Yes, I’m familiar with magic. I grew up around my mother’s crystal ball and her tarot readings and the spells she would cast around the house, claiming they were for protection.

I always chalked it up to her mystic eccentricities. Her witchiness.

But what I saw last night wasn’t a magic I know.

I still can’t see every part of my story. There are pieces I’m missing.

A massive piece.

How did Tennyson die?

I come home after a night of broken sleep in Sawyer’s arms, my body different–I’m no longer a virgin. I’m a woman in every sense, and it is time to lay to rest the parts of my story that cause my heart to ache.

I drop my tote bag to the kitchen floor, rolling my shoulders.

It’s not my body that hurts though, it’s my heart.

“It’s not the dancing, is it?” Mom asks, her eyes straining, as if desperate to understand.

I shake my head. “I’ve had two visions, Mom. Memories resurfacing.”

She nods. “I can’t protect you from the past when you don’t sleep here.”

My eyes fill with tears. “I don’t want you to protect me. I want to understand.”

Mom pulls me into a hug, and I inhale her lavender and clary sage essential oils. She is wisdom incarnate and I want her to bestow some of that on me.

“Come, have tea,” she says. “I’ll tell you the rest of what I know.”

After I explain my visions, Mom tells me that her and her sister Tabitha always understood that Tennyson and I were special. We were delivered to a pair of witches, after all.

But after Tenny died so mysteriously, and then was plucked from the ground and lost to the sky, they knew we were more than special.

We were something dangerous.

My mother clung to me. Told her sister she wouldn’t abandon me. She wrapped us up in energy and took me away. It was to keep me safe from whatever storm was brewing in New Orleans. Mom didn’t want it to come back for me.

We drove west, ending up in Las Vegas. Mom thought that here in the dry desert we would be safe; that the storms would stay away.

And she cast spells over me, on the house, every day of my life. To protect me from whatever sinister thing was in the sky.

She gave me rules because she loved me. She didn’t want me found.

I no longer have a sister.

I no longer have an aunt.

But I do have a mother.

“But the ring?” I ask.

Mom swallows. “It holds a magic I don’t understand. I found it in your palm the day of the storm and you told me it was dangerous. You told me to never put it on. You said it was bad.”

“Did I tell you why?”

Mom shakes her head. “No.”

“And you just believed me?”

“Why wouldn’t I trust you, Lark?”

“I don’t know.” I sigh, feeling like I understand my mother, but I’m no closer to understanding myself. “Do you think I did something terrible to Tenny? Do you believe I’m the reason my sister is gone?”

Mom shakes her head. “If you did do something, it was an accident.”

As I sit at the kitchen table, a warm mug of tea in my hands, I can see how she only wanted to keep her daughter safe.

“I still don’t know if I trust those hawks, Lark. What if they aren’t being honest?”

I shake my head. “No. I trust them with all that I am, Mom. I … I … I love them.”

“Oh, Lark,” Mom covers her mouth. “All of them?”

“I can’t explain it. But they are mine and I am theirs and I know it’s strange … but what about my story isn’t?”

Our eyes lock and I know she understands. It’s the truth, too. I do love them.

All five of them. And when the moment is right, I will tell them.

“Lark,” she says. “I never wanted to lock you in a cage. I’m sorry.”

I look at her, my face covered in tears. “Maybe I wasn’t meant to fly, Mom.”

Mom sighs, shaking her head. Her hand reaches out to mine, clasping it. “Oh Lark. That can’t be true. You, my daughter, were meant to soar.”

* * *

I don’t let myself get hung up on what I don’t know, and the pieces of my story that don’t add up.

Instead, I go to rehearsal, for ten, twelve, fourteen hours a day.

I listen to Melanie and Tanya as they direct us across the practice room, and then when we move into the theater of the Spades Royale.

My focus is intense. My heart’s all in. Nothing is going to get in the way of this show.

After rehearsal, Mark asks if I ever take a break, but I just shake my head.

There is no time for breaks.

Rehearsals ramp up in intensity and even if I wanted to spend my nights in the arms of my cast mates, I can’t. We’re all exhausted by the day’s end. Our bodies have been pushed to their limits as Melanie coaches us. Demanding us to work harder, longer, until we have perfected every second of the show.

It’s worth every bit of practice.

We’ve become a singular unit working toward a payoff that will have everyone gasping for breath.

The show is that good.

The orchestra is flawless, the costumes are breathtaking, and the lighting is stunning.

