Verum (The Nocte Trilogy, #2)(27)

Even though my father hasn’t answered any of my letters yet, I write him again.

I write until I can’t hold my eyes open anymore, but even though I’m exhausted, my sleep isn’t restful.

Dreams about Finn consume me. His face, his skinny arms and legs as he runs from something. With horror, I realize that he’s running from me.

“You don’t understand,” he shouts over his shoulder, running toward cliffs. Are those the cliffs back home?

“What don’t I understand?” I yell back, the rain pelting my face, drenching my clothes.

“What it’s like to be me!” his voice is hoarse, and it cracks under his shriek. He skids down the mountain, and suddenly Dare is with him, and they’re running together, a unified front, both teaming up against me.

“Stay back!” Dare shouts to me. “You’re only making it worse.”

“Making what worse?”

“Everything,” he tells me, his handsome face earnest. “Just stay away. It’s the best thing you can do. You’ll be our downfall.”

“The end is the beginning, Calla,” Finn adds. “Please. GO. Go back, go back.”

“Go back where?” I scream. “Home? I want to, but I can’t. Not without you, Finn.”

Is this a dream?

The colors are real, Finn’s voice is loud, and Dare’s face is beautiful.

“The beginning,” Finn yells. “The end is the beginning. Don’t you understand?”

I sit straight up in bed, gasping, my hands clenched around the sheets.

Finn is dead. He’s not on the cliffs and neither am I.

We’re safe.

Aren’t we?

I’m not so sure anymore. An overwhelming feeling of unrest surrounds me, and sleep is impossible for the rest of the night.





* * *



When I go for my morning walk, I bump into Sabine yet again. It feels like she’s always near.

“Have you found the secret garden yet?” she asks.

This grabs my attention. “Secret garden?”

She smiles. “It’s at the end of the path that leads by the stables, a few acres from the house. Grab a bicycle and find it. It’s enclosed by a stone fence, and you’ll feel alone there, I promise. It’s hidden from the house.”

It sounds like something out of a storybook, and I do exactly what she says. I grab a bicycle from the stable and follow the trail.

It ends exactly as she described, with a garden encircled by a stone fence, too tall to see over. It has a wooden gate and I open it without hesitation, the hinges squeaking.

Once I’m inside, I’m awestruck, and I stand frozen, staring around.

The garden is at once natural and cultured, landscaped and overgrown. Filled with vibrant colors and smells, it’s a jewel hidden behind walls, absolutely gorgeous.

“What the…” I breathe. I can’t imagine who takes care of it. Who manages to make it seem so natural, yet still so perfect?

There’s an enclosed gazebo with stone pillars, and several large stone angels. They seem to guard the perimeter, watching with sightless eyes. They put me a bit on edge, but that might be due to the fact that they’re over nine feet tall.

Benches are strewn here and there, and tiny little ponds. Birds chirp, crickets cheep, and the sounds of water lull me into calm. It’s perfection.

“I see you’ve found my sanctuary.”

The voice is deep, and before I even turn around, I know who it is.

Dare.

“This is yours?” I ask, well aware that it existed long before he was born. It was probably created for my mother.

“It is now,” he shrugs. “I’m the only one who comes here. Until today, that is.”

“You don’t seem like a garden kind of guy,” I observe, staring at his tailored slacks and v-necked shirt. The corner of his mouth tilts up and the breeze ruffles his dark hair.

“Maybe not. But I’m a private kind of guy. And this place is that. Plus, it’s the only place on this entire property that doesn’t feel creepy.”

I can’t argue that. It feels like the only bit of sunlight in a perpetually cloudy day. And while I came here looking for solitude, I have to be honest and admit to myself that I don’t mind sharing it with Dare. Even though I’m supposed to be pushing him away.

“Do you have a job?” I ask him suddenly, as the idea that he’s hanging out in a garden at ten in the morning occurs to me. He grins now, a full-on smile that spreads across his face. It’s as bright as the sun and I revel in it.

“Depends on your definition. Don’t you know that working is beneath the Savages?”

“But you’re not a Savage,” I point out hesitantly. Is he sensitive about that?

He grins again, authentic and nonplussed. “No, I’m not. But you are. You’ll have to get used to simply having money, and pretending to do worthwhile things.”

“I want to do worthwhile things, not just pretend,” I tell him stoutly.

He looks down at me before sliding gracefully onto a bench.

“I believe you,” he offers.

I feel awkward as I stand, while he so casually sits. My presence must not affect him like his does me.

“What do you do all day here?” I ask, fidgety in the silence. He glances up at me.