Nightingale (The Sensitives) Part 4

"I can't be bound, you know that." Once a witch is bound, the only way to undo it is by death. If Mother doesn't see this as a problem, it means one thing: she knows Beck is dead. My legs wobble and I grasp the edge of the table for support.

"I'll ask you again. What would you like to do about that?"

I frown. What is she asking me? If I want to be bound to someone else? What does that mean? I can't be bound to anyone else as long as Beck's alive. Which means...is she asking if I want him dead?

My heart flutters. This is the first hint she's given that he may be okay. I clench my jaw and smash my lips together in hope that I don't give away my emotions.

Tiny pulses of ice pummel my body as Mother targets her magic at me. It creeps along the edge of my arms, over my chest and toward my heart. In response, my pulse accelerates.

"What are you doing?" I ask, stepping back from her.

Mother raises her eyebrows and sighs. "Helping you remember who you are."

I bite my lower lip. Something isn't right about this.

"Mother, I know who I am."Another wave of magic hits me in the chest, knocking me off balance and my unease turns to fear. Once I regain my footing, I scramble to the far end of the table, but I don't take my eyes off my Mother.

She waits at the other end, one hand on her hip, her headed c.o.c.ked to the side. "Hold out your arm."

Tension rolls through me. "Why?"

"Lark, do not disobey me."

The hard edge of her words sends my heart into overdrive, but I'm more afraid of what she'll do if I don't listen. I lift my trembling arm.

"The other one."

I raise my left arm slowly, holding it before me. The restraint falls to the ground.

Mother smiles. "That's better."

I blink. "Thank you."

"Hands up." Mother paces between the table and the wall.

This can't be good. Vomit sits in the back of my throat, but I lift my hands so that they're chest height and hold my breath.

The air around Mother vibrates with magic, and even though it does me no good, I imagine a wall between us. Magic rips through the room, electric and crackling.

I jump back, but I keep my hands up. The pulses radiating from Mother slam into something invisible and explode before me. But they don't touch me.

I quickly inspect my body, making sure I have all my parts, and see slivers of ice lying at my feet.

"Well done, Love." Mother grins, s.h.i.+fting her weight back and forth between the b.a.l.l.s of feet and her heels. She flings both her arms toward me with fingers splayed. "Deflect."

A suffocating gust of hot air envelops me.

I spin, drawing the heat closer to me just as I remember Eloise doing with the moonlight. A soft orange glow surrounds me and my body quivers as I struggle to keep whatever I've done from exploding from my fingertips.

"The way you move is breathtaking," Mother says from her position across the room. "Such innate ability. One can't learn these things."

A smirk spreads across my face. Little does she know. "Eloise taught me," I say as I ball my fists, waiting for whatever is coming next.

"Eloise?" Mother's voice has a hint of disbelief, as if what I've said is impossible.

"Yes. Do you know her?" I haven't forgotten the way Mother forced the healer to skip Eloise's information during my session. At the time, I didn't think much of it, but her reaction now piques my curiosity.

Mother taps her finger against her lips. "Only by reputation."

The heat inside me pounds against my chest and, no longer able to contain it, I unfurl my fingers. The small gesture sends me flying backwards into the wall and I land in a heap on the floor. Across the room, Mother is sprawled in an undignified manner, her dress bunched over her hips and her arms outstretched.

I jump to my feet. "Mother?" I cry. "Are you all right?" She doesn't move. I sprint across the room and skid to a stop next to her limp body. What if she's injured? Or worse-what if I killed her?

"Mother," I say, shaking her. "Wake up."

When she doesn't respond, I press her wristlet only to find myself immobilized. Mother suddenly stands, rearranges her clothes, and pats her hair.

"Oh Lark, you are a quick learner, aren't you?" Mother says. Her eyes twinkle in delight giving her a slightly manic look. When she grins like this, all teeth and eye crinkles, she reminds me of Kyra when she's about to do something spectacularly terrible. "But you're too sentimental. Too trusting."

An invisible vice squeezes me softly and my eyes grow wide.

"This is what happens when you let your defenses down: you lose."

My voice is locked in my paralyzed body, like when she had Dawson set me on fire. The pressure increases substantially and the room blinks and fades out around me.

"Make me stop," Mother says calmly.

My arms stay pinned to my sides despite my efforts.

"Are you even trying? I'll get it started for you." Mother rocks back on her heels faster until I sense a weakening in the force around me. When she turns her head, the vibrations of her magic wash over me. Deep inside me, my magic trembles, trying to break free.

Wind and rain whip through the room, but Mother keeps smiling at me like a lunatic. "That's right. Feel the magic. Let it grow stronger inside you."

My pulse hammers in my ears as rage engulfs me. My body struggles beneath the power of her magic. Sweat drips down my forehead and off the tip of my nose, but I don't break concentration.

And then the hold she has on me vanishes. I slump to the ground, exhausted.

With a sigh, Mother pats me on the head. "That's enough for today."

Whatever spell she used against me is gone and I bristle at her touch. "Don't touch me."

"I'm sorry, Love, but I had to see how your magic worked. How you do it."

I grind my teeth. She did all this to see what I can do? Fury oozes from my words. "I don't know how I do it."

"You may not, but I do."

"Do you plan on telling me?"

She shakes her head. "Not yet."

