Lux (4 page)

Sabine comes to my room mid-morning and sets a tray down on my desk.

“Your mother sent me,” she tells me, handing me a cup of steaming liquid. “Drink this and tell me what you saw this morning.”

I take the tea and sip at it, and it’s bitter and I hate it. I try to hand it back, but she shakes her head.

“Drink.” Her voice is firm.

I drink, but I don’t speak. I don’t tell her that I saw the dogs broken and bloody. Because why would I have imagined such a thing? I must be a monster. Only a monster would do that.

She waits and I’m silent and finally she sighs.

“I know about you,” she says, her hand on my thigh, her fingernails biting into my flesh. “You don’t have to hide it. I told you to trust me.”

I want to answer that you can’t just tell someone to trust, that trust has to be earned. That’s something my dad has always said and he’s right. My dad is smart. But I keep my mouth shut about that.

“What do you know about me?” I ask instead.

“You know what,” she answers. “I know what no one else does. I know all about you, child.”

I shake my head though, because there’s no way. I haven’t told anyone what I saw. I sure won’t be telling her.

She clucks and shakes her head. “I can’t help you until you’re honest,” she tells me as she picks up the tray and starts for the door. She pauses though, and turns to me.

“You should stay away from Dare, though,” she tells me. “Someday, he’ll be your downfall.”

“My downfall?” I can’t help but ask. She smiles and it’s grim as she nods.

“Your downfall. It will be one for one for one, Calla.”

“What does that mean?” I’m confused but she’s gone, the door closing behind her with a heavy creak.

Castor lies at my feet and I’m so happy that he’s healthy that I hug his neck, breathing in his dog smell, and feeling his fluffy hair on my cheek. “I love you, Castor.”

He pants in reply and lies with me as the room swirls around me, my vision foggy. I don’t know what’s happening, but I can’t keep my eyes open. My eyelids are heavy

Heavy

Heavy.

My hands are hot, my legs are cold and everything is swirling into blackness. As I close my eyes, I see something on the edge of my periphery, in the shadows of my room.

A boy in a hood, a boy with black black eyes. He watches me, waits for me, and he seems so utterly familiar.

But it’s not real. He can’t be real. It’s just like the bloody dogs.

I want to open my eyes to check, but my eyelids are so so so heavy.

So

Heavy.

Everything ceases to matter and I can’t trust myself anymore.

I’m crazy.

As I drift into sleep, into oblivion, I think about Dare. The boy who risked trouble to keep me out of it
. “It’s my fault,”
he’d said.

But it wasn’t his fault.

He’d lied to try and keep me safe.

No one has ever done that before.

W
hitley Estate

“
I
love him
.”

My whisper is small in my large room, but it is heard by my brother. Because Finn has sneaked in like he does every night. Whitley is much too large for us to stay in our own rooms alone. There are far too many shadows, far too many things to fear. Our dogs lie at the foot of my bed, protecting us as we sleep. They are sentinels and it is comforting.

Finn pokes his head out of his covers, his light brown curls unruly.

“You’re dumb,” he announces. “You can’t love Dare. He’s our cousin. And I heard mom talking to Uncle Richard. Dare is a lost cause, Cal.”

Rage almost blinds me, red and hot, billowing from the corners of my eyes like ink.

“Don’t say that! It’s not true. He’s not lost. And Uncle Richard is a monster,” I tell him. “You know that. Plus, Dare is only our step-cousin. We’re not really related.”

“Close enough,” Finn answers. “You can’t love him. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Why does it have to be right?” I sniff. “Who decides what is right and not right, anyway?”

Finn rolls his eyes before he covers his head back up with his covers. “Mom does. Besides, you have me. I’m all you need, Calla.”

I can’t argue with that.

So I drop it. Soon I hear Finn’s even breaths, signaling me that he’s asleep.

I lie still, watching the shadows move across the ceiling. I’m not scared when Finn is here, which probably really is dumb. I heard Jones telling Sabine that Finn couldn’t beat his way out of a wet paper bag, but that’s only because he hasn’t hit a growth spurt yet. Regardless, I know he’d die trying to protect me. Somehow, that’s comforting and morbid at the same time.

I close my eyes.

And when I do, all I can see is Dare’s face.

Dark hair, dark eyes, stubborn glare.

I love him.

He’s mine.

Or he’ll be mine someday. I know it in my heart, as sure as I know my name is Calla Elizabeth Price.

I sleep to the sounds of the moors…the wind, the dark, the silence, the growls. The moors here at Whitley growl, although no one else seems to notice. At first I thought it was Castor, but it’s not. He’d never growl at me. But the moors do.

After the morning sun wakes me up, I pull some clothes on and dash down to the kitchens, hoping to see him before breakfast.

“Is Dare here?” I ask as Castor and I skid around the corner. Sabine eyes me from beneath her scarf as she hands me a croissant.

“Shh, child. I think I saw him slip outdoors.”

