Lux (The Nocte Trilogy, #3)(25)

My mother quietly picks at her breakfast and I shove my food around my plate, ignoring Finn’s concerned stares and my grandmother’s coldness.

My grandmother’s fingers are like spiders, long and thin, as they curl around her water glass. Her eyes are steel as she looks at me over the rim. I look away. At the wall, at the table, at my own arm. At anything but her cold eyes.

I trace the outline of the vein on my wrist as it throbs against my skin, my life’s blood pulse, pulse, pulsing through me. The blood is blue, the blood is red, the blood is mine. I stare at the skin, at the bump, at the vein. It bends with my arm, it caves when I move, it--

“Calla?”

My mother interrupts my thoughts and I yank my attention from my arm to my mother.

“Yes?”

“Don’t stray too far today,” she instructs, and something is troubled on her face. Something disturbs her perfect features.

Something.

Something.

What is it?

“Will Jones pick up Dare today?” I ask her as she sets her glass on the table. My mother clears her throat a little and Eleanor is still.

My grandmother stares pointedly at me and my heart speeds up. Why aren’t they answering?

“You should rest today, Calla,” Eleanor finally answers, without acknowledging my question. My mother clears her throat again, a small and strange sound. It causes the hackles to rise on my neck, because something is wrong

wrong

wrong.

“Is Dare coming home today?” I ask again, more firmly this time, and this time directed at my mother. She stares at her eggs for a long time before meeting my gaze.

“You need to rest today, my love. You’ve been wearing yourself out.”

Her face is expressionless and odd, and panic starts to rise in me like a wave, a wave that threatens to overtake me and pull me under.

“I’m fine,” I manage to utter. “I’m fine.”

My mother nods and Finn reaches for my hand beneath the table. He squeezes my fingers lightly, then harder. Our silent signal to let things drop. He wants me to let it…Dare?...drop.

No.

Never.

I turn to my grandmother. “Will Dare be here for dinner?”

Finn is squeezing my fingers hard enough to cut off circulation, but I ignore it. I focus on the faces in this room, the treacherous, treacherous faces.

I can hear shoes scraping on the floor, silver scratching porcelain plates, light breathing. I count my breaths.

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Just before my sixth, Eleanor abruptly pushes her chair away from the table and walks for the door.

“You’re disturbed, child,” she quietly says as she passes. “Go to your room and I’ll send Sabine.”

My mother looks away and Finn squeezes and I have a terrible dark feeling sitting on my chest.

“But why?” I call out after her because clearly she is the only one who will answer.

She doesn’t. Silence follows her and descends upon the dining room and everyone seals their lips and I’m terrified.

Where is Dare?

I rise from my chair, but my chest constricts. Tight, tighter, tightest. I can’t breatheIcan’tbreatheIcan’tbreathe. I tumble to the floor and the anchor the albatross the stone …. They all sit on my chest and break it, and crush it and hold me down. I’m crushed to the floor, my heart hurts and I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

Finn’s face swirls in front of mine.

“Calla, breathe,” he instructs, his hand on mine, his blue eyes filled with worry. “Breathe.”

I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

“Finn,” I whisper. But that’s all I can do, all I can say, all I can plead.

Something is wrong here.

Something.

Something.

Something.

Everything.

I can feel it.

Then I feel nothing because everything fades away.

When I wake, I’m in my room alone. It’s dark outside, early morning. I’ve been sleeping all day and all night, probably a product of Sabine’s herbs. I stir, rub my bleary eyes and finally sit.

I’m alone.

Dare.

Dare.

My memories of this morning erupt like a volcano in my head and I lurch for the phone. I call the operator and ask to be connected to the hospital because I obviously don’t know the number.

When someone answers, I stumble with my words.

“Yes, can you connect me to Dare DuBray’s room, please?”

“Just a moment.” The woman’s voice is perfunctory, but I feel relieved. Just a moment. I’ll hear his voice in a moment. Thank God. They can’t keep me from him. No one can.

I wait.

And wait.

And then the perfunctory woman is back.

“What was the name again, miss?”

“Adair DuBray,” I tell her tightly.

There is a pause and clicking on a computer.

“We don’t have a patient by that name,” she tells me.

“Was he discharged?” I ask hopefully. “He was there yesterday for an infection. He got a tattoo and…”

“Miss, we haven’t had a patient by that name. Not yesterday, not ever. He’s not in our system. He wasn’t here.”