Nocte (The Nocte Trilogy #1)(51)
Author: Courtney Cole

All I can hear is our raspy breath as we breathe and breathe, until finally, Dare looks at me again.

“I’m sorry for that.”

I’m incredulous.  “For what? For doing what I want?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t you understand?  You’re completely beside yourself over your brother. Do you really want to have sex in in a house of horrors while you’re crying over Finn?”

“Isn’t that up to me?” I ask shakily, trying to reach for him again, because I need him.  He won’t let me, though.

“No,” he finally answers. “Not today. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I’m thinking clearly enough,” I answer firmly, but I don’t move toward him again.  His face is set and determined.

“Why do you have to be such a gentleman?” I demand.  “Is this a British thing?”

He chuckles, able to laugh now. “I guess it’s just a Dare thing.”

I roll my eyes and rub the chill away.

He stares at me hard. “Calla, when we… when this happens, it’s not going to be in a house of horrors.  It’s going to be something you remember.”

I look away, annoyed. “Shouldn’t that be my choice to make?”

He smiles, humoring me.  “I’m trying to help you make a good choice here, Cal. Work with me.”

I can’t help but chuckle too because he’s trying to help me, in spite of myself.

“Most guys would’ve jumped at that, no matter what,” I tell him snarkily as we climb to our feet.

Dare pauses, his eyes oh-so-dark. “But those guys don’t love you. I do.”

I’m completely frozen, completely still as that sinks in.

“You do?” I breathe.

He nods. “More every day. You’re like no one I’ve ever met.  We’re not going to rush this, Cal. Good things come to those who wait, remember?”

And with those simple words, every single problem I have floats away, off of my neck, off of my chest.  I don’t even roll my eyes over the ketchup reference.

Dare loves Calla.

It’s impossible.  But it’s real.

My feet and heart are light as we walk back to the door, and just when we’re stepping out into the light, I see something, something fluttering against the porch railing.

A red ticket.

I bend down and grab it, curious.

Quid Quo Pro.

“This is Finn’s favorite band,” I tell Dare. “He was at their concert the night mom died.”

I turn around and stare at him, confusion rippling through me.  Confusion, then realization.

“He was here, after all.”

Dare guides my elbow toward the steps.

“Well, he’s not here now.”

I can’t argue with that.

I stuff the ticket in my pocket and we make our way home.

33

TRIGENTA TRES

Finn

The rain pelting me by the ocean is cold, and the wind blows it into my eyes.

IgnoreItIgnoreIt.

I do.  But I try and ignore the voices too. It’s the story of my life.

They woke me up from my nap and I know what I have to do.

It’sAlmostTimeAlmostTimeAlmostAlmostAlmost.

Yeah, I have to agree.  It’s almost time.

I’ve hidden the secret for so long, it’s eating at me, clawing to get out and I almost can’t keep it inside anymore.

I grip the St. Michael’s medallion firmly in my hand and walk into the water, straight out without pause.

DoItDoItDOITDoItDo.

Do it.

I dive under the waves and swim straight down.  It’s at least twenty feet down and the water grows murky before I see the faded red paint of the car.  I swim to it, my oxygen already starting to run out, and stick my head through the open passenger door.

Reaching my hand in, I hang the necklace on the rearview mirror.  It dangles in the water, twisting and turning in the murk.

St. Michael’s face seems to mock me.

Protect me?  I think not.

My lungs feel hot and swollen, so I push off, away from the car toward the surface.  I burst through with a cough, the sun on my face as though I’d never left.

Breathe.

I do.  I take deep hacking breaths and then pull myself out of the water onto the damp sand of the beach.  I look back out at the choppy surface.

No one would ever know what lies beneath that water.

You can’t see it.

But I know.

I know.

I know.

I know.

But Calla doesn’t.

34

TRIGENTA QUATUOR

Calla

When we get home, Finn is in bed.  I stand at his doorway and watch him sleep for a minute, watching the restless way he tosses and turns and moans, and the way he’s got mud smeared on his cheek.

What’s he been up to?

With utter trepidation, I know how to find out.

I curl up in my room and stare at the pages of his journal.  For some reason, I can’t bring myself to read much at a time.  The words press down on me, suffocating me, because it’s such a glaring piece of evidence of what Finn’s mind has come to be.

The writing has become erratic, as his thought processes spiral to and fro.  Scrawled, scratched words line the pages and they no longer make any kind of sense.

Protect her Protect me st. Michael.  Protect us her me me me.

Serva me, serva bo te. Save me, save her and me.

Calla calla calla.

It’s  killing me. Killing me killing killing killing mememememememe.

Put me out of my misery.

Do it do it do it.

I swallow hard, biting back helpless tears as I flip through several pages of the nonsense.  But then I see one phrase.  One phrase that dries my tears and freezes the breath on my lips.

Secrets.  Everybody’s got em.

I can practically hear those words coming out Dare’s mouth.  But why did he say such a thing to Finn?

If it weren’t so late, I’d barge into his home right now and ask. But as it is, I wait.

I wait until I’ve slept through the night, showered and have thought about it some more.  I still haven’t calmed down though.  Because something isn’t right here. 

As soon as it’s a decent hour, I head for Dare’s cottage.  He answers his door shirtless, and it takes great effort to ignore that.

“Have you talked to Finn lately?” I ask him without greeting, my eyes frozen on his, never traveling south of his chin.

He looks at me oddly. “No, why?”

“Because I was reading his journal last night and he wrote something that you said.  Verbatim, Dare.”