She’s quiet so that no one will overhear her. I tell her thank you over my shoulder and head for the grounds, because that’s where Dare likes to be. He hates the house, and he hates most of the people inside.

But he doesn’t hate me.

Even though I’m only eight and he’s eleven. I know this because he told me.

I race down the paths, over the cobbles and between the gates of the secret garden with my dog on my heels. I watch for Dare above the flowers, beneath the massive angel statues, and I finally see him sitting on the edge of a pond, his dark eyes thoughtful as he skips a rock across the glassy surface.

“You’re not supposed to be out here,” I tell him tentatively as I approach. He barely glances up.

“So go tell Eleanor.”

His tone is sullen as he mentions my grandmother, but I’m used to that.

My mother said his lot in life has left him grumpy, that I’m to be patient.

I’m more than patient.

I live for every word out of his mouth.

I sit next to him, and even though I try, none of my rocks skip. They just fall heavily into the water.

Wordlessly, Dare reaches over and adjusts my hand, making me flick my wrist as I toss the stone. I watch it skip once, twice, three times before it sinks.

I smile.

“What does ‘lot in life’ mean?” I ask him curiously.

His eyes narrow.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because my mom said you’re grumpy because of your lot in life. But I don’t know what that means.”

Dare seems to turn pale, and he looks away and I think I’ve made him mad.

“It’s not your business,” he snaps. “You’re supposed to be learning how to be a good Savage. And a good Savage doesn’t pry.”

I gulp, because Lord knows I’ve heard Grandmother Eleanor say that a million times.

“But what does it mean?” I ask after a few minutes, ever persistent.

Dare sighs heavily and gets to his feet. He stares into the distance for a minute before he answers.

“It means your place in the world,” his words are heavy. “And mine sort of sucks.”

“So change it,” I tell him simply, because it seems simple enough to me.

Dare snorts. “You don’t know anything,” he tells me wisely. “You’re just a kid.”

“So are you.”

“But I’m older.”

I can’t argue with that.

“Can I hold your hand?” I ask him as we make our way out of the gardens. “I forgot my shoes and I don’t want to fall on the stones.”

I’m lying. I just want to hold his hand.

He’s hesitant and he seems a bit repelled, but he glances up toward the house, then reluctantly lets me cling to his fingers.

“You’ve got to be more responsible, Calla,” he advises me with a sidelong look toward my bare feet. But he lets me hold his hand as we slowly make our way back to the house. He shakes off my fingers before we open the doors.

“See you at dinner.”

I watch the house swallow him up before I follow him in.

As I walk down the hallway, I can’t help but glance over my shoulder every once in a while because even the sunshine can’t keep the shadows away at Whitley. Something always seems to be watching me, hovering around me.

Always.

When I find Finn in the library, I tell him that.

He shakes his head, annoyed, yet clearly concerned. Like always.

“Have you taken your pills today, Calla?”

“Yes.” If I don’t, I see monsters.

I see red-eyed demons and black-eyed serpents.

I see fire,

I see blood,

I see terrible

Terrible

Things.

Finn stares at me dubiously.

“Are you sure?”

I pause.

Then I grudgingly pull the two colorful pills out of my pocket.

He glares at me. “Take them. Right now or I’m telling mom.”

When I don’t rush to do it, he adds, “Or I’ll tell Grandmother.”

That threat bears weight, and he knows it. I hurry to get a drink of water, and I swallow the pills while he watches.

“You know better, Calla,” he chides me, sounding more like a parent than a brother.

I nod. Because I do.

“They taste bad,” I offer by way of explanation.

“That’s no excuse.”

“What isn’t?”

Our mother breezes into the library, red-headed and beautiful, slim and glamorous. If I’m lucky, I’ll look just like her some day.

“Nothing,” I hurry and tell her.

She seems suspicious, but she’s in too much of a hurry to ask again.

“Have you seen Adair?” she asks us both. “Your uncle is looking for him.”

We both shake our heads, but Finn is the only one telling the truth. I’d rather die than tell that monster where Dare is.

“What does uncle Dickie want with Dare?” I ask her as she turns to leave.

She pauses, her face drawn and tight. “It’s grown-up stuff, Calla Lily. Don’t fret about it.”

But of course I do.

Because every time Uncle Richard finds Dare, I hear screaming.

And even though you’d think that was the worst part, it’s not.

The worst part is when the screaming stops.

Because silence hides an abundance of sins.

That’s what my mom says.

And she’s always right.

At least, that’s what my dad says.

At dinner, I mention my dad.

“I miss him,” I tell my mom. “Why doesn’t he ever come with us in the summers?”

She sighs and pats my hand before picking up her shrimp fork.

“He does, Calla. You know that. He’ll be here for the last couple of weeks, just like he always is.”

“But why do we come here every year?” I ask again, and I feel stupid, but it’s a good question. Every summer, year after year. Dad has to stay home in Oregon to work, but we get to come here because mom’s family is rich.

