Nightingale (The Sensitives) Part 27

"So," Maz says loudly. Too loudly. He's speaking like we're back in the crowded music hall, shouting to be heard. "What happened last night?"

I purse my lips. It's none of his business, but I don't doubt Ryker has already filled him in on the details. Not wanting to discuss it before an audience, I say to Dawson, who's stationed near the door, "I'd like a moment alone with Maz."

My guard shuts the door as he leaves.

I flash Maz a nasty look. "That's none of you business!"

"It is if I wake up and find Ryker sleeping on my couch."

So that's where he went. Makes sense. "We had a disagreement. That's all. I've already been thoroughly chastised by my mother. I don't need you to heap on the guilt."

"What's going on with you?" Maz wrinkles his forehead. "Kyra tells me that you're fine. Ryker says you're a mess."

"Is that why you came? To see how crazy I am for yourself?"

He flips his hands over, palm side out. "I'm on your side. I want to help you."

I cross my arms tightly across my chest. "Like you helped me get to Summer Hill? For all I know, you walked me right into Callum and Annalise."

Maz shuffles backward. His eyes are wide. "No. Remember, Beck asked me to make sure you got there. I was helping you then, just like I am now."

"I doubt that," I snap and head toward the double doors leading to the hallway. My shoes strike the wood floor in an even, steady rhythm.

"Where are you going?" Maz yells after me.

My ponytail whips across my back as I continue to walk. "To wake Kyra up."

Maz runs across the room and grabs my arm. "Lark, no. You can't."

I fling my arm so that he lets go. "Of course I can. Kyra is my best friend."

"I can't let you." He steps in front of me, blocking my path. "Ryker's right. You can't be near...our friend."

I s.h.i.+ft my weight back on to my heels and push past him. He's not going to treat me like a puppet. "You can't stop me. I'm going over there."

"What the h.e.l.l is wrong with the two of you? Why can't you stay away from each other?" Maz shouts at me.

I stomp onto the porch. "Try to stop me."

"Lark-" I fling magic at him and Maz's sharp voice slithers down the side of my face and pools at my feet. Literally. Like shards of gla.s.s.

His mouth moves without sound. When he grabs at his throat, I roar with laughter. "What's wrong, Maz? Did you lose your voice?"

His face grows red, then a curious shade of purple, before settling into a mottled day-old bruise color.

Beads of sweat dot Maz's hairline.

"What did you do?"

I pivot slowly, the way I've seen Mother do and find Ryker standing behind me. He holds his hands out in a defensive position.

"Only what he deserved for talking back to me. It would serve him well to think before he orders me around."

Ryker barrels toward me and shoves me back into the house. "Fix whatever you've done to Maz. Now."

I roll my eyes and wave my hand. Maz's voice erupts from deep in him. "She's crazy."

The green wristlet encircling Maz's arm chirps. "Are you coming home soon? I'm lonely," Kyra says.

Maz's eyes meet mine. Fear lurks behind the calm facade. "I'm over at Ryker's. I'll be home in a few."

"Leave them alone and come home where you're needed," Kyra teases.

"I will."

His wristlet chirps off.

Without a good-bye, Maz shoves past me. Dawson stands near the front door, ready to open it. At the last minute, Maz spins around toward me. "You're no longer welcome in my home, Lark."

I playfully slap his cheeks. "What did you say?"

Dawson pulls the door open to let Maz leave, but I wrest control of it and slam it shut.

Maz squares his shoulders. "Until you have better control of yourself, you're no longer allowed in my home."

How dare he. I lunge for him and grab at the loose ends of the scarf hanging from his neck. I shove him backward, until his back presses against the door.

"Don't threaten me," I hiss.

Maz's hands claw at mine just as two large hands reach around me and clamp my arms to my side. My body buckles against Ryker's.

"Let go of me!" I bash the back of my head against Ryker's chest and stomp on his foot, but he doesn't release me. "Dawson!" I scream. "Make him stop."

To my surprise, my bodyguard doesn't move. Or answer me. Or even acknowledge I've spoken.

A flicker of sadness crosses Maz's face as Ryker pulls me backward, well away from Maz. "You may not know it, but this is what you want."

"You can't stop me. I can go wherever I want. No one can stop me. "

The muscles in Maz's neck bulge. "Maybe not. But I'm doing this to keep your mate safe."

His words settle into my brain and my knees tremble. He's talking about Beck. Not Ryker. About keeping Beck safe from me.

Because I'm turning Dark. And they all know it.

Ryker's hands slide off my arms and my knees give out. I fall onto the ground, my quaking hands tear at my loose hair. Dawson reaches for me but I bat him away.

