“There’s two groups of witches? And you don’t get along?” I ask.
“There are.” Bethina takes a long sip from a glass of water and clears her throat before answering. “The Dark witches have forced most of the Light witches from the State. We still hold lesser jobs, but we have no political power. And they’ve begun arresting actual Light witches.”
The room sways slightly and I clench my head with both hands. The dizziness abates when I close my eyes.
“Please let me see Beck,” I plead. “Please, B. I’m scared.” I gingerly open my eyes, afraid the room will start moving again, and study her face. It’s soft and loving, the way it’s always been, but I can’t shake the fear growing in me. “I need Beck.”
“No. If you’re not ready to hear this, then you’re not ready to see him.” Bethina’s voice is firm and even.
Anger pushes away the fear and my fingers curl around the pillow in my lap. I launch it at a table lamp. The lamp totters before falling to the floor. The sound of the decorative base shattering releases some of my anger. Some, but not all. I don’t want to sit here any longer than I need to.
“What’s your deal, Bethina? You’ve lied to me my whole life and now you expect me to believe you?”
Bethina recoils slightly. As if my outburst surprises her. “I want you to understand we’re not monsters. We’re more concerned with ourselves than what’s happening in the human world. For thousands of years, we co-existed peacefully with each other and humans, until Caitlyn Greene and Charles Channing got involved and made a mess of everything.”
My mouth drops open.
Bethina shifts in her seat. “I’m sorry, that’s not fair. In all honesty, Caitlyn, with Charles’s help, kept everything running smoothly. It wasn’t until after Charles’ death that the two sides had a falling out. We’ve been fighting ever since.”
“So you’re at war?”
“Not in the strictest sense. We are locked in a struggle stretching back generations.” She rubs the backs of her knuckles. I know this gesture—she’s nervous. I brace myself.
“After the Long Winter, only two truly powerful families were left—one Light and one Dark—along with several lesser lines. As fate would have it, the last children of these two lines fell in love and were bound. But it was highly controversial. She was Dark, a destroyer, and he was Light, a creator. No one had ever done this before. And no one knew what type of child to expect.”
“An evil monster?” I offer.
Bethina waves her hand at me, telling me to be quiet. “They had two children, twins—a boy and a girl.”
“Twins?” I ask, unsure what the word means.
“Children who are born at the same time to the same parents.”
“Like a litter of kittens?”
Bethina nods. “Something like that. It was common hundreds of years ago, before the State began population control.”
Satisfied, I motion for her to continue.
“The twins, like their parents Miles and Lucy Channing, were Light and Dark.”
Channing—Beck’s family. I squeeze my mouth shut and jam my fist against my lips, trying to keep my screams inside.
“Do you need some time?” Bethina’s soft voice asks.
In my heart, I knew. But to hear Bethina say it. To hear it out loud.
“Was the son Charles Channing?”
“Yes.”
“So Beck’s-–”
“An extremely powerful Light witch. When he’s mature, he’ll be one of the strongest we’ve seen.”
My tongue smarts beneath my teeth. I can’t speak, because if I do, it won’t be words coming from my mouth, but a long anguished cry. Beck’s lopsided grin flashes through my mind, his floppy hair, the warmth of his hand in mine. Not Beck. Anyone but him.
The awful summer heat wafts in through the open window and clings to my skin. It’s too hot. I need air. I need something.
I jump up and run to the window, shoving it open wider, until I can’t force it up anymore. But that doesn’t stop me from trying. I bang the sill against the top rail, over and over again.
“What does it mean?” I cry. “What is he? Is he evil?”
On the well-tended part of the lawn, the tunic-clad people I saw earlier stroll about. A few of them watch the house, like they’re listening to us. That handsome man with the scary voice sits on the edge of the porch, swinging his feet back and forth. He turns his head toward me, and smiles, like my pain amuses him.
“What!” I scream. “Why are you smiling at me?”
Bethina locks her arms around me, holding my back against her. “Shhh…it’s okay, Lark. Take a deep breath.”
The man on the porch laughs. Over my shoulder, Bethina growls, “Leave, Eamon.”
He jumps off the porch and walks along the side, his finger trailing over the wood porch. The song he whistled earlier fills the air. When he’s out of sight, I let my body go limp. Bethina holds me, stroking my hair, until I regain control over myself and let her walk me back to the couch.
She pours a glass of water from the pitcher on the side table and hands it to me. The icy coolness feels good.
“Beck is not evil. He’s Light, a creator.” She drinks from her own glass. “The Dark witches aren’t inherently evil either. But they are destroyers and they do like power.”
Okay. If he has to be Sensitive, at least let him be a creator. “Is he in danger? Do the Dark witches want to hurt him?”
Bethina closes her eyes. Her chest moves evenly with each breath, like she’s sleeping. “What do you know about your family?”
