Текст книги "Lux"

Автор книги: Courtney Cole

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Chapter Nine

I drink the tea.

I have to. My mother makes me, because I’m so upset. Every day I grow more upset, because every day, I feel more unstable.

One night, my parents are on the lawn beneath my window, long after they think I fell asleep and I peer at them through my open window. My mom tells dad that we’re going to Whitley. I want to run down and argue, because I want to stay here, but at the same time, Dare is at Whitley. I’m not disappointed when my father finally caves in.

“Fine. But use care, Laura. You know I can’t come with you. Not yet.”

“I will,” my mom says tiredly. “Richard won’t touch me again. Not anymore. They got what they wanted.”

“You know it was necessary,” my father says, and he sounds just as tired.

“I’m so tired of what is necessary,” my mother snaps, and her voice is so venomous that it takes me aback. “I have free will. We all do. That’s why we’re here.”

“Free will is an illusion,” my father answers and his words his words his words are so dark.

“I hate to say that I’m starting to think you’re right,” mom replies. “My mother always gets what she wants. She and Sabine…”

Sabine?

I’m clouded by confusion, and I’m paying so much attention to them that I don’t pay attention to what I’m doing, and my hand slips from the window, and my head thumps the sill.

My dad’s head snaps up, quicker than lightning, and for a minute for just a minute for just a minute, his eyes flash black in the moonlight.

I gasp, and I shirk away, because my dad is supposed to have blue eyes, blue like Finn’s.

But for a long second right now, they gleam and glimmer black, like a pool, like onyx, like the demons that I’ve been seeing for my whole life.

They’re as black as sin.

I scream and I faint, and when I come to, I’m back in my bed, and the hooded boy is next to me. He holds my hand and his fingers are pale.

“There’s a ring,” he tells me. “And if you give it to me, your brother will always be safe.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, and I’m paralyzed with fear, at the mere thought that Finn might someday be in danger.

“You aren’t crazy,” the boy says. “What you dream is real. What you see is real. There is more to your family then you know.”

But the moonlight, the moonlight, it shines into my room and it illuminates his eyes and they’re black black black as night, and I scream so loud my room shakes and my parents come running.

When they burst through the door, the boy is gone.

“There was a demon here,” I cry, but there isn’t anything here now, and they can see that. “His eyes were black,” I insist, and I swear I swear I swear my father looks away, almost like he feels guilty.

I swallow hard, I swallow my fear and it tastes almost like poison.

“I saw you outside,” I tell them. “I heard what you said. Why does grandmother always get her way? And Sabine?”

But my mother looks at me blankly and my father kisses my forehead.

“Honey, that didn’t happen,” she says, and my father nods in agreement.

“You must’ve been dreaming,” my father adds, and while that should comfort me, it doesn’t.

Because the hooded boy, the boy with the black eyes, told me that my dreams are real, and if they are, if that is true, then my parents are lying and the world is a scary scary place.

Chapter Ten

The conifers, the ferns, the never-ending moss…all of it is wet, all of it is suffocating. I run down the path toward the cliffs, and I feel like I can’t breathe, like my chest is constricted, like there’s a rock on my ribs, crushing my bones.

“That’s what Dare feels like,” a voice calls from behind me. I turn, and it’s the boy, and he’s whispering, but in my ears it echoes like a scream. “His heart hurts, Calla, and it’s your fault.”

I spin around and face him, and my hair whips in the wind, my pink Converses slip slip slipping in the rain.

“What do you mean?” I ask, and I’m panicked, because when he speaks to me, it always feels true. “What’s wrong with Dare?”

“His heart is weak,” the boy says and his eyes penetrate me, seeing into my soul, reaching in and twisting it, twisting it, twisting it. “You gave him your heart condition. It was supposed to be yours, but you gave it to him. Iniquum, Calla.”

Unfair.

I’m confused because that’s not right. I would never. I would never. I would never hurt Dare.

The hooded boy nods. “No, you didn’t do it on purpose, but Fate is Fate, Calla. It must be paid. But you can change it.”

