Nightingale (The Sensitives)

by Dawn Rae Miller

  Terror ripples across his face. It’s there in his paler than usual skin, the beads of sweat on his brow, the way his eyes anxiously search behind me, as if hoping someone would come to his rescue.

  Too bad for him, there’s no one who can.

  “Listen to me,” I say slowly as I stand. The heels of my shoes scratch the table as I pivot, and my eyes move down the table, stopping briefly on each face. Imprinting them to my memory for future use. “I may not have an official office within the State, but I am the descendant of Caitlin Greene. You will include me in all meetings. There will be no decision made without my approval. Is that understood?”

  My words are greeted with a low chorus of “Yes, Miss Lark.”

  “Good, because I really hate having to do things like this.” Sun-Wei’s body convulses in his seat and his face twists in agony before sliding to the ground. I suck on the inside of my lip and let my mind work through the different ways I can hurt this man who defies me.

  “Please, Lark. Please.” He gasps as I slowly squeeze the air from his lungs with just my thoughts. His face flushes red, then purple, and then a weird gray color.

  When I release him, Sun-Wei rolls to his side, unconscious.

  Like air escaping from a balloon, the spell holding the room’s occupants releases. Not a soul tries to flee. They all sit in their seats and wait.

  “Now, who would like to explain this to me?” I point at the map on the wall.

  A grizzled old witch raises his hand. “I will.”

  “Good.” I nod. “Tell me everything you know. It’s time I learned what’s really going on.”

  32

  I’m exhausted, but that doesn’t mean I can stop work anytime soon. There’s simply too much to do. My brain swims with all the things I’ve learned the past few days. We’re at war with every major society, and ours is the only one controlled exclusively by Dark witches. Everything else is in the hands of the Splinter group, and Beck is trying to rally the Light witches against me, the State, and the Splinter group.

  I sigh.

  How am I going to fix all this? The wars, the problems with food production and riots, and the whispers about Mother grow daily. Not to mention my two ex-mates and the Splinter group want me dead.

  My head rests heavily in my hands.

  Many of the problems could be eliminated if we rounded up a few Light witches and made them increase our crop output. If only we had a handful of Henrys, then this wouldn’t be an issue. The humans would be content if we took care of them and the Splinter group wouldn’t have anything to use against us.

  Mother told me people don’t revolt when they’re well-cared for.

  Which is why the Light witches refuse to work with us, and the few we have left, our healers, for example, must be kept under constant guard. We can’t let them defect.

  Mother left a fine mess in her wake.

  A warm breeze passes over my skin when I stand and walk toward the window. If someone had told me six months ago that this would be my life, I would have laughed. Me, in charge of the State? Ridiculous.

  “Lark?” Miss Tully waits by the bedroom door, a saucer and teacup perched precariously on her palm. Part of my agreement with Kyra included the transfer of Miss Tully to my home. Kyra may not have appreciated her, but there’s something comforting about Miss Tully. She reminds me of Bethina, only older.

  “Come in.”

  She hobbles across the floor like a little mouse and miraculously doesn’t spill a drop of the tea. It’s impressive. She sets it down on the side table.

  “Thank you.”

  Miss Tully knots her grizzled hands together. “You’re a good girl, Lark.”

  I draw my brows together. “Am I?”

  “You saved me. It would have been easier to walk away. I know that.”

  I huff under my breath. She doesn’t know anything. Especially not the steep price I paid for her freedom.

  “That day I found you, I knew there was something unusual about you. Even if you didn’t.” Instead of fear, sadness settles into the creases of her face. Without asking permission, she sits opposite of me.

  Deep inside me, something trembles, and a low sob builds. When Miss Tully reaches over and takes my hand, every emotion that’s been locked inside since Mother’s death, rushes out: fear, anxiety, misery. And confusion. So much confusion.

  She scoops me into her chest and holds me tight. We sit there, my head pressed against her frail chest, my shoulders heaving, and my tears staining her thin shirt for what seems like hours.

