“What does that mean?” I ask.
No one hears me.
“Bethina,” I say louder, “what does that mean?”
The chanting pummels me. I cover my ears. The noise is unbearable. It comes not just from the hallway, but also drifts in the window. An intense throbbing pain forces me to my knees. I rock forward in agony.
“Please, someone, make it stop!” I plead.
Bethina raises her hand and the chanting ceases. The pain ebbs, but the haze around my brain lingers. Everything seems distant and slow.
“It means your darkness is no longer contained. Beck knew if he kissed you, it would break the encasing.”
She places her hand on Mrs. Channing’s back. “Margo, forgive me. I should have never sent him after her. I didn’t believe they’d behave this way.”
Mrs. Channing’s eyes are cold and hard. “You were wrong about that, weren’t you? And now look.” She glares at me. “Look at them. There’s no denying what they’ve done.”
For the first time, I notice a faint yellow glow around Beck. His eyes are illuminated, his wavy hair disarrayed, and the beauty of his face unmatched by any other. Mrs. Channing crosses the room more rapidly than my mind will register and grabs my elbow. Her nails dig into my exposed arms as she shoves me toward the mirror.
“Look at yourself.”
When I see my reflection, I gasp. The same yellow glow surrounds me. My eyes are bright like Beck’s.
I turn to him. “What else did you do?”
He lifts my hand. With his finger, he traces the familiar pattern on the back of it and then kisses me. I attempt to resist but his soft lips move over mine, daring me to not give in.
My body folds into his as he draws me up. My feet dangle from the ground. A rush of heat floods my body and I eagerly return his kiss with more intensity than any kiss from the night before.
He lowers me to the ground and slides one hand down my back and the other around my neck. Instinctively, I move closer and wrap my arms tighter around him. I don’t want to ever let go. There is nothing in this room but the two of us.
A sharp throat clearing breaks the spell. Beck kisses me hard and extracts himself from my embrace. I lean against him breathless, my face turned upward.
His glowing eyes observe me. “Last night, when you said you loved me, it permanently bound us. You’re stuck with me forever.”
I stumble backward as if his words shoved me away. My foggy brain spins. He bound us? Permanently?
The severity of the situation slams into me. “No!”
The room pitches beneath me, but I don’t fall. Strong arms hold me. Beck’s arms. The chanting resumes, thunderous this time.
“We can’t be.” I look at Bethina, but her face is blank and tells me nothing. “We’re not old enough. It’s impossible.”
Mrs. Channing buries her face in her husband’s shirt. In the corner, Eloise shakes her head and turns her back on me.
“Beck, go to your own room for a bit. Give us some time to sort this out.” Mr. Channing gives an order, not a suggestion.
Beck stands his ground. “No,” he says firmly. “Lark is my mate. I’m bound to her and there is no way I’m leaving her alone with you.”
My mind strains to process this mess. Beck is mine forever. Mine. No one can separate us and no one can keep him from me ever again. My joyous heart leaps at the thought. This must have been his plan all along.
But he didn’t tell me.
Through the layers of haze it becomes clear. I wouldn’t have consented. He knew that. My happiness disintegrates. We can’t be permanently bound—I‘ll kill him. I’ll smother out his light or just kill him outright.
No wonder the Channings and the other Light witches are furious.
“Beck,” I cry, “how could you be so selfish?” Despair replaces my elation as my eyes dart around the room, searching for Eamon. No one has attacked us yet. A fragile relief fills my heart. Unlike my father, Beck’s important to the Light witches—they won’t hurt him. He’ll be safe; they’ll forgive him. He only needs to worry about me attacking him.
Beck’s face falls. “Selfish? I did it for you, for us. I’m going to help you stay balanced—so we can be together.”
“Did you give any consideration to the Dark magic stuck in you?”
“It’ll be fine. I’ve always had it and look at me. ”
“No, you won’t. It’s never worked for anyone else. It’s not going to work for us.”
He reaches for my hand again, but I jerk away. He draws his eyebrows together. “I want you to be yourself. Who you truly are. That’s the girl I love and would give up fifty years of my life for.”
“And what about me?” I cry, anger boiling under the surface. “How do you think I’m going to feel knowing I killed you? Did you think about that?” I cross my arms, furious. “I’d rather live without you than be bound to you and kill you.”
Beck glares at Bethina. “You didn’t tell her?”
“Tell me what?” I snap.
“Shush, Beck. I don’t think this is the time.”
He ignores her. “That once you’re mature, you won’t remember loving me. It won’t bother you one bit to kill me.”
For the second time, the blackness reaches for me. I’m turning into a monster and no one can stop it. I won’t remember loving Beck. I won’t remember last night. I won’t remember being me. They think I’ll go mad like Caitlyn.
Unable to hold myself up any longer, I sink to the ground. “Then why? Why did you do this?”
“Because when I die, and no one seems to dispute that fact, I’ll die happy, because I loved the most amazing girl in the world and she loved me too.”
He kneels beside me and whispers so only I can hear. “If I can’t have you forever, at least let me have that.”