I stop, and the rain runs down my face, soaking my shirt and I shiver in the cold.

“How?” and my voice comes out like a whimper.

“You just can,” the boy says, and for one minute, I see his cheek and it is silver in the moonlight. “By night you are free.”

“By night I am free.” The words the words the words seem familiar and I don’t know why. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Yes, you have,” the boy nods. “Think about it, dream about it, because your dreams are real.”

My dreams are real.

I’m dreaming now.

I thrash in my bed and Finn wakes me up and his pale blue eyes are so worried.

“Cal, are you ok?”

His skinny hands grip my arms, and I’m shaking in the sheets. Finn curls up with me and holds me, his cheek against my hair. “I’ve got you. It’s fine, Cal. It’s fine.”

His breath is warm and familiar, and his heart beats against mine, in perfect rhythm, because we are the same, he is mine and I am his, and we’re twins. We’re closer than closer than close.

“I had a bad dream,” I whisper, and my face sinks into the pillow. I can’t stop thinking about it, and the words swirl in my mind.

By night I am free.

By night I am free.

Finn eventually falls asleep in my bed, holding on to me for dear life, so afraid that I’ll slip away into something bad, into something panicky or manic. I won’t. Because I’m restless and I feel I feel I feel like the answer is here, it’s here somewhere, it’s close.

I cautiously crawl from the bed, careful not to wake my brother. I drift through the house, moving from room to room, and I feel like I’m pulled to something to something to something .

I float through the visitation rooms, past the caskets and the corpses and the flowers. I drift through the chapel by the piano past the altar. I stroll into the Salon, and I stop in front of the window seat and Finn’s journal is there, on the cushions.

The Journal of Finn Price. It’s embossed on the leather and it was a gift from my parents. He hasn’t had time to write much yet, but it’s his and it pulls me and I open it.

It’s blank, the pages are white, but something something something makes me run my fingers over the linen pages, and there are indentions, like someone pressed hard into the paper.

I turn on the lamp and I hold the paper under the light and there are words there, words scratched into the pages, like someone pressed hard on a pen and the pressure bled through.

Nocte Liber Sum.

Nocte Liber Sum.

By night I am free.

I am stunned, and I drop the journal because the words the words the words are the same. I curl up on the seat and I soak in the moonlight and I’m overwhelmed.

What is happening to me?

What is real?

I don’t know anymore.

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

I fall asleep, curled up into a ball, and when I sleep I dream.

I dream of Dare, and I dream of Whitley. I dream that Dare is not at the whim of my uncle. I dream that he is free, he is free

He is free.

Chapter Eleven

The plane ride seems ridiculously long this year and my gawky adolescent legs are cramping when we finally de-plane. I walk stiffly through the cluttered halls of Heathrow.

I immediately find Jones waiting for us and we pile into the dark car that will take us to Whitley. The entire drive, through all of the rolling English hills, there’s only one person I can think of.

Dare.

I’m fidgety and my brother notices. He puts one pale hand out to still my bouncing knee.

“What is your problem, Cal?” he asks, his thin eyebrow raised. There’s concern in his eyes though. I see it before he hides it.

Like always, the concern I see there is for me.

He’s afraid I’m fidgety because I’m manic. He thinks I’m flying high, unable to come down. There’d only been one episode like that this year, and it was months ago, after Mr. Elliott died. I’m better now, so there’s no reason to worry today. Sometimes, I resent their concern. I resent seeing it in their eyes. I resent that their concern is necessary.

I shake my head, though, pushing my annoyance down. It’s not their fault I’m crazy. “I’m fine. Just tired of traveling.”

He nods and he’s not convinced, but he never is. He always, always errs on the side of caution when it comes to me.

He reaches over and grabs my hand and holds it for the rest of the drive.

I can hear his thoughts in the silent car.

If I hold her down, she can’t fly away.

I want to laugh at that.

But I don’t. It makes them nervous when I laugh at unspoken things.

