Lux (7 page)

The screams finally dwindle, then die out, and I’m able to relax, my muscles sinking into my sheets.

Nothing is what it seems
, and I know nothing.

All I know for sure is that Dare is an outcast, frowned upon by everyone, and I hate that. It’s unfair. If I could change that, I would. Because Dare deserves the moon and the stars and everything in between.

Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll somehow figure out a way to change it.

I fall asleep with my teeth gritted together. I relax my body, and focus on Dare. I focus on what the family would be like if he hadn’t been born into it, if he was safe somewhere else.

I love him enough to want that for him, even if it means he’d be gone from me.

The thought of being apart from him breaks my heart into jagged shards, but the thought of him laughing and running through a loving home, a home where he is appreciated, puts the shards back together.

He deserves that.

He does.

W
hen I wake
in the morning, I eye everyone with suspicion at breakfast.

I’ve always thought Dare was screaming, that Richard was hurting him in the night, that everyone was closing their eyes to it, turning their backs on what was happening.

But if that’s not the case
, and thank God,
then what is happening here?

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.”

“That’s a mistake,” I whisper, but she’s resolute.

“There’s no mistake, miss.”

Numbness descends like a fog and I replace the phone on the table.

He
was
there. I saw him. I stood by him, I yearned to hold his hand, and his back says LIVE FREE. I know that.

Confusion jumbles in my head, which is nothing unusual. I’m always confused, but I’ve never been confused about Dare.

Where is he?

What is real?

“What is wrong with you?” Finn hisses at breakfast, his fingers pressing into my knee to get my attention. I shake my head.

“Nothing.”

“You’re lying,” he accuses, and as usual, he’s right about me.

He always is.

I know what he’s thinking.

I can’t take care of myself. I’m an invalid. I’m crazy.

I nod to reassure him. “I’m okay.”

He nods back, but he’s unconvinced.

It doesn’t matter though.

“I’m going to sketch today,” I tell him. “The grounds, the garden. Wherever the wind takes me.”

“I’ll come with you,” Finn says quickly, his hand already on mine because he doesn’t trust the wind, or anything else with me. But I shake my head.

“No. I’d like some quiet time.”

I want to fill my lungs up with the breeze, I want to be a hollow reed, absorbing the world, sucking it down, figuring it out.

I level a gaze at Finn and he stares back, and finally, he acquiesces.

“Ok. If you need me, just shout.”

I nod, knowing full well that he can’t hear me from across the grounds.

I grab a notebook and a pencil, then I make my way quietly outside, feeling Finn’s gaze between my shoulder blades with every step.

I walk away from the Savage house, from the Savage lawns, from the Savages. I walk to the gardens, where it is serene and quiet, where I feel Dare’s presence, even when he isn’t here.

I sit beside the bubbling brook, dipping my feet in the cool water as I watch it pass over the stones, polishing them.

My mind floats away, carried on the breeze.

Dare’s absence consumes me. How can someone simply be gone?

Eleanor is so stern, so rigid. She can make anyone disappear. I believe that. She has power and money and hatred.

A lot of hatred.

“See? You can change things.” The boy in the hood is suddenly next to me, and his presence makes me jump. “But you’re not the only one.”

I stare at him, at the black void where his face should be. I reach out to pull his hood down, to reveal his face, but he stops me with his hand.

“You’re going to have to focus.”

“Focus?”

He nods, and his hands are on mine, and his fingers somehow make me so very very tired, like he’s leeching my energy away with his mere touch. I want to put my head down and sleep, I want to close my eyes, close my eyes, close my eyes… my eyelids flutter closed, and he yanks his hand away and the darkness the darkness the darkness overtakes me and the sleep coming in waves.

But

Then

A

Voice

pulls me from the dark.

“Calla.”

The voice is thin, transparent.

It’s also familiar.

Dare
.

I snap to attention, opening my eyes, scanning the area, but I don’t see him.

“Dare,” I call out hopefully.