Tonight, we will go on stage for our final dress rehearsal. Billboards outside the casino feature me, in my bird costume with my feathered wings soaring across the Vegas sky. The opening night performance is sold out. Twitter is a firestorm, and celebrities have tweeted that they will be at the premiere.

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.

Mom hasn’t come to a single rehearsal. At first it was because she was so angry that I was doing the show at all, and then, after we reconciled, we decided it would be best to have her wait until opening night.

It’s crazy: after managing my life for so many years, watching over every aspect, it’s thrilling to know that tonight she will be as surprised as the rest of the audience.

When I wake up, I’m already itching to leave for the theater. I shower quickly, dress, and then read the texts on my phone from the guys. They are as pumped as I am. My body is giddy with excitement. And after the final dress rehearsal, the guys and I plan on celebrating in their suite. Life may feel messy in lots of ways, but right now, everything feels like it’s going to be okay.

Mom has placed a ridiculous number of charms on me, she’s been so nervous for my performance, that someone will find me. I feel them weighing on me. Her whispered incantations are blooming around me, still heavy in the air, cloaking me just the way she wanted.

I remember her whispering that she was cloaking me in herself. Switching places with my energy. Last night I told her that was crazy, but she told me no one was looking for her–it was me that she was worried about.

I walk to Mom’s bedroom, wanting to let her now I’m heading out, but she isn’t there.

“Mom?” I call down the hallway, but again, no answer. I feel a text come through on my phone and I look down at it.

Mom: I ran out to get you flowers. Can’t wait to see the show this afternoon. Love you, Lark. Be careful.

Always the be careful. But right now, I don’t resent it. It makes me feel loved. Just like the hawk shifters are here to protect me, maybe that is why I have been under Mom’s care all my life–maybe whoever my parents are knew I needed someone to look over me.

To keep me safe.

Before I turn to leave from her doorway, I notice the jewelry box on her dresser. It’s the same one she’s had all her life, but I’ve never rifled through it. Maybe because I subconsciously hate it for reasons I don’t understand. But now, I’m curious. I walk toward it, and open it up, just like Tennyson did when we were little girls.

God, how I desperately want to understand. Want the pieces to fit into place. To have the memory back.

What happened to my sister?

I root around for a second and find a small white envelope tucked in the bottom. I open it and find the antique gold band with an embossed feather on the top. In the memory, Tennyson’s face gleamed with excitement as she held it in the palm of her hand.

I want to feel my sister. I want to be connected to her.

She held this ring.

So I take it, and I hold it too.

I don’t slip it on; I’m too scared for reasons I don’t fully understand. But my body feels lighter as I hold it in my hand, and as I walk across her bedroom, I practically float on air.

I leave the house in a cab, the hawks flying overhead as we drive. And the ring almost burns in my hand, I want to wear it so bad.

So I do.

Nothing happens.

I stare at my fingers, and nothing has changed. It’s just a ring.

Maybe it had nothing to do with Tennyson’s death, after all.

* * *

Mark comes to wish me luck before the rehearsal, pumped up and excited. I’m in my hair and makeup chair as we talk to one another while looking in the mirror. “The reviews are spectacular,” he tells me. “Talk about making a splash with your debut, kid.”

The early reviews were already coming in from major outlets. Special guests from news sources had been invited during the last week for exclusive viewings of our rehearsals, doing interviews with the cast, and photographing the performance.

“Is my mom here yet?”

Mark frowns. “Haven’t seen her. She has a VIP seat, right?”

I nod. “Can you go look? I’m headed to Costumes to get dressed.”

“I’ll come find you after I find her, sound good?”

“Perfect.”

I start the show in a gorgeous Princess gown. It’s white the same as all my costumes in the show. I’m a pure, innocent dove. I smile to myself as I think about the guys, how we gave ourselves to one another the other night in their suite.

There was nothing pure about that.

Half an hour later, I’m all ready. Mark finds me backstage once the house lights are down. “Sorry, Lark. Haven’t seen her. Even tried calling, but there was no answer. Maybe she is wanting to surprise you on opening night?”

“That’s not like her.”

“I know, Lark. Sorry. I’m guessing she is running a few minutes late and will be here in any second.”

The guys find me backstage, whistling and complimenting me. “Gorgeous as always, birdie,” Sawyer says.

“Oh, shush.” Then I look them over. They look exquisite in their costumes. Tight spandex, bare chests, hawk wings attached to their backs and arms, stretching across their breadth. “You guys look....” I swallow, shaking my head.

“Like something you’d like to undress after rehearsal?” Brecken asks.

I grin. “Maybe. If all goes well.”

“It will,” Vaughn says, kissing my cheek.

And I believe him.