Phoenix (23 page)

Beck grabs onto my wrist. His pulse thunders in my ears.

I need to stay present. If not for me, for Beck.

"Beck," I say as calm as I can. "You can control this. You don't have to give into the magic."

He stares down at me. "It's you I'm worried about."

I shake my head, lying once again. "I'm okay. I'm under control."

He opens his mouth as if to speak, but is cut short. The door at the far end of the hall blows open. Actually, it literally blows to pieces. Screams fill the air. However, unlike at Kyra's binding, there is no one waiting outside. Despite being off duty, Annalise slides the guards into place. Protecting Beck and me, while trying to secure the room, is as always, her first priority. Even with her rounded tummy.

She ushers me to the back of the room, away from the door, and into a circle of guards. Beck is by my side, as are the Channings.

"What's happening?" I ask, even though I know no one knows anything. It's just filler. Something to say.

Annalise holds up one finger to her lips, shushing me, while placing the other on her secure feed behind her ear.

The guards tighten around me.

Curious, I peer out from between my bodyguards.

That's when I see him.
 

Eamon.
 

He holds a feathered mask in one hand and a smirk dances across his full lips.
 

A feathered mask, not red. So who requested the song?

"Hello, Alouette." He hums a few bars of my least favorite song ever. "It's been ages."

Space opens around Eamon, and Annalise runs straight for him, her rounded stomach guiding her forward. I step forward, to stop her, but Beck holds me back. I know he's right, but I wish she wouldn't run straight into the fray - not with the baby, but it's her training, and it's her instinct.
 

She stops short - almost in the middle of the dance floor and grabs her bulging middle before doubling over and collapsing on the ground.

I start toward her again, but Beck tightens his hold on me. Anger and rage radiate from him.

"Easy, Beck," I say even though I'm anything but calm. "Breathe, don't let the hatred overwhelm you."

He loosens his grip. "I don't like this. It feels like a trap."

"Let our guards do their job." I keep my eyes on my sister-in-law. Her limp body still holds life from the way her chest falls and rises. Anxiety pricks along my nerves like a clingy friend.
 

My heart is exploding with magic - magic that I must, absolutely must - keep under control while on public feeds. I'm keenly aware that this is being broadcasted out to our entire Society. The last thing I want to do is wipe out an entire Society's memories like I did with Lena. Especially after seeing what it did to her.

No, Beck and I have to look like normal humans, while making Eamon appear to be a Sensitive. I have to keep my magic – and Beck's – in check. I need the public to fear Eamon. Which may be impossible because with his handsome, chiseled face and ripped body, Eamon looks more like most women's dream man than a violent criminal.

"What brings you here this evening, Eamon? Surely, you know Sensitives aren't invited."

My tormenter cracks his neck. "Looks like little Larky-Birdie is confused. We
were
invited, just not by you."

"No one
here
invited you. We don't allow criminals into such festivities." But even as I speak the words, I'm unsure. With all the masked attendees, it's impossible to tell who is in the crowd. Annalise assured me security clearance for the event was tight. Every person was finger scanned upon entry. Every person. So how did Eamon get in?

Eamon cackles. "Maybe I should help you understand." He turns to the woman on his right. "Sherin, fetch our leader."

My heart disappears to somewhere around my ankles. Eamon isn't in charge? What's going on? I study the crowd with intensity. Somewhere out there, amongst the feathers and glitter, is the person behind the attacks, I'm sure of it. Whoever the leader is, that is who tried to kill Beck and me. That is the person who murdered my mother.

And there is a good chance, I unknowingly invited them to the Ball. With all the Light witches present tonight, it isn't out of the realm of possibility.

"James," I yell at the newscaster. "Cut all the feeds now."

"Why?" he asks. After being removed from the stage, Landon allowed the newscaster back into the party to resume his role as official News Feed Host. I notice he's backing closer to Eamon's side of the room. But James is just a human. Why would the Splinter group want him?

