head toward Beck. "You, too. No one wants anything to do with your reign of nothingness."