Nightingale (The Sensitives) Part 19

"I can and I have. Your sister is a Dark witch who has the unusual ability to channel Light energy. I've asked you time and again to work with Henry, to help with that particular problem. Yet you refuse as if it were beneath you."

"It is beneath me and you know it."

"Should I leave?" I ask.

"No, Love, stay. Callum doesn't know his place."

Callum's nostrils flair. "You only want me to help Henry because it will put me in the Midlands, away from you, so you won't have to be reminded of what a disappointment I am."

My brother's nightmare sounds a lot like my dream. Funny how that works.

I slouch in my seat and catch Annalise's eye. She looks just as pained as I feel. Without asking permission, she pushes back from the table. "Lark, let's go for a walk."

"That's right, Lisi, run away like you always do," my brother roars. "Make sure to say 'hi' to Oliver for me."

Annalise keeps her shoulders thrown back and nods to me. When Mother doesn't object, I leap from the table.

Once Annalise and I are in the hallway, she asks, "Would you like to go Kyra's?"

I study my sister-in-law's face. She looks tired. And sad. "Is everything okay?"

She smiles, a pathetic sort of twisting of her lips. "I'm okay. Callum is just being Callum." I don't believe her, but if she doesn't want to tell me, I won't push. "Should I ping Kyra and tell her we're coming?"

"No," I say. "Let's surprise her. Should we alert Dawson? Or Oliver?"

"Not Oliver," she says quickly, glancing back toward the dining room where Mother and Callum are locked in a heated exchange. "I mean neither. There's no need. We'll be fine."

Our coats appear in her hands and I take mine from her. "Do you know the yellow house at the end of the street where the extra staff lives?" she asks.

"Yes."

"Land there, behind the garden gate."

She blinks out. I don't blame her for wanting to get out of here, but to leave without me...she must be upset.

I land exactly where she told me. And, to my delight, I do not land too close to Annalise. Excitement tingles in my blood as we step out onto the end of the block.

An offsh.o.r.e wind sends gray fog rushing around us and blots out the far end of the street. From where I stand, San Francisco looks faded behind a veil of mist.

Annalise scans the street before us with her wristlet while I keep my eyes on the corner cameras. My housemates used to play a game of dodging the cameras. But now, I understand their importance. It's just one way to see if the Splinter group is moving throughout the City.

In the few minutes since we've left Mother's, Annalise has slipped back into work mode. Calm, determined, strong. It's unnerving, in a way.

A dark shadow in the middle of the block catches my attention. "Who's that?" I ask.

Annalise's head jerks up from her wristlet. The figure pauses, as if watching us. Annalise moves in front of me, like a human shield, and presses on her wristlet, searching for data. She clicks her tongue in frustration and with three fingers raised, waves her hand in a semi-circle. "A witch, but I'm not pulling up a name."

"Should we leave?" My heart dances in manic excitement while my head tells me this isn't a safe situation.

"Do you know how to cast a shielding spell?" Annalise asks.

"No." My eyes are trained on the strange figure. So far, he-or she-hasn't moved closer to us.

"Imagine you're inside a bubble. One that magic can't penetrate." She takes my hand. "Here."

Her magic pulses into my blood. It feels like a live thing, like small bugs, creeping through my body. I want to bat at my arms and legs to slap them away.

"Can you feel that?"

"Yes," I say.

"That's my magic. Now cast it off."

I close my eyes and envision a large dome, similar to the one over Summer Hill. When I open my eyes, there's nothing to be seen, but I can feel the hum of magic surrounding us.

"Do you think it's Eamon?" I ask.

Annalise laughs. "If it were, we wouldn't be standing here playing with magic. It's probably just some old witch out for a walk."

The figure turns the corner and disappears.

"See?" she says. The invisible shield crumples around us. "Just someone out enjoying a walk."