Sabine waits for us as we climb from the car, and she doesn’t look a bit different from last year. She’s still small, still wiry, still has her hair twisted into a scarf. And she still has a thousand lifetimes in her old eyes.

She wraps me into a hug and I inhale her, the smell of cinnamon and sage and unidentifiable herbs from her garden.

“You’ve grown, girl,” her dark eyes appraise me. I have. Several inches.

“You haven’t,” I answer seriously, and she laughs.

“Come. We’ll get you some tea.”

I don’t want her ‘tea’. It’s infused with herbs, and she ships it to my mother for me to drink throughout the year. It’s gypsy treatment, and it makes me sleepy.

“I don’t need it yet,” I protest as she pulls me to the big kitchen.

She doesn’t bother to answer. She simply pushes me into a chair at the kitchen table and she sets about boiling a kettle.

She sits across from me while we wait.

Her fingers drum on the table, twisted and old.

I don’t want to be here.

I want to find Dare.

He’s sixteen now and I bet he’s grown this year. I can’t wait to see how he’s changed. He’s only written me a couple of letters, and he never included any pictures. But then again, he never does.

“Tell me about the demons,” Sabine murmurs. Her fingers stop moving and the only sound is the steam escaping the kettle as it heats. It screams a bit, an eerie sound that hangs in ears.

I imagine that I’m the steam. I’m screaming and I’m twirling up and around, dancing on the ceiling upside down. My long red hair dangles against the marble countertops.

“They’re gone,” I lie.

“They’re not,” Sabine shakes her head. Because she can see into my head with her old eyes. She can see into my soul, and she can reach amid the lies and pull out the tiny kernels of truth. She knows what is true even when I don’t.

“I want them gone,” I amend. She shakes her head now.

“I know you do, child,” she says sympathetically. “Tell me about them.”

She prepares the cups and I tell her about my monsters. Because she’s right. They’re with me always.

“They have black eyes,” I tell her. “They follow me. At school, at home, when I’m walking, when I’m sleeping. Sometimes, they chase me. There’s one boy in particular. He follows me, he wears a hood.”

“This happens even with your medication?” Sabine asks, her voice very level. “Even with the tea?”

I hesitate to answer. But she’ll know if I lie.

I nod.

She nods too, and she stirs her tea and looks out the window.

“Can you tell them apart?” she asks. “From real people?”

I nod again. “Yes.” Because their eyes are black.

“It’ll be ok, Calla,” she finally says.

Will it?

“Are you sleeping?” she asks, her wrinkled hands twisted into her small lap.

I shrug. “Sometimes.” Sometimes there are too many nightmares.

She stares at me. “You know you’re worse when you don’t get enough rest.”

I know.

I push away from the table after only taking two sips of tea. “I’m gonna go find Dare,” I announce.

Sabine startles.

“No one told you?” she asks in surprise, her tiny body stiff.

I freeze.

“Told me what?”

Her dark eyes hold mine. “There was an incident. Dare is in the hospital.”

I suck in my breath, but she’s quick to reassure me. “He’s fine, child. He’ll be home in a few days.”

“An incident?” my voice is shaky. “Was the ‘incident’ named Richard?”

Sabine shakes her head. “Calla, calm yourself. You don’t know what happened. You need to…”

But I’m already running out the door and her voice fades to nothing as I sprint through the halls toward the front door. My weariness from travel has been forgotten.

“Jones!” I call as I near the foyer. “I need a ride.”

He appears from nowhere, as he always does. “Miss?”

“I need a ride to the hospital.”

He stares at me. “Does your mother know?”

I nod, a lie.

“Yes.”

He can’t check with her, because he knows full well she’s taking a nap to rest up from the trip. He’s apprehensive, but he can’t say no because I might be a child, but I’m a Savage child.

“Very well. I’ll pull the car around.”

We’re heading toward town within a minute.

The country turns into the city and the streets all lead to one place.

To Dare.

I’m out of the car before the wheels have even stopped turning, racing into the hospital, through the people, only stopping to ask directions to Dare’s room.