34
A beat, then two. No one says anything. Nothing moves. Time has stopped.
It’s like being trapped in Annalise’s heavy air again, only this time, I’m not afraid for myself. Instead, fear for Beck overwhelms me.
The humming in my head grows loud again. Unbearable. I squeeze the balls of my hands against my ears. But the noise is insistent and the vibrations rattle my teeth. It’s coming from inside me.
A gentle touch on my arm. I grasp my head harder, afraid that if I let go, I may start screaming. Two strong hands pull on my own and tear my hands away. A whooshing noise surrounds me and I rock backward, dizzy from the attack on my equilibrium.
“Lark, can you hear me?” Beck’s words sound muffled.
The humming rattles me. I can’t think. I twist my wrists to get away from him. I need to get out of this room. Away from this noise. But the more I twist, the stronger his grip becomes.
“Lark, I need you to listen. You need to focus. Can you do that?”
I hear his words, but the need to flee is intense. I continue to struggle.
“You have to clear your mind and think of the lake. Think of the music and how happy you felt. Please, Birdie. Please try.”
Through the persistent, agonizing din, Beck’s pleas reach me and I stop fighting. The hum slows enough for me to focus my thoughts. The feeling of Beck’s cheek on my head, the memory of his deep voice singing to me, floods back. The noise vanishes.
I open my eyes. At first, I only see Beck beaming at me. But then, from the corner of my eye, I see Mrs. Channing, Eloise—everyone except Beck and Bethina—rocking and chanting. But I can’t hear them.
“What happened?” I direct my question to Beck. No one pays us attention.
“They’re trying to contain your magic because you can’t be encased anymore. I won’t allow it.” He grins, pleased. “Benefit of being bound to me.”
“What’s wrong with them?” The silent chanters’ bodies move in unison.
“We cast a spell on them. I was able to soothe you enough to get you to focus and together we shielded ourselves. They have no idea.” The figures join hands and quiver slightly.
; “How? I don’t know how to do any spells.”
“All you needed to do was think of something that made you happy. I harnessed your emotions and did the rest.”
I tilt my head and let Beck’s answer sink in. Like when I found my necklace—I can do magic, or least aid in magic-making. Interesting.
“What about Bethina?” She’s silent and still.
“I’m fine, Lark.” Her voice surprises me. “Beck didn’t cast on me.”
“Oh. I didn’t know you could hear me.”
“I can hear the two of you clear as day.” She crosses her arms. “Plotting away and making a bigger mess for yourselves. You.” She points at Beck. “I expect this kind of behavior from. But you,” she turns her attention toward me, “I expect more from you, Lark.”
“Me?” I whine, still upset about her earlier attack on me. “Really? I’m the Dark witch, remember? Aren’t I supposed to be all unpredictable and erratic and evil?”
“You may be Dark but you like rules,” Bethina snaps. “Now, put some clothes on, young lady.”
I glance down at my sheer cotton gown. Heat spreads across my face. I hurry over to my trunk and take out a new dress. Knowing only Beck and Bethina can see me, I strip naked. Beck grins and then politely turns his eyes down before Bethina smacks him on the back of the head.
As I lower the dress over my arms, Bethina says, “I think you should wear something warmer, Lark. Why don’t you put on some pants and a sweater?”
“Why?” My arms are bent over my head, waiting.
“Because you’re not staying here.”
“Of course she is. Lark is staying until October sixth. It’s been arranged. We’ll leave then,” Beck says.
“No, Beck.” Bethina’s mouth is hard. “You’re both going. If you want to save yourselves, you need to leave now. Immediately.”
I ignore Bethina’s wardrobe advice and finish pulling on the dress. I loop my arm through Beck’s. He leans his full weight on me. I’m steadying him for once.
My mind is now sharp and free from the haze. “What’s going on?”
“They sent Beck after you last night so we could hold discussions. About what to do with you.” Bethina’s composed demeanor cracks. “Lark, they decided last night to permanently imprison you. But now…”
“What?” Beck and I cry in unison.
“You’ve gone and made things worse. So much worse.” Her eyes glisten with tears. “You’ve bound yourselves. And the only way to undo a binding is death.” She stops, unable to go on.
I understand before Beck does. The splinter group. We signed our death warrant when we bound ourselves.
My voice is urgent and scared. “You think they’re going to kill Beck?”
“I don’t think it matters which of you they kill,” Bethina whispers. It’s little more than a sigh. She points at me. “You are Dark. And you,” she says as she nods toward Beck, “are bound to a Dark witch. They killed Lark’s father for that.”
I’m unable to move. They want to kill us? These Light witches want to kill me? And Beck? I know Eamon feels that way, but the others? It doesn’t make any sense, Beck’s going to be their leader. He should be safe.
Waves of desperation crash into me. Each one grows larger and larger, until my body, unsure whether to run or fight, is completely paralyzed. Frozen, I’m forced to watch Beck spring into action. His movements are a blur. He throws a sweater at me.
My arms are numb, too heavy to lift. The sweater falls to the ground. Bethina picks it up and forces it over my head. I offer no resistance. My body and mind are in a fog. Pants are pulled over my legs and Beck forces my feet into my boots.
