Part of me wants to skip my lesson. After all, what’s the point? I can’t learn or change what’s going to happen. But the other, more dominant part forces me on. If there’s the slightest possibility—no matter how small—that I can learn self-control and not harm Beck, I’ll do it.
At the end of the trail, moonlight drenches a vast field and Eloise stands in the middle. She pirouettes, her tiny frame but a blur, and wraps sheer layers of light around her body until she’s glowing and breathless.
It’s beautiful in a way I’ll never be. Pure and good.
“Heya, Eloise,” I give a half-hearted greeting. It’s just us in the field. I don’t know how she managed to scare them off, but my normal peanut gallery avoids her classes.
“Hello, Miss Gloom.”
With one leap, she crosses the expanse between us, and the light surrounding her scatters and fades.
“What was that?” I ask, lifting my voice to make it less morose.
Eloise beams. “A new piece of magic. I’m harnessing the energy of the moonlight.”
“You can do that?”
“Of course. That’s what all magic is, harnessing the energy that surrounds us in different forms. Hasn’t anyone taught you that?”
I shake my head. “I’m still stuck on practical magic, I believe.”
“Well, my friend, I’m afraid it’s more of the same old, same old for you tonight. I’m supposed to teach you castings.”
For a good hour, I repeatedly walk three paces, turn and throw my spells toward Eloise.
“Like this,” Eloise demonstrates again. Her steps are quick and dainty.
One, two, three, turn and…nothing. Again.
“It’s no use, Eloise. I can’t cast and we both know it.”
“That’s only because of the encasing.”
“Henry’s convinced you, too?”
“I’m sure of it. If the Channings would only let us remove it. Then we’d see some magic.” She flashes me her ‘they’re-being-pains-in-the-ass’ look.
I flop onto the grass. That will never happen. Now that I know the Channings only keep me here because Mother is forcing them, I better understand their fear of me. Not only do I pose a threat to Beck, but my mother will destroy anyone who harms me. Even if I start it. With my unpredictable temper, it’s best to keep the encasing on, in my opinion.
I sigh and tilt my head back. Above me millions of stars twinkle against the inky sky. It’s perfect. Like a painting.
A thought pops into my mind. “Hey, Eloise?”
“Yeah?”
“Are those really the stars or is that just part of your dome?”
She grins. “Oh I wish! If I could only control the heavens!”
“So that’s really up there?”
“It is.” She throws her head back and takes in the sight. “Gorgeous, isn’t it?”
It is. Except for the Dark witches peering in, watching my every move and reporting back to Mother.
We admire the stars for a few minutes until Eloise jumps up. “C’mon, Lark. There’s no point in doing this. Not with the encasing on your heart.”
“So we’re done?”
“Yeah.” Eloise spins in a circle, arms outstretched. “Plus, I have a date.”
“A date?”
“Well, you know, it isn’t every day a Gathering this large happens. And I’m going to take advantage it!” She laughs.
“I may be slow here, but what exactly is a date?”
“Oh.” She stops spinning. “You wouldn’t know, would you? Being Dark and living at the school your whole life and all.”
“Um, I guess not.” What does that have to do with anything?
“Okay, so it’s like this. Unlike the Dark witches who are all about bloodlines and protocol and mating for strength, we Light witches have free choice. We get to pick who we’re bound to. That’s what a date is, like a trial to see who you want to be with forever.”
“You get to pick?” I ask unsure of the wisdom behind that. “Just find some random person you barely know and hope they’re a good match for you?” It didn’t seem to work out too well for my parents. Or my grandparents. Or my…well, whatever Caitlyn and Charles’s parents are to me.
“Yup. And I have a date. Tonight.” Her captivating smile lights up the night.
“Oh, I see,” I tease. “You’re ditching your responsibilities as a teacher because you have a date?”
“Exactly!”
My eyes wander across the sky as I think everything over. “Eloise, if Light witches get to choose, does that mean Beck doesn’t have to be with me?”
“I doubt it. You guys have some freaky thing going on.” She flips her hair over her shoulder.
“But he could be with someone else? If I wasn’t around?” Pangs of jealousy nibble at me. Beck with another girl. It doesn’t seem possible.
“I suppose. But he doesn’t want to—I’ve heard the arguments between him and his mom. Plus, you wear his token.”
I press my lips together in an attempt to hide my smile. “You’ve said that before. What does it mean, other than he likes me and it upsets his parents?”