  Eventually, I pull away and drag the back of my hand across my face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t behave like that.”

  “Never be ashamed of showing your feelings, Lark.” From her pocket she pulls a handkerchief and hands it to me.

  Before I can stop myself, I blurt, “I’m a Sensitive.”

  Miss Tully braces herself and for a moment, I fear she may have stopped breathing. “Well, that’s not exactly what I meant when I said I knew you were unusual.” Her eyes search my face. “You don’t look frightening.”

  An awkward grimace-smile forms on my lips. “You haven’t seen me in action.” My shoulder rises up briefly before falling. “Actually, you have. The storm that hit your home, that was me. Only at the time, I didn’t know it.”

  She’s eerily calm. “Kyra and those boys, they’re Sensitives also?”

  “Yes.”

  “And Tom, her house manager?”

  I play with the end of my loose hair. “That was Beck Channing. He has the ability to mask his identity.”

  Her mouth drops open. “What in the world is going on? Is he really an enemy of the State or are the two of you working together?”

  If Annalise were here, if she tuned into my wristlet and heard this conversation…

  “Do you have a full pot of tea?” I ask.

  Miss Tully settles back into her seat. “Lucky for you, I do, and I have nowhere to be.”

  Maybe Mother and the rest of the witch world had it wrong. Perhaps humans don’t fear us. Maybe we can co-exist.

  Or maybe I’m being too trusting again.

  #

  Dawson pulls another set of data from his tablet and positions it on the massive wallscreen. “These,” he says, pointing at a list, “are the names of humans we caught attempting to break into the Agricultural Center in the Midlands.”

  “Because they were hungry?” I ask.

  “They were breaking the law.”

  I glance at Henry. It’s been two weeks, and I still don’t have a handle on everything. Every decision I make seems wrong. But at least in this matter, I have Henry to guide me.

  “Let them go,” I say.

  Dawson raises his eyebrows. “I don’t think that’s wise, Miss Lark. You need to show you’re strong.”

  “They’re starving, Dawson. The people need to eat. And if we don’t give them food, it only strengthens the Splinter group’s hold on them.” I’ve become more convinced of this during my conversations with Miss Tully. She’s explained how her rations dwindled until, most months, she subsisted on rice and beans. She told me how there’s an underground movement that distributes food to the hungry in exchange for attending their meetings. No one knows how they get it, but no one is asking. Food is food.

  I have no doubt this is the Splinter Group, but when I told my advisors, none of them seemed to care.

  The wallscreen lights up under his bare hand, transforming from the list of names to a map. “We have severe shortages in these areas.” He touches the wall and almost every inch of our society, save for San Francisco and Calgary, light up. “The easiest solution is to lessen the number of mouths to feed.”

  “By letting them starve?” Henry asks. “Or do you propose Lark sends in a battalion of witches to ‘get rid of’ the extra mouths.”

  My guard darts his eyes between my uncle and me. “A plague would work equally well. It’s been used in the past.”

  I balk. “If we could only get a f
ew more Light witches, I could teach them how to grow food. And under Henry’s guidance, we could train even more”

  My guard slams his hand down on my desk. “Damn it, Lark. You wanted to be in charge. That means making hard decisions and not living in a fantasy world of breaking up underground food distribution centers and getting all of the Light witches to somehow accept you.”

  Anger bubbles inside me, and I bite my cheek, trying to hold it in. “Can we discuss this again in the morning?”

  “Don’t stay up too late.” Henry turns off the wallscreen.

  When they’re gone, I lean back in my chair and stare at the ceiling. Maybe the Council and Sun-Wei were right: I’m not ready. Dawson obviously thinks so. Annalise acts like she supports me, but I’m sure she thinks I’m a disappointment, too.

  “You okay?”

  I startle upright at Kyra’s voice. “As good as I can be.”

  “I guess this isn’t the time to tell you about Annalise’s day with the Council?”