We turn right on Spruce and left at the end of the block. Kyra's house sits five houses in. It's a grand home with old-fashioned brickwork and high-arching windows. Once again, I'm struck by how much Mother has given Kyra and how my friend accepts it with no reservations.

Annalise and I stand side-by-side on the narrow front porch. My finger hovers over the ringer.

"Is something wrong?" Annalise asks.

I shake my head. "No. Just admiring how extravagant Kyra's house is." I press the ringer and the door swings open.

An older, dark-haired man stands before me. He visibly startles when he recognizes me, but quickly covers by making a deep bow.

"Miss Lark," he says, his smooth voice wrapping itself around my brain and filling my core with warmth. "This is a surprise."

He steps aside and holds the door wide so we can enter the foyer. "Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tom Morris. I'm the new house manager for Maz and Kyra Matsu."

It's strange, the way he keeps his head turned to the side as he speaks. As if he doesn't want us to get a good look at him.

Something about him feels familiar. I can't explain it, but it's like we've meet before. Which is impossible because I don't a.s.sociate with middle-aged household help.

"Are Kyra and Maz home?" My blood hums in excitement.

The man doesn't make any other sort of eye contact with me. In fact, he avoids my gaze. "Miss Kyra is in the parlor, and Maz is in the library with Ryker."

Once I get over the surprise that Ryker is here and not at home, lying sick in bed, I zero in on how informal Tom is when discussing the boys.

"Not Mr. Maz?" I chastise. My heart bangs against my ribs. If it doesn't settle down soon, I'm going to die of a heart attack.

"He's requested I refer to him by first name alone." The house manager holds out his arm for my coat that I've shrugged off. Tom continues to avoid my gaze as he takes my jacket from me. Annalise hands him hers and scans the interior of the room. She seems unaware of Tom's odd behavior.

I narrow my eyes and allow magic to enter my body and flow through my blood. Look at me. Annalise immediately turns her attention to me, but Tom's head doesn't move. I step over to where Annalise stands so that I'm directly in Tom's line of vision. Look at me, I repeat again.

This time his eyes meet mine. Deep brown and completely unfamiliar. Yet I feel like I could drown a million times in them. My necklace radiates heat, and I stick my hand in my pocket to hold it closer to me. When I touch it, small vibrations race through my body.

"Lark?" Annalise asks. "Is something wrong?"

My tongue smarts beneath my teeth as I try to get a handle on my erratic feelings. "Have we met before?" I ask Tom.

My guard is now on alert. She inches closer to me and a.s.sumes a defensive position.

Tom keeps his head upright and appears undisturbed by my security. "We have not."

The desire to touch him overwhelms me, but before I can reach out, he spins on his heel and disappears through the double doors across the room.

"What was that?" Annalise demands.

"I don't know. I thought perhaps I knew him from somewhere." Now that Tom's gone, my heartbeat slows.

"From Summer Hill?" my guard asks. She's scrolling through her wristlet, no doubt searching for information on Tom Morris, this strange man Maz and Kyra hired without telling any of us.

"I don't think so."

"You find Kyra. I'm going to talk with Maz and Ryker." Annalise's body is tense, which makes me believe she's not done with Tom Morris.

Unsure where to go, I press my wristlet. "Locate Kyra."

"Down the hallway, to your left," my wristlet recites.

The hallway is long and narrow, like in most old homes in the City. When I'm out of Annalise's sight, I lean against the wall and try to catch my breath. What is wrong with me? Why is this ordinary-looking old man making me feel like this?

"Lark!" I lift my head. Kyra runs down the hallway and launches herself at me. I stagger a little under her onslaught. She leans away from me and looks me over head-to-toe. "Are you okay? Annalise's report frightened me. Explosions, attacks. Eamon. Beck."

The last word strikes my heart with the weight of a thousand steel hammers. "Believe it or not, I made it through without a scratch. Henry and Eloise weren't so lucky."

