Verum

I find him in the secret garden alone.

My heart jumps when I see him, at the way he leans against an angel statue so irreverently, at the familiarity in his eyes when he sees me. I fight the urge to leap into his arms, but of course I don’t, because the warmth in his eyes has cooled.

“What are you doing out here?” he asks, so reserved.

I’m flustered.

“Hunting for you.”

“I’m not good for you,” he offers. “Maybe you should stop hunting for me.”

My heart twinges.

“Never.”

His expression falters.

“You need to let me figure out what’s good for me,” I add.

He looks at me sadly. “I can’t. You don’t know all of the facts.”

“So tell me.”

“I can’t do that, either.”

We’re at an impasse, a fork in the road.

There are two roads, and I always take the wrong one.

“You’ll destroy me,” I remember Sabine’s foreboding words. Dare closes his eyes, and nods.

“What does that mean?” My voice is raw.

There is pain in Dare’s eyes, real pain.

The kind of pain that can’t be hidden, can’t be contained.

“I want you to know,” he tells me, each word an honest rasp.

“But you can’t tell me,” I guess. He nods.

“Not yet. You’ll come to in it in order.”

In order.

In order.

In order.

Things must happen in order, Calla? Can’t you see? Can’t you see?

I remember Finn’s cries from before, but before what?

Time is blurring now, blending, and I can’t make sense of anything.

I’m standing on the cliffs, I’m staring at the ocean, but I’m not.

It’s Finn.

But it was me.

Cars.

Blood.

Sirens.

Darkness.

Good night, sweet Finn. Good night, good night.

Protect me, St. Michael.

Protect me,

Protect me.

My mind can’t take the stress,

It can’t take the flex.

My mind is an elastic band,

And it’s getting ready to break.

He’ll be your downfall, child.

It’s the first thing that makes sense.





Chapter 26





I sit in Olivia’s room, her locket in my hands.

It’s gold, it’s delicate, it’s real. It’s cool in my hands.

I concentrate on it, on the etched calla lily.

Symbolic? Ironic? Coincidental?

Nothing is a coincidence in this house. It’s something I’ve come to realize.

Sunlight from the window pours through the sheer curtains, throwing muted light into the room. I turn the pendant over and over, watching it glint, watching the calla lily come and go.

To and fro.

To and fro.

And then,

I see her.

Olivia.

As clear as day,

Standing in front of me.

“Can you bring him to me?” she asks, her voice low and soft. “That’s all I want to know.”

Confusion billows like waves, through me, over me, around me.

Can I?

“I don’t know,” I tell her. “Where are you?”

I’m puzzled, but the vision ends with nausea, the way they always do.

When I become conscious again, I’m on my hands and knees on the floor, the room spinning to a stop around me.

As soon as I’m able, I stagger to my room and make a cup of Sabine’s tea, because it calms me. It’s the only thing that does.

At dinner, Dare is playing the piano, the notes wafting gently.

“Time here passes so quickly,” I mention to Eleanor. I sip at another cup of tea, because it feels like that’s all I do now. My hold on reality is tenuous, and all I can do is safeguard it.

Eleanor lifts an eyebrow but doesn’t argue.

“Time is your enemy, Calla,” is all she says. I set my cup down, and stare into it, and the tea leaves seem to have formed a question mark. I stare at it, mesmerized until Jones comes to take it away.

It’s that night when I dream again.

But I don’t dream of Olivia. I dream of my own mother, of Finn and my father, and of Dare.

The night is dark, the ground is cold.

That’s what I’m thinking as we pile into our car, Finn and my father and me.

Someone is chasing us,

But that’s impossible.

Because we live on top of a mountain, And no one else is there.

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