Am I hearing things?

“I’m here,” he says, and he sounds so far away.

I spin around and he’s behind me, but something seems off and I can’t put my finger on it, and I peer into the air and I’m crazy.

“You’re not crazy,” he tells me quickly, reading my expression. “I’m here.”

“I don’t understand,” I whisper, and he strides to me. When he reaches me, he drops to his knees. I reach out a finger and touch him, and he’s real. His shoulder is sinewy and warm.

“You’ve grown up,” he says, and that’s not what I expected to hear, because he saw me yesterday and didn’t mention it.

“You’ve disappeared,” I tell him, and he smirks.

“I haven’t.”

“Then why aren’t you in the house? Why are you out here? Why is everyone acting like you don’t exist?”

My questions are nonsense, just like this situation.

He smiles and he’s sad. I can see it in his eyes,

His

Dark

Dark

Eyes.

“Are you real?” I ask calmly, as calm as I can.

“As real as you are,” he answers.

“Am
I
real?”

He stares at me, his gaze level.

“If you aren’t, then we’re both crazy.”

I can’t rule that out, because Whitley has secrets, and I don’t understand any of it. And when I’m confused, I babble.

“I never know what is real,” I tell him, and then I launch into my life story. I tell him everything, how Finn died but it turns out he didn’t, how my gym teacher died, but didn’t, how I see demons and black-eyed beings, how the moors growl at me, and how I’m always afraid to ask about reality. I tell him all the things that I’ve always been afraid to tell anyone but Finn, and I even tell him about the hooded boy.

“So basically, I’m always scared,” I finish, and Dare actually takes my hand. He reaches over, encloses my fingers within his own, and my heart threatens to pound right out of my chest.

His hand is warm and his eyes are soft.

“Don’t be afraid,” he tells me. “We’ll get this sorted.”

What a British thing to say.
I tell him so, and he smiles.

“That’s the meanest thing you’ve said to me all day.”

He looks around me, still smiling, and whistles to the wind, beckoning it. He waits, then whistles again.

“Where are the dogs?” he asks me, confused. “Castor never leaves your side.”

Now I’m the confused one.

“What dogs? Who is Castor?”

He stares at me, his dark head cocked. “You’re not being serious. Right?”

I stare back, every bit as confused as he is.

“I’m being dead serious. What dogs?”

“Castor and Pollux. They’re your dogs. Yours and Finn’s.”

I shake my head. “We don’t have dogs. My dad is allergic.”

“You don’t have them in Oregon,” Dare answers impatiently. “You have them here.”

“You’re on drugs,” I announce. “That’s what this is all about. Or maybe I’m on drugs. One of us is definitely on drugs.”

“We’re not on drugs,” Dare answers. “If you don’t believe me, ask Sabine. She can tell you about the dogs.”

I stare at him doubtfully, but I trot indoors to find Sabine.

“Why isn’t anyone talking about Dare?” I ask her bluntly. She stares at me with her knowing eyes, and she doesn’t flinch.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she says throatily.

You do.
But I don’t say that.

Instead, I ask her about Castor and Pollux, and she looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind, but at the same time, there is somethingsomethingsomething in her eyes. Something strange, something that gleams as she looks at me, something dark

Dark

Dark.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she answers.

“You don’t know about Castor and Pollux?” I ask to clarify. “We didn’t have dogs?”

She shakes her head and I decline her tea and I feel her gaze upon my skin long after I’ve left the room.

That night, I find a long dark hair in my bed among my sheets.

A dog hair.

It terrifies me as I hold it in my hand, it’s long and thick and coarse, and I run from my room, running for Dare, and I can’t find him anywhere.

I search the house, I search the grounds, I search the stables, I search the garages, and when I’ve finally given up, when I’m finally trudging back up to the house in the dark, there’s a shadow on the path. I catch a glimpse of the boy, and he’s staring at me, and his face is hidden. He points up and I follow his finger, and there’s a room with a light on.