She grows solemn. “He doesn’t want anyone but you. When Light witches select a mate, we give each other a token to show our commitment. Beck gave you his token, even though he knew you were Dark.”
“Mrs. Channing doesn’t have a necklace.”
“Each token is different—it’s supposed to be special to the receiver. I’m guessing he gave you this one because he calls you Birdie.”
I rub the bird between my fingers trying to sense whether or not it’s magical. “Is there a spell or anything on it?”
“We fill our tokens with love. So, yeah, I guess it’s magical.”
The day he gave it to me, Beck made me promise to never take it off. He positively beamed when I put it on. No wonder he insisted on finding it immediately after Eamon ripped it from my neck. My necklace means so much more to him than I ever knew.
He chose me, knowing he can’t have me. He could have picked someone else, someone safer. Beck’s not held to the same rules as humans and Dark witches. Is this what dating lets you do? Choose unavailable people? Or choose no one at all?
Eloise rakes her fingers through her long hair until she finds a knot and begins working on it. She’s fidgety and nervous.
“So, who’s the mystery man?” I ask, curious about the guy who’s captured my friend’s interest.
“No one really.” The moonlight doesn’t disguise her blush.
“And does this no one have a name?”
She presses her lips and hesitates.
“C’mon. Tell me. You know you want to.” I say in a sing-song voice.
“Fine. It’s Rorik.”
Huh. I expected her to say Henry. “Rorik? My illusion teacher? Really?” I chuckle. Outgoing, vivacious Eloise has a date with shy, reserved Rorik.
“Don’t laugh!” She slaps at me playfully.
I compose myself. “All right. When’s the date?”
“Right now?”
My face falls a bit. I’m enjoying our time talking about normal things—it’s a reminder we’re more like friends than student and teacher.
She hurries on. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Of course!” I lie. “I’ll find my way home.”
At the edge of the field, Rorik emerges. Eloise straightens up, grins and runs to join him.
“Thanks Lark!” she calls over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
“Details!” I yell after her. “I want lots of details!”
I watch Eloise and Rorik disappear into the woods and then settle back into my spot in the field.
Except for the hum of the crickets, everything is still. I want to lie here longer, enjoying my solitude, but unsure of the time, I decide to head back to the house. If I’m not back by midnight, the Channings will have a search party out.
The forest path ends at the East Lawn. Over the p
ast week, the number of tents has grown. Eloise told me more and more Light witches arrive daily in preparation for my birthday.
I didn’t even bother to ask what they expect to happen because honestly, I don’t want to know.
The night conceals me as I meander through the tent area and no one pays me any attention. Then again, people probably don’t expect to see me walking around, down here, by myself.
Smoky fires and evening meals scent the air. It must not be as late as I thought.
I sidestep to avoid a group of children and end up walking down an aisle where a group of witches, around my age, is engaged in a heated game of lacrosse. The ball, lit by magic, whizzes through the air. I study the group, hoping Beck is in the thick of it. At the sight of a tall, blond witch, my heart leaps. However, when he drops the ball, I realize it isn’t Beck.
All around me, life goes on—playing, laughing, having fun. I wish I could do the same, but I can’t. Every moment of my life is consumed by the knowledge I’m a threat.
I turn down another aisle and a large, circular tent looms before me. Banners from each of the five Societies hang around the perimeter. The Gathering Council’s tent—where they conduct official business. Eloise has mentioned it to me once or twice, but I have no desire to visit. I turn left, away from it, worried that if I get caught walking around, I’ll get in trouble.
“Lark–” The rest of the words are lost, but I’m positive I heard my name.
I stroll back to the tent.
“It’s hopeless. She’ll never be able to control herself.”
“I don’t know why we continue to even try.”
“She is too dangerous to remove the encasing.”
The words sting my ears. I shouldn’t eavesdrop but can’t help myself. With a quick glance to see if anyone is watching me, I position myself between the tent and its neighbor.
The voices are clearer.
“You have no evidence Lark wants to harm any of you. None.” I throw my hand over my mouth to hold in my surprise.
It’s Bethina’s voice.
A wave of guilt washes over me. I shouldn’t be listening. Bethina will reprimand me if I get caught.
As I turn to head back to the house, another voice stops me.
“Evidence?” Eamon snarls. “Did you not witness her outburst on the lawn? What more do you need? For her to actually kill someone? Or perhaps you’d be happy if Lark created a natural disaster unlike any we’ve ever seen?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Beck says, his voice calm and strong. I close my eyes and focus on keeping my heartbeat slow and steady. I’m not going to influence him again.
