So I do the only thing I can.
I’ve got to get help from a professional, from someone who Finn tells the things he won’t tell me.
I rush back home and climb in my car. I drive down the mountain, through town and to the hospital. When I get there, I shove the medallion in my pocket. God knows I can’t give it back to Finn. He’s likely to throw it out and I’ll never find it again.
I walk numbly through the halls, past the abstract bird painting and into the Group room. I’m interrupting a session and everyone turns to stare at me curiously. Jason, the therapist, gets up and crosses the room. He’s short and blond, and his steps are long. He reaches me quickly.
“Calla,” he says, assessing my face. “Is everything all right?”
With his arm on my elbow, he leads me into the hallway, so I don’t instill panic into his precious patients.
“There’s something wrong with Finn,” I tell him abruptly. “I can’t figure it out, and he won’t tell me. Do you know?”
Jason stares at me, his hand patting my back, as he tries to figure out how to calm down a frantic woman. I’m annoyed, because like my father and his grieving clients, Jason is supposed to know how to handle upset people. He’s a therapist, for God’s sake.
Finally, he shakes his head. “I don’t know, Calla. He hasn’t said anything to me. But even if he had, you know I can’t share that with you. It’s confidential.”
“Even if he’s a danger to himself?” I demand. “He was on the edge of the cliffs this morning. And then he told me that he was on the edge and it wasn’t a metaphor, Jason. He’s in serious trouble. His hands have been shaking and I’m afraid he’s stopped taking his meds. Has he said anything to you?”
Jason hesitates, then stares seriously into my eyes.
“I can’t say. But what I can say is that Finn hasn’t been to group in weeks.”
Those words slam into me with the weight of a freight train and I stand limply in front of the therapist.
“Weeks?” The word scrapes my lungs. “That’s impossible. I’ve been driving him myself.”
Jason shakes his head regretfully. “You might be driving him here, but he’s not coming in. I’m sorry, Calla.”
He’s sorry. My brother is losing it, and his therapist is sorry.
My blood boils and I whirl around.
“Why didn’t you tell someone?” I demand before I walk away. “You’re supposed to be helping him, for God’s sake.
It’s no wonder Finn always calls out for me. I’m the only one he can count on.
I storm through the hospital and slam my car door hard enough to shatter the half-open driver’s side window.
I’m covered in pellets of safety glass as I sit hunched over the steering wheel.
Perfectus.
To make matters worse, because it’s Oregon, it starts to rain as I drive. I lean away from the door as the rain blows the precipitation in. By the time I get home, I’m drenched.
I slam the car door again, as hard as I can.
It echoes through the yard, or so I imagine.
I take the stairs three at a time, and before long, I’m standing in front of my father again. He’s startled by my drowned rat appearance.
“I just came from the hospital,” I tell him harshly. “Finn hasn’t been going to Group. So if you weren’t worried before, you should be now.”
My father stares at me blankly, something that infuriates me.
“Dad, you’ve got to live in the present right now. I know you’re sad. I know you have gin in that coffee cup.” He looks at his glass and then looks up me guiltily. “Did you wonder why your open bottle was gone the other night? It’s because I drank it and you didn’t even notice. Dare cleaned me up and took care of me, not you.”
My father looks horrified and appalled but I don’t pause.
“Finn needs you. He needs you right now.”
My father’s head drops and he stares at his hands, at the mug in his hands. “I’m sorry, Calla. I’m sorry that you think I’ve checked out. I haven’t. I love you, and I love Finn.”
My heart softens at the sight of his broken expression. “I know,” I tell him softly. “I’m sorry I’m so angry. I’m just… Finn. I’m worried about Finn.”
“I know,” he tells me. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”
“Do you know where he is?” I ask as I head toward the stairs.
“No.”
I don’t turn back around, I just leap up the stairs. Finn’s not there. Not in his bedroom or mine or on the top floor at all. I go back downstairs and search every room, even the Visitation rooms. He’s simply not here.
As I stand in the kitchen, trying to figure out where he might’ve gone, my attention is drawn to a pad of paper lying on the counter.
One word is scrawled over and over.
NOCTE.
And with that, I know where I have to go.
32
TRIGENTA DUO
I clatter down the porch steps, just in time to see Dare emerging from his cottage.
Like always, he’s dressed in slim dark jeans and a snug t-shirt. He’s heading for his bike and he looks like he’s going to continue on his way, until he notices my face. His eyes narrow as he sees my state of distress. He immediately changes course and heads for me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks in concern, his hand reaching for mine.
I pull away. “Oh, now you’re worried about that?” I can’t help but ask. The emotions of the day are threatening to overwhelm me.
He shakes his head. “Don’t do that. I’ve already explained. Everything is just complicated.”
I swallow hard. “Finn’s gone. I can’t find him. I think he went to Nocte.”
