Spring Rain (The Witchling #4)(66)

Beck rose at the worried note in her voice and sensed Decker’s other half was about to leave to look for him. He took her arm and waited for her to meet his gaze. “Stay here, Summer. No matter what.”

“As long as he’s not in danger,” she replied, her stubborn streak subtler than Morgan’s sparks and fire, but still a threat to her safety.

“Even then. He can take care of himself, and he’ll kill me if something happens to you,” he replied and forced a smile. “Whatever this is, it can’t hurt him but it can hurt you.”

She nodded, intimately familiar with Decker’s magick and abilities. “Biji left with Noah,” she said and glanced at her phone.

“Tell her to come back. I had Amber send out a warning to any Light witchlings in the vicinity to either leave or seek refuge here.” Beck’s eyes went to the sky and the billowing black clouds moving in their direction.

“What is it?”

“I have no idea,” he replied ruefully. “But it’s bad.”

“Dawn?”

“Or Bartholomew.” He didn’t want to think of Dawn being behind this or worse, of her being completely lost like Sam said. It was less his concern for her and more about his daughter. He was no closer to a solution. If Dawn or Bartholomew had chosen now to confront the Light …

He didn’t know what to do.

Summer took his hand and squeezed it, her earth magick helping calm his.

“Beck?” Amber called, approaching from the direction of the administrative building. Her air magick was swirling around her in agitation, no doubt feeling what he did.

“Amber, keep everyone in the Square or the buildings,” he said and turned. “No one leaves campus.”

Amber studied him, concerned, before nodding. “Summer,” she motioned for the air-earth witchling beside him to go with her.

Summer gave Beck a look that said she wasn’t happy being lumped in with the rest. He smiled and nudged her forward. She went without objecting.

Beck watched them go into the log building nearest him and strode out to the edge of the Light, pulling and pushing at the magick to reassure himself it was not only responsive, but strong. Two men were waiting in a van in the parking area near campus. The Dark students were forbidden from stepping foot on campus and had created a makeshift parking lot to the side of the road leading to the school where they met with Light. There was often a car or two there, so he gave the van no thought, his mind on Morgan instead.

She couldn’t be on campus when the storm hit. His insides were twisting with the challenges of his position he hadn’t yet figured out. He whipped out his phone and texted her. Hey, can you and Connor come to the school immediately? The keys to my car are on the top drawer of my dresser in my room. He pocketed the cell and paced, eyes falling to the strangers again.

They weren’t Light witchlings; this much he knew. But he didn’t recognize them either. The three men were older, closer to his father’s age. There were a lot of visitors in town for the equinox. It was possible they were there waiting for someone.

Or … they were part of whatever this storm was. More Dark witchlings taking the opportunity to attack the school.

Beck strode out of the ring of Light and towards those waiting, wanting to determine who they were and what they were doing so close to the school.

“Hey,” he called as he approached. “You all waiting for someone?”

“Yeah.” One man stepped forward. He had the size and thick build of a bouncer and hair that was mostly grey. His eyes were sharp and a familiar shade of pine green, his unfriendly growl accompanied by him crossing his arms. “You got a problem with that?”

“Depends on who you’re waiting for.” Beck tried to keep his tone even and friendly, not intimidated, the way the man appeared to want him to be. “There’s a storm coming. Might be a good time to be inside.”

The gruff character, a Dark water witchling, glanced at the sky. “We’re fine here. Go back to class, kid.”

“Actually, it’s Beck.” He moved closer and held out his hand. “Beck Turner.”

“Turner. Interesting.” The man shook his hand without moving. “Gordon McCloud.”

A flicker of anger fluttered to life inside Beck. No relation of Morgan’s was bound to be there for a good reason.

“Morgan and Connor’s … father?” Beck guessed.

“Uncle.”

Not good. “Can I ask what you’re doing here?”

“None of your business, kid. Piss off back to football or whatever you do here.”

“Actually, it is my business.” Lightening sprang to life in Beck’s hands more out of instinct than will. “You’re here because I haven’t asked you to leave yet.”

Gordon McCloud appeared amused. “I’m here for something that belongs to me.”

“Something or someone?”

“Same thing.” Gordon stabbed a finger into his chest. “So back off, kid, before you piss me off.”

It was rare when Beck didn’t like someone or didn’t try to make excuses for the flaws of his fellow witchlings. But at the moment, he hated Gordon. The intimidating man clearly didn’t know any boundaries but his own, and he had the size and build to hurt men his size and girls like Morgan. He could see this man hurting her, even if she’d never directly spoken to him about what happened to her and who did it.