by Charlie Hart
But what I saw last night wasn’t a magic I know.
I still can’t see every part of my story. There are pieces I’m missing.
A massive piece.
How did Tennyson die?
I come home after a night of broken sleep in Sawyer’s arms, my body different–I’m no longer a virgin. I’m a woman in every sense, and it is time to lay to rest the parts of my story that cause my heart to ache.
I drop my tote bag to the kitchen floor, rolling my shoulders.
It’s not my body that hurts though, it’s my heart.
“It’s not the dancing, is it?” Mom asks, her eyes straining, as if desperate to understand.
I shake my head. “I’ve had two visions, Mom. Memories resurfacing.”
She nods. “I can’t protect you from the past when you don’t sleep here.”
My eyes fill with tears. “I don’t want you to protect me. I want to understand.”
Mom pulls me into a hug, and I inhale her lavender and clary sage essential oils. She is wisdom incarnate and I want her to bestow some of that on me.
“Come, have tea,” she says. “I’ll tell you the rest of what I know.”
After I explain my visions, Mom tells me that her and her sister Tabitha always understood that Tennyson and I were special. We were delivered to a pair of witches, after all.
But after Tenny died so mysteriously, and then was plucked from the ground and lost to the sky, they knew we were more than special.
We were something dangerous.
My mother clung to me. Told her sister she wouldn’t abandon me. She wrapped us up in energy and took me away. It was to keep me safe from whatever storm was brewing in New Orleans. Mom didn’t want it to come back for me.
We drove west, ending up in Las Vegas. Mom thought that here in the dry desert we would be safe; that the storms would stay away.
And she cast spells over me, on the house, every day of my life. To protect me from whatever sinister thing was in the sky.
She gave me rules because she loved me. She didn’t want me found.
I no longer have a sister.
I no longer have an aunt.
But I do have a mother.
“But the ring?” I ask.
Mom swallows. “It holds a magic I don’t understand. I found it in your palm the day of the storm and you told me it was dangerous. You told me to never put it on. You said it was bad.”
“Did I tell you why?”
Mom shakes her head. “No.”
“And you just believed me?”
“Why wouldn’t I trust you, Lark?”
“I don’t know.” I sigh, feeling like I understand my mother, but I’m no closer to understanding myself. “Do you think I did something terrible to Tenny? Do you believe I’m the reason my sister is gone?”
Mom shakes her head. “If you did do something, it was an accident.”
As I sit at the kitchen table, a warm mug of tea in my hands, I can see how she only wanted to keep her daughter safe.
“I still don’t know if I trust those hawks, Lark. What if they aren’t being honest?”
I shake my head. “No. I trust them with all that I am, Mom. I … I … I love them.”
“Oh, Lark,” Mom covers her mouth. “All of them?”
“I can’t explain it. But they are mine and I am theirs and I know it’s strange … but what about my story isn’t?”
Our eyes lock and I know she understands. It’s the truth, too. I do love them.
All five of them. And when the moment is right, I will tell them.
“Lark,” she says. “I never wanted to lock you in a cage. I’m sorry.”
I look at her, my face covered in tears. “Maybe I wasn’t meant to fly, Mom.”
Mom sighs, shaking her head. Her hand reaches out to mine, clasping it. “Oh Lark. That can’t be true. You, my daughter, were meant to soar.”
I don’t let myself get hung up on what I don’t know, and the pieces of my story that don’t add up.
Instead, I go to rehearsal, for ten, twelve, fourteen hours a day.
I listen to Melanie and Tanya as they direct us across the practice room, and then when we move into the theater of the Spades Royale.
My focus is intense. My heart’s all in. Nothing is going to get in the way of this show.
After rehearsal, Mark asks if I ever take a break, but I just shake my head.
There is no time for breaks.
Rehearsals ramp up in intensity and even if I wanted to spend my nights in the arms of my cast mates, I can’t. We’re all exhausted by the day’s end. Our bodies have been pushed to their limits as Melanie coaches us. Demanding us to work harder, longer, until we have perfected every second of the show.
It’s worth every bit of practice.
We’ve become a singular unit working toward a payoff that will have everyone gasping for breath.
The show is that good.
The orchestra is flawless, the costumes are breathtaking, and the lighting is stunning.
Tonight, we will go on stage for our final dress rehearsal. Billboards outside the casino feature me, in my bird costume with my feathered wings soaring across the Vegas sky. The opening night performance is sold out. Twitter is a firestorm, and celebrities have tweeted that they will be at the premiere.
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
Mom hasn’t come to a single rehearsal. At first it was because she was so angry that I was doing the show at all, and then, after we reconciled, we decided it would be best to have her wait until opening night.
It’s crazy: after managing my life for so many years, watching over every aspect, it’s thrilling to know that tonight she will be as surprised as the rest of the audience.
When I wake up, I’m already itching to leave for the theater. I shower quickly, dress, and then read the texts on my phone from the guys. They are as pumped as I am. My body is giddy with excitement. And after the final dress rehearsal, the guys and I plan on celebrating in their suite. Life may feel messy in lots of ways, but right now, everything feels like it’s going to be okay.