Then it hits me. They want to expose all of us, and the cameras are the best way to do it. They're waiting for me to use magic. Waiting to catch me acting out.

Well, if James won't cut the feeds, then there won't be any more cameras. I stretch out my fingers, and the two cameras nearest me explode. The last hovers near the Splinter group. I hold out my hand again, and it too, disintegrates.

James's face falls, and he lingers, as if unsure what side to join. The Dark witches in the crowd have been steadily pulling back toward me, away from Eamon. Most of them hold their hands up in either defensive or offensive positions. Landon and two other guards form a wall before Beck and me.

Beck grabs my hand. His eyes rest on Annalise, still curled on the ground. "She'll be okay," he whispers even though we both know there's no way of being sure.

I search the sea of faces until I see Kyra standing off to the side in her purple gown. She seems torn between coming to my aid or helping Annalise. I jerk my head in Annalise's direction, and without hesitation, Kyra launches herself from the crowd toward Eamon and Annalise. With a speed I didn't know she possessed, Kyra transports Annalise away. Seconds later, she's at my side having left Annalise somewhere else.

"Where did you put her?" I ask.

"My house."

I give a nod of approval.
 

The crowd grows more and more anxious, and it's feeding my magic. Wave after wave licks at my core, filling me with magic. I flick my wrist and let the lights flicker again and again. The strobing effect adds a layer of eeriness to the room. Just as I'm about to send off another wave, the crowd around Eamon parts.

"Say hello to our leader, Lark," Eamon orders.

My eyes lock on the person standing before me: Callum.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

My mouth unhinges.
 

Callum? He's the leader of the Splinter group?

Everything begins sliding into place – his ability to get close to Mother and me; the way the Splinter group always knew when and where I'd be; his outright hatred of me.

"Where's all your bravado now, Lark?" Callum sneers.

The room has split into two camps, his and mine. To my surprise, mine is a fair mix of Dark and Light witches – and much larger. From the look on Callum's face, as he surveys the room, it isn't what he expected.
 

Callum stares at the empty floor. "You can have Annalise," he says. "She's useless now anyway."
 

Thank God I did away with the cameras, or there would be havoc across the Society right now. My gaze flits around the room, and I see it, a fourth camera, hovering just near Eamon, focused on Callum and me.
 

I must not use or mention magic. It's not an easy decision. In fact, my body aches from holding it all in, but if I want to protect the witch race, I need to keep us hidden.

Too bad Callum doesn't agree. He paces back and forth before his followers. Eamon touches his arm gently, and Callum stops.

"All my life, I've been told I'm not good enough. Not Dark, not strong, not anything but everyone's errand boy."
 

"Callum," I say. "Let's go somewhere and discuss this in private. This isn't the place."

He wags his finger at me. "Ah ah ah. It's time the world knows the truth."

"What truth? That you're jealous of me?"

My brother's ears turn a deep red, and he sneers. "You know what I'm talking about."

"No! Wait!" Panic fills my words. I can't let Callum undo decades of hard work. "Have you thought this through? The ramifications are going to be disastrous."

But my brother is determined, and he addresses the lone camera. "The Sensitive threat is made up." The crowd begins to titter and churn. "Those you call Sensitive are merely human criminals."

"Callum! Stop!"

He ignores me and stares into the camera. "We, the people who run the State, are witches."

The magic hibernating inside me explodes, and the windows blow out of the hall. "I said, 'stop,'" I scream. "Stop. Stop. Stop."

A hush falls over the crowd. My guards stand before me, creating a magic bubble around Beck and me. I push through them until I stand face-to-face with Callum.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you hurting us?"

"Hurting you?" he sneers. "You're the girl who can do everything. How am I hurting you?" He scratches his head in mock confusion. "Oh right, I'm exposing what you truly are. Do you fear the humans more than me Larky-Bird? Because that would be a deadly mistake."

Eamon, who has sidled up next to Callum, laughs. "She was always slow on the uptake."

"And yet here she sits, heir to Mother's throne while I'm continually fed scraps."