Most, if not all, of my knowledge comes from my schoolbooks. “The normal stuff about Caitlyn. That my grandparents both worked in the political branch of State. And of course, Mother is the Vice Head—the highest ranking position a Greene has held since Caitlyn.”
“Your grandparents, and parents, interbound.” I give her a blank stare, unsure what that means. “They broke with the mating system by marrying outside of their group, and mixing Light and Dark. They completely disregarded the system Caitlyn, your ancestor, implemented to preserve and strengthen bloodlines.”
A numbness spreads through my body and my heart beat accelerates. “They were Light and Dark? My family? They’re Sensitive?”
“Yes.” She watches me carefully, folding her hands in her lap. “Caitlyn’s bloodline is very strong. Instead of diluting with each generation, it appears to grow stronger. Some say your mother’s Dark powers are unrivaled by any other mature witch, surpassing even Caitlyn’s abilities.”
I grasp at the corners of my mind and attempt to stay present. My mother? She works for State. She can’t be.
Only she can. Because Bethina told me the State is all a sham. An illusion set up to fool people like me.
Bethina holds my gaze and a deliciously warm feeling creeps from my toes to my head. That horror, while not gone, lessens and is replaced with another: Bethina is controlling my emotions.
She moves across the room and sits next to me. “I know this is a shock.”
For the first time since I left school, I feel completely defeated.
My entire life has been a lie: The State, Beck, Bethina, my friends.
My family.
Me.
I’m Sensitive. I’m one of them. How could Kyra think this was good?
I lean forward and retch.
Out of nowhere, a basin appears under me and I empty my stomach.
Bethina hands me a tissue and I wipe my mouth. The sour taste lingers and threatens to send me reaching for the basin again.
This has to be a mistake. “I’m Sensitive?”
“Yes. Your mother’s family is an unbroken line of powerful witches tracing back to the beginning of time. Your father comes from a lesser Light line—you look very much like him.”
At least I’m on the right side—with Beck.
But then I realize that means we’re up against Mother—and the power of the State—and my stomach churns again
. “Is Beck safe? Does my Mother want to hurt him?”
“He’s safe for now.”
It’s not the response I want. I’m sure Mother won’t hurt me—I may not see her frequently, but she’s worried about me. I saw her on the news crying—she wouldn’t do that unless she meant it. She can’t afford for people to think she’s weak.
But Beck, would she hurt him? And why hasn’t she already done so?
“Lark, do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Bethina’s face looks aged, older than I remember.
“For many years, the Dark witches have led seemingly peaceful lives waiting for a Dark witch, stronger than any other, to lead them. That time has arrived.”
Her eyes pierce me.
Panic rips through my body.
Bethina takes my hand and presses it to her heart. “They’ve been waiting for you.”
17
The world is fuzzy, distorted even. Nothing looks right anymore. Bethina’s mouth moves, but there’s no sound. I can’t hear. Still, I cup my ears, shielding them from words I don’t want to hear.
Blood pounds at my temples and races through my veins, gathering speed. Inside me, energy builds. I squeeze my eyes shut. It does no good.
“No!” I scream, and the window nearest us shatters. Rain pelts us through the gaping wall.
“No!” I curl in a tight ball. Knees to my chest, I rock back and forth, trying to forget Bethina’s words. Her hands rub my back as tears run down my cheeks and onto my knees.
“How?” I bury my face deeper into my knees. “Why?”
The house shakes. A deep rumble echoes through the room. The floor rolls beneath my feet and yells come from another part of the house.
Bethina touches me again, and I slip into darkness.
My eyes won’t open, but I feel a shift in the room. It settles. I hear glass picked up, windows being replaced. My heart slows. A stillness seeps through me. I’m calm.
I allow the peace to settle. My breath is steady and slow. Indistinct sounds filter through my brain like a low volume hum. My life, my history—none of it makes sense anymore.
Mercifully, I disappear into a quiet void.
When I open my eyes, I’m alone. Bethina left me. Somewhere outside a bell tolls. Six o’clock.
My head rolls and drops like I’ve been drugged. This is nothing like Annalise’s thick air. My body just doesn’t want to move. I blink and try to open my mouth to call out. No sound. My voice is gone. Sleep draws me back into its grasp and I welcome it.
Unlike before, my dreams aren’t empty. Violent images dance through my mind while my heart burns stronger. It whirls inside of me, pulsing, coming to life.
I feel the energy gather speed. Anger builds. My mind circles around Bethina’s words: My family is Dark, my great-great-grandmother, probably my brother, definitely my mother.
Dark. Every single one of them.
And me.
I’m the Darkest of all. The most evil. Me.
Distant muffled voices float around me.
They aren’t kind.
“Malin’s daughter,” they hiss and scream. I hear it again, and again, and again.
I want to cover my ears and hide from it, but I can’t. I’m stuck.
All sound disappears and my mind swims through consciousness, blurring the present with the past. I remember the little girl crushed by a tree branch. I’d hated her. Hated her lack of concern for Beck. I’d wanted her to hurt.