“We’re not the ones advocating unencasing a Dark witch so she can turn her power loose on us.” Eamon’s words drip malice.
“If you want Lark to be able to control herself, or at least have a fighting chance at being able to, you need to allow us to unencase her. It’s the only way we can teach her.” My heart skips. It’s Henry.
Eamon shouts, “I don’t want her to have a fighting chance. I want the bitch dead.”
No one says anything. Eamon openly admitted he wants to kill me, and not one person, not even Henry or Bethina, protested. My stomach churns.
The air hangs heavy around me, as if weighed down with anger and fear. There’s a stillness. No one speaks. No noise is heard.
Then, suddenly, the tent erupts in a cacophony of noise. Screams, shouting, and the splintering of wood fills the air. Rage courses through my veins pumping hard and chasing my fear away. It chokes me and squeezes at my heart. This fury isn’t mine, but Beck’s. Like when he fought with Eamon, his emotions overwhelm my own until I’m trembling.
Please, no—don’t let me act out. Don’t give Eamon the proof he needs. I focus everything I have on steadying my breath, trying to gain control over Beck’s feelings. With each exhale, his anger subsides until it slips from my body, leaving me ragged.
A silence descends over the group until a woman whose voice I don’t recognize speaks. From her high, trilling accent, I can tell she’s from the Eastern society. “You will not talk of such things Eamon. We are not killers. We will not fight unless attacked.”
Even though I can’t see him, the sneer on Eamon’s face permeates his voice. “Pre-emptive strike, Akari.” He pauses. “This is just an example of what we all know she can do to Beck.”
“Lark isn’t even here. This is me, all me, acting against you.” Beck sounds furious.
I squeeze my hand harder over my mouth. My heart sputters at the sound of Beck’s breathless voice.
Mrs. Channing joins in, her voice hoarse as if she’s been crying. “Eamon’s right. We’ve already learned a great deal about her capabilities. Perhaps it’s time for her to go.”
Can they do that? Kick me out? Won’t that infuriate Mother?
“No, we promised.” Beck again. He no longer sounds confident, his words drag, making him sound tired. “We promised she could stay until October sixth.”
“Beck, why delay the inevitable?” Mr. Channing joins in. “Isn’t it best to have a clean break?”
And then I hear the one voice I didn’t expect: Eloise.
“You’re going to have to let her go, Beck. You know that.” I rock back on my feet and nearly fall into the wall of the neighboring tent. Eloise lied to me. I grasp a cord hanging from the side of the tent to steady myself.
“Getting back to the topic at hand.” Mrs. Channing’s speaking. “Let’s discuss Lark’s known capabilities.”
Voices shout different answers. There must be over twenty people in the tent. I hear snippets—molecular combustion, cyrokinesis, conjuration, elemental—and can’t believe they’re talking about me. I don’t know what the words mean, let alone how to do any of them. My lessons make that clear.
A commotion followed by more silence.
Henry speaks. “I must point out that she has one power which is greater than all others: Lark can love. Or more correctly, she loves.”
My ears tingle. Henry is telling them I love Beck. He’s telling a room full of strangers! And more importantly, he’s telling Beck.
“So you say, Henry. But I not only question the methods under which you obtained that information, but also your objectivity.” Eamon again.
“It’s true.” Bethina says. “The love Lark has for Beck is pure, honest. She’s loved this boy longer than even she realizes.”
Eamon’s voice rises above the others. “Lark has the ability to kill. She did it at the school, remember? And she’ll do it again if given the chance. She’ll destroy Beck. And when she’s done with him, she’ll do what Malin can’t on her own—kill the rest of us.”
There is no air. It’s vacated my lungs. The word ‘kill’ sticks in my mind and a scream grows in my throat.
Another scuffle. I force myself to pay attention.
“No, Beck. You listen to me. To all of us. We know what we’re talking about. She will drain all the happiness from you and leave you ruined. You’ll be a shell of a person.”
“I don’t believe you. I know Lark better than anyone. She wouldn’t.” The tension radiates from Beck’s voice.
I want to run through the tent and tell him he’s right. I want to throw my arms around his neck and inhale him. I want him to believe I’m none of these things. I’m just Lark, the same as I’ve always been.
He needs to fight for me. Please, Beck. Please fight for me.