  Since we took over the Council, Annalise and Oliver, along with several of Mother’s former guards, have kept them under constant supervision. “What happened?”

  “They want an official advisory role.” From the tone of her voice, I can tell this is something she approves of, but doesn’t want to tell me.

  I shake my head. “I can’t. Annalise said I need to set up my own committee, with my own people. If I don’t, the Council could wrest control away from us.” Which may not be a bad idea.

  “If you don’t, you may lose the entire Society to the East. Or to the Splinter group.” She shifts her weight. “You need help.”

  I throw up my hands. “What do you think Dawson and Oliver and Annalise and Henry are doing, Kyra? Sitting around acting deso while I make bad decisions that lead us closer to failure?”

  My friend sighs. “I don’t mean them.” She glances away for a moment, as if trying to decide what to say next. “And I’m not sure they’re actually helping you.”

  “Since you’re a great political mind, what do you suggest, Kyra?”

  She grimaces. “I never thought I’d say this, but maybe you need Beck.”

  “That’s your plan? Have you lost your mind?” If it were anyone but Kyra suggesting this to me, I’d question her loyalty and motivation. “He killed my mother, Kyra. He murdered her in cold blood.”

  Kyra tilts her head and studies me. “Did he? I was there that day. The two of you looked happy, and he didn’t act like someone who just carried out an assassination.” She lowers her voice. “He didn’t seem like he was about to kill you.”

  “Who else would have done it? Ryker? Maz?” I cross my arms. “If either one of them did it, it was on his orders. He’s still responsible.”

  Kyra sighs. “It doesn’t make sense, Lark. Think about it. Why would he hurt your mother, when you are his main threat? Why would he do that to you when he claims to love you?”

  “He’s a skilled liar and he wanted to prove himself to be a leader. He told me, to my face, that at Summer Hill he hadn’t wanted it, but now he does.” The words sit strangely on my tongue, as if they don’t quite belong there. “It was all a ploy to get me to trust him.”

  “No. I’m sure he didn’t do it.” She slips off her wristlet and indicates I do the same. It’s funny, even now, when I technically control all the information and we have secure wristlets, we still feel the need to do this. I hand mine over and she drops them into her satchel.

  “Don’t you remember anything about that day? Or anything that happened between the two of you?”

  I shake my head. “It’s a big blur. I vaguely remember events. Dr. Hanson said I’ve blocked out my interactions with Beck to protect myself.”

  “Dr. Hanson is an idiot.” Kyra straightens herself. “Annalise is keeping you from remembering. Just like Malin did.”

  My hands fly up. “Be careful, Kyra. Think about what you’re saying.”

  She straightens her shoulders. I’ve never seen her so determined. “It’s just weird, Lark. Not just that Beck would turn on you, but the way you’re acting.” When I begin to interrupt, she cuts me off. “You didn’t hate Beck on your birthday the way everyone said. It wasn’t until after Malin died that you changed.”

  The back of my neck smarts from the pressure of my massaging fingers. “I didn’t hate him before?”

  “No. That’s why we need to find Beck. He may be able to help you.”

  It’s obvious what she’s doing. “You want to find Maz.”

  A faint blush creeps across Kyra’s cheeks. “I love him.”

  We’ve had this conversation yesterday and the day before and the day before that. Kyra refuses to see Maz as a traitor. “He betrayed us. Both he and Ryker chose to fight with Beck.”

  Kyra tugs on one of her curls and lets it spring back into place. “Beck could help you get control of the Light witches. Maybe convince them to come back to the Ag Center. Don’t you want to end the food shortages?”

  I lick my lips. “Even if I thought it was a good idea, I can’t let you run around on your own, chasing them. Ryker is an assassin. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

  Kyra’s lip quivers. “Maz would never let anyone hurt me. He loves me. Just like Beck loves you.”

  “If Beck loved me, he wouldn’t have killed Mother.” My chest tightens and the room suddenly feels ten degrees too hot. Kyra’s onslaught is getting to me.

