Free Larkstorm by Dawn Rae Miller Page A

That word again. I swivel my head toward him and narrow my eyes. The tingling sensation intensifies and a growl escapes my lips.
    “Where? Where did they go?”
    Dr. Hanson recoils, his eyes wide. He steps further from me until he’s out of my reach.
    A maniacal laugh rushes past my lips. A grown man is afraid of me? The thought thrills me.
    I narrow my eyes again as he cowers and moves closer to the door.
    “Lark, you need to stop this. Get control of yourself.” Bethina forces her way between Dr. Hanson and me. She reaches for me and the darkness tempts me back.
    But I can’t slip away. I need to know Beck’s okay. I grasp on to a table and steady myself as the air in the room grows denser than in the greenhouse. It pulls the oxygen from my lungs and chokes me.
    Dr. Hanson backs away toward the door. Maz stands in the opening, his eyes red and swollen.
    “Maz?” I cry, hoping he’ll tell me something.
    Taking advantage of the open door, Dr. Hanson turns and bolts.
    Maz yells, “They’re accusing them of being Sensitives!”
    The door slams shut.
    Furious and no longer encased in cement, I throw myself at the closed door, pulling on it and beating it with my fists. But it’s welded shut. I can’t open it.
    I search around the room for something to ram it with. But there’s nothing. Nothing except Bethina watching me cautiously. Exhausted and defeated, I slump against the door.
    Sensitives? The word stabs my brain. Impossible. I would know if Beck were a Sensitive. My fist slams into my thigh. How dare Maz say such a thing? Beck has a flawless pedigree — he’s not some monster.
    I would have felt it, would have seen it. Wouldn’t I?
    Tears well in my eyes and I pull my knees to my chest. I want to hide my face from Bethina.
    “Lark?” Her voice is soft. A soft tickle works over my body, like a soothing caress. The urge to fight recedes, replaced by a need to be comforted.
    “Why don’t you come sit over here?”
    Out of habit, I obey. I use the doorknob to lift myself off the ground. My legs wobble and nearly give out under me.
    “How? Bethina, how?” I lumber toward the couch. My heavy body collapses into the overstuffed cushions. “Beck is a Founder’s descendant. You can’t learn to be Sensitive — you’re born that way. And we were both genetically tested as infants. This has to be a mistake.”
    Bethina hands me a glass of water. I take it and watch the beads run down the outside. They chase after one another gathering speed until they collide. All parts of a whole making their way back to one another.
    “I’m afraid it isn’t. Beck is Sensitive. There’s evidence.”
    “What evidence? What’s he ever done but be happy and silly and all those other things he is?” A cry is trapped in my throat, but I push it down and fight to compose myself. “His parents work for the State. They aren’t Sensitive.”
    “All I know is that the investigation points at five students. I don’t know anything else.”
    “Five! But how?” The questions rush out of me. “How did they attend school unnoticed? What’s going to happen?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “And Kyra too?”
    “Yes.” Bethina turns toward the window.
    “Two of them in our house. Under your watch, Bethina? How did you not know?”
    Her shoulders hunch forward and she dips her chin. “I can ask the same of you.”
    I simply can’t believe this. Beck, my mate, is a Sensitive. And Kyra, my best friend, is too? This doesn’t make sense.
    “What am I supposed to do?” The enormity of the situation presses on me. Beck is gone. And Kyra. My mate and my best friend. Everything we’d planned is gone.
    Bethina continues to stare out the window. Her hands shake, but I can tell she’s trying to hold it together for me.
    “I think it’s best if you just wait, Lark. Give it a day or two. I’m sure word will come soon for you.”
    I tense at her implication. “What are you saying?”
    She sighs and folds her hands. “Perhaps this is