Verum (The Nocte Trilogy 2)

And somehow, I believe it. Regardless of who he surrounds himself with, he’s alone because he hasn’t let anyone in.

“You don’t have to be,” I offer. “I can help.”

Save me, and I’ll save you.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes and he bends, his lips touching my neck as he murmurs into my ear.

“Run, little mouse. The hawk is coming, and you’re going to get eaten.”

My breath comes in spurts as he leaves me amid the chaos of the attic. I listen for his steps on the stairs, and only when I can’t hear him anymore do I feel comfortable leaving myself. I tuck my father’s letters into my pocket and creep down the stairs, hiding them in my room before dinner.

Chapter 21

I have Jones drive me back to the church before dinner, and to my relief, Father Thomas is there, kneeling at the feet of Jesus.

When I come in, he gets to his feet, his robes heavy around his ankles.

“Calla,” he greets me warmly, and he is sincerely happy to see me.

“Do you know what happened at Whitley?” I ask him without preamble.

He hesitates and looks away, but finally he answers.

“Yes,” he acknowledges. “It was terrible.”

We walk together, he and I, toward the front where we sit on a pew. My back is as stiff as Eleanor’s, my

breath hesitant as I wait.

“Can you tell me?” I ask and he looks up at God.

“I think,” he replies slowly. “That some things are left unsaid, and perhaps actions are your true answers.”

I’m confused and I tell him that and he nods.

“You wonder what happened to Adair. But to be honest, the only thing that matters is who Adair is today. You know who he is, and that’s what’s important.”

But I know what I know.

I want to know what I don’t.

“Eleanor Savage hid it,” he nods. “She doesn’t wish for it to be known or talked about. Perhaps that’s why you encounter so many walls at Whitley.”

“Father,” I say slowly, watching his face as I speak. “Would you believe me if I said I have dreams… dreams about things that have happened?”

“What do you mean, my child?”

So then, because he’s a priest and he has vowed to hold things confidential, to his parish and to God, I tell him.

I tell him all of it, as though I’m confessing to some great sin.

“I don’t ask for the dreams,” I tell him desperately. “And sometimes, I’m not sure if I’m crazy. Maybe I’m imagining what I see.”

Just like I imagine my dead brother.

The priest sighs and he holds my hand, his grip so warm and sincere.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” he says finally. “But your dream, in this case, is true. There was a terrible thing that happened… with Dare and Richard and Olivia. Richard was cruel and he damaged Adair in a thousand different ways. And one day, Dare couldn’t take it anymore. But he paid for that, my dear. A thousand times over.”