I did hurt her.
The anger works through my body as I remember. My soul’s on fire.
The energy simmers again. It pulses and pushes out from me.
Bethina lied to me. She never intended for me to find out. My body shakes. I can’t control the trembling. Anger, followed by pain, stabs through me.
“Shhh, Birdie. It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”
Calmness descends. That voice I can hear. That voice I need. My body stops shaking and I slip back into the still darkness.
Hands, so many hands touch me. My face, my arms, my stomach.
“She’s burning up. We need to do something.” Beck’s voice is urgent, scared.
Movement. I’m carried somewhere. Cold air assaults me. I can’t see anything. More talking but I don’t understand. The pain subsides and I feel safe—the anger is gone.
I force my eyes open and search. I’m outside, under the stars. Unfamiliar faces crowd the space around me, watching.
“Beck?” I whisper.
Strong hands reach around me, lift me off ground and pull me close. I know these arms.
“I’m here, Lark.” I turn my face and see the one thing that always makes me happy, no matter how terrible I feel—Beck.
My voice is raw. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.”
Nothing makes sense. I’m afraid. I’m so afraid. Beck moves so our foreheads touch. I bury my head in his shirt and inhale, finding peace.
“Careful, Beck, she’s in shock.” Bethina’s voice shakes.
Beck carries me inside and lowers me back onto the sofa. He takes a blanket from the chair and covers me.
“There you go, Birdie. When you’re ready, we can talk.”
More unfamiliar faces watch us, waiting.
But hours go by. Then days. I don’t say anything. I sit, staring into a void. Beck stays with me, holding my hand and begging me to wake up.
Begging me to come back to him.
18
I decide to wake up. It’s that simple. One minute my mind wades through endless nothingness and the next, I open my eyes.
I couldn’t be away from Beck any longer.
My eyes flutter for a moment and adjust to the soft light filtering through the sheer curtains. Beck’s head is crushed against the side of the couch, his fingers entwined with mine.
I study his sleeping face. His rosy lips and long, black lashes. The bronze of his skin. There’s nothing, not one thing, about him that indicates he’s Sensitive.
But then, I can’t see it in myself either.
His blond waves tempt me. I run my free hand over them and as his soft hair tickles my palm, a deep sense of peace spreads through my body. It feels wonderful. Beck stirs a little but doesn’t wake.
I scoot down until my face is even with his. “Beck,” I whisper. “Wake up.”
He rubs his face into the hard cushion but gives no other sign of being awake.
“Beck.” I trace my finger along his cheek.
A smile spreads across his lips, and he reaches for me.
“You really are an evil witch,” he murmurs groggily.
“That’s not funny.”
“You’re awake.” He watches me in awe, as if he thought it would never happen. “How do you feel?”
“Good. Great, actually. Like someone took me apart and fixed me up better.” It’s true. All the anguish and horror has evaporated and I feel amazing. But being around Beck has always had that effect on me.
My stomach growls and a small laugh escapes my lips. “Hungry.”
“Let’s get you some breakfast.” He straightens up and lifts me to my feet. “But give me a minute. I just want to look at you. Make sure you’re okay.”
I stand still, not sure what he wants me to do or what exactly he plans to do. I must be making a crazy face because he chuckles.
“What?”
He grins. “I can’t remember ever seeing you so confused. What are you thinking?”
“I was wondering if you were going to whip out your magic wand or something.”
Beck cringes and buries his face in his hand. “Ahhh, no.”
Please let the floor open and swallow me now. I try to look everywhere but at Beck, but of course, I can’t look anywhere but at him.
“All right then, change of subject.” A faint red tint creeps toward his ears. At least I’m not the only one mortified by my slip. “You feel great, right? But let’s make sure you’re physically okay.”
Beck’s eyes rake me over as if he
were searching for something. He runs his hand down my arms, over my neck and across the small of my back. Each time he touches me, tiny sparks leap off my skin.
When he’s finished, I spin and end with a dramatic pose.
“And do you like what you see?” I tease.
“Very much.” Beck hugs me tight and I feel safe. “You have no idea how relieved I am.”
His hands trail up my spine before settling them on my shoulders. “For the record, we don’t use wands. At least not the kind you’re thinking of.” He winks at me.
I punch him on the arm. Hard.
“Okay, then,” he says, rubbing the spot where my fist made contact. “Let’s get some breakfast. Unless you want a shower first?” He takes my hand again.
The sensation of his skin on mine sends my heart into a spastic jig. “Normally, I’d say ‘yes’ to the shower, but I’m starving.”
He leans in and exaggerates an inhale. “At least you don’t smell bad.” His grin widens and I give him a playful shove while keeping a tight hold on his hand. I’m never letting go again.
Beck squeezes mine back and leads me through the hall and into the ancient dining room. Not that it’s old looking. It’s just full of old stuff. Antiques and what not. Beck’s parents are avid collectors.
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