"Oh." She waves her hand dismissively. "Maz and I heard the explosion, but he refused to let me come help. Not that I can blame him. It's not exactly a romantic binding night activity."

Heat sneaks into my cheeks at the implication of her words. I change the subject. "Why are you reading reports? You're supposed to have six days off."

Kyra shrugs. "Guards don't get days off. I may not be with you, but I'm expected to keep up on what's going on."

She motions for me to follow her. "Do you like the house? I'm not done decorating yet, but all the public rooms and the bedroom are finished."

"It's pretty. I like the colors you picked." In honesty, I hadn't noticed the colors, but Kyra just wants to hear something nice. We walk through a set of pocket doors into a cozy room with beadboard walls and oriental rugs. It's a little old-fashioned for my taste.

"Heya, Lark," Ryker says. He and Maz are seated behind a card table. "Sorry I took off."

He stands and crosses the room in five strides, until he stands inches from me. With a small dip of his head, Ryker leans down and gives me the appropriate formal greeting of a kiss on each cheek. Unlike with Tom, I feel nothing in Ryker's presence. Not even the slightest tingling of excitement.

"Are you feeling better?" I ask.

He laughs. "I was never ill, but if I have to sit through another meal with Callum and Malin, I may develop a chronic condition."

"I know the feeling." I sit down on the hard, tiny couch near their game. "I'm afraid your house manager is inept. He said the two of you were in the Library."

Ryker and Maz exchange a quick look, one I don't think I'm supposed to see. "We were, but then he told us you were here. So we came to meet you."

I stare at their card game. "You must play fast."

Ryker rubs the back of his knuckles and shrugs.

"Where's everyone else?" Kyra asks.

"It's just Annalise and me. I think she's a.s.sessing your security." I pluck a canape from the tray a maid has set down. I lift my head to say thank you, and freeze.

Miss Tully smiles down at me. "It's nice to see you, Lark."

My mouth drops open. I hadn't expected to see her since Mother said Miss Tully would be part of my staff. But I guess, since I don't have a house yet, Mother left her with Kyra.

Kyra swats the back of her hand toward Miss Tully. "You're not to address us first. I've told you that a million times. Out."

Miss Tully keeps smiling, but leaves as directed.

"Kyra, you could try to be nice," Maz says. "They work better when you're nice."

She flounces in her seat before selecting a bit-sized morsel. "I can't use magic. In my own house. Because of her." She pops the food in her mouth. "Which doesn't make me feel especially kind."

I ma.s.sage the knot forming in my neck. There's no point in arguing with Kyra about treating people with kindness. "Where did you find Tom?"

Maz takes a break from inhaling a cuc.u.mber sandwich. "Ryker found him for us. He comes highly recommended. Right?"

Ryker slams a fist of cards down on the table and flashes me a triumphant smile. "He's the best at what he does."

"You don't want to save the best for us?" I ask. Actually, I don't care, but it seems a bit odd Ryker would place the best house manager with our friends.

"Ugh. Why do you even care? I'm sure Malin will find you someone even better." Kyra yanks on my hand until I'm standing. She bats her eyes at Maz. "We'll be right back. Don't get into trouble, okay?"

She leads me down the hallway to the back stairs. From here, I can see Annalise standing in the foyer, scanning things with her wristlet. But there's no sign of Tom.

We climb the stairs to Kyra's enormous bedroom. Correction: her and Maz's room. I pause. All my life, I've run in and out of Kyra's room as if it were my own, but now it feels like an intrusion of privacy.

"Close the door," Kyra says as she flops on the four-poster bed. "I don't want any prying eyes or ears."

Despite what she says, she doesn't remove her wristlet. Which means she probably just doesn't want Miss Tully to overhear.

I stand at the foot of the bed and watch Kyra arrange an a.s.sortment of pillows behind her. Before she starts on her one-sided stream of chatter, I say, "Tom's weird."

"Laaark," she singsongs. "Are you jealous?"