“They’re telling the truth, Beck. That’s what she’ll do—is doing—to you.” Mrs. Channing’s voice trembles. “Every time you calm her, it pulls from you, weakens you.”
There’s a quiet conversation I strain to hear. But it’s just unintelligible whispers.
“Beck,” Bethina says softly. “We were wrong. You don’t block Lark’s darkness. You balance each other. It’s very different.”
“Why? How is it any different? She’s still Lark.” Beck’s voice cracks.
“You each have a piece of the other’
s power temporarily locked inside of you.” Bethina sounds exhausted. “You draw from each other, but Lark pulls from you more. Your light is how she’s able to stay calm.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, once the temporary binding is broken, Lark is going to be dangerous and she’ll have nothing left to balance her out.”
“Then leave my piece there permanently.”
“It may kill you. And we need you to be strong. Whole. The Gathering wants you to reclaim your piece first. If you can, you will be stronger and Lark…” Bethina trails off, unable to finish.
“What? What will happen to Lark?” Worry crowds out the fragile thread of control in Beck’s voice.
Mrs. Channing finishes for Bethina. “She’ll most likely die.”
“Absolutely not!”
Something slams and rocks the tent.
I choke back another scream. They want me to die. Bethina, Eloise, all of them. They’re planning my death. Vomit rises in my throat and I swallow it down as an intense energy builds inside me, like a million spiders crawling along my arms, face and back. The air around me shudders.
“We are not killers. I will not do this.” Beck is steady and firm.
“Don’t be dramatic. We’re not asking you to kill Lark,” Mrs. Channing answers. “We’re asking you to make yourself strong. Strong enough to help us defeat what’s coming. To protect us from the Dark witches. We need you.”
“I can’t. I won’t. I can’t hurt her.”
“Beck,” his mother pleads, “if Lark is the stronger of the two of you, no one knows if the Light witches can survive. Think of Bea. Think of your friends here. Is that what you want?” Mrs. Channing lets out a sob.
Mr. Channing finishes for his wife. “It’s already taking the power of over a thousand witches to contain her, and she’s not yet mature. She has no idea how to control her powers.”
“You’re asking me to push away the person I’ve always been told to keep close!” He’s irate now. “What kind of sick game did you play with us? I love her! What don’t you understand about that? I love her because of what you—all of you—did.”
“Beck, you need to think as a leader. Not as a boy,” Eamon’s deep voice booms.
“As a leader? Is that what you were acting as when you threatened to kill her? Because if so, I don’t want to be your leader. I never asked for any of this. And neither did Lark.”
Beck walks closer to where I’m wedged. He knows I’m there; he senses my panic. He’s so close, his warmth radiates through the tent, and I draw closer.
Eamon lashes out at him. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Maybe that’s because, for weeks, you’ve done nothing but tell me what I can’t do: I can’t talk to Lark, I can’t love her, I can’t protect her. Why hasn’t anyone tried teaching me what I can do? What kind of magic do you have for that?” Beck’s voice falters.
I imagine the anguish on his face and tears roll down my cheeks. I wish I could tell him everything will be okay. But I can’t. I don’t know if it will be.
“You don’t need magic, Beck. You need a miracle,” Eloise’s clear voice answers.
The tent falls silent.
I push myself down further and wait for someone to say something, anything. But no one does.
In the silence, everything becomes clear. I’ve been selfish, worried about only me and my actions.
But Beck—Beck is in love with the person who will kill him if given the chance. He has to sit back and watch me change from the girl he loved into a monster. He has to decide if he’s going to try to defend himself, his family and his friends. If he can’t, if he feels anything for me and what we once had, it will turn deadly for him.
No longer able to contain myself, I let out a strangled cry and shove my way from between the tents. In the distance, flashes of lightning streak the sky and thunder rolls.
Eloise calls my name.
“Lark! Wait!” Beck shouts.
But I can’t stop. I need to save him. I need to be far away from him. I run to the edge of the lawn and disappear into the trees.
32
I’m a monster. Or I’m going to be. I know Henry and Mother explained everything to me, but hearing it from those I care about—who see me as a monster and dangerous—makes it real.
Sadness overwhelms me, but I can’t cry. That time has passed. Now is the time to make this right.
If only someone could show me how to control my powers so I wouldn’t be completely Dark. Or at least not Dark in an unpredictable, erratic way. That’s worth something, isn’t it? Mother told me to love him—if we weren’t a threat to each other, maybe she’d let us be together.