  “Once I find him, you can decide what to do. But let me at least try.”

  “Aren’t you worried I’ll do something horrible to Maz if you bring them to me?”

  She shakes her head. “You promised you wouldn’t.”

  My heart sinks. Kyra is too trusting. And that’s what will get her hurt. Or worse, killed.

  Still, her offer is a tempting one. If she can locate Beck and bring him to me, I may be able to force him to work with us on the food shortage issue. If he refuses, I can I parade him across the Sentencing Stage and claim I captured the mastermind of my mother’s death.

  Either way, I win.

  I shoo Kyra away with the back of my hand. “Fine. Find Beck and bring him here. But I want to be the one to question him.”

  33

  Miss Tully waits in the foyer when my guards and I enter my home. “Good evening, Lark.” she says.

  “Heya,” I say, slipping off my coat and placing it on a nearby coat stand. Even though she knows I’m a witch, I still can’t bring myself to use magic before her. Plus, if I did, Annalise would know I’ve told Miss Tully the truth.

  “Would you like your tea in the front room?”

  The typical San Francisco chill hangs in the damp air and I’m frozen through. “Yes, please.”

  “Henry and Eloise would like to meet with you. Shall I send them in?”

  I purse my lips. I know why Henry is here: to talk about the food shortage. But I’m so tired of always talking about politics and business and curses.

  “Eloise is with him?”

  “She is.”

  I haven’t seen Eloise since taking control of the State, and have been avoiding her. I don’t know why, really, other than I just don’t want to see her.

  There’s no way to not see them without being rude, though. I’m stuck.

  “Give me ten minutes to collect myself,” I say.

  Miss Tully nods and walks off toward the kitchen.

  “Do you think it’s wise to let a human have so much control over your affairs?” Dawson asks.

  “I liked it better when you knew you were just a guard,” I snap before slamming the front room door shut between us. I haven’t forgotten his suggestion of setting a plague loose on the human population. Or the fact that he’s been treating me like a child.

  The fireplace glows orange, and I kick off my shoes before sinking into the chair closest to it. My wind-burnt face tingles from the warmth.

  Even in these still moments, my mind races, unable to relax. Kyra doesn’t think Beck or his frien
ds killed my mother. All evidence points to a magic strike, so it wasn’t human. Our reports in the area place the Splinter group nearby. But who among them could get close enough to Mother to kill her without raising suspicion?

  Someone Mother knew…or someone who could impersonate someone Mother knew. Like an illusionist like Beck.

  Or Henry.

  My hand claps over my lips as my heartbeat thrashes in my ears. It’s impossible. Henry refused to leave Eloise’s side. Plus, there’s no way he would know where we were.

  Or would he? He’d been working with Crispin in the Agricultural Center. Perhaps Crispin alerted Henry to our arrival?

  My stomach rolls and I wrap my arms around myself. What if that was the plan all along? To make it seem as if they’d been attacked the night of Kyra’s binding so Henry or Beck could get close to Mother and me.

  He told me once he was jealous of her and that’s why he joined forces with the group that killed my father.

  The door squeaks open and the hair on my neck pricks up.

  “Good evening, Lark.”

  I turn my head slowly. My uncle and Eloise stand in the doorway, waiting for my greeting. “Hello,” I say, dully.

  They join me before the fire and I notice how close they sit to each other on the couch. Their knees touch, and Henry keeps his hand on Eloise’s forearm. She once said she’d never be interested in Henry, but I guess that’s changed.

  Or it’s one more deception on their part.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  Eloise’s hair glints copper and orange in the firelight. “I miss you! All you do is work, work, work.” Her eyes crinkle around the corners. “I thought maybe you and I could do some magic. Practice where we left off?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Why?”

  Her smile fades. “I thought it would be fun.”

  My tongue presses against the back of my teeth as I study the two of them. A curious look flashes in Henry’s eyes and I can tell he’s concerned about my reaction.