Phoenix Page 14

The flood of magic I once had coursing through me has turned to concern and anxiety.

  "Beck," I whisper. "Are you okay?"

  He glances at me from the corner of his eyes, a deep, angry look. "Perfect."

  My magic boils and rolls, but I continue, somehow, to hold it in.

  Until Beck stands. He flips over the coffee table, sending the pitcher of water flying across the room and spilling all over the floor.

  "Don't you ever speak of Lark like that, do you understand?" he yells at his mother. "Don't you dare."

  I grab at his arms and try pulling him back to me, but he breaks free. My magic unfurls like tiny wisps of fog and trails behind the destruction he's caused. The windows rattle, and the teacups crumble.

  Mr. Channing stares at the two of us for a long moment, as if trying to determine the larger threat. With a flick of his hand and a few words, he pins Beck back down on the sofa. Beneath the magic, Beck bucks and struggles.

  "Not in my house," Mr. Channing says. "Not while I'm still the leader of the Light witches." He releases his spell on Beck and turns to me.

  "If you want our help, I suggest the two of you take some time apart. Leave Beck with us. We'll straighten him out and convince the Light witches to go back to work at the Ag Centers."

  A lump forms in my throat. They want me to trade Beck for food. As much as I know we shouldn't be near each other, I can't let go. But to let my people starve out of selfishness is just...selfish.

  "Beck," I say. "Maybe he's right. Maybe we need time apart to do our jobs and sort ourselves out."

  He shakes his head. "So you don't want me?" Hurt fills his baritone voice. "You would leave me here?"

  Before I can answer, he sends a bolt of magic whizzing at me.

  "What the hell?" I catch it and return a larger, stronger wave of magic, but Beck deflects it and sends it soaring toward the windows, which explode upon contact.

  "Don't you want to play, Birdie?" Beck hisses.

  Landon thrusts himself between Beck and me, but I shove him out of the way.

  "I don't want to fight. I want to get your parents to agree to help us."

  Beck bounces some unknown magic in his hand. Up and down, like a dangerous bomb ball.

  "What is that?" I ask.

  "Do you want to see?"

  No. Beck, please, stop this. Let's go home.

  He ignores my plea and launches the ball into the air. Around us everyone appears frozen.

  "What have you done?" I ask as I reach out and shake Ryker's arm. There's no reaction.

  Beck grins at me. "Given us time. We need a plan. My parents don't seem interested in helping us, so perhaps we should force them. You can make them."

  My stomach flops. "Beck, no. We need them, but forcing them isn't the way. We need to work together."

  His nostrils flair, and he sweeps his arms widely. "Do you want them telling us what to do? Haven't you had enough of that already?" He smiles at me but it's not his normal warm grin. No, it's a cold, calculating smirk. "We're in charge now."

  "We're in charge for as long as they allow. Don't forget assassination and coup d'etats are de rigeur these days."

  Beck grabs my hands. A wild look dances in his eyes. "We can do this. We don't need them. Our magic is stronger than anything they've seen." He points to his parents. "Look how afraid they are of you."

  I pace back and forth while playing with the end of my ponytail. "I don't want to rule by fear."

  "It's how it has to be. Malin knew that. You should too."

  Before he can stop me, I curl my toes and wrap my arms around myself. "Release," I whisper.

  The room roars to life. Behind him, guards pin Beck's arms to his side and slap a red, magic-robbing wristlet around his forearm.

  "Get him out of here," Landon orders. "Secure Beck in the farthest part of the house."

  "Is that a wise decision?" Henry asks from somewhere at the back of the crowd. "They're better off with more distance between them."

  "No. You can't keep him from me. We have the Founders' Ball. He's already been announced as my escort. The people will wonder what's happening." My heart whirls, desperate to keep Beck near me. "No one can help him the way I can. No one understands the way I do."

  "Let me go," Beck shouts. "I'm not going to hurt her, or anyone."

  Eloise pushes her way past everyone, her dark red curls have fallen loose from her ponytail. "Let him go, Lark, just for now. Just until we work everything out."