But I know this fantasy can’t be true. I heard my teachers and the others. It’s hopeless. I’m hopeless.
The moon is full and illuminates the path. Fireflies dart in and out of low hanging branches and the hum of crickets fills the sticky, warm air. Ahead, the lake shimmers in the moonlight. Thunder rumbles, but the lightning has disappeared.
I survey the lakefront, checking to make sure it’s deserted. This is as good as any place to stop. Besides, it’s not like I can get out of Summer Hill’s protective dome without someone coming after me. I’m stuck here until they throw me out.
I walk along the shore until I find a suitable spot. The icy water tempts me—I long to feel pain, something physical to take my mind off the turmoil in my heart—so I kick off my shoes and dip my toes in the gentle waves.
Small ripples circle away from me, growing larger and swallowing up more of the lake with each ring. How fitting—everything is moving away from me these days.
My choices are limited. Up until now, I’d been hoping and believing that this would all work out. But I know now it was just a dream. An impossible dream. Even if I can control my abilities and fight Caitlyn’s curse, Beck and I still can’t be together. Being bound will kill him.
In the quiet, unanswered questions assault me. When I leave here, will the Dark witches descend to bring me to Mother? Will I forget the Light witches I’ve come to care about? Will I go mad, like Caitlyn, causing destruction everywhere I go?
If someone could just tell me what to expect, then maybe it won’t be so bad.
The chirping of the crickets grows louder and I allow the sound to force out the difficult questions. I close my eyes and will myself numb.
The air shifts and a soft breeze moves across my skin. My heart speeds up and I know Beck is nearby before he says a word.
“Lark? Are you okay?” He stands in the shadow of the trees, hidden from view.
I shake my head and hope he’ll go away. I don’t want him to see me like this.
“You need to leave, Beck. You can’t be around me.”
He ignores my order and crosses the expanse of sand. “I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea. They’re probably already looking for you.” I hide my face from him.
“Doubt anyone is looking for me,” he says. “They sent me to find you.”
So that’s how it is. Beck’s here to do what I know he has to: send me away. Tell me he doesn’t want me.
He’s here to tell me things we both know are lies.
I twist the chain of my necklace around my fingers and wish this moment away. Even though I know he doesn’t mean it, I still don’t want to hear those words. I take a deep breath and prepare to have my heart ripped out.
But instead of doing what he needs to, Beck sits next to me. His warmth envelops me and pushes some of the sadness and worry away.
“Not the best day, is it?” His voice is heavy, but there’s not a trace of sorrow.
“You could say that.” I stare out into the night. Tears stain my cheeks and I pray he doesn’t notice. I hug my knees to my chest and rest my head on them.
Beck’s hand strokes my hair. He tugs at the ends and wraps them around his fingers. I close my eyes and savor
the feeling of being close to him again.
With that one gesture, I realize he’s not going to do it. Beck won’t tell me to leave. He won’t lie to me.
I turn my head toward him, my hair falling across my face. Through the strands, I study him, trying to discern whether or not it’s really him or Henry again. His eyes look hopeful, not sad. Not at all worried. I sigh. Only Beck would be optimistic when everything seems hopeless.
He’s making this worse.
All my life, I’ve turned to him when I haven’t known what to do. But now, it’s my turn to lead. I need to be strong and do the right thing: If Beck won’t let me go, I’m going to have to make him not want me. I’m going to have to force him away.
I fumble with the clasp of my necklace. When it falls away, I gather it in my hand and force it into his. A faint tingle runs along my skin when my hand brushes against his.
Beck stares at the necklace before clenching it in his fist. He holds it for a moment, closes his eyes, and then drops it into his pocket. When my lip trembles, I realize I’d been hoping he’d refuse it, or maybe even clasp it around my neck again.
“What do you want, Beck?” My flat voice sounds empty, like I feel.
“You.”
When I begin to protest, he says, “We don’t need to do what they say. I’m tired of being a pawn in their sick game.” A raw, determined edge taints his mellow voice.
“What are you saying?” I try to remain distant and unemotional, but my resolve is fracturing. Because more than anything, I want him too. I want our life together.
“I don’t think they can stop me if I decide to leave with you.”
I should have seen this coming. I should have known, after what I heard in the tent. But still, I’m caught off guard.
“Why would you want to come with me? Are you crazy?”
“Why?” He brushes the tips of my hair against his face. “Do you even have to ask?”
