Nightingale (The Sensitives)

by Dawn Rae Miller

  The train sways slightly as it’s devoured by a mountain pass and we’re plunged into darkness. Fear nibbles at me before the lights flicker on.

  “What happened eight months ago?” I ask.

  “Seventy percent of the Light witches in Agriculture vanished.” Mother plays with her necklace. “There’s no doubt in my mind, or my advisors’, the Splinter group had something to do with it. Regardless, the result is we have had a drastic drop in food production and can no longer provide for the general population as we have in the past.”

  My mouth drops open. “People are starving?”

  “Humans. Not witches. Both Light and Dark witches are being provided for. And curiously, those witches at Summer Hill, they have more food than they need. The assumption is the missing witches went there.”

  “Is that why you’re fighting with them? Because of food?”

  Mother sighs. “If the Light witches refuse to work with us…” Her shoulders round forward and she reclines in her chair in a very un-Mother-like way. “There are certain things Dark witches can’t do well. Food production is one of them.”

  As her words sink into my brain, things begin to make sense. A group of Light witches became upset over the continuing restrictions of the State. They respond by cutting off the one vital service they had almost complete control over: food. Now there’s not enough and the Splinter group is using that to incite the general population.

  “You brought me along to help with food production, didn’t you?” I don’t bother to hide my excitement. For the first time in weeks, something is going my way. Perhaps, if Mother sees firsthand how valuable my skills are, she’ll let me stay.

  I’ll be far away from Beck. He’ll be safer. And I can live the rest of my life, however long it may be, doing what I love.

  “You are the one Dark witch who is talented in that area. Henry says you’re the best.”

  “But if I perform that type of magic, won’t it give away the fact that I still have Beck’s magic in me? Wasn’t I supposed to kick it out after my birthday?”

  “Everyone who matters knows your father was Light. Still, I’ve taken every precaution. The Ag Center is on lockdown and all communication is handled by our people. No one outside the center will know.”

  “But I can’t possibly make enough food for the entire Western Society by myself.” At Summer Hill, Henry and I had a hard time keeping three fields growing. The Ag Center is a hundred times that size.

  “You can.”

  My fingers ache from digging into my arms. “No. This is ridiculous. You could get every one of those Light witches back if you’d stop persecuting them.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  I huff and she holds up her hand. “We have no value to them beyond protecting our kind from humans. Do you understand? We rely on them to produce food and as our healers, and they need us for absolutely nothing. If they seize control of the State, I guarantee their first order of business would be to get rid of every Dark witch. And they’ll try to turn our children Light. Trust me, I’ve seen it happen.”

  I tilt my head and study her. “Is that what happened to you? Did Henry’s mother try to turn you Light?”

  Mother’s hands fly to her chest. “How do you know about Livia?”

  My tongue smarts under the pressure of my teeth. “I found your journals.”

  Mother closes her eyes. Her chest rises and falls slowly. “She thought she could change me. That’s what she wanted, to mute the magic of our family. And I tried, Love. Oh how I tried to be everything Livia wanted. But it was never enough.”

  “So you killed her?” I ask.

  “It was an accident. I hadn’t been properly trained and Livia insisted I could be fixed. But one day, she pushed me too hard and my magic exploded. Unlike you, I didn’t have anyone showing me how to control it. My father was never around and by the time I was old enough for the Dark teachers at school to take notice of me, it was too late.”

  She reaches for my hand. To my surprise, there’s no magic flowing between us. No attempt on her part to persuade me.

  “I don’t want that for you. I may not be the best teacher, having never had one myself, but I am trying, Love. And you are getting stronger.”

  I lay my hand over hers. “But that was Livia, not all the Light witches. Can’t you try to work with them? There has to be a way to balance what both sides want.”

  Mother scowls and yanks her hand away. “I do not negotiate with terrorists.”

  #

  There’s no crowd at the station to greet us. It’s strangely…normal. Or as normal as it can be until people begin to realize who we are and openly stare.