Mom has placed a ridiculous number of charms on me, she’s been so nervous for my performance, that someone will find me. I feel them weighing on me. Her whispered incantations are blooming around me, still heavy in the air, cloaking me just the way she wanted.
I remember her whispering that she was cloaking me in herself. Switching places with my energy. Last night I told her that was crazy, but she told me no one was looking for her–it was me that she was worried about.
I walk to Mom’s bedroom, wanting to let her now I’m heading out, but she isn’t there.
“Mom?” I call down the hallway, but again, no answer. I feel a text come through on my phone and I look down at it.
Mom: I ran out to get you flowers. Can’t wait to see the show this afternoon. Love you, Lark. Be careful.
Always the be careful. But right now, I don’t resent it. It makes me feel loved. Just like the hawk shifters are here to protect me, maybe that is why I have been under Mom’s care all my life–maybe whoever my parents are knew I needed someone to look over me.
To keep me safe.
Before I turn to leave from her doorway, I notice the jewelry box on her dresser. It’s the same one she’s had all her life, but I’ve never rifled through it. Maybe because I subconsciously hate it for reasons I don’t understand. But now, I’m curious. I walk toward it, and open it up, just like Tennyson did when we were little girls.
God, how I desperately want to understand. Want the pieces to fit into place. To have the memory back.
What happened to my sister?
I root around for a second and find a small white envelope tucked in the bottom. I open it and find the antique gold band with an embossed feather on the top. In the memory, Tennyson’s face gleamed with excitement as she held it in the palm of her hand.
I want to feel my sister. I want to be connected to her.
She held this ring.
So I take it, and I hold it too.
I don’t slip it on; I’m too scared for reasons I don’t fully understand. But my body feels lighter as I hold it in my hand, and as I walk across her bedroom, I practically float on air.
I leave the house in a cab, the hawks flying overhead as we drive. And the ring almost burns in my hand, I want to wear it so bad.
So I do.
Nothing happens.
I stare at my fingers, and nothing has changed. It’s just a ring.
Maybe it had nothing to do with Tennyson’s death, after all.
Mark comes to wish me luck before the rehearsal, pumped up and excited. I’m in my hair and makeup chair as we talk to one another while looking in the mirror. “The reviews are spectacular,” he tells me. “Talk about making a splash with your debut, kid.”
The early reviews were already coming in from major outlets. Special guests from news sources had been invited during the last week for exclusive viewings of our rehearsals, doing interviews with the cast, and photographing the performance.
“Is my mom here yet?”
Mark frowns. “Haven’t seen her. She has a VIP seat, right?”
I nod. “Can you go look? I’m headed to Costumes to get dressed.”
“I’ll come find you after I find her, sound good?”
“Perfect.”
I start the show in a gorgeous Princess gown. It’s white the same as all my costumes in the show. I’m a pure, innocent dove. I smile to myself as I think about the guys, how we gave ourselves to one another the other night in their suite.
There was nothing pure about that.
Half an hour later, I’m all ready. Mark finds me backstage once the house lights are down. “Sorry, Lark. Haven’t seen her. Even tried calling, but there was no answer. Maybe she is wanting to surprise you on opening night?”
“That’s not like her.”
“I know, Lark. Sorry. I’m guessing she is running a few minutes late and will be here in any second.”
The guys find me backstage, whistling and complimenting me. “Gorgeous as always, birdie,” Sawyer says.
“Oh, shush.” Then I look them over. They look exquisite in their costumes. Tight spandex, bare chests, hawk wings attached to their backs and arms, stretching across their breadth. “You guys look....” I swallow, shaking my head.
“Like something you’d like to undress after rehearsal?” Brecken asks.
I grin. “Maybe. If all goes well.”
“It will,” Vaughn says, kissing my cheek.
And I believe him.
23
North
The dress rehearsal goes off without a hitch. In fact, it was the best we’ve ever done.
Lark doesn’t just move across the stage, I swear her feet never touched the ground. Everyone is ecstatic afterward, and since it is still afternoon, I suggest we get an early dinner.
Lark shakes her head. “Mom never came, and she isn’t answering her phone. It’s not like her.”
“Wanna go to your house?” Arrow asks.
I’m a little jealous that he’s met Lark’s mom, and I want to meet her myself. “Yeah, we’ll all come with.”
Lark smiles. “Okay, but I’m worried.” She looks down at her hands and I notice the ring on her finger.
“What’s that?”
“I found it in my mother’s jewelry box before the show. It’s the one I saw in my vision.”
I narrow my brows. “Should you be wearing it?”
Always confident, Sawyer slings an arm around her shoulder. “I’m sure it’s fine. It’s just a ring.”
“A ring that’s significant for reasons we don’t understand.”
“Well if your Mother Earth would ever show up and talk, that might help,” Lark says, rolling her eyes.
It’s been strange, the way Gaia ditched us. After sending us to the desert a few months ago, she’s been MIA. Brecken and Vaughn left during one of our rare days off to look for her, but no one has caught sight of her.
“You weren’t yourself tonight, Lark,” I say.
She frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know what I mean … even now, you seem lighter than air.”
