Verum (The Nocte Trilogy, #2)(24)

“What are you searching for, child?”

I watch her face, waiting for her to flip on the light, for her to pick up her phone and call Eleanor, waiting for her to do something. But she doesn’t. She lingers in the doorway, waiting for me to answer.

“Explanations,” I offer unapologetically, not moving from where I stand.

Sabine enters the room soundlessly, her tiny body moving across the room.

“Answers that are not freely given aren’t really answers at all,” she tells me, each word a mystery.

I take a step, then another, then pause.

“Do you know the answers, Sabine?”

Sabine cocks her head, her white hair glowing in the night. “I know more than many, but my answers aren’t ones you would like,” she finally says.

“I was afraid of that,” I sigh. “Do you know what time Dare got home tonight?”

Sabine looks at me curiously. “I wasn’t paying close attention. He went into town to buy flowers for his mother. I’m sure he spent time in the crypts tonight. He usually does, child. You aren’t the only one who suffered a loss, you know.”

I know.

“Is there something I should know about his mother?” I whisper, staring at the old lady, imploring her. “I feel like there is.”

Sabine stops moving, her wrinkled hand on the door. “Use the sense God gave you. You have instincts for a reason, we all do. Listen to them. And don’t get caught in Eleanor’s study again.”

With that, the old woman is gone and I’m left alone in the chilling room. The very air in here feels like Eleanor, heavy, stern, smelling like orchids. It’s cloying and unpleasant, much like Eleanor herself.

I rush to leave. When I’m all the way down the hall, I have the overwhelming need to turn around, and when I do, I almost expect Eleanor to be standing there, to be watching me.

But of course no one is there.

Whitley is getting to me.

I hurry toward my room, but once I reach it, I hear voices coming from within.

Finn’s voice.

My imagination has unleashed itself, and I dash inside my room to find my brother thrashing about, muttering words I can’t understand.

He looks up at me, his eyes wild and blue, and I sink down next to him.

“Finn. Take a breath. You can breathe, you’re fine. I’m fine. You’re fine. It’s all going to be ok.”

“No,” he mutters. “No, no, no.”

“Come here,” I attempt to persuade him. “You’re fine. Finn, you’re fine.”

Finn sits up, and his eyes are glazed, a crazy look in them. He’s not in reality right now, that much is apparent.

“One for one for one,” he mutters, turning to stare out the window. “Do you hear that, Cal? That’s them. One for one. I’m one, you’re one, he’s one.”

“Who’s he, Finn?” I ask, humoring him.

“Him,” Finn says impatiently. “The one with the black eyes, Cal. You know who. One for one for one. The die has been cast. It’s cast, it’s cast.”

“You’re fine, Finn,” I tell him softly. “You’re fine. I’m here.”

You’re dead, and I’m imagining you.

I can control my thoughts.

But I can’t.

Because I will Finn away, and He’s still here thrashing on the floor.

He mutters for a while longer and then curls up, his head in my lap. I stroke his back and his shoulders, attempting to calm him. It’s odd how easily I can remember what his arms feel like, how easily I can envision him even now.

“His eyes are black, Cal. His eyes are black.”

Finn lets his face roll to the side, and his hands clench in front, so tight that his knuckles turn white.

“He’s dangerous, Cal. His eyes are black. Black, black, black.”

He’s staring and I follow his gaze, and I’m startled to find Dare standing at our door, watching us.

Watching me, because Finn isn’t actually here.

He’s dangerous, Cal.

Dare’s eyes are so dark that in the right light, they do look black.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, backing away. “Is everything all right? Do you need anything?”

I shake my head and he goes away and I’m left reeling.

His eyes are black, Cal. He’s dangerous.

I suppose he is.

That’s why I’ve felt so uneasy, like he’s hiding something.

He’s dangerous.

But why?

All I know is, when he leaned against my doorway, one thing popped into my head.

He’s a weapon, armed for obliteration.

And if I’m not careful, the obliteration will be my own.





Chapter 13





I watch Finn walk peacefully around the pond that borders the back of the gardens, and I ponder how completely different he is today than he was last night.

Last night, he’d been desperate, out of his head.

Today, he’s peaceful and calm.

Like magic.

You’d think that since I’m imagining him, I could control his actions, but apparently, like always, he does what he wants.

“It’s ok to pretend your brother is still here.”