  Mother’s guards and Annalise work the outer perimeter of the station while my other guards stay closer to Mother, Ryker, and me. Mother walks calmly, with confidence, across the platform. I hold my shoulders back and try to emulate her poise, but who am I kidding? I pale in comparison.

  Every once in a while, Mother lifts her hand and waves to the crowd. But unlike in the past, no one shouts her name and the stares are more icy than welcoming. Shivers explode in my heart and creep along my arms and legs.

  Ryker nudges me gently with his elbow. “Look at them.”

  I knit my brows together and swing my head around the station trying to figure out who he means. My guards?

  “The people. Look at them.”

  Sun beats down on me and burns my skin. I lift my hand to shield my eyes. The platform teams with people.

  “They’re starving, Lark. Can’t you see it?”

  My eyes focus on a small group near the toll takers. Most of them wear dull and ragged clothes two sizes too big. But that’s impossible. Our clothes have smart fabric, every garment fits every body perfectly.

  A small girl with hollowed out eyes stares at me and I’m suddenly conscious of my immaculate sundress and sandals. Her gaze lingers on my wristlet before settling on my face.

  Without warning, she darts toward me. Oliver steps before her and grabs her by the arm. “Ah, ah, ah, little Miss. Back you go.” He turns her around and gently shoves the girl in the direction of her group.

  The station is dead silent.

  “I’m hungry.” Her voice has a hard, brittle quality that should come out of a bitter old woman, not a child who can’t be more than seven. “Why don’t we have food?”

  There’s a collective gasp from the crowd.

  “Annalise,” Mother says softly. “Take Lark and Ryker to the Agriculture Center. I’ll continue to the Regional Office with my guards.”

  Immediately, Annalise is at my side. “I thought you were coming with me,” I say to Mother as Annalise and my other guards form a wall around me.

  The crowd jostles us and Mother holds up her hands. “Peace, good people. I’m here to address your concerns.” Even though she continues to smile, I sense fear rolling off her. Like a slowly deflating balloon, the crowd relaxes and Mother turns to me.

  “I’m needed elsewhere.”

  “Mother, I’d rather—”

  She holds up her hand, cutting me off. “Go, now, Love. I’ll see you shortly.” She doesn’t give me time to argue before she strides across the platform in the opposite direction of where Annalise guides me.

  Scorching wind whips through the station. Overhead, clouds blow in, blotting out the relentless sun and the air crackles with electricity.

  Oliver bends closer to me and whispers, “Gather the magic closer to your heart and hold it there. It will give you better control.”

  I want these people to leave.

  The skies open and rain pelts us. The crowd scatters, taking shelter under meager over-hangings. With a satisfied grin, I nod at Oliver. “Much better.”

  Now that our path is clear, my group crosses the length of the platform and exits out onto an empty street.

  Once outside, Kyra raises her eyebrows. “Are you okay?”

  I feel great, other than a little spooked, but not out-of-control. I wiggle my fin
gers at her and laugh. “I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”

  The euphoric feeling I get from magic floods my system and I skip down the block. Behind me, Kyra laughs.

  But no one else does.

  I stop mid-hop and jump around. “What’s wrong?” I demand.

  To my surprise, Ryker stomps toward me. “People are hungry and you’re skipping around acting like it’s all a joke.”

  Behind him, Annalise watches us with her steely blue eyes. The rest of my guards appear tense and ready to fight.

  “Surely it wasn’t that bad?”

  He gapes at me. “Are you so delirious you can’t see what’s around you?”

  For the first time, I notice our surroundings. The burnt out buildings. The crumbling streets. The dank smell of waste. It looks like a scene out of pre-Long Winter times when the world was in chaos. “What happened here?”

  “Riots.” Oliver’s voice vibrates down the vacant street and the hair on the back of my neck pricks up.

  My sister-in-law jerks her head to the side. “Let’s go.”

  Ryker scowls at me and his eyes are full of disappointment. He hefts my bag over his shoulder and strides briskly after Annalise.