Around the room, the silent chanters continue their spell. My gaze rests on Henry and Eloise. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.
Bethina understands. “Not them, Lark. They voted against it.”
I bob my groggy head to show I understand. My friends fought for me.
I’m no good like this—unable to move. With concentration, I focus my energy and wrest strength from those around me. It builds stronger and stronger until I slam the paralysis out of my way. The urge to fight replaces it.
“The others?”
“Eamon hasn’t wasted his time here. He has a solid core of followers ready to do his bidding,” Bethina answers.
Images of Eamon and his growing entourage flash through my mind. Every day, they were there, taunting me during lessons, watching me during my free time, singing that damn song.
“How long?” I ask.
Bethina shrugs. “If you keep acting like a zombie, not long. Beck can’t hold them by himself.”
That registers. Beck needs me. Burning builds inside my heart. The tingling along my spine grows. Outside, the sky dims and rain pelts the window. At the lawn’s edge, trees bend in half under the gusting wind.
I will fight. I need to fight.
“Do you have a plan?”
“There’s an escort of Dark witches waiting outside the dome.”
If we can get away before the spell wears off, perhaps we can avoid an attack from the Dark witches. For Henry and Eloise’s sake.
Panic builds in my chest again. “And Beck? Can Mother keep me from hurting him?”
Bethina dips her head. Tears glisten in her eyes. “I don’t know. If there were some other way...”
Beck’s light touches me. “It’s a risk I’ll take.” He kisses my forehead. “We need to go now. I don’t know how much longer our spell will hold.”
“But you can’t come with me!” I stare at him in disbelief. “Haven’t you been paying attention?”
Beck glances at Bethina, waiting for her to interject. When she doesn’t, he says, “Henry told me about the protection spell. They can’t harm one of us without hurting the other.” He squeezes my hand. “She can’t hurt me.”
The storm slams into the house. It rocks and the hallway pictures rattle. “It’s me you need to be afraid of! Not my mother. Me!”
His face crumples. “I can’t stay here, Lark. They’ll kill me.”
From across the room, Bethina speaks. “When you bound yourselves, you broke the protection spell, Beck.” Her strained voice shows the emotional toll. “Malin may strike you down upon first sight.”
What have we done? My hands quiver. Magic flows into my body, filling each crevice with a tingling sensation. I lift my hand to strike out at the chanters. I’ll destroy each and every one of them before they have a chance to hurt Beck.
He wraps his arms around me, blocking them from my sight. “It’s not their fault. Don’t punish them for what I did.”
The air around us shimmers and goes still. The witches continue their silent chant but now they seem more animated.
We’ve run out of choices.
“We have to go.” Beck takes my hand. He leads me through the mass of people clogging the doorway. I follow, still upset with him, still irate at our situation and still unsure what to do next. This would be so much easier if it were just about me. But now, Beck’s made himself a target too. And unlike me, he has to worry about his own people turning on him, as well as the Dark witches.
Beck wastes no time getting us down the stairs and out the front door. Despite being early morning, it’s black as night. The rain comes down sideways, stinging my skin like a thousand angry wasps. An unearthly howl envelops us.
“Can you stop this?” Beck points at the storm.
“No. I don’t know how.”
Over the howl, I hear chanting. My eyes widen, and I gape at Beck and Bethina.
They hear it too.
Lightning cracks the sky in a long jagged streak. Every part of my body tells me to stay and fight. If we run now, we’re going to have to keep running. These so-called Light witches—this splinter group—will hunt us until they destroy us. That’s been made clear.
“We should end this now,” I scream into the storm.
“No. You need to go.” Bethina shoves me off the porch and onto the lawn. In
front of me, all I see is rain. The tree line has completely disappeared. I hesitate and take a step back toward the house. Confusion consumes me—I’m so lost. All I need is to be strong and resist the growing desire to strike out, but it’s so tempting.
Energy pricks at me. I clench my fist before slowly uncurling my fingers.
“Lark, stop. I won’t let you.” Beck grabs my hand “That’s not who you are.”
Warmness and clarity flow through me. Beck’s right. If I harm them, hurt any of them intentionally, then I’m everything they said I was—evil, out-of-control, a monster. And that’s exactly what I’m fighting against.
I cup my hands over my eyes like a visor to keep the rain out, but it doesn’t work.
“Where?” I shout.
In response, Beck grabs my hand and starts into the storm. I can’t see anything except a small glow off to my side. I squint to identify the strange object.
Another light appears next to it.
“Run!” I scream.
From the East Lawn, a growing group of Light witches descend on us. At the front, leading the onslaught, is Eamon. We’re easy targets on the open lawn, even in the torrential rain.
I chase after Beck but trail him by a good ten feet. Behind me, Bethina fumbles through the rain. The soggy lawn offers no traction and I slip, landing on my hands and knees. Bethina reaches me before I can pick myself up.
“Get Beck. Tell him to come here. I need him,” she orders.
“But we can’t stop! They’re nearly here!” The air around us shakes and twitches.
Larkstorm Page 28