  "Why?" I cry. "Why does no one want us together?"

  Henry and the Channings exchange glances.

  "What?" I demand.

  Henry is blunt. "Your Dark magic is consuming Beck, and he has no control over it."

  There's a scuffle at the end of the hallway, where my guards have Beck, and then they're gone.

  "It's happening, isn't it? I'm draining him of his Light?" My voice cracks.

  Henry grasps my hand. "We're not completely sure, but it appears that way."

  I wrest my hand away and place my fingertips on my temples. There has to be a way for us to be together and not hurt each other. There has to be.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The moon looks different. Brighter.

  And there are more stars, too. Millions of them.

  I tilt my head back until I'm staring into an abyss of inky blackness and steady myself against a crumbling old log. Long fingers of fog swirl around me, sucking me into the vortex.

  I can't see beyond the tips of my extended arm. Where am I?

  Stay calm, Lark. Panicking is what gets you in trouble.

  With faux-confidence, I walk toward the edge of the darkness, my feet tripping over stray tree roots. From high above, soft light envelops me and grows larger, stretching to take in more of the scenery. A tree appears to my left, another to my right, and a dusty trail extends away from me into the unknown.

  Warm wind blows across my skin as I walk, and the smell of forest fills my nose. With each step, my surroundings become more familiar, more defined, until I'm standing at the trail's head looking out at a glittering lake.

  Summer Hill.

  I swing my head side-to-side, looking for a place to hide. How did I get here? And who brought me?

  A movement down the shoreline catches my attention, and my pulse pounds in my temples. Fifty feet from me, Beck Channing stands facing me. The wind musses his unruly blond curls.

  "Lark?" he says, his voice a soft caress to my ears. "What are you doing here?"

  My blood speeds up until its frantic rhythm fills my brain and pushes out all other noises. I want to run away, but I can't. But I don't want to attack him either. My feet stay firmly planted, and my hands slightly turned ready for anything he may throw at me.

  Beck tilts his head to the right, and I know he's trying to get a read on my emotions.

  I rock back and forth on my feet, unsure what to do. I could attack him – which is what I'm supposed to do – or I could flee and show myself to be a coward.

  I am not a coward.

  Beck stares first at the trees, then the trail behind me, as if trying to place where we are. He pivots toward the lake – the one where we had our first real kiss. His confusion seems as real as mine.

  "Can I come closer?" he asks, taking a small step forward.

  "No." Magic floods my fingers like molten lava. Slow, heavy, malleable. Every fiber in my body wants to release it, but I can't. Some part of my mind won't let me.

  How can I hate this boy so thoroughly, and yet love him so much? How are the two emotions simultaneously possible?

  I may be unsure of how I came to be at Summer Hill, but I remember clearly that Beck stands accused of murdering my mother.

  But I also remember laughing with him, kissing him, feeling his arms wrapped around me, and telling me that he'd love me forever.

  More than anything, I remember the love.

  Beck runs his hand through his hair – it's a gesture I know well. He's trying to figure out what to do.
"I won't hurt you. I promise. I just want to talk to you."

  When he takes a step forward, I leap back. I may not want to hurt him – heck, I may even love him - but that doesn't mean I trust him. I hold my hand before me, palm side out. "Stay back."

  His face contorts, and he points at my mid-section. "What happened?"

  I glance at my torso. A red and brown gash oozes blood.

  The magic I'd been holding back rushes from me, and the blackness creeps back, blotting out the distant fields first, then the far side of the lake. It sneaks up behind Beck, and he moves closer to me.

  "What did you do to me?" My legs buckle as more blood spills from my gut. "What did you do?" I sob.

  "I didn't. I swear. Please let me help you." Angry, bleeding slices appear on his face and chest as he speaks. He wobbles, but steps forward again. "I can help you," he gasps. Blood pours down his cheeks, and a fresh blot stains the front of his shirt. His skin, already washed out by the moonlight, pales.