  My heart sinks as I realize my mistake.

  Ryker’s keeping score and I just lost a point.

  28

  Armed Enforcers surround the Agriculture Center and as we get closer, Rykers’s posture becomes more rigid, his stride more brisk. He’s supposed to be accompanying me on official consort business, but he’s shifted into Enforcer mode.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I glance at him and the hair on my arms pricks up. His almond-shaped eyes hold no emotion. They’re dark, cold, and lethal.

  He’s no longer Ryker, my friend, but rather Ryker, the assassin.

  “Is everything okay?” he asks in a monotone voice. He keeps his head up, sweeping his gaze from side-to-side.

  “You’re not here as my consort, are you?” I mutter so no one else can hear.

  “Not here, Lark.” He says this softly, almost like a whisper, but there’s a sharpness in his voice, and it sends chills through me.

  As we approach the Ag Center checkpoint, my guards tighten their circle around me until I can barely take a step without bumping into one of them. Ryker strides up to the front and flashes his wristlet at the Enforcer guarding the entrance.

  The man’s wristlet beeps three times. He swings his attention away from Ryker, to me, and back to Ryker. “Enforcer Newbold, you’re not on duty.”

  “I’m traveling with Lark,” Ryker responds, grasping the man’s forearm in greeting. “Per her mother’s instruction.”

  “That’s wise.” The Enforcer begins scanning my other guard’s wristlets. When he gets to me, he doesn’t make contact, but I notice the way his hand trembles. Something about me, or us being here, upsets him.

  Once he motions us through, we hurry down a stark white hallway until we’re spit out into a massive greenhouse. It’s easily four hundred yards in circumference. Alternate plots of dirt lay fallow and the ones that are producing look anemic. This can’t possibly be all the food the State is producing?

  A man rushes toward us with a tablet in hand. “Annalise? I’m Crispin Salter, Head of the Ag Center.”

  Both Dawson and Ryker step in front of me, and I roll my eyes. “Surely inside a State building there is no threat,” I chide.

  Dawson keeps his posture rigid. “There is threat everywhere. Especially in a greenhouse full of Light witches.”

  I recoil. It’s the harshest he’s spoken to me since I foolishly rushed into the battle with the Splinter group. Heat works its way up my neck and into my face. Like a chastised schoolgirl, I stare at the ground.

  Oliver paces the perimeter of the closest field. He motions to Ryker, and my mate jogs off after him. My guard juts his chin toward something in the rafters. Ryker tilts his head in consideration before disappearing.

  When I look up to where Oliver indicated, Ryker’s crawling across ceiling beams.

  “What’s he doing?” I ask no one in particular.

  Kyra says. “Assessing the area for snipers.”

  My mouth drops open. “What?”

  Ryker swings from one rafter to the next, and even from here, I can see the bulge of his arm muscles through his skin-tight shirt. He kicks his feet up and lands on a platform.

  Once he’s steady, a short series of whistles wafts down to us.

  “It’s secure,” Kyra says.

  “And you know that because he whistled?”

  She huffs. “In the field we rely on verbal cues first and technology second.”

  “He’s looking for snipers?” I repeat, more to myself than anyone else. It seems ridiculous, and yet, I know it’s necessary.

  “Lark,” Annalise calls from where she stands with Crispin Salter. “You’re to work with him today.”

  Crispin clenches his jaw. “I have a name.” He walks over to me and stiffly offers his hand. “A pleasure. Henry’s told me much about you.”

  “Oh? You know Henry?” I try to not let my surprise show, but fail.

  “Henry frequently visits.” Crispin’s face pulls into a stiff, unnatural smile. “Although I haven’t seen him in several weeks.”

  I stare off at the empty fields. A few workers take measurements and push carts of farming supplies, but it’s hardly the active hub I imagined. “Henry’s at my mother’s. His friend Eloise was injured and is convalescing there.”

  “Are her injuries serious?” There’s a hint of panic in Crispin’s voice.

