Verum

by Courtney Cole

  “You’re fine, Finn,” I tell him softly. “You’re fine. I’m here.”

  You’re dead, and I’m imagining you.

  I can control my thoughts.

  But I can’t.

  Because I will Finn away, and

  He’s still here thrashing on the floor.

  He mutters for a while longer and then curls up, his head in my lap. I stroke his back and his shoulders, attempting to calm him. It’s odd how easily I can remember what his arms feel like, how easily I can envision him even now.

  “His eyes are black, Cal. His eyes are black.”

  Finn lets his face roll to the side, and his hands clench in front, so tight that his knuckles turn white.

  “He’s dangerous, Cal. His eyes are black. Black, black, black.”

  He’s staring and I follow his gaze, and I’m startled to find Dare standing at our door, watching us.

  Watching me, because Finn isn’t actually here.

  He’s dangerous, Cal.

  Dare’s eyes are so dark that in the right light, they do look black.

  “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, backing away. “Is everything all right? Do you need anything?”

  I shake my head and he goes away and I’m left reeling.

  His eyes are black, Cal. He’s dangerous.

  I suppose he is.

  That’s why I’ve felt so uneasy, like he’s hiding something.

  He’s dangerous.

  But why?

  All I know is, when he leaned against my doorway, one thing popped into my head.

  He’s a weapon, armed for obliteration.

  And if I’m not careful, the obliteration will be my own.

  Chapter 13

  I watch Finn walk peacefully around the pond that borders the back of the gardens, and I ponder how completely different he is today than he was last night.

  Last night, he’d been desperate, out of his head.

  Today, he’s peaceful and calm.

  Like magic.

  You’d think that since I’m imagining him, I could control his actions, but apparently, like always, he does what he wants.

  “It’s ok to pretend your brother is still here.”

  Surprised, I turn to find Sabine approaching from behind. Somehow, she always seems to move silently through the rooms of Whitley, and appears when I least expect her.

  “How did you know?” I ask, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Only a crazy person would do something like this, yet Sabine isn’t acting like I’m crazy. She’s calm, she’s quiet, she’s respectful.

  “As long as you know the difference between reality and your thoughts, all is well,” she tells me easily, as though she’s a guest at the White Rabbit’s tea table.

  I swallow hard because I’m the rabbit.

  “He’s at peace now, you know,” Sabine tells me, sitting down next to me. “Demons chased that boy. They don’t now.”

  I suck in a breath, glancing at the old woman. “How did you know that?”

  She shrugs. “I know things.”

  I swallow hard. I sense she knows things. So many things are in her eyes, so many truths. It scares me a little.

  “He first started seeing things when we were in kindergarten,” I tell her quietly, my memories bitter in my mouth. “He saw demons. He’s seen them for years. He’s medicated now. I mean, before he died. Sometimes, he forgot to take them…”

  Sabine nods and I know she understands. Somehow.

  “It’s good for you to be here,” she tells me seriously. “Away from death. Your mother would think so, too.”

  I look at her quickly. “You think so?”

  “Yes,” Sabine answers. “I knew her well. She’d want you to focus on yourself here without inhaling death in the air. It’d be good for anyone. We absorb the energy that’s around us, you know. Energy never goes away. It just goes from thing to thing to thing.”

  That actually makes sense. In fact, it’s a scientific fact. The law of conservation of energy states that energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only change form. Here outside of the house, the energy is quiet and peaceful.

  I definitely should absorb some of that.

  “Where do you think my brother is?” I ask hesitantly. “If energy can’t be destroyed, I mean.”

  Sabine crosses her arms. “You carry him with you,” she says confidently.

  I fiddle with my fingers. “I know. I…yes. But where do you think he actually is?”

  Sabine looks away, far off into the distance, and when she answers, it’s slow and sure.

  “I have many beliefs, Calla. And I’m not sure you want to hear them all. Just know that you’re not alone. You’re never alone.”

