Lux (The Nocte Trilogy, #3)(22)

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.