Then I’m off again, running through white halls and sterility, and I don’t stop until I burst through the door of a room on the fifth floor, until I see Dare resting in a bed.

He’s alone, and the room is quiet.

I pause, hesitating now.

He’s asleep, his dark lashes inky against his cheek.

I marvel at how big he is, how much he’s grown over the last nine months, at how beautiful he is even in slumber. He’s long, he’s slender, he’s strong. He’s a man. I gulp and the wave of warmth that gushes through me is confusing at the same time that it’s familiar. I’ve always felt it when I looked at him, but it’s more pronounced now.

It’s unarguable.

Dare opens his eyes.

“Cal?” he asks in confusion, groggily, and he searches the doorway behind me.

“I’m alone,” I tell him quickly, striding into the room and sinking into the chair next to him. “What happened? Why are you here?”

I itch to reach over and grab his hand, to offer him comfort, to touch him.

But I can’t. Because he probably wouldn’t want that. He’d reject me and that would be devastating. I’d never recover.

“I’m fine,” he assures me. “It’s no big deal. Just a minor hiccup.”

“Did my uncle do this?” I ask, the words cold on my lips, the thought even colder in my head.

Dare shakes his head. “No.”

“Where is he?”

“Not here,” his answer is blatantly obvious. “I’m alone.”

“Not anymore,” I tell him stoutly.

You’ll never be alone again. I swear it.

“Why are you here?”

I meet his gaze and in his, I find the thread of rebelliousness that I was so afraid had been smashed by the Savages. He grins.

Dare me.

“I got myself a tattoo for my sixteenth birthday. And I had a reaction to the ink, apparently.”

“A tattoo?” I can’t even keep the joy out of my voice. Because this is so Dare. And this is something Richard and Eleanor will hate. That, in itself, gives me joy. “Is it something cute?”

He stares down his nose at me. “Cute? Like a puppy?”

“Maybe. Or a kitten.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t do cute.”

I snicker. “Well, what is it?”

“Writing. On my back.”

I wait. He sighs.

“It says Live Free.”

My heart picks up because that’s so utterly perfect. I tell him that, and he grins again. “I know. But who knew I’d have a fracking reaction?”

“Can I see it?”

He shakes his head. “Nah. Not right now. It’s covered up with bandages and it doesn’t look good. But you can see it after the swelling goes away.”

He’s casual and friendly, but the notion, the mere thought, of looking at Dare’s bare back gives me a thrill. I’ve changed a lot since last summer. He just doesn’t know it yet. I started my period, I have to wear a bra… I’m completely different. On the outside, and on the inside. Unfortunately, they tell me that the monthly spike in hormones will contribute to my craziness, but I’m not going to dwell on that. I’ll just take what they tell me to take, and everything will be fine. It has to be.

Dare looks at me now, his dark eyes serious. “You’d better get back to the house. They’re going to know you’re gone. Jones is probably on the phone right now with Eleanor.”

I lift my nose in the air.

“I’m not afraid of her.”

He laughs, unconvinced. “Really?”

He knows better than that. Everyone is afraid of her. People say my grandfather died because he wanted to… to get away from her.

“I’m not going to leave you alone,” I tell him quietly, resolute.

His eyes waver for a minute, because I know that I’m one of only two people in the entire world who would risk Eleanor’s wrath for him. And I’m the only person in the world who risked it to be here with him today.

“It’s ok. I’m fine here,” he tells me, and his tone is strong, and his heart is brave. This is why I love him.

I love him.

I love him.

I love him because he’s strong, because he’s rebellious, because he’s so serious and sweet and because he lives free now. He lives free even if no one knows it yet but me.

“When will they let you come home?” I ask hesitantly, because even now, I know that I have to go. Finn’s probably beside himself. They’re probably combing the estate for me, and once Jones calls them… all is lost. They won’t let me out of their sight again for a month.

“Probably tomorrow,” he promises, and for a split second, there’s warmth there, in his tone, in his eyes. He looks at me and he sees me. No one else does… no one but Finn.

