Nightingale (The Sensitives) Part 38

The thought sends a thrill rippling through me.

"Please," Lena begs. "Please, Lark. "

Across the room, Dawson gives a curt nod.

Kyra stands at my shoulder, her breath ragged in my ear. "You're not going to hurt her, are you?"

"And if I did?" I challenge. "Would you be disloyal and try to stop me?"

Panic radiates from Kyra. "No. Never." Her eyes search the room madly. "It's just that, if she's hurt, she's of no use."

My head aches and I rub my temples. She has a point. If Lena's incapacitated, she can't tell me what she knows. However, she's tongue-tied and can't give me the information anyway.

"Lark." Dawson's firm voice jerks me from my thoughts. He stands just inches from me. "Do not show weakness."

A fluttering grows in my chest and my muscles tense. I am not weak. I'm Lark Greene. Descendent of Caitlin Greene. Daughter of Malin Greene.

I am not weak.

Lena whimpers and I throw my head back and laugh.

"Oh, Lena. Do you know what I do to girls who don't give me what I want?" I push my face in front of hers so that my lips are just inches from Lena's colorless skin. "I eat them."

I snap my teeth and she curls tighter in on herself.

A ball of energy vibrates in my hand again. "I'm afraid there is no mercy for the wicked. And you've been helping Ryker hide. That's very wicked indeed."

Kyra grabs my wrist. "Okay, you've scared her. I think that's enough."

"Mind yourself, Kyra," Dawson orders.

"Mind myself?" my friend shouts. "What's the point of this? Why are you encouraging Lark to lash out? Malin never did." She jabs her finger in Dawson's direction. "What's wrong with all of you?"

"Enough." I whirl on my friend. "Lena still hasn't told us where Beck is. Once she does, she can go. I promise."

"She's tongue-tied." Kyra shakes her head with mouth wide open. "She can't tell you even if she wants to."

d.a.m.n it, Kyra's right.

I study the trembling blond girl. I can't leave her here. Not after what she's seen.

Dawson's sharp eyes watch me intently.

My mind scurries through several options, none of which end particularly well. If I let Lena go, I'll have to wipe her mind again, which could leave her in a vegetative state. If I don't wipe her mind, she could expose me.

I can't let her go.

"I'm sorry, Lena," I whisper. "I'm so sorry."

With a flick of my wrist the glowing orb strikes her chest and a blood-curling scream fills the room. Her pain floods my system and re-invigorates me.

Lena's body spasms on the cold, hard floor.

Kyra shrieks and yanks at my arms. "What have you done?"

"I...I..." What have I done?

With numb legs, I stumble toward Lena, but Kyra shoves me out of the way. She kneels next to our former housemate and holds her head against Lena's chest. "She's barely alive. She needs a healer."

My brain races in a chaotic mess of images, feelings, and memories. I blink hard, trying to push them away, trying to make sense of what just happened. Across the room, Dawson stands with his arms folded, coolly watching Kyra and me.

"It was the right thing to do," my burly guard says. "You did well."

I rub my temples and try to still my thoughts. I have to fix this. I have to show Dawson I'm strong, but I can't let Lena die.

"Take Lena to my house, Dawson, and fetch a healer."

My guard lumbers across the snug room, and Kyra scoots back so he can lift Lena's motionless body.

"Wait," I order. "Bring her here." Dawson holds Lena's body before me and with one, swift movement, I unfasten her wristlet and toss it to Kyra.

"No one can know she's injured other than the Healer. Do you understand?"

Dawson nods. Seconds later, he blinks out and Lena disappears with him.

"What are you doing?" There's a sense of desperation in Kyra's voice.

Somewhere deep inside me, my heart trembles as if it were crying. I press my hand against it as I stride across the room, hoping the pressure will ease some of the pain. "The boys probably ditched their wristlets, but I bet Ryker has a way to listen to the secure feeds." I'm moving forward with my plan, trying not to think about what just happened. "How often do you talk to Lena?"

Kyra's lips are nothing more than two thin lines. She refuses to answer me.

"I'm not stupid. I know you've kept in touch with her." I keep my voice even, trying not to betray the confusion of emotions rolling through me.

With her chin to her chest, she says, "Once a week."

"Good. I want you to ping Lena's wristlet and say you'll stop by in an hour. That you have to run an errand to the school with me."

She lifts her eyes to meet mine. "And then what?"

"We wait for Beck to show up."

No sooner does my foot touch the bare earth then I link my arm through Kyra's and pull her into the Presidio. Small purple flowers dot the hills, and when the wind blows, they look like they're dancing. We pa.s.s beneath the lone grove of trees until we reach the small creek that snakes across the Presidio down to the Bay.

My friend is unusually quiet as we trudge along.

"What's wrong?" I ask when her silence becomes unbearable.

She pulls in a deep breath before releasing it. "You didn't need to hurt Lena. It was pointless."

Her accusation stabs at my heart, but the truth is, she's right. I know she is. "I don't know what's happening to me," I say for the hundredth time, swallowing hard. "Sometimes I feel like I'm in control, and other times, it's like I'm watching some horrible version of myself."

"Beck can help you."