  I’m not sure if that’s comforting, actually.

  But she’s already changing the subject.

  “I’m an expert in herbs, Miss Price. I learned from my mother, who learned from her mother, who learned from hers and so on. I can give you a tea to help with your sleep. I wish I would’ve known your brother. I have a feeling I could’ve helped him, too.”

  I immediately shake my head. “I don’t think so. Your herbs might’ve interacted with his meds. He took some pretty strong medication. He had some pretty crazy days.”

  But then again, I should talk.

  “You never know,” Sabine tells me. “But know this. You shouldn’t dismiss your brother as ‘crazy’. People like him, people who suffer from that type of affliction, their minds are open; they don’t see things for what they were supposed to be, they see things for what they are.”

  I’m confused now, and a little bemused. “So you’re saying that the demons my brother saw were real?”

  Even I can hear the humor and condescension in my voice, and I try to check it. At the very least, Sabine is my elder and I need to respect that. She shrugs.

  “Perhaps. Who are we to say?”

  “People like Finn are more inclined to trust their intuitions,” Sabine continues. “They’re very intuitive. You should take a page from that book.”

  My head snaps around and she chuckles. “No offense intended, of course.”

  “Of course,” I murmur.

  For some reason, as the breeze blows across the lawns, my attention turns to the horizon, where I know a lonely mausoleum sits by itself, forgotten by the people within Whitley.

  “How did my grandfather die?” I ask her bluntly, changing the subject as I think of the lonely crypt. Sabine doesn’t flinch.

  “He had a car accident in the rain.”

  “And my uncle?”

  She stares at me, her dark gaze unwavering. “He also had a car accident.”

  “In the rain?”

  “Isn’t it always raining here?” Sabine answers a question with a question. I sigh.

  “That’s quite a coincidence. Father and son both killed in car accidents.”

  Sabine shrugs again, unconcerned with it.

  “The universe has a funny way of working, Miss Price.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  The old lady stares into the horizon, seeing things that I can’t.

  “The universe takes care of iniquities, of people who have been wronged, of injustices that the world can’t right. That’s all I meant.”

  I exhale, my breath slightly shaky. “That’s all? That’s quite a belief. It seems like you’re saying that people can be cursed by the universe.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she acknowledges. “It’s true. I’m sorry if you’re scared by that.”

  “I’m not scared,” I admit. “I just don’t think I subscribe to that particular belief system.”

  Sabine smiles now, and the only thing that I’m scared of is her grotesque smile. It’s not pleasant.

  “Surely you’ve noticed unfair things,” she points out. “Growing up the way you did. I’m sure you’ve seen deaths that weren’t fair. Stillborns, children, young mothers, young fathers… didn’t you wonder what happened to make them occur?�
��

  I stare at her dumbfounded. “Life isn’t fair, Sabine,” I tell her firmly. “That’s all there is to it. People don’t always deserve what happens to them. Not by a long shot.”

  I think about my brother, and the demons that chase him. “Not by a long shot.”

  Sabine is unfazed. “There are times we pay for sins that are not our own,” she maintains. “It is the way the universe has always been.”

  I reflect on that for a minute, of my gentle father and my kind mother. There is no way either of them could’ve ever committed a sin bad enough for Finn to have paid for it. I shake my head finally, to signal my disbelief. Sabine smiles slightly.

  “Take Adair for example,” she instructs me. “That boy has never done anything wrong. Yet his parents were all killed. His father died from cancer, then his mother re-married Dickie Savage. Dickie wasn’t a good man, and Dare’s childhood wasn’t either. Dickie died, then Olivia, and Dare was left all alone. Do you think he deserved any of that?”

  I shake my head slowly. “I don’t know. I don’t know what he deserves.”

  “Use your intuition, Calla,” Sabine instructs, and I can’t help but remember the vulnerability on Dare’s face the night I found him playing the piano in the moonlight. I can’t help but picture the face that I love.

