Nightingale (The Sensitives) - By Dawn Rae Miller Page 0,4

tense as I pass Mother. When the bathroom door clinks shut behind me, my pulse hammers in my ears and my hands tremble. Whatever magical hold she had on me has vanished, leaving only terror behind.

There is no window in this room. No way out except through the door I entered. Most likely, Mother waits on the other side, ready to use her persuasive magic on me as soon as I exit.

I’m trapped. More than I ever was at Summer Hill. And yet, this is supposed to be my freedom.

With a sigh, I dig the tips of my fingers into my brow bone. I need to know if everything with Beck was a lie. But how? Who will help me? Mother ordered no one to speak of him and I don’t think anyone would dare go against her.

Plus, every healer has given the same diagnosis: extreme fatigue, break with reality, mental manipulation, inability to recall simple truths. But how can that be? It can’t be that all my memories have been planted by the Channings to ensure I won’t harm Beck.

But that’s the one thing both sides agree on: Beck and I will meet one day and we will battle to the death. So maybe the Channings did mess with my mind?

I shake my head at the ridiculousness. I know what happened at Summer Hill. I saw it. I lived it.

At least, I think I did.

I wrap my arms across my chest as the water from the shower pounds my shoulders, and close my eyes. My heart thumps erratically and tears spill out of my eyes.

My fingers reach for my necklace, but like earlier, it isn’t there. It’s gone, like everything else I once loved.

Beck, I call out in my mind. Can you hear me?

Nothing but static. No matter how hard I try, I can’t feel Beck. Not his voice, nor his emotions. It’s as if he ceased to exist, leaving a gaping hole in my heart.

I press off the shower and take a towel from the warmer. In the mirror, a haunted girl stares back at me: listless, blood-shot eyes and ghostly-white skin. Is this what the world sees when they look at me? A frail girl? Someone who can’t fend for herself?

There’s a light knock on the door. “Lark? Are you okay?” Mother asks from the other side. Of course she’s standing out there, she’s afraid to leave me alone.

Just say what she wants to hear. I force a smile to my lips and yank the door open. “I’m fine.”

Mother lets out a relieved little chortle, but her magic pushes at my heart—a sign she doesn’t fully trust me. I don’t fight her. I want to feel numb right now. I want to forget.

She motions to a serving cart across the room where a silver dome sits, waiting for me.

“I hope you like it,” Mother says. The lid floats into the air, exposing a salad packed with berries and nuts.

Despite my small appetite, my mouth waters. “It looks delicious.”

“Good.” Mother studies me with concern. “You’re emaciated. We need to get you back up to full strength.”

I adjust the towel around my skeletal frame before sitting down and nibbling several bites of food. But before I can finish, my eyelids droop and I can barely hold my head up. “I’d really like to take a nap.”

Mother narrows her eyes. “Are you unwell?”

I shake my head. “I think I’m going crazy.”

A dramatic sigh escapes Mother’s lips. She walks around the table and draws my head to her torso. “Darling, I’m so sorry this is happening to you. I promise, I’ll make the Channings pay for what they did. I will never let them hurt you again.”

Her words chip away at the flimsy barricade I’ve erected around my heart. My lip trembles and tears flow down my face.

“They encased me. And Eamon…he…” My voice shakes at the memory of the Light witches encircling me, chasing me across the lawn. “They were trying to kill me?”

“Shhh…Eamon will never harm you. I promise.” Mother’s hand strokes my hair lightly before she takes me by the shoulders and peers into my eyes. “Beck Channing tricked you into binding with him. For what reason, I don’t know. But the Light witches will kill you for it.”

Horror grows inside me. I remember. The Light witches…no, Eamon’s Splinter group…they weren’t just coming for me. They wanted to hurt Beck too.

They wanted to kill both of us.

Panic builds in my chest as events begin to make sense. I