Even in my confusion, there is one thing I'm sure of: I need to find Beck Channing. Whether or not he can help is a different story.

"You think Ryker told Lena about us?"

Kyra brings her shoulders up to her ears. "I don't know. Probably."

"You didn't ask her?" I say in disbelief. "What good is the power of persuasion if you don't use it?"

Kyra stops abruptly, and I nearly b.u.mp into her. She scrunches up her face. "I couldn't get close enough to her before someone tongue-tied her."

"Then she knows," I say matter-of-factly.

With one hop, I jump over the tiny stream and land on the opposite muddy bank. I race up the small hillside to a tree and lean against it.

"What are you doing?" Kyra calls.

Something doesn't seem right to me, but I'm not sure what. "Thinking."

Instead of leaping over the water, Kyra transports to my side. "About what?"

"If Lena could keep away from you, why would Mother let someone she didn't know close enough to strike? She was the most heavily protected person in our Society. How did someone get close enough to a.s.sa.s.sinate her? And how did none of her guards see it?"

"You don't suspect an inside job do you?"

I frown. "I'm not sure what I think." My mind flits back to my suspicions of Annalise. "If it wasn't Beck, as you insist, it had to be someone close to her."

Kyra rubs her throat. "I hadn't thought of that."

An animal moves through the nearby brush and we both startle. "I think we should go," Kyra whispers. "This is a stupid idea, and we shouldn't be here alone. If Annalise finds out, we're in trouble."

A sharp shock of electricity p.r.i.c.ks my neck and I stagger to the right. Before I can make sense of what's happening, Kyra catches me and pulls me behind the tree.

I fix my eyes on a spot on the other side of the creek. The air around it crackles with magic and a salty-metallic smell fills my nose.

"Who's over there?" I whisper.

Kyra's wristlet hums softly. She shakes her head. "No wristlet."

I swallow. If I'm right, it's Beck and his friends. If I'm wrong, it could be anyone. Even Eamon.

A bolt of magic cracks the tree and it groans.

"Dawson, Oliver. I need backup. Immediately," Kyra shouts into her wristlet.

My two male guards materialize feet from Kyra and me, and the three of them try to form a protective triangle around me. But my heart explodes with adrenaline and I push past Kyra so that I'm standing before them, like the point on an arrow. I won't be hiding. Not from this fight.

My hands curl inward, the way Dawson taught me, and I prepare for whatever is about to hit us.

Silence.

Then I hear a low whistle. The haunting melody of the Alouette. Which means only one thing.

A long, low chuckle erupts from my throat. "h.e.l.lo, Eamon."

Magic whizzes toward me, but with one small movement, I toss it aside. "Is that all you have?"

Oliver's back is pressed to mine, protecting our rear. "There are only three of them."

I could have told him that. "Who's with you tonight, Eamon? Dasha? Who else?"

A deep gray shadow s.h.i.+fts and oozes across the ground. As it comes closer, the shadow solidifies until Eamon stands a mere twenty feet from me. Two women I don't recognize, flank him.

Oliver s.h.i.+fts his position so that he's on my left. Dawson stays to my right and Kyra begins swinging out along the perimeter, like she's going to try to circle behind the three witches.

"Well, well, well." Eamon clenches his jaw and his cruel eyes glint in the fading sunlight. "It looks like we caught a bird in the bush. Next time, tell your guards not to send your whereabouts over a public feed. Not very smart."

One of the women laughs. I take advantage of the distraction and hurl a wave of lethal energy at Eamon. At the last second, he whips his hand, sending my spell back toward me.

I'm too slow.

The magic rolls past me, narrowly missing my arm and hits Oliver. As he falls his eyes meet mine. "Tell Lisi..." He hits the ground hard and his body jerks once before going still.

A roar, like the ocean pounding against rocks, rages through my mind. The noise grows until it blocks out all other sounds around me.

Time moves slowly as Dawson charges the small group on the other side of the creek, his magic sparking from his fingertips. Kyra stands stock still with her mouth wide open. My eyes glance at Oliver's lifeless body. Flashes of red dance before my eyes.

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" The air around me rolls like waves and the thunder booms.

"Go," Dawson shouts over the clash of magic. "Take him and go, Kyra!" He shoves my best friend toward Oliver's body. "You need to bring him home. To Annalise."

She wraps her arms around Oliver and transports.

Heat burns through my insides, and I try to focus on the lopsided battle before me. How Eamon and the women try to position themselves around Dawson while keeping an eye on me. I move stiffly, as if in a dream, magic dripping from my fingers. Slowly, like being forced through a tunnel, I feel myself waking up. First my toes, then my fingers, and then with a jolt, my mind.

I focus my narrow gaze on Eamon as adrenaline rushes through me.

"Lark," Dawson calls without a hint of breathlessness or worry. "Do you remember what you did at Kyra's binding?"

"Yes."

"Do it again."

My fingers spasm as Dawson's magic enters me. It races up my limbs, into my core, and pressure builds in my chest. When I can't hold it anymore, I lift my arms. Wind lashes at us, and dirt swirls around our heads making it difficult to see. The water in the creek bubbles and begins creeping up the sides of the bank.