"I let you go to the Eastern Society."

My brother laughs. "You let me go. No, Lark, I don't think you made any decision about that. Just like you don't make decisions about anything. Your 'advisors,'" he creates air quotes. "They do it all for you."

The crowd buzzes, and pin pricks run down my spine.
 

In these masks, I have no idea who is who. "Everyone, remove your masks," I order. The witches standing on my side obey. The ones on Callum's don't.

"Cowards," I spit out at them. "Are you too afraid of what exposing yourself will do?"

"The only coward here is the girl standing before me." My brother turns to his followers. "You should hear her moaning and groaning about how she doesn't know what to do. Lark lacks the ability to lead. I, however, was born for it."

My necklace heats up, but doesn't burn like earlier. It's a gentle warmness that grows hotter by the second.

Beck slides his hand into mine. My body trembles when our magic combines together, and my necklace now hums against my chest.
 

"Are you okay?" Beck asks, quietly.

I nod and keep my free hand at the ready.

Callum darts his gaze between the two of us. Surely, he must see how formidable we are together. Surely, he isn't so desperate that he'd challenge us.

Surely, I could be entirely wrong.

My brother struts before his following, seemingly secure in the fact that no one on my side will attack. He's not afraid of me, my guards, Beck, or even a room full of Dark witches.
 

Then it hits me. The only person Callum has ever been afraid of was Mother.

With Beck's hand still firmly in mine, I race to the back of the room, to a spot behind our guards, unseeable from where Callum stands.

"Run, Allouette, run," Eamon calls and a group of people laugh.

"Beck," I say. "You can mask, can't you? Take on anyone's appearance."

"Yes."

"Do they have to be alive?"

He cocks his head. "I've never tried it on someone dead before."

"Help me turn into my mother. Quickly."

Shock registers across his face. "What?"

"Mother terrified Callum. She's the only one he's ever been afraid of."

Beck focuses his attention on me and warmth begins to spread from my gut out toward my fingers and toes. A strange tugging sensation pulls at my skin and my bones ache. Nausea washes over me, but I choke back the bile and steady myself against a pillar.
 

"Holy--" Beck gasps.
 

"Do I look like her?" I ask, summoning a mirror. If Beck's reaction is telling, then it must be astounding. I hold the heavy, silver mirror up to my face.

Mother stares back at me.

For a moment, I forget it's really me and don't know if I should run or embrace her.
 

"You look just like her. What are you planning on doing?" Beck asks.

"Watch."

I try my best to float-walk the way Mother did. When I reach the stage, no one has noticed me yet, and I climb the short stairs. A long chain of sapphires dangles from my neck, and I play with them the way I'd seen Mother do countless times before.

"Good people," I say into my wristlet and nearly startle myself. My voice sounds just like Mother – smooth and musical.

"Good people," I say again, and this time the crowd turns to face me.
 

Echoes of "It's Malin," and "Oh, my," fill the air. Someone shrieks.

When I have everyone's attention, I stroll to the front of the stage and stare down at Callum.
 

"You?" I say. "You did this? Tried to kill me then your sister? I always knew you were untrustworthy."

Confusion clouds Callum's face. Where he was once so sure, he now seems terrified.
 

"You were an errand boy because you never proved yourself to be trustworthy." I narrow my eyes. "It appears I was correct in my assessment."

Once, Mother showed me a video feed of young girls hung, burned, and drowned - girls who were accused of being witches. It was after those dark centuries that the decision was made to go into hiding. The Long Winter provided just the right event. We no longer needed to hide because we were in control of the new governments thanks to Caitlyn Greene and Charles Channing.

But we did. We continued to hide in plain sight because it was safer than exposing ourselves.
 

I spread my arms out wide. "For many generations, we've hid to protect our youth. To prevent the horrible, misguided trials and executions of the past, we chose to hide in public. We took control so no one would ever have power over us again. We were a dying breed, but look at us now. Our numbers are stable. We will never be more in number than we are right now, but we will be less if we're hunted to extinction.