Everyone else sees who I could be.

Who I might be.

Who I should be.

They don’t see who I am.

But Finn does. And Dare does.

It makes me feel closer to them than anyone else in the world.

“Go,” Dare urges me. His phone is ringing and I know who it is. I know it before he even answers it.

“She was here,” he confirms into the mouthpiece. “But she’s on her way home now. I wanted her to come. It was my fault.” His eyes burn into mine, and I shake my head because why is he taking the blame? He’s protecting me yet again.

He nods to me, toward the door, his attention still with Eleanor who I know is on the other end of that call.

Go, he mouths to me. I’ll see you tomorrow.

Reluctantly, I make my feet move away from him.

I don’t want to leave him alone, because I know what alone feels like.

But I have no choice. If I don’t, they’ll come get me, because we’re all prisoners. Prisoners of expectations, prisoners of responsibility, prisoners of life.

But someday… I’ll live free, just like Dare.

I don’t even glance at Jones when he opens my car door.

“I know you called them,” I grumble.

“You lied to me,” he says quietly as he climbs into the front. I don’t have an answer to that. Because it’s true. I did lie.

When I get back to Whitley, everyone is so relieved, everyone but Finn. After dinner, he glares at me when we’re in the privacy of the empty library.

“You could’ve told me,” he says stiffly. “I would’ve gone with you. I care about him, too.”

Not like me, you don’t. But obviously I don’t say that. Finn made his opinion known long ago and he’s said it many times since. You can’t love Dare. But he’s wrong. I can, and I do.

“I didn’t want you to get in trouble,” I tell him, which is only partially true. I wanted to see Dare alone.

Finn doesn’t believe me because he knows me. He knows me better than anyone. When he walks me back to my room, he touches my elbow at my door.

“You’ve got to behave. Eleanor will talk mom into leaving you here with Sabine all year long. Or worse. Is that what you want?”

“No, of course not,” I say quickly, because the idea of being separated from Finn makes my heart constrict and pound in terror. But at the same time, the idea of being here with Dare makes it soar.

I’m a contradiction, an endless, endless contradiction.

Finn is pacified and we say goodnight and he sleeps in his own room tonight, because he doesn’t know how unsettled I am, and how I don’t know why.

I can’t settle in, and I can’t settle down.

My blood is rush, rush, rushing through my veins, through my heart, pounding through my temples, and my feet itch to run, run, run away… down the halls, out the doors and away from this house.

But of course I don’t.

I stay glued to my bed like I’m tied down, like the invisible manacles are real. I ignore my racing thoughts and twitching fingers.

It’s a few minutes later when the screaming starts, echoing down the hallways and through the night, and I get goose-bumps because I have a startling realization.

Dare is in the hospital, not here.

The screaming has never been his.

I’m confused, shocked, unsettled.

I focus on the wailing, on the shrieks, and I ponder life here at Whitley. Nothing is what it seems, I guess. I’m not sure who I can trust, who I can’t.

The screams finally dwindle, then die out, and I’m able to relax, my muscles sinking into my sheets.

Nothing is what it seems, and I know nothing.

All I know for sure is that Dare is an outcast, frowned upon by everyone, and I hate that. It’s unfair. If I could change that, I would. Because Dare deserves the moon and the stars and everything in between.

Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll somehow figure out a way to change it.

I fall asleep with my teeth gritted together. I relax my body, and focus on Dare. I focus on what the family would be like if he hadn’t been born into it, if he was safe somewhere else.

I love him enough to want that for him, even if it means he’d be gone from me.

The thought of being apart from him breaks my heart into jagged shards, but the thought of him laughing and running through a loving home, a home where he is appreciated, puts the shards back together.

He deserves that.

He does.

When I wake in the morning, I eye everyone with suspicion at breakfast.

I’ve always thought Dare was screaming, that Richard was hurting him in the night, that everyone was closing their eyes to it, turning their backs on what was happening.