  “No,” I admit. “I don’t think he deserved those things.” How could anyone deserve those things?

  “Sometimes the son must pay for the father’s sins. Or the mother’s,” Sabine adds.

  That thought gives me pause, the injustice of it. “That hardly seems fair,” I tell her, picking a flower from the bed beside me.

  “Life isn’t fair,” Sabine answers. “That’s the first hard lesson.” She crushes the flower she’s holding in her gnarled hand, then drops the tangled petals on the ground at my feet. “Don’t forget it.”

  She walks away as Finn approaches me, interest in his imaginary eyes.

  “What was she saying to you?” he asks as he takes her vacated seat. I shake my head.

  “Nothing important,” I lie. “She’s a strange one, Finn. I don’t know what to think about her.”

  “Me either,” he answers. “She kind of scares me a little.”

  This, coming from the boy who sees demons.

  “Mom trusted her,” he offers. “Maybe you should, too.”

  I nod silently. Maybe.

  “She said you have good intuition,” I tell him. “So what does your gut say about her?”

  He grins at me. “Oh, so she sees the wisdom of my ways?” He closes his eyes and pretends to think, his brow wrinkled. “I think… she’s odd. And I withhold the right to reserve judgment until later.”

  “Cop out,” I accuse him.

  He grins wider. “It’s my right. I’m the wise one, apparently.”

  I roll my eyes. “Lord help us.”

  We make our way inside for a quiet lunch, for which neither Eleanor nor Dare join us. The dining room is utterly silent, but for my chewing sounds and china and silver scraping.

  “Do you think it’s weird that we never see Eleanor?” I ask Finn when we’re finished.

  He shrugs. “I don’t care one way or the other. To be honest, I’m sort of glad I’m not there with you. I don’t want to deal with Eleanor.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  But I get it.

  I don’t blame him.

  This time, I don’t even think it’s a twin thing. I’m sure everyone must feel the same way about Eleanor.

  Before bed, I try to call dad, and my call can’t be completed. I apparently have no signal.

  “Maybe I can go into town tomorrow and try,” I mention as I grab my pajamas to change in the bathroom.

  Finn stares at me drolly. “Or you could just call him on the house phone.”

  I scrunch up my face. “I don’t know why, but I feel weird about it. Like someone is listening. Always.”

  “Everyone is wrong,” he announces suddenly. “You’re the crazy one, Cal. Not me. Why would people be listening to your phone calls?”

  “I don’t know,” I have to admit. “I just feel like they are. I can’t help how I feel.”

  “No, you can’t. But you can help how you process those feelings,” he tells me helpfully. “Trust me, you don’t want to be crazy, Calla.”

  Without another word, I leave to put my pajamas on. When I come back out, he’s already curled up on one side of my large bed. It’s unspoken now that he’ll stay with me while I sleep. He knows I don’t like being here alone. This huge place makes me feel small.

  Even though my father hasn’t answered any of my letters yet, I write him again.

  I write until I can’t hold my eyes open anymore, but even though I’m exhausted, my sleep isn’t restful.

  Dreams about Finn consume me. His face, his skinny arms and legs as he runs from something. With horror, I realize that he’s running from me.

  “You don’t understand,” he shouts over his shoulder, running toward cliffs. Are those the cliffs back home?

  “What don’t I understand?” I yell back, the rain pelting my face, drenching my clothes.

  “What it’s like to be me!” his voice is hoarse, and it cracks under his shriek. He skids down the mountain, and suddenly Dare is with him, and they’re running together, a unified front, both teaming up against me.

  “Stay back!” Dare shouts to me. “You’re only making it worse.”

  “Making what worse?”

  “Everything,” he tells me, his handsome face earnest. “Just stay away. It’s the best thing you can do. You’ll be our downfall.”

  “The end is the beginning, Calla,” Finn adds. “Please. GO. Go back, go back.”

  “Go back where?” I scream. “Home? I want to, but I can’t. Not without you, Finn.”

