Spring Rain (The Witchling #4)(38)

Whatever step he hadn’t known to take no longer mattered, because the Light was working with him for once.

His bubbling happiness popped when a flood of sparks exploded in front of his face. Any fear he had about the shield’s ability to tolerate an attack by the Dark eased as the Dark witchlings tested its strength.

“Hey,” he called to them. “Hey, jackasses! Back off!”

“Whatever, Beck,” one snapped.

“No weak Light witchling can stop us. You can’t hurt anyone, remember?” another mocked. “Can’t break the Laws.”

I’m not a normal witchling. It bothered him briefly to realize they didn’t take him seriously, that his approach of kindness and compassion was being mistaken as weakness compared to his brother’s preference for spilling blood. He, too, had believed the Light to be weak, something that needed protecting, rather than something he could wield, like the magick it was.

Earth magick soothed any ill feelings, and he drew a breath. He, along with the rest of the world, was about to see what a Master of Light could do for the first time in over twenty years. Beck shook out his arms, not at all certain what to expect from the power surging through him.

Two Dark witchlings were creeping closer to the barrier.

Resolve settled Beck’s thoughts, and with it, the heat of the earth and Light flowed from his feet to the tip of his head. Lightning crackled around him, and he concentrated the magick in his hands, reminded again of the night he faced Decker when his brother had almost crossed to the Dark.

“You have to the count of three before I show you exactly what the Master of Light can do,” he warned.

Several looked over, but no one left or stopped or otherwise indicated they thought him serious. With some satisfaction, he tested the magick flowing through him. It bent to his will easily, and he reviewed Sam’s parting words.

No part of him wanted to kill. No part of him liked the idea of hurting, either, but he wasn’t going to let anything happen to those he was charged with protecting. Ever. If that meant he got close to crossing those lines, he would.

His internal shift hardened the part of him that had been too concerned about how to be who he was supposed to be and he realized, becoming the Master of Light was not about guessing what his nonexistent mentor would tell him to do. The duty to protect was instinctual, ingrained into him by his earth magick at birth and branded into his soul when he became the Master of Light. He needed no other mentor than the Light itself, for no other teacher was going to show him the extent of what and who he was. Now that he was beginning to understand the Light better, he had everything he needed to lead, protect and defend his witchlings.

Like Decker, he also began to understand there were no boundaries to what he’d do to save those he loved and those he was honor bound to help. Being the Master meant making hard choices about the lives of others. It also meant never forgetting who and what he served and what was on the line if he failed in his duty.

If he gave warning, it was out of his sense of fairness and compassion, not because he was obligated to. The magick would obey him no matter what. The sense of freedom, of there being no ceiling to the amount of power he could wield, left him feeling a little scared of his own ability and a whole lot exhilarated by it, too.

“Last chance,” Beck said softly, his mind bolting from thought to thought as he began to feel the change within him, the change from viewing the Light as a victim to realizing it was a powerful tool.

No one paid him any heed.

“Let’s get this show started.” He lifted his hands and focused on the two witchlings checking out his shield.

Lighting leapt from his hands and smashed into them, driving them back twenty feet and slamming them to the ground. It surprised him as much as them. The magick came effortlessly when called and he didn’t feel the strain of using it the way he had before. It was instinctive to shape and direct it.

The others froze. Before anyone had a chance to react, Beck sent Light smashing into the others, until everyone was piled in the middle of the driveway. He stepped outside his shield and tested the Light, pleased to find it still responded to him.

The Dark witchlings scrambled to their feet, and the air buzzed with the sudden influx of magick. Earthquakes, waterfalls, wailing wind … Beck relished the energized air and fed more energy into the lightning in his hands.

A mini-tornado roared towards him. He lifted his hands and visualized a shield before him, and the funnel popped like a water balloon when it hit. He smashed another bolt of lightning into the witchling that sent it.

None of them moved.

“Get the point?” he asked without lowering his hands. “The Light can defend itself, and I will protect those who deserve it. Whatever you think is going on, whatever rumors Dawn is spreading, think again.”

“So you can pick us off one at a time,” one of them stepped forward. He was a water witchling with dark hair, one Beck recognized as being two or three years older than he was. “Everyone knows the Light is weak. You can’t take all of us.”

His words seemed to reassure the others, most of who looked ready to reconsider challenging him.

“Bring it,” Beck replied confidently and threw his arms out to either side of him. “I’ll even give you the first shot.” The magick coursing through him left him giddy and breathless and more reckless than usual.

After so many months of self-doubt, he finally had an answer, and it wasn’t what he expected. He was the answer, and all it was going to take was stepping up to the duty with no second thoughts. Decker had dived into the Dark, and Beck was doing the same into the Light.