But if that’s not the case, and thank God, then what is happening here?

My mother quietly picks at her breakfast and I shove my food around my plate, ignoring Finn’s concerned stares and my grandmother’s coldness.

My grandmother’s fingers are like spiders, long and thin, as they curl around her water glass. Her eyes are steel as she looks at me over the rim. I look away. At the wall, at the table, at my own arm. At anything but her cold eyes.

I trace the outline of the vein on my wrist as it throbs against my skin, my life’s blood pulse, pulse, pulsing through me. The blood is blue, the blood is red, the blood is mine. I stare at the skin, at the bump, at the vein. It bends with my arm, it caves when I move, it–

“Calla?”

My mother interrupts my thoughts and I yank my attention from my arm to my mother.

“Yes?”

“Don’t stray too far today,” she instructs, and something is troubled on her face. Something disturbs her perfect features.

Something.

Something.

What is it?

“Will Jones pick up Dare today?” I ask her as she sets her glass on the table. My mother clears her throat a little and Eleanor is still.

My grandmother stares pointedly at me and my heart speeds up. Why aren’t they answering?

“You should rest today, Calla,” Eleanor finally answers, without acknowledging my question. My mother clears her throat again, a small and strange sound. It causes the hackles to rise on my neck, because something is

wrong

wrong

wrong.

“Is Dare coming home today?” I ask again, more firmly this time, and this time directed at my mother. She stares at her eggs for a long time before meeting my gaze.

“You need to rest today, my love. You’ve been wearing yourself out.”

Her face is expressionless and odd, and panic starts to rise in me like a wave, a wave that threatens to overtake me and pull me under.

“I’m fine,” I manage to utter. “I’m fine.”

My mother nods and Finn reaches for my hand beneath the table. He squeezes my fingers lightly, then harder. Our silent signal to let things drop. He wants me to let it…Dare?...drop.

No.

Never.

I turn to my grandmother. “Will Dare be here for dinner?”

Finn is squeezing my fingers hard enough to cut off circulation, but I ignore it. I focus on the faces in this room, the treacherous, treacherous faces.

I can hear shoes scraping on the floor, silver scratching porcelain plates, light breathing. I count my breaths.

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Just before my sixth, Eleanor abruptly pushes her chair away from the table and walks for the door.

“You’re disturbed, child,” she quietly says as she passes. “Go to your room and I’ll send Sabine.”

My mother looks away and Finn squeezes and I have a terrible dark feeling sitting on my chest.

“But why?” I call out after her because clearly she is the only one who will answer.

She doesn’t. Silence follows her and descends upon the dining room and everyone seals their lips and I’m terrified.

Where is Dare?

I rise from my chair, but my chest constricts. Tight, tighter, tightest. I can’t breatheIcan’tbreatheIcan’tbreathe. I tumble to the floor and the anchor the albatross the stone …. They all sit on my chest and break it, and crush it and hold me down. I’m crushed to the floor, my heart hurts and I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

Finn’s face swirls in front of mine.

“Calla, breathe,” he instructs, his hand on mine, his blue eyes filled with worry. “Breathe.”

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

“Finn,” I whisper. But that’s all I can do, all I can say, all I can plead.

Something is wrong here.

Something.

Something.

Something.

Everything.

I can feel it.

Then I feel nothing because everything fades away.

When I wake, I’m in my room alone. It’s dark outside, early morning. I’ve been sleeping all day and all night, probably a product of Sabine’s herbs. I stir, rub my bleary eyes and finally sit.

I’m alone.

Dare.

Dare.

My memories of this morning erupt like a volcano in my head and I lurch for the phone. I call the operator and ask to be connected to the hospital because I obviously don’t know the number.

When someone answers, I stumble with my words.

“Yes, can you connect me to Dare DuBray’s room, please?”

“Just a moment.” The woman’s voice is perfunctory, but I feel relieved. Just a moment. I’ll hear his voice in a moment. Thank God. They can’t keep me from him. No one can.

I wait.

And wait.