She bristles at this. “It’s nothing. And you’re right, I’m sure my mom’s fine. We can order takeout or something. It’ll be chill. Which we need, since tomorrow is opening night.”
We draw a collective breath, still a little surprised that it’s already here.
As we’re leaving the theater, Mark rushes up to us.
Two police officers are with him and we all immediately brace ourselves for something bad.
“Lark,” he says, his face grim, his eyes filled with tears. “There’s been an accident.”
She shakes her head, and I reach for her hand, sensing that she needs something to hold onto. “No, there can’t have been.”
Mark presses his fist to his mouth. “I’m so sorry Lark. Your mom, she didn’t–”
Lark cuts him off. “No. Don’t say it.” Her eyes are wild and lost and she digs her fingertips into my hand.
“Lark, there was a freak lightning and rain storm, and she was leaving the house, getting in her car, probably to come here. And she was struck down. She died immediately.”
“It’s not even raining,” Arrow points out.
The police officers nod in agreement. One of them speaks up, “It was a storm that came out of nowhere and left just as fast. We’re so sorry for your loss, Lark.”
“Sorry?” she cries. “Take it back,” she says, shaking, tears spilling across her cheek. “The words, the story, all of it. Please, this can’t be happening.”
Mark reaches for her and pulls her into a hug. “I know,” he repeats over and over again until her sobs subside. The five of us men step back, giving them space, but we can’t go far. If her mother is gone, then the protection spells she has placed around Lark are gone too, leaving her more vulnerable.
“She can’t be dead,” Lark sobs, shaking her head.
“We can go see her body,” Mark tells her.
Lark nods. “Yes, let’s go. Now. I have to see it to believe it.”
An hour later we’re standing outside the morgue. Lark is inside, identifying the body.
“It’s so heartbreaking to watch,” Arrow says. “I’ve never seen someone cry so much.”
“I can’t imagine losing my best friend,” Brecken says. Then he shrugs, shaking his head. “If I lost one of you guys, I’d be a wreck.”
His sincerity surprises me. And what surprises me, even more, is that I’m getting choked up at the thought.
“You okay?” Sawyer asks me.
I use my palm to wipe away a tear. “Allergies,” I mumble.
Vaughn calls me out. “Bullshit, you love us, admit it.”
I run a hand over my jaw. “Maybe you sons of bitches have been growing on me.”
“We won’t hold it against you,” Brecken says. His words mean a lot, considering I’ve given him hell for far too long.
The moment seems to catch us all by surprise and Sawyer speaks up, “Hey, uh, I’d be pretty pissed if anything happened to you guys too.”
Vaughn claps him on the shoulder. “We’re family, we stick together.”
Arrow nods. “Through thick and thin, right?”
“Lark is going to need us now more than ever,” I say. “And without Gaia around to help give us guidance, we need to trust one another.”
Lark comes out then, her face red and blotchy, her eyes swollen. “Thanks for staying,” she says, letting us wrap her in a hug right there on the sidewalk.
I’m not a sentimental guy. Usually, I rely on my gut over my heart but damn, Lark looks so fragile and wounded right now, I’d give anything to make her tears go away. For this to hurt a little less.
“We’re not going anywhere,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head.
“I can’t believe she’s gone.” Lark’s shoulders hitch
up and I know more tears are coming. “She was my everything. Without her....”
“Shhh,” I say, pulling her close. “You’re not alone, Lark.”
Lark’s shoulders shake, and I look over her head at the other guys. It hurts so much to see her in so much pain.
Arrow’s eyes lift, and all of us guys look upwards. The sky is clear, whatever storm was here has passed.
“She died because of me,” Lark says, her words half buried against my chest.
“What do you mean?” I ask, tucking back a loose strand of hair.
She looks up at me. “The ring.” She pulls it out of her pocket, holding it for us to see. “I had it the day my sister died.”
My eyes narrow. “You didn’t do anything. A ring can’t kill someone.”
“That’s quite a coincidence then,” she says, staring at it in her hand.
“There has to be more to it,” Arrow says. “You were delivered to your mom when you were a baby with that ring. That means the ring is the link to your birth parents.”
“Then I should just wear it,” she says. “Draw them to me. Find out what this ring means and why.”
I clench my jaw. “It’s risky though, what if–”
Brecken cuts me off. “What if we get hurt in the process? Is that what you were going to say?”
“No, asshat, what if Lark does?”
“I won’t,” she says. “I’m not just a woman. I’m magic. This ring makes me magic. You saw it today– when I wore I didn’t just move across the stage. I flew.”
“It dangerous though,” I say. “Gaia never said anything about taking you to find your birth parents. She would have if–”
Lark cuts me off. “And where is your precious Gaia now? You told me she hasn’t shown up in months. She sent you here to protect me and all that’s happened is my mother has died. She didn’t protect me from that.”
“Don’t put this on Gaia,” Arrow warns. “She must have a reason for staying away. Maybe she has more important things to deal with.”
“Maybe she trusted us to take care of you,” Vaughn says.
“Well, I don’t care about protection right now. I just want answers.” Lark gives us a look of defiance. “Look at the sky–there is no storm. This was no accident. This was murder.”