Beck’s eyes are sharp. He’s serious.
Why does he have to make this so hard? Stay firm. Don’t let him see how torn you are.
“You can’t come with me! I’ll kill you! What part of that don’t you get?”
His pushes the hair off my face. “I know you like I know myself, isn’t that what I’ve heard you say?”
I close my eyes, unable look at him right now. I don’t know whether to be secretly pleased or extremely angry.
“I don’t think you’ll hurt me, Lark.”
“Beck!” I yank my head up. “I can’t control myself. You know that. I’m like–” I try to find the right words, “–a massive black hole, sucking you in and destroying you.”
He shakes his head. “Not so. I’ve spoken to Henry about it. He thinks there’s a way–”
“Henry isn’t telling you everything, Beck. This is bigger than you and me.”
Beck places his hands on my cheeks and stares into my eyes. “What don’t I know?”
I pull my head away from him. “I met with my mother.”
“You what?” His hand squeezes my arm.
“It’s a long story. But there’s a group of Light witches—a splinter group—that wants to kill her. She’s looking for a reason to attack—that’s why she’s letting me stay here. You and I,” I say as I motion to the two of us, “are but one small piece in the puzzle.”
Beck grabs my other arm and yanks me toward him. “And you believe her? She’s evil, Lark. You can’t trust her.”
I shove him away. “Were you paying attention tonight? Eamon wants to kill me, Beck. Kill me. Before he has any reason to.” I glare at him. “What more proof do you need?”
His head slumps forward and he covers his face in his hands. “I had hoped it wasn’t true. I thought maybe…”
“You knew about Eamon?”
“I suspected.”
He doesn’t need to say anything else. I understand—Beck’s never wanted to believe the worst of people. Me included.
I lace my fingers through his and lay my head on his shoulder.
“What if we run away?” he says again. The words tumble out of him fast. “Just the two of us. We don’t have to take part in this, Lark. Besides, Henry told me I’d be safe around you.”
“Because I can love, right? That’s your protection?” I ask, and continue before Beck can answer. “If you think they’ll just let you waltz out of here with me, you’ve lost your mind.”
“They can’t stop us.”
“Yes, yes they can. How will we get past that?” I point at the dome. “And the thousand plus witches sitting on your lawn? Not to mention the Dark witches on the other side of the dome.”
Despite the ridiculousness of this conversation, hope builds inside me again. I want Beck to have a reasonable answer.
“Simple. You.”
“Me?” I glare. “That’s your plan?”
“Birdie, no one has ever seen anything like the two of us. If we’re together, I don’t think anyone could stop us from doing what we want.”
“You seem to have forgotten that, one,” I hold up my finger, “despite everyone’s worries, I have zero magical talent; and two, I’m encased—I couldn’t cast even if I knew how; and three, being near me will kill you.”
“You’re not going to kill me, and you have done magic. We’ve all seen it.”
I give an exasperated groan. Why is he so difficult? “No. No, I haven’t. What I’ve done is just little sparks of nothing. I needed you to help me find my necklace, if you’ve forgotten.”
He tilts his head and listens to my emotions. “But you’d consider it? If you weren’t encased and could do magic?”
Reason and desperation play tug-of-war with me. With every piece of my being, I want to believe in his plan, but I can’t. Beck puts too much faith in me. He asks too much of me. I can’t make a decision like this based on possibilities. I need evidence.
“No.” I attempt to hide my internal struggle. He needs to believe this. “I wouldn’t do it. I won’t risk hurting you.”
“Look at me.” His deep, gentle voice surrounds me.
I press my eyes shut.
“Lark, please. Look at me.”
His breath caresses my face. My eyes flutter open. Beck’s mouth is inches from mine.
“Bound or not, you are my heart. There is a piece of you wedged deep inside me, and I’m not going to give it back without a fight.”
“But that’s just it!” The tears come freely now. “That’s exactly what will happen. I’ll fight you for it. I will kill you for it. Please.” I wrap my fingers through his and kiss each one. “Do this for me. Don’t allow me to hurt you. You have to let me go.”
“What is it they say? That loving you will be the death of me?” He laughs, but the sound is off.
“Beck,” I reprimand. “That is not funny.”
“I know,” he says, “but if I can’t laugh about it…”
We’re at an impasse. I need to do what I know is right. But my heart rebels with all its strength.