And then the perfunctory woman is back.

“What was the name again, miss?”

“Adair DuBray,” I tell her tightly.

There is a pause and clicking on a computer.

“We don’t have a patient by that name,” she tells me.

“Was he discharged?” I ask hopefully. “He was there yesterday for an infection. He got a tattoo and…”

“Miss, we haven’t had a patient by that name. Not yesterday, not ever. He’s not in our system. He wasn’t here.”

“That’s a mistake,” I whisper, but she’s resolute.

“There’s no mistake, miss.”

Numbness descends like a fog and I replace the phone on the table.

He was there. I saw him. I stood by him, I yearned to hold his hand, and his back says LIVE FREE. I know that.

Confusion jumbles in my head, which is nothing unusual. I’m always confused, but I’ve never been confused about Dare.

Where is he?

What is real?

“What is wrong with you?” Finn hisses at breakfast, his fingers pressing into my knee to get my attention. I shake my head.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying,” he accuses, and as usual, he’s right about me.

He always is.

I know what he’s thinking.

I can’t take care of myself. I’m an invalid. I’m crazy.

I nod to reassure him. “I’m okay.”

He nods back, but he’s unconvinced.

It doesn’t matter though.

“I’m going to sketch today,” I tell him. “The grounds, the garden. Wherever the wind takes me.”

“I’ll come with you,” Finn says quickly, his hand already on mine because he doesn’t trust the wind, or anything else with me. But I shake my head.

“No. I’d like some quiet time.”

I want to fill my lungs up with the breeze, I want to be a hollow reed, absorbing the world, sucking it down, figuring it out.

I level a gaze at Finn and he stares back, and finally, he acquiesces.

“Ok. If you need me, just shout.”

I nod, knowing full well that he can’t hear me from across the grounds.

I grab a notebook and a pencil, then I make my way quietly outside, feeling Finn’s gaze between my shoulder blades with every step.

I walk away from the Savage house, from the Savage lawns, from the Savages. I walk to the gardens, where it is serene and quiet, where I feel Dare’s presence, even when he isn’t here.

I sit beside the bubbling brook, dipping my feet in the cool water as I watch it pass over the stones, polishing them.

My mind floats away, carried on the breeze.

Dare’s absence consumes me. How can someone simply be gone?

Eleanor is so stern, so rigid. She can make anyone disappear. I believe that. She has power and money and hatred.

A lot of hatred.

“See? You can change things.” The boy in the hood is suddenly next to me, and his presence makes me jump. “But you’re not the only one.”

I stare at him, at the black void where his face should be. I reach out to pull his hood down, to reveal his face, but he stops me with his hand.

“You’re going to have to focus.”

“Focus?”

He nods, and his hands are on mine, and his fingers somehow make me so very very tired, like he’s leeching my energy away with his mere touch. I want to put my head down and sleep, I want to close my eyes, close my eyes, close my eyes… my eyelids flutter closed, and he yanks his hand away and the darkness the darkness the darkness overtakes me and the sleep coming in waves.

But

Then

A

Voice

pulls me from the dark.

“Calla.”

The voice is thin, transparent.

It’s also familiar.

Dare.

I snap to attention, opening my eyes, scanning the area, but I don’t see him.

“Dare,” I call out hopefully.

Am I hearing things?

“I’m here,” he says, and he sounds so far away.

I spin around and he’s behind me, but something seems off and I can’t put my finger on it, and I peer into the air and I’m crazy.

“You’re not crazy,” he tells me quickly, reading my expression. “I’m here.”

“I don’t understand,” I whisper, and he strides to me. When he reaches me, he drops to his knees. I reach out a finger and touch him, and he’s real. His shoulder is sinewy and warm.

“You’ve grown up,” he says, and that’s not what I expected to hear, because he saw me yesterday and didn’t mention it.

“You’ve disappeared,” I tell him, and he smirks.

“I haven’t.”

“Then why aren’t you in the house? Why are you out here? Why is everyone acting like you don’t exist?”