"Keep him away from me." My words are little more than ragged gasps. "Take him far away. Don't let me near him. Force him if you must."

Icy water hits my face like a million knives. I lift my head from the basin and watch the trails of water snake down my face in the mirror. My fingers curl around the vanity's edge and with a deep breath, I dunk myself beneath the surface again.

And again.

And again.

But it doesn't help. The Darkness is still here, still embedded in my destructive heart. And I can't stop it.

How did I not see my increasingly irrational behavior? Or realize my unwarranted cruelty?

Is this who I am now? Blind to my actions?

I lean heavily against the counter. If Maz can't make Beck leave, what will happen when I do see him? Will I attack or will I be overcome with emotion?

Water drips from the ends of my hair before I wrap it up with a fluffy white towel. Mother said she'd teach me how to use magic, and she is, but what if that's not enough. What if I can't learn to control my emotions?

When I step into my bedroom, a movement startles me. Ryker sits in the window seat, staring out into the room. My heart doesn't race or flutter the way it does when Beck's near.

"Heya," he says with a hint of caution.

I neatly fold the used towel and set it on the edge of the bed. "Heya."

Unspoken words of apology lay between us creating a distinct unease. When it's clear he's not going to say anything more, I say, "You're home."

"Maz kicked me out. He said I belonged here with you."

"Oh." I begin braiding my hair. I haven't worn braids since I was a child, but the motion soothes me.

"Is it okay for me to be here?"

My fingers stop weaving the strands of hair together and I focus on his face. "It's your home too. You may come and go as you wish." I twist an elastic band around the ends of my hair before dropping it back over my shoulder. "I promise to not set you on fire or try to choke anyone the rest of the day."

Ryker lifts his eyebrows and smiles slightly. "Can we expand that to 'forever'?"

I shake my head. "I don't know what I'm doing. It just happens."

With a half-shrug, he says, "Then I guess I'll take the rest of today." He watches me slip on my shoes. "Are you going out?"

"Yes. I want to visit Henry and Eloise." I extend an olive branch. "Do you want to join me?"

He slides off the window seat and strides over to where I sit on the edge of the chair. He kneels down so we're eye-to-eye. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry. I didn't realize I'd taken it too far. But what you did to Lena hurt me. You took the one person I care about in this world away from me. You of all people should know how that feels."

My heart races, and I glance at the ground. "I'm so sorry. Can it be fixed?"

"Probably. But if I'm honest, it's for the best." Regret and sadness tinge his words. "She's better off not wanting to be with me."

"Why are you doing this? Putting up with me?" I ask softly.

I don't flinch when Ryker rubs the back of my hand. "My job, as your mate, is to stay right here at your side. And my job, as your friend, is to keep you safe."

"And protect me from myself?"

"That too."

"Is he okay?" I ask.

Ryker shakes his head. "No. He's not."

I fight back tears. "Because of what I said?"

"Because of your magic. It's affecting him more than he wants us to know."

It's a blow to the gut. Everything the Light witches said is true. I'm going crazy and my magic is hurting Beck.

I glance out the window. From where I stand, I can see into Kyra's main floor.

"Will you make me a promise?" My voice shakes as I take off my wristlet.

Ryker nods, takes off his, and hands it to me. I drop them into the nightstand drawer.

"I can't control this. You can see that, can't you?"

He nods.

"I don't want to be evil. I don't want to hurt anyone." The words I need to say are lodged in my throat. "When the time comes, will you..." I blink and try to keep my tears at bay, but it doesn't do much good. They escape and run down my face.

Ryker places two fingers under my chin and brings my face up so that our eyes lock. He places his left hand over his chest. "On my honor, when I deem it necessary, I will end your life."

26.

Rain drizzles on me as I climb the hills of the Presidio. Dawson and Oliver weren't happy when I asked to go for a walk, but I need to clear my mind.

I don't shuffle my feet or hang my head. There's no deep feeling of horror or even fear. And yet sometime soon, I will be dead.

It's a strange thing, knowing I will die before long. Time simultaneously slows down, each minute captured with perfect clarity by my mind, and then speeds up, the minutes ticking more like seconds, and there aren't enough of them.

Since finding out I'm a witch, I've thought constantly of Beck's death, but very little of mine. It was as if we'd both a.s.sumed he'd do the honorable thing and let me kill him, leaving evil, wicked me behind.

But here's the thing: Dark witches can die. And we do. Caitlin did. As did her daughter, and my grandmother. They're all long gone. The Dark magic doesn't make us immortal, only dangerous.

Through all this, one thing's become clear: I'd rather die than lose myself and destroy Beck in the process.