Lux (The Nocte Trilogy, #3)(53)

Dare stirs, opening his eyes, and I know we’re almost there. Finn is still sleeping, so I nudge him awake, and he rubs at his eyes.

I crane my neck to see. When I do, I’m stunned beyond words, enough that the breath hitches on my lips.

This can’t be my family’s home.

It’s huge, it’s lavish, it’s creepy.

It’s ancient, it’s stone, it’s beautiful.

A tall stone wall stretches in either direction as far as I can see, encircling the property like an ominous security blanket. It’s so tall, so heavy, and for one brief moment, I wonder if it’s meant to keep people out… or to keep them in.

It’s a foolish notion, I know.

As we pull off the road, large wrought iron gates open in front of our car as if by magic, as if they were pushed by unseen hands. Puffs of mist and fog swirl from the ground and through the tree branches, half concealing whatever lies behind the gate.

Even though the grounds are lush and green, there’s something heavy here, something dark. It’s more than the near constant rain, more than the clouds.

Something that I can’t quite put my finger on.

I’m filled with a strange dread as the car rolls through the gates, as we continue toward the hidden thing. And while the ‘hidden thing’ is just a house, it feels like so much more, like something ominous and almost threatening.

I catch glimpses of it through the branches as we drive, and each glimpse gives me pause.

A steep, gabled roof.

Columns and spires and moss.

Rain drips from the trees, onto the car, onto the driveway, and everything gleams with a muted light.

It’s wet here, and gray, and the word I keep thinking in my head is gothic.

Gothic.

Despite all the beauty and the extravagance here, it still looks a bit terrifying.

I count the beats as we make our way to the house, and I’ve counted to fifteen before the limousine finally comes to a stop on top of a giant circular driveway made of cobblestone.

The house in front of us is made from stone, and it sprawls out as far as I can see. The windows are dark, in all sizes, in all shapes.

Rolling, manicured lawns, an enormous mansion, lush gardens. Stormy clouds roll behind the massive setting of the house, and one thing is clear. Ominous or not, this estate is lavish, to say the least.

“Is our family rich?” I ask dumbly.

Dare glances at me. “Not in the ways that matter.”

He pauses, and there is a rope between us, pulling us together, but at the same time, coiling around us, holding us apart.

“Calla, don’t let your guard down,” he tells me quickly. “This place… it isn’t what it seems. You have to…”

Jones opens the door, and Dare stops speaking abruptly.

I have to what?

“Welcome to Whitley,” Jones tells me with a slight bow. We climb out and suddenly, I’m nervous.

I’m in a foreign country, getting ready to meet a family consisting of strangers, and I know nothing about them.

It’s daunting.

Dare squeezes my hand briefly, and I let him. Because here, I’m alone.

Here, Dare and Finn are the only familiar things.

Here, they’re the only ones who know me.

Of course, maybe they always were.

Jones leads the way with our bags, and before we even reach the front doors, they open, and a small wrinkled woman stands in the doorway. She’s slightly bent, barely a wisp of a woman, with an olive complexion and her hair completely wrapped in a bright scarf twisted at the top. She looks like she might be a hundred years old.

“Sabine!” Dare greets the elderly woman. The little woman’s arm close around him, and her head barely reaches his chest.

“Welcome home, boy,” she says in a deep gravely voice. “I’ve missed you.”

Dare pulls away and glances at me, and I can see on his face that Sabine is important. At least to him. “This is Sabine. Sabine, this is Calla Price.”

Sabine stares at me, curiously, sadly.

“You’re the spitting image of your mother,” she tells me.

“I know,” I tell her, and my heart twinges because my mother is gone. “It’s nice to meet you.”

I offer her my hand, but she grasps it instead of shaking it. Stooping over, she examines it, her face mere inches from my palm. She grips me tight, unwilling to let me go, and I feel my pulse bounding wildly against her fingers.

Startled, I wait.

I don’t know what else to do.

The little woman is surprisingly strong, her grip holding me steady as she searches for something in my hand. She traces the veins and the ridges, her breath hot on my skin. Her face is so close to my palm that I can feel each time she exhales.

Finn coughs, and abruptly, Sabine drops my hand and straightens.

Her eyes meet mine and I see a thousand lifetimes in hers. They’re dark as obsidian, and unlike most elderly people, hers aren’t cloudy with age. She stares into me, and I feel like she’s literally sifting through my thoughts and looking into my soul.

It’s unsettling, and a chill runs up my spine, putting me on edge.

She glances at Dare, and nods ever so slightly.

If I didn’t know better, I would almost think he cringed.

What the hell?

But I don’t have time to ponder, because Sabine starts walking, leading us into the house.