  “Not anymore.”

  He points out at the vast interior. “Shall we?”

  I wait for my guards to give permission. Ryker has come down from the rafters and stands near Annalise and Oliver where the three of them study a tablet Annalise holds. I clear my throat and their heads pivot in unison. “Can I go to work?”

  “The area is secure. Ping if you need anything,” Annalise says, resuming her work.

  After our dramatic entrance, it feels almost like a let-down to be wandering off with a man I just met. Granted, my guards can see me from pretty much anywhere in the building, but still.

  I push all thoughts of snipers and food riots from my mind, and let the excitement of being here take its place. The smell of freshly churned dirt fills my nose. This is the life I imagined, only instead of having Beck by my side, I have Ryker —a guy who swings from rafters and kills people as a career.

  Could be worse, I guess.

  I grin. There are no prying eyes to prevent me from using magic. No appearances to maintain. I can just be myself.

  #

  I stretch my back and survey our work. In just a few hours, Crispin and I have planted and harvested six fields. Huge heads of cabbage, long green beans, tall stalks of corn. It won’t feed the entire Society, but it’s a start. Perhaps it’s even enough to help calm the riots.

  “Can you plant one more today?” Crispin asks. In the two days I’ve been here, he hasn’t said much to me beyond instructions. The way the Light witches, the ones who haven’t fled, eye me with suspicion reminds be of being at Summer Hill.

  “Of course.” I pick up the seed spreader and wedge it into the ground. “What do you want here?”

  “Rice,” he grunts. “We’ll have to flood the field when you’re done.”

  I drop a seed into the spreader. With a wave of my hand, the entire row sprouts tiny buds. I lift the spreader from the ground and repeat the process until the whole field is planted. Then I stand at the edge and imagine a flood covering the dirt. Instantly, water covers everything. Feeling exhausted, I step back and wipe my brow.

  “You need to get it to grow and harvest it, too,” Crispen says, dryly.

  “I know.” The back of my neck aches. “I need a minute to let my magic rest. I’m not used to using this much.”

  He squats and jabs a stick into the freshly tilled dirt. Since being here, it’s become clear why Mother didn’t send me to the Ag Center
even though I had the aptitude: the Light witches who work here don’t want my help. In fact, I think it’s fair to say Crispin wishes I would leave. The sooner the better.

  “Heya, Lark,” Ryker says as he jogs over to me. My heart flutters at the way his standard-issue Enforcer uniform compresses his already fit frame into something seemingly more muscular and lean.

  My heart spasms and I grin.

  Oh, God. What is wrong with me?

  I scrunch up my forehead and press my lips together. Other than on the day we arrived, Ryker hasn’t come to the Ag Center. Instead, he spends his days doing things he refuses to tell me about and at night, he doesn’t come back to our room until I’m fast asleep.

  Not that I mind. I’m still not use to sharing a room with him. He’s not as messy as Beck, but it feels like he takes up more space. Probably because he takes up one half of the bed. Something Beck never did.

  “What are you doing here?” Every nerve in my body tingles, and I keep my eyes on the field, afraid that if I look at him, he’ll see the effect he’s having on me.

  “I wanted to see you. When are you done?”

  I lift my eyes and focus on Ryker’s smooth, tanned skin; high cheekbones; deep brown eyes. He looks like himself until he tilts his head to the side and gives me a grin I’d recognize anywhere.

  Beck.

  My hands fly to my mouth, trying to control the scream growing in my chest.

  One. Two. Three.

  Dirt swirls around my shins where I kick at the ground. Why is he so reckless? And where is Ryker? Surely he didn’t approve this idea. I know he wouldn’t.

  When I turn around, Ryker—no, Beck—is biting his lip.

  Are you stupid?

  His face falls. No. I thought about this.

  I doubt it. And if he gets caught…My stomach rolls. This is so much worse than sneaking into my bedroom.

  Through clenched teeth, I say, “I need to finish harvesting before I can leave. So maybe in an hour?”