I give up reasoning with Beck and stare at the inky blackness of the lake. The fireflies flit around us. Several minutes pass while we sit in silence.
Finally, Beck speaks again. “You want to know what I believe in? I believe in us. We’re all I believe in anymore. I need you to be strong, Lark. I need you to keep trying. Don’t give up.”
An intense desire overwhelms me. I need to be close to Beck. Ignoring my saner self, I press into his side.
“What are we going to do?”
“We have three weeks.” There’s no humor in his soft voice. “Let’s spend every moment together. Let’s stop with the useless lessons—you can’t do anything encased anyway—and just be together. How does that sound?”
I wish it were that simple.
A sound startles me. Music. A woman’s husky voice floats through the air and surrounds us. I scan the beach and trees but can’t see where the music comes from. The source seems to be all around us. I give Beck a confuse
d look and he smiles.
“May I?” Beck stands up and offers me his hand.
“You?”
“I know it’s not a destructive storm or anything, but I thought I’d show you one of my many completely useful talents.” His arms are around my waist and we’re slowly circling to the music.
A memory comes back to me. “That last day at school, in the snow, was that you?”
“Only partly. I played the song. You, however, controlled the snow. I saw you making it dance and swirl and thought that it would make you happy if the music matched.”
I nod, remembering how pretty it was. “What’s this song?”
“Something I found in my mom’s collection. You know how she likes antiques.” He rests his cheek on my head and starts singing. His deep voice complements the music.
We’re in a world of our own. For a few minutes, there’s nothing but Beck, the sparkling stars and the soft splashes of waves. If only I could hold on to this moment forever.
The music ends. I twirl away from Beck and fall into the soft sand. In the moonlight, Beck’s eyes shine with happiness. And I’m sure mine look the same.
He lands beside me in the sand, hands behind his head. The heavy air presses on us. If I shield my mind, I can almost pretend nothing has changed. We’re still at school. Still trying to one-up-each other, still showing up late for lunch. Still oblivious to the events swirling around us.
I prop up on my elbow and move closer to Beck until we’re touching. My thin dress sticks to my body, dampened by the humidity.
I lay my head on Beck’s chest and listen to the soothing hum of his heart. His good, Light heart. The one that’s always been there for me when I needed it.
“Tell me, Lark, if I’m supposed to be so good, then why would I so desperately want someone so evil?”
“I don’t know,” I tease. My earlier depression is gone. “Maybe the encasing didn’t work and I’m using my Dark powers on you.” I smile and run a strand of my hair along Beck’s jaw. He moans in pleasure. “We don’t know everything I’m capable of, remember? Maybe I’m like my mother, and you can’t help but desire me.”
His hand reaches for my arm and traces a little pattern on the back. Thunder rumbles in the distance.
“See, we don’t even know if that’s me or just normal thunder,” I say and push up so we’re face to face.
“I know one way to find out.” Beck reaches for my face and cups my chin. With trembling hands, he pulls me down to him. Our faces are inches from one another. His forehead touches mine and I watch his face contort, as if struggling with something. Along every point where we touch, a mild vibration of magic tingles through my skin. Our magic, working together, like when we found my necklace after the attack.
“Lark, I love you. I really do.” His labored breath washes over my face. The thunder grows louder.
My heart leaps and sends electric currents running through my spine. Every warning, every rule is banished from my mind.
“Then kiss me,” I whisper.
His lips touch mine. Seventeen years of desire pulse through me. I feel a snap. The lock around my heart loosens and unlocks.
Beck tenses but his lips don’t leave mine. He felt it too. Lightning zig-zags through the sky.
“Definitely nature,” he murmurs.
“Definitely.”
I reach for him again. My heart whirls stronger and stronger.
We stay like that, lying in the sand, staring at the stars and kissing. Time is frozen—we’re stuck in this moment and I’m not in a hurry to leave.
If I had known how amazing it felt to kiss Beck, really kiss him, I would have broken all the rules, and done it so much sooner. But now we have just three weeks left.
I can’t think that way. I just need to stop and enjoy the moment.
Before everything is taken away from us.
33
Beck escorts me to my room.
“Lark?” he begins. “Can I stay with you tonight?”
I roll my eyes. “You say that as if you haven’t spent every day of your life, aside from the past few weeks, sleeping near me.”
A grin spreads across his face. He scuffs his foot on the floor. “Yeah, well, this is ...different. Now, you know.”
A tinge of redness creeps into his cheeks.
