Verum (The Nocte Trilogy, #2)(57)

“My memories weren’t real,” I tell myself, and I already knew that to be true. But I didn’t know the truth.

They were always a jumbled up mess.

They weren’t completely real.

But they are now.

Painfully,

Nightmarishly,

Real.

I play it again in my head,

Again,

And again,

And again.

“My friend had to cancel,” Finn scowls. “So I guess I’ve been stood up. Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Ugh. I groan internally because I’m not a fan of Quid Pro Quo, but Finn has been looking forward to this concert for months. I’m just about to agree to going, when my father walks in.

“I’ll go. I don’t want you going into the city alone this late.”

“Sa-weet!” Finn crows, and I don’t point out that most boys would rather die than go to a concert with their father. He’s not ‘most boys’ and we know it.

My father puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, I know what,” he suggests. “I want you to come too. I don’t want you here alone. Not tonight. You’re coming too, Calla. I’ll buy your ticket.”

“Heck yeah,” Finn says, and I want to scream, Noooooo. Don’t.

Because this is a memory and it’s real and I can’t change it.

We pile into the car, And I can’t stop.

I can’t stop.

I’m going to kill them, And I can’t stop.

Our car barrels down the mountain.

And my mom forgot her glasses.

I can’t change it now.

The night is shattered by screams.

Because I hit my mother and they’re all dead.

“My family is all dead. My father, my brother, my Finn. And your mother is dead too, and it’s all our fault.”

My words are finally true. And I see things.

I see things.

I see things.

Dare nods, and his movement is sad and I’m gurgling. I can’t breathe and my teeth are red.

“Have you known this whole time?” I ask, because I didn’t. Because I’m so f*cked up that my mind has created stories out of stories out of stories.

He nods. “Yeah. But you didn’t.”

He looks away and for a second, I think that’s all, That’s all there is to know,

That’s the last of the secrets.

But his face is hurt,

And pained,

And I know in my heart… it’s not.

There’s something else.

There’s

One

More

Thing.

My lungs are hot and red and bloody, and my throat is constrained. I can barely move and the pain, The pain,

The pain.

I can’t breathe.

“Tell me,” I murmur. “I’m ready. Tell me the last secret.”

Dare picks up my hand and there’s a shadow behind him, The hooded boy.

Of course.

He’s been waiting for me,

following me,

he’s been here for me all along.

Standing at Dare’s shoulder, he turns his face, And I can finally see it.

It’s black as night,

And he has no eyes.

I gasp, because I finally know who he is.

He’s Death.

I saw him on Sabine’s tarot card.

Dare’s words grow quieter and I strain to hear, because he’s talking through a tunnel, through light and wind and my heartbeat.

“You’re dying,” he whispers. “If you don’t wake up, you’ll be lost.”





Chapter 30





The world slows to a stop.

My heart beats.

It’s dark.

There is no ocean.

There are no waves.

There is no sun or rain or moon.

There is only my breathing, and beeps, and fingers wrapped around my hand, and I’m in a bed. I’m not in the ocean or the on the cliffs.

“Come back to me, Calla,” Dare whispers, and angst laces his words, and his words impale my heart. “Please God, come back to me. Time is running out. Don’t do this, please, God, don’t do this. They’re going to take you off the machine, and if you don’t breathe on your own, you’ll die. Please God. Please.”

He begs someone, whether it is God or me, I don’t know.

“We’ve already lost everything else,” he whispers. “Please, God. Come back to me. Come home to me. Come home.”

I try to open my eyes, but it’s too hard.

My eyelids are heavy.

The darkness is black.

Dare keeps talking, his words slow and soothing and I might float away on them. It would be so easy.

Death waits for me.

I can see his face now, and he waits in the light behind Dare’s shoulder.

He nods.

It’s time.

But it can’t be. Because Dare is here, and still holding my hand. He talks to me, he tells me everything that’s happened, and when he gets tired of talking, he hums.

The same wordless, tuneless song I’ve been hearing all along.

Death moves closer, one step nearer.

I try to cry out, but nothing comes.

I try again to open my eyes, but I can’t. And I can’t move my fingers.