NOCTE (Nocte Trilogy #1)

NOCTE (Nocte Trilogy #1) by Courtney Cole


Foreward




I once considered not writing this story. It was too dark, too twisted, too much, too, too, too.

Obviously, I changed my mind. But I re-wrote in four different ways first, trying to make it different, more easily palatable, softer.

It didn’t work.

So I went back to my original idea, the idea that I loved. The idea that I dreamed about and lived and breathed until it was done the way I wanted it, the way it has to be.

I know you’re capable of reading it. I know you’re capable of putting yourselves back together again when it’s all over. I have faith in you.

Is this story dark?

Yes.

It is twisted?

At times.

Will it slap you in the face?

Absolutely.

Will it have you flipping the pages, trying to figure it out, trying to get to the climax, trying to breathe?

God, I hope so.

I wrote this story the way it needed to be written. I couldn’t sugarcoat it. I couldn’t water it down. It is this way because the story demands it.

I’m not sorry.





Dedication




Insomniacs know that there is something about the night.

A darkness, an energy, a mystery that shrouds things.

It hides things at the same time as it illuminates them.

It is this thing

that allows us to examine our thoughts

in a way that we can’t during the day,

It is this thing that brings truth and clarity.



This book is for Tristan.

My son who I’ve passed insomnia to.

Always trust your own mind.

You know it best.





“By night, I am free.

No one hears my monsters but me.

My freedom is fragile, though,

Because every morning,

Over and over,

The night is broken

by the sun.

It’s a good way to die.”



--An early entry from the journal of Finn Price





I can’t I can’t I can’t

Hear.

I can’t see

light

anymore.

Calla calla calla calla

Save me, save you.

Save me.

Serva me, servabo te.

Save me and I will save you.



-- A later entry from the journal of Finn Price





There is nothing quite so terrifying as the descension of the human mind into insanity.

-Calla Price





“Secrets. Everybody’s got ‘em.”

-Dare DuBray





PROLOGUS





My name is Calla Price. I’m eighteen years old, and I’m one half of a whole.

My other half-- my twin brother, my Finn-- is crazy.

I love him. More than life, more than anything. And even though I’m terrified he’ll suck me down with him, no one can save him but me.

I’m doing all I can to stay afloat in a sea of insanity, but I’m drowning more and more each day. So I reach out for a lifeline.

Dare DuBray.

He’s my savior and my anti-Christ. His arms are where I feel safe, where I’m afraid, where I belong, where I’m lost. He will heal me, break me, love me and hate me.

He has the power to destroy me.

Maybe that’s ok. Because I can’t seem to save Finn and love Dare without everyone getting hurt.

Why? Because of a secret.

A secret I’m so busy trying to figure out, that I never see it coming.

You won’t either.





1


UNUM



Calla



-BEFORE-





Outside, a starless night sky yawns far and wide against a full moon that creates shadows. Inside, those shadows seem to morph into each other, creating twisted hands that drag their broken fingers along the darkened walls of the salon.

My mother insists on calling the formal living room a salon. Since she learned the term when she was in France years ago, it makes her feel sophisticated. And since we live in a funeral home on the top of an isolated mountain in Oregon, my dad lets her feel sophisticated in any way she chooses.

She’s not here tonight, though, sophisticated or otherwise. She’s on her way to her book club, to drink wine and gossip, oblivious to the fact that my entire world just imploded. And since my father and brother are both gone too, I’m alone for now.

Alone and with a broken heart.

Yet not exactly alone. I’m here in a dark funeral home with two dead bodies down in my father’s embalming room.

Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal. When your father is a mortician, you learn to sleep under the same roof as dead people.

But tonight, with the storm causing the trees to bend and hiss against the house, and the electricity knocked out from the wind, it’s alarming and dark and a bit terrifying.

My foot thumps against the side of the chair, an obvious sign that I’m agitated. I’m annoyed by my agitation, but honestly I deserve to be annoyed.

Everything in my life was just turned inside out.

I turn my gaze out the windows, and stare at the cliffs. Jagged rock juts into the sky, which creates a haunting picture and only serves to remind me that I’m very isolated here at the top of our mountain. Also, it’s lighter outside than it is in here, which is ridiculous.