Verum (The Nocte Trilogy, #2)(40)

“You must be very sad,” he observes, and the way his face is turned in the light startles me, because I’ve seen him before and I didn’t know until now.

“You were with Dare in the café the other day,” I realize. “You were upset.”

Father Thomas’ eyes widen a bit, then he masks his expression. “It was nothing,” he assures me. “We were just chatting over coffee. Nothing to be alarmed about.”

But his eyes tell a different story.

The priest is lying, but why?

I pull away my hand and he notices.

“What is wrong, child?”

His demeanor is still soft, still gentle, still inviting, but I’ve been surrounded by secrets for so long that I can’t accept that from a man of God. I tell him that.

He’s pensive as he studies me.

“I understand, Calla. But you have to understand, too, that I’m told things in confidence. I have given my word, to God and to the members of my parish, that I won’t break those confidences.”

He’s so kind, and his eyes are warm.

“I see you pray to St. Michael.”

I hadn’t even noticed that I’d pulled the medallion out of my shirt and have been turning it over in my hands.

“My mother gave it to my brother. He died, too. It was supposed to protect him….”

Father Thomas nods. “St. Michael will protect you, Calla. You just have to trust.”

Trust.

That’s actually a bit laughable in my current circumstances.

“Let’s pray together, shall we?” he suggests, and I don’t argue because it can’t hurt.

Our voices are soft and uniform as they meld together in the sunlight, In front of Christ on the Crucifix,

and the two Marys.

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

“Do you believe in evil?” I whisper when we’re finished, and for some reason, my goose-bumps are back. I feel someone watching me, but when I open my eyes, Christ Himself stares at me. From his perch on the wall, his eyes are soft and forgiving while the blood drips from his feet.

“Of course,” the priest nods. “There is good in the world, and there is evil. They balance each other out, Calla.”

Do they?

“Because energy can’t be destroyed?” I whisper. Because it goes from thing to thing to thing?’

The priest shakes his head. “I don’t know about energy. I only know that there is good and evil. And we must find our own balance in it. You will find yours.”

Will I?”

I thank him and stand up and he blesses me.

“Come back to see me,” he instructs. “I’ve enjoyed our chat. If you’re not catholic, I can’t hear your confession, but I am a good listener.”

He is. I have to agree.

I make my way out of the church, out of the pristine glistening silence, and when I step into the sun, I know I’m being watched.

Every hair on my head feels it, and prickles.

I turn, and the strange man is standing on the edge of the yard, just outside of the fence. He’s watching me, his hands in his pockets, but I still can’t see his face. His hood is pulled up yet again.

With my breath in my throat, I hurry down the sidewalk to the car, practically diving inside and slamming the door behind me.

“Has that guy been standing there long?” I ask Jones breathlessly.

“What guy, miss?” he asks in confusion, hurrying to look out the window.

I look too, only to find that he’s gone.





Chapter 19





Dare’s hand closes over mine at dinner-time, as I’m reaching for the dining room door.

“Would you care for a walk?” he asks, his voice so low and rich.

I nod.

Because, God, I would.

Dare’s hand is on the small of my back as he guides me to the veranda. We stop here, where the wisteria and plumeria grows, where I breathe it in and we stand staring at the stars.

“Do you remember Andromeda?” he asks, and I do remember that night back home. I remember sitting on the beach and his lecture about undying love, but now, it seems so relevant.

“I do,” I tell him, and I lean into him, feeling his warmth and his strength. “And I believe you. Love is undying.”

Finn.

My mom.

Undying.

He stares down at me, and then runs his fingers along my cheek. “Calla, you’re so loved. You just don’t know it right now. Please don’t push me away.”

I close my eyes, because the reasons that I was distancing myself somehow don’t seem important anymore. But still.

Because secrets are the same thing as lies.

And I can’t overlook his secrets.

“I know you think my mind is fragile,” I tell him. “And I think you might be right.”

He protests, but I shake my head. “No, I know you do. And that’s fine. Because I still talk to Finn, Dare. I still pretend he’s with me. A sane person wouldn’t do that.”