  Before he can reach me, the invading darkness surrounds him, and he vanishes.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  I sit up straight in my bed, my heart racing, and my breath merely jagged gasps.

  Beck was with me at Summer Hill, insisting he could help me, but then he began bleeding, just as I was.

  And then he disappeared. Blotted out. Almost as if had succumbed to the darkness.

  It was just a dream. Just a dream, I repeat. But it felt so real. The pain, the blackness. It was like being back in the garden or those damn boxes again.

  I place my hand over my thundering heart and inhale deeply. The sheets don't feel right - more rough and scratchy than smooth and silky, and the noises are off - it's too quiet except for the loud chiming of an old-fashioned clock. Two in the morning.

  It takes a minute for me to remember where I am: Summer Hill. Mr. And Mrs. Channing agreed to let me stay the night to continue our talks in the morning - provided I don't search out Beck. And after what happened yesterday, I have no desire.

  That's a lie. I want to be with him, but I don't want to hurt him. There has to be a way to do both.

  There has to be.

  In the bright moonlight, I survey what used to be my and Beck's room, but now only houses me. Like during my last visit to Summer Hill, I'm alone in this room. Unlike last time, I've grown used to it.

  Still, lying all alone in this room brings back too many memories. Things I want to forget. I roll out of bed and quietly put on a pale yellow day dress and ballerina flats.

  Kyra stands outside my door, guarding me. "Where are you going?" she asks.

  "I need to get out. My brain won't stop racing, so I thought a walk would help."

  "You want to walk in the middle of the night?" She sighs. "Really, Lark, that's such a deso thing to do."

  "You don't have to come. Stay here," I retort. "I'll be fine. This is Summer Hill after all. High security and all that."

  Kyra crosses her arms. "You're just trying to sneak off to see Beck, and I can't let you."

  "No, I'm not. I just want to go for a walk."

  She narrows her eyes. "Fine. Let's go."

  We tiptoe down the squeaky old wooden stairs - the ones I snuck down a million years ago to see Beck under the willow tree, only to have Henry whisk me off to Mother - and out the front door.

  The starlight and moon cast shadows around us. A falling star shoots across the midnight sky, and like a child, I hold my breath and make a wish.

  Let him be okay. Please, let him be okay.

  I turn toward Kyra. "How's Beck?"

  "Better. More in control," she answers. "His parents have been with him all day working on his self-control issues." She shrugs. "Reminds me of you when you first started out. He'll be fine."

  "Good." I like Kyra's optimism. I may not believe it myself, but it's nice to hear someone else thinks Beck can beat this thing. I let my eyes rest on the stars. The sky over Summer Hill is always so clear at night. The memory of Eloise standing in the meadow harvesting the energy of the moonlight flits through my mind. It feels like years ago.

  Before me, Summer Hill glows a soft yellow. Despite everything that happened here, I still feel safe. Perhaps even calmer than usual.

  The sound of chirping crickets fills the warm night air.

  "If Maz were here, it would be so much more fun," Kyra says. "We could go skinny dipping or something equally as outrageous. Can you imagine the trouble the boys could cause if we were all together again?"

  Her words sting. How can we all be together when Beck is being consumed by my darkness? It's an impossible dream - at least for now.

  "Your dress for the Founders' Ball is going to cause a stir," Kyra babbles. "I can't believe it's a masquerade this year. That seems so glamorous. I can see it all--"

  "Kyra, if you don't mind, I'd like some privacy."

  "I'm sorry, Lark." She blinks rapidly. "I can't."

  "Yes, you can," I say trying out my powers of persuasion.

  Kyra scrunches up her face. "It doesn't work on me, remember. Nice try though."

  I hang my head. "I'm sorry."

  "You should be. You don't always have to have your way, Lark. Sometimes other people are right, too." She angrily blows a loose curl off her forehead. "We're not all idiots, Lark."

  "I didn't mean--"

  "Of course you didn't. You never do." She locks her arms across her torso and turns away. "If you want to be alone, fine. I'll go. Who cares if it gets me in trouble. You'll just fix it anyway." She yells the last part over her shoulder as she runs back toward the house.