“Because Whitley is also our home, and we have to,” my mom says tiredly. “And because of the Savage name, you have opportunities. The best doctors, the best of everything. But we have to spend summers here to get that. You already know all of this, Calla. I have to make sacrifices for you, Calla. Just appreciate that.”

I do.

I do appreciate that. I don’t understand it, but I appreciate it.

What I don’t want to tell her is that sometimes, what I
know
blends with what I
don’t
. It twists and turns and bends, turning into shapes that I can’t recognize. Facts blend with dreams, and dreams blend with memories, and then reality isn’t real.

I always feel too silly to ask anyone but Finn what is real and what is not.

They’d think I’m crazy.

I’m not.

Dare kicks me lightly beneath the table and I glance at him quickly.

He grins, his familiar, ornery grin and I love it. Because it always seems like he’s daring me when he smiles.

Daring me to…what?

He leans over.

“I’m going to the garden tonight after dark. Wanna come?”

I hesitate.

It’s dark out there. And the moors. And at night, they growl.

Dare notices my hesitation.

“Are you scared?” he whispers mockingly.

No, of course not.
I shake my head. Accusing someone of being scared is the worst insult possible, I think.

He smiles again.

“Then sneak out and meet me at midnight. You know Finn will be surrounding himself with his Latin books. I know you won’t want to join that.”

No, of course I don’t. Latin annoys me, but Finn has developed a fascination for it, and spends every free second studying it.

“You know you want to,” Dare adds.

“Fine,” I agree, trying to sound grudging, but chills run up and down my arms in anticipation, because what does he want to do out there in the dark?

He’s so… rebellious. It’s hard to say.

True to my word, I sneak out of my bedroom and slip out of the house at midnight. I run as fast as I can down the paths because I swear there’s something chasing me.

Something dark,

Something scary.

But when I glance over my shoulder,

There’s never anything there.

I burst through the garden gates, and Dare is already here.

He smiles, and his teeth are pearls in the night.

“Hey,” he greets me casually, like it’s not midnight and we’re not breaking rules.

“You’re not supposed to leave the house,” I remind him.

He shrugs. Because he’s Dare and he’s a rule-breaker. “So?”

It’s a challenge and I don’t address it. Mainly because I don’t have a good answer.

I don’t know why he’s not supposed to leave the house. It’s never made any sense to me. It’s not fair. But then again, Uncle Richard has never been
fair
to Dare.

“You and I are alike, Calla,” Dare tells me, and the night is quiet and his voice is soft. “I’m in prison here, and you’re in prison in your mind.”

“No, I’m not,” I protest stoutly. “I’m medicated. I’m fine.”

Dare shakes his head and looks away. “But you know what it feels like.”

I do.
I have to admit that I do.

“No one knows what it’s like to be me,” I whisper. “Not even Finn. It’s lonely.”

“
I
know what it’s like,” Dare finally answers. “You’ll never have to explain it to me. You’re not alone.”

While we sit and examine the stars, our shoulders bump into each other and absorb each other’s warmth, and I think that might actually be true.

Dare and I are the same. When I’m with him, I’m not alone.

“Why are you a prisoner?” I ask after a few minutes, broaching a forbidden topic, hesitant and afraid that he’ll snap at me. But he doesn’t.

His shoulders slump and he closes his eyes and he lifts his face to the moon.

“It’s not anything you should worry about,” he says with tired words. “They don’t want you to know.”

“But why?”

“Because.”

“Because isn’t an answer.”

“It is right now,” Dare tells me. “Someday, you’ll probably know. But for now? All that matters is this. We’re breathing, and there are stars, and we had chocolate cake for dinner.”

He’s right. It was a good dinner.

And it’s a good night.

I’m alone with Dare in the garden.

We’re breaking rules,

And that feels good.

W
ater creeps up around me
, over me, drowning me. I twist and turn, fighting to break the liquid bonds encircling my hands and feet. I can’t move, I can’t breathe, and there are black eyes staring at me from the surface.

I see them, peer into them, fear them, as they blur then disappear.

Down,

Down,

Down I go.

Away from him.

My savior.

My anti-Christ.

“It’s your fault,” I whisper, and the words are swallowed by the water, stuck in my throat. Am I talking to him or to me? It doesn’t matter. My lungs fill and fill and fill, and there isn’t any air. There is only a void where my heart should be.

“This isn’t real, Calla.” I hear Finn’s voice, but I know he’s not here. No one is, I’m submerged and the water is murky and dark. My fingers clutch at something, at nothing, at everything.

Focus.

I narrow my eyes and I breathe, a deep breath like they taught me. I fill my body with air like I’m filling a chalice, starting at my belly, then my diaphragm, then my throat, then my mouth. I exhale slowly, like I’m blowing through a straw, I push it at out, expelling it until there’s nothing left, just me and my withered empty lungs.

I do it again.

And again.

And when I’m done, I can see again. I’m in the hospital, and I’m not a little girl anymore. I’m Calla Price, and Finn is gone, Dare is gone and I’m alone.