  Is this a dream?

  The colors are real, Finn’s voice is loud, and Dare’s face is beautiful.

  “The beginning,” Finn yells. “The end is the beginning. Don’t you understand?”

  I sit straight up in bed, gasping, my hands clenched around the sheets.

  Finn is dead. He’s not on the cliffs and neither am I.

  We’re safe.

  Aren’t we?

  I’m not so sure anymore. An overwhelming feeling of unrest surrounds me, and sleep is impossible for the rest of the night.

  * * *

  When I go for my morning walk, I bump into Sabine yet again. It feels like she’s always near.

  “Have you found the secret garden yet?” she asks.

  This grabs my attention. “Secret garden?”

  She smiles. “It’s at the end of the path that leads by the stables, a few acres from the house. Grab a bicycle and find it. It’s enclosed by a stone fence, and you’ll feel alone there, I promise. It’s hidden from the house.”

  It sounds like something out of a storybook, and I do exactly what she says. I grab a bicycle from the stable and follow the trail.

  It ends exactly as she described, with a garden encircled by a stone fence, too tall to see over. It has a wooden gate and I open it without hesitation, the hinges squeaking.

  Once I’m inside, I’m awestruck, and I stand frozen, staring around.

  The garden is at once natural and cultured, landscaped and overgrown. Filled with vibrant colors and smells, it’s a jewel hidden behind walls, absolutely gorgeous.

  “What the…” I breathe. I can’t imagine who takes care of it. Who manages to make it seem so natural, yet still so perfect?

  There’s an enclosed gazebo with stone pillars, and several large stone angels. They seem to guard the perimeter, watching with sightless eyes. They put me a bit on edge, but that might be due to the fact that they’re over nine feet tall.

  Benches are strewn here and there, and tiny little ponds. Birds chirp, crickets cheep, and the sounds of water lull me into calm. It’s perfection.

  “I see you’ve found my sanctuary.”

  The voice is deep, and before I even turn a
round, I know who it is.

  Dare.

  “This is yours?” I ask, well aware that it existed long before he was born. It was probably created for my mother.

  “It is now,” he shrugs. “I’m the only one who comes here. Until today, that is.”

  “You don’t seem like a garden kind of guy,” I observe, staring at his tailored slacks and v-necked shirt. The corner of his mouth tilts up and the breeze ruffles his dark hair.

  “Maybe not. But I’m a private kind of guy. And this place is that. Plus, it’s the only place on this entire property that doesn’t feel creepy.”

  I can’t argue that. It feels like the only bit of sunlight in a perpetually cloudy day. And while I came here looking for solitude, I have to be honest and admit to myself that I don’t mind sharing it with Dare. Even though I’m supposed to be pushing him away.

  “Do you have a job?” I ask him suddenly, as the idea that he’s hanging out in a garden at ten in the morning occurs to me. He grins now, a full-on smile that spreads across his face. It’s as bright as the sun and I revel in it.

  “Depends on your definition. Don’t you know that working is beneath the Savages?”

  “But you’re not a Savage,” I point out hesitantly. Is he sensitive about that?

  He grins again, authentic and nonplussed. “No, I’m not. But you are. You’ll have to get used to simply having money, and pretending to do worthwhile things.”

  “I want to do worthwhile things, not just pretend,” I tell him stoutly.

  He looks down at me before sliding gracefully onto a bench.

  “I believe you,” he offers.

  I feel awkward as I stand, while he so casually sits. My presence must not affect him like his does me.

  “What do you do all day here?” I ask, fidgety in the silence. He glances up at me.

  “I fill my time with this or that. It’s been a long time since I was here without you. To tell you the truth, with my old ways behind me, I’m at a loss.”

  “Your old ways?”

  His mouth twitches. “In the old days, someone wouldn’t ask me what I do all day, they’d ask me who.”

  Lord have mercy.

  “I didn’t need to know that.” In fact, the knowledge makes me a bit queasy.