With a long, deep breath I stand and place my shaking hands against the conference table, trying to calm the rapid beat of my heart. "Why can't I know? Is my magic that terrible?"

Mother glides across the room and pours herself a gla.s.s of water. "It's not terrible, Love. It's a wonderful, beautiful thing. You're incredibly strong. Stronger than I was at your age."

I wrap my hand over my left wrist where the restraint once encircled my arm. "Then why are you making me wear that horrible device? Why can't I have my magic?"

"Do you want it?"

I gape at her. Is this what she's wanted all along? For me to ask for my magic?

"It's not a hard question. Do you want your magic? Are you willing to accept the responsibility?"

Every day Mother's come to me and asked how I feel about Beck. And every day, she's been able to force the truth from me, even when I've doubted it myself. But she's never asked if I want my magic. Never been so clear about what holding on to the dream of Beck is costing me.

And the thing is, I do want my magic. Want it so badly my soul aches. I want to feel the power and the sense of accomplishment. And I want to be good at it.

No. I want to be the best.

My fingers twitch in antic.i.p.ation.

"Yes. I want my magic."

6.

"Do you think she knew?"

"She looks different."

"You would too if you'd been held captive by heartless monsters."

My insides churn as the whispers grow louder and my guards part the sea of students crowding around me. I've always disliked being in the public eye-the stares and the implications that I am different than my cla.s.smates. But now, I hate it. I hate the way their eyes hold a combination of sympathy and loathing.

As if I asked for any of this.

My fingers clench the strap of my satchel and I focus on breathing slowly. One. Two. Three. Four.

"Easy, Lark," Annalise says from my right side. "We're almost there."

The hallway looks longer and more crowded than I remember. The lights brighter. The noises louder.

"At least there aren't any cameras," I say. Even though I don't like it, I understand I have to march through campus and let everyone see me. It's all part of the facade, a way to show that we aren't afraid of the Sensitives.

A blond boy jogs up the staircase and my heart leaps. I must gasp out loud because all four of my guards immediately turn to me.

"Are you okay?" Oliver asks.

"I thought..." I shake my head, unable to say more. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. My eyes gloss over the throng of students watching me. How many of them think of me simply as Lark Greene, daughter of the Vice Head and descendant of Caitlin Greene? How many of them are Dark like me and know what I'm capable of?

"Lark!" The Headmaster rushes forward as if to embrace me, but Oliver blocks him.

"I'm sorry but we can't permit anyone to touch Lark. Not after what she's been through," Oliver says. He holds his wristlet at waist level and discreetly scans the headmaster.

"Of course," the Headmaster stammers. "Forgive me."

A familiar p.r.i.c.kle runs along my arms. Annalise yanks me back into the center of our group. "Get control of yourself."

Before I left for my a.s.sessment, Mother returned my blue wristlet. It sits where the restraint once was. The only thing preventing me from using magic is my self-control and my guards.

It's not very rea.s.suring after all.

The headmaster pushes open the door closest to us, exposing the cla.s.sroom within. There are a few desks and chairs, but not much else.

"Are you ready?" Kyra asks. Her dark curls are, for once, restrained in the tight ponytail of a States Woman, even though she has yet to officially claim that honor. Like Annalise, she wears a long, cream-colored coat and radiates elegance and refinement. Professionalism.

Me? Not so much. After Mother's a.s.sault, I changed into a new day dress - green with lace trim, tights, and t-strap heels, and redid my hair into a ponytail. I look like a student.

"I'm ready," I say. I've spent my entire life preparing for this test. Looking forward to it, actually.

Turning away from the prying eyes of the students rus.h.i.+ng past, I'm positive Mother wants more than a demonstration of my academic skills. After what she did earlier, she has something planned for me. But I have no idea what. And that terrifies me.

I can't worry about Mother right now. I need to focus on scoring well in Agriculture because if I do, then Mother will have to send me to the Advanced Ag school for further training. Which means I can get out of here and live a quiet life somewhere away from the glare of newscaster cameras and curious stares. Possibly even away from Mother and her hot-cold personality s.h.i.+fts.

With a jerk of my chin, I signal to Oliver I'm ready. Since I'm no longer allowed to enter buildings or rooms without my guards' permission, I have to wait for him to scan everything.

He holds his arm parallel to his torso as his wristlet chirps and buzzes. His fingers twitch and I sense the tremor of magic around him. Interesting. I narrow my eyes and study him more carefully. Yes, there's definitely a flow of magic originating from Oliver. Does that mean he's not actually using the wristlet?

Annalise leans into me. "Stop staring. You're drawing attention to Oliver."

I quickly look away and feign interest in the flickering poster mounted to the wall. Its screen is stuck between two images: one for afterschool choir and the other for lacrosse tryouts.

Memories of a lacrosse stick laden with clothes dances through my mind. It seems like so long ago that I lived in that room with Beck.

It's ironic, really. The more the world tries to erase evidence of Beck's existence, the more I think about him. I wish I hadn't lost my necklace, the one Beck gave me on my seventeenth birthday.

Sigh.

"It's safe to enter." Oliver touches my arm gently and I march with heavy feet into the room.

A tablet lies on a desk in the second row, and a teacher I've never had stands near the window. When she sees me, she gasps.

"Lark! I didn't..." Her eyes dart across my guards. "I wasn't expecting you. I was told this was a make-up a.s.sessment for an ill student."