Dare nods toward his bike without hesitation. “Then let’s go.”
We pull on helmets and are on the road within a minute. My arms wrap around his waist like they belong there, and I suddenly realize that they do. My arms belong wrapped around this man, no matter what. No matter what secrets he might have, or what might be going on with me.
When I’m upset, he calms me. When I’m breathless, he gives me air. When I’m sad, he buoys me. That’s all that matters, right?
I decide that soon, I’ll sit down and tell him all of these things.
But not right now. Because right now, I have to find Finn.
We pull right up outside the hole in the fence and then we duck through it.
I take off at a run through the park, headed straight for the old house of horrors. Dare runs with me, easily keeping pace.
“There isn’t a car here,” he points out to me as we jog. Our wet shoes squeak on the midway.
I know his point is logical, but I know in my heart that Finn is here.
I know like a sister knows, like a twin.
I don’t deviate from my path, and within a couple of minutes, I’m standing on the porch of Nocte, bent over to catch my breath.
Dare runs his hand up and down my back, relaxing my muscles as my lungs fill with air. He’s my air. I give him a grateful look, then push forward, through the door and into the abandoned house.
I hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight this time, but luckily, enough light shines through the dirty windows that we can see where we’re going.
“Finn!” I call out as I race along, over the electric cords and through the rooms. “Where are you?”
There’s no answer. But I still feel him here.
“He’s here,” I tell Dare over my shoulder. “I know it. We have to find him before he hurts himself.”
Dare nods and we race along the darkened pathways, into the part of the house that I hadn’t shown Dare before.
I stop in the middle of a dusty parlor. An empty noose swings from the chandelier above, while gargoyle’s faces leer from the sides of the fireplace. I feel an instant air of relief that Finn isn’t hanging from the rope. Shivering, I scan the place. Once upon a time, a “rotting” butler walked through this room, scaring visitors
as they passed through. The room is empty now.
“He’s not here,” Dare tells me needlessly.
My shoulders drop and my breath exhales and I sink into a dusty velvet sofa.
“Where is he?” my voice is frail and threatens to break.
Dare sits next to me, his arm around my shoulders and I turn into his chest because all of a sudden, I can’t keep it together. The weight of it is too heavy.
All of the emotions I’ve been feeling lately come crashing down. The desperation of wanting to help my brother, the rejection I’ve felt from Dare, the anger I’ve felt toward my father. It spirals around me, too much to bear, and I sob into Dare’s shirt.
His hands are large as he comforts me, as he pats my back and strokes my shoulder.
I feel comfort here in his arms, unlike any comfort I’ve ever felt before.
He’s mine. No matter what happens, I can’t lose him.
The fear of that loss, even though it’s imagined, floods me and I grab him.
“I can’t lose you, too,” I tell him, my voice still strained. “I’m sorry that I can’t seem to hold things together. I promise I’ll get a handle on things. If you promise to stay.” I pause and there’s silence and I stare at him. “Promise me, Dare.”
He looks at me oddly, and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Promise.”
His voice is so husky, and it strokes my skin. And it’s not enough. With shaking hands, I reach for him, pulling him to me and his mouth, hot and minty, closes over my own.
He kisses me with abandon, like he’s not afraid of the consequences, like it’s only him and me, and there’s nothing else around us. There is no Finn, there is no funeral home, there is no grief.
There is only Dare and Calla.
I inhale it, breathing it in my throat, and holding it deep inside by my heart.
He starts to pull away, but I stop him with a whisper.
“Please don’t. I need you. Make it all right. Please. Make it all right.”
My whisper is broken and desperate, but I don’t care. Because it gets me what I want. Dare clutches me to him, his hands stroking me everywhere, lingering over my hips, my arms, my ribs, my breasts.
My hips lift to meet him, my pelvis crushing his. But it’s an exquisite pressure, something that builds and builds within me, begging for an eruption, screaming for a release.
“Please.”
I whisper one more time.
Dare groans, and touches me again, his fingers finding me in the dark, long and smooth and cool. I clutch his shoulders, trying to get closer and closer, but I know I’ll never be close enough. Even when he’s finally inside of my body, it won’t be enough. Because I want all of him.
Now.
I pull at the button on his jeans, at his shirt, at his arms.
And he almost lets me.
Almost.
But then, with a ragged breath, he pulls away.
I reach for him, but he shakes off my arm.
“Give me a minute, Cal.”
I sit trying to breathe, as he does the same.
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 utt
er 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.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “And what piece of wisdom was this?”
“I’m not kidding,” I snap. “He said, ‘Secrets. Everybody’s got ‘em.’ That’s exactly what you said to me. Why would you be talking about secrets with Finn? Has he told you what’s going on with him?”
Dare seems utterly confused now, and he gestures for me to come in. I hesitate.