I shove the door open. “After you.” I curtsey.
He wraps his fingers around my wrist and pulls me in after him. “Get in here before someone sees me.”
He nudges the door shut, taking care to not to make noise. Why is he acting so strange? It isn’t like this is frowned upon. We’ve been raised this way. Besides, everyone knows he’s with me—they sent him after me. It’s not a secret.
Beck flops on my bed and props himself up on one arm. “Don’t be mad at Eloise. She really was on a date until Eamon summoned everyone.”
Eloise didn’t lie to me. Just knowing that lifts my already elevated mood several notches higher, and I skip over to my clothing trunk.
“Do you like this?” Beck runs his hand over the bird-motif coverlet on the bed.
“I do. I think it’s sweet.”
“You would. It’s very girly. Just like you.”
“Well,” I tease, “it’s a good thing you won’t be forever bound to me and my girly decorating choices.” I throw open trunk top. “You can decorate your house however you want.”
“You mean I can live at home forever with my parents? Lucky me.” He sits on the edge of the bed.
I dig around in the trunk and find a clean nightgown. There’s no changing screen like at school and I know Beck is watching. With a deep breath, I shimmy out my damp dress and toss it on the ground.
He sighs.
In all the years living together, Beck has always given me privacy or would politely glance away when I changed. But not tonight. I can feel his eyes devouring me and hear his labored breath coming faster.
I spin around, snap off my bra and slide the thin gown over my head. It doesn’t hide much.
He holds his arms out to me. “Come here, Birdie.”
I walk slowly toward him. My legs threaten to give way. Years of familiarity, and yet, this feels like the first time we’ve ever been alone.
When I reach him, he gently pulls me close and strokes the back of my neck. “I never asked you before, but I’m asking you now. Will you wear my token?”
My heart leaps. I understand the significance in his question—he wants to be with me, even though we can never be permanently bound—at least not officially. He wants me as much as I want him. And I can tell him. I can finally tell him. My smile grows larger and larger until I’m afraid I won’t be able to say the words because I can’t stop smiling.
“Yes.”
The cool metal contrasts with the heat of my skin. Beck fastens the chain behind my neck and then leans forward and kisses it. His breath spreads across my chest, leaving me breathless.
When he reaches to wrap his arms around me, I resist. Instead, I reach down and strip off his wet shirt. His smooth, bronze skin glistens in the heat.
My lips graze his jaw and I shove him down onto the bed.
I run my hands over his chest and tiny sparks strike my fingertips. “Let’s act like it’s October and everything is normal—that we’re bound to each other forever. This is you and me and nothing else matters.”
Beck kisses me hard. His hands glide over my back, leaving behind a trail of electricity. “Do you mean it? Do you still want to be permanently bound to me?” His words tickle my lips.
“Yes. More than anything, I wish we could be.” I break loose and roll off him onto my side.
Beck curls himself around me, his face in my hair. Having him this close and feeling his body next to mine is right. This is what the rest of our lives should be like.
For a minute, bitterness builds inside of me. The unfairness of the situation grows real. Beck senses my shift in mood and kisses my shoulder first, then my cheek and fin
ally lingers on my neck. The intensity of his lips matches the accelerating beat of my heart and the negative feelings melt away.
“Are you happy?” He slides the spaghetti strap of my gown off my shoulder and nibbles my bare skin.
My heart sputters and skips. Beck may be angelic looking, but he’s no saint.
When I turn my head, his lips move to my collarbone. “Yes. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
He makes a small sound in agreement and then pushes me flat on my back. His eyes stare into mine, our freckles perfectly aligned.
“I love you, Lark.”
My heart pounds faster. My pulse throbs in my head. “I know.”
He doesn’t break his gaze. “I know what you want to say. You can. Just tell me.” His breath quickens as he waits for my response.
I shift beneath him. My lips move and I understand there’s nothing preventing me from telling him all the things I wanted to under the weeping willow. The encasing isn’t working.
“Lark? Do you love me? Tell me. Say the words.” His voice is insistent and his eyes serious.
I throw my arms around his neck and bring his face down to me. My fingers trace the edges of his lips, pausing in the middle. My heart thumps so rapidly, I believe it’s about to take off.
“I love you, Beck Channing.”
A strong tug and then a stirring deep inside me. I feel as if I’m being lifted up.
Beck senses it too. His breathing comes shallow and quick.
And then the feeling is gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of bliss.
Everything is perfect.