  As bad as I feel about hurting Kyra's feelings, I need time to think - something I can't do when she's constantly yammering at me.

  As I walk along the dirt path toward the lake, flashbacks of my dream fill my brain. It was as if Beck were trying to reach out to me, to save me. How can we possibly be dangerous to each other? Especially when we fight so hard to be together? Are we just plain fools?

  At the end of the path, I walk closer to the lake and enjoy the reflection of the honey-colored moon.

  Tomorrow, I need to convince the Channings to get the remaining Light witches on my side. It's going to take tact, something I've lacked time and again, and a lot of groveling - which I'm not opposed to at this point. Our people need to eat.

  The hairs on my neck prick up.

  I turn my head slightly and see Beck stepping from the shadows. Tears sting my eyes. This moment is so much like the night we danced here and kissed – really kissed – for the first time.

  "You're stronger now. I can feel it," Beck says. His voice is low and deep. Different than it used to be. Battle-worn. "Stronger than me. At least for now."

  He positions himself so that we stand side-by-side looking at the moon hanging low over the lake.

  "Am I?" My fingers curl, and a wave rises before us. I hold it up, demonstrating my newfound ability before releasing it backward in a spray of foam.

  "Impressive," Beck says. "What do you plan on doing with that power? Wiping out the coasts with tsunamis?"

  "I have more imagination than that."

  We're silent for a few minutes while I play with the water, stopping and starting the crash of waves, throwing the water back, rushing it forward. And my personal favorite: lifting it to create a wall of water.

  "How'd you get out?" I ask. "I thought you were under heavy guard."

  He shakes his head. "Do you think they can stop me? They can't stop you. You should have a complete guard with you, but here you are alone."

  "Except I'm with you. The one person I shouldn't be anywhere near."

  "Do you believe it? That you're somehow slowly consuming my Light magic and turning me Dark?"

  "Yes. It seems eerily similar to what happened to Charles Channing." My great-grandmother several times removed and Beck's great-great-something grandfather were twins. She was Dark; he was Light. In his early thirties, Charles went crazy and died. Many claim Caitlyn's magic fed off his - which is exactl
y what we fear is happening with Beck and me. She simply overwhelmed him.

  I drop the piece of water I'd been holding and turn toward Beck for the first time. Standing this close, I can see the freckles in his olive eyes clearly. The wind tossles his shaggy blond hair, and light stubble covers his cheeks and chin. He's beautiful.

  "Would me being a Dark witch be all that bad?" he asks. "After all, look at you. You're doing okay. You're not evil."

  I rub my eyebrow. "But I was born this way. From what I understand going Dark will kill you. It's not your natural state."

  It's so strange to be so close to Beck and not have him hold my hand, so I slip mine into his. "Do you still want to run away?" I say, breaking the silence.

  Beck's head jerks up. "Do you?"

  I shake my head slowly. "No." And even if I did, we wouldn't get very far I add silently. We'd turn on each other.

  He nods.

  "Are you able to block the darkness? Or am I still draining you?"

  Beck moves his free hand over the back of his hair. "I think it will always be there, but I'm getting better at resisting it. I don't feel the pull as much since this afternoon. I spent time with Henry learning how to control it."

  "Good, because I can't bear the thought of having to be away from you ever again. I don't want that."

  "What do you want?" Beck asks, yanking his hand away from me and folding his arms across his chest. "You keep stomping around saying what you don't want, but what is it you do want?"

  Fire and ice chase each other down my spine, and I stare off into the distance. No one has ever asked what I want. At least what I truly want.

  Lark?" Beck's mouth opens slightly. He hesitates before opening his arms to me. "Come here."

  After all these months of fighting with him, being in his arms is exactly what I need. I turn and bury myself into his chest.

  "I think I love you more now," he says.

  "Even with everything I've done?"

  "Even with all the things you've done." I rub my face against his chest. "We're going to get through this. Together," he says.

  "I know what I want." I swallow the lump in my throat. "I want to feel safe again."