I can hear his thoughts in the silent car.
If I hold her down, she can’t fly away.
I want to laugh at that.
But I don’t. It makes them nervous when I laugh at unspoken things.
Sabine waits for us as we climb from the car, and she doesn’t look a bit different from last year. She’s still small, still wiry, still has her hair twisted into a scarf. And she still has a thousand lifetimes in her old eyes.
She wraps me into a hug and I inhale her, the smell of cinnamon and sage and unidentifiable herbs from her garden.
“You’ve grown, girl,” her dark eyes appraise me. I have. Several inches.
“You haven’t,” I answer seriously, and she laughs.
“Come. We’ll get you some tea.”
I don’t want her ‘tea’. It’s infused with herbs, and she ships it to my mother for me to drink throughout the year. It’s gypsy treatment, and it makes me sleepy.
“I don’t need it yet,” I protest as she pulls me to the big kitchen.
She doesn’t bother to answer. She simply pushes me into a chair at the kitchen table and she sets about boiling a kettle.
She sits across from me while we wait.
Her fingers drum on the table, twisted and old.
I don’t want to be here.
I want to find Dare.
He’s sixteen now and I bet he’s grown this year. I can’t wait to see how he’s changed. He’s only written me a couple of letters, and he never included any pictures. But then again, he never does.
“Tell me about the demons,” Sabine murmurs. Her fingers stop moving and the only sound is the steam escaping the kettle as it heats. It screams a bit, an eerie sound that hangs in ears.
I imagine that I’m the steam. I’m screaming and I’m twirling up and around, dancing on the ceiling upside down. My long red hair dangles against the marble countertops.
“They’re gone,” I lie.
“They’re not,” Sabine shakes her head. Because she can see into my head with her old eyes. She can see into my soul, and she can reach amid the lies and pull out the tiny kernels of truth. She knows what is true even when I don’t.
“I want them gone,” I amend. She shakes her head now.
“I know you do, child,” she says sympathetically. “Tell me about them.”
She prepares the cups and I tell her about my monsters. Because she’s right. They’re with me always.
“They have black eyes,” I tell her. “They follow me. At school, at home, when I’m walking, when I’m sleeping. Sometimes, they chase me. There’s one boy in particular. He follows me, he wears a hood.”
“This happens even with your medication?” Sabine asks, her voice very level. “Even with the tea?”
I hesitate to answer. But she’ll know if I lie.
I nod.
She nods too, and she stirs her tea and looks out the window.
“Can you tell them apart?” she asks. “From real people?”
I nod again. “Yes.” Because their eyes are black.
“It’ll be ok, Calla,” she finally says.
Will it?
“Are you sleeping?” she asks, her wrinkled hands twisted into her small lap.
I shrug. “Sometimes.” Sometimes there are too many nightmares.
She stares at me. “You know you’re worse when you don’t get enough rest.”
I know.
I push away from the table after only taking two sips of tea. “I’m gonna go find Dare,” I announce.
Sabine startles.
“No one told you?” she asks in surprise, her tiny body stiff.
I freeze.
“Told me what?”
Her dark eyes hold mine. “There was an incident. Dare is in the hospital.”
I suck in my breath, but she’s quick to reassure me. “He’s fine, child. He’ll be home in a few days.”
“An incident?” my voice is shaky. “Was the ‘incident’ named Richard?”
Sabine shakes her head. “Calla, calm yourself. You don’t know what happened. You need to…”
But I’m already running out the door and her voice fades to nothing as I sprint through the halls toward the front door. My weariness from travel has been forgotten.
“Jones!” I call as I near the foyer. “I need a ride.”
He appears from nowhere, as he always does. “Miss?”
“I need a ride to the hospital.”
He stares at me. “Does your mother know?”
I nod, a lie.
“Yes.”
He can’t check with her, because he knows full well she’s taking a nap to rest up from the trip. He’s apprehensive, but he can’t say no because I might be a child, but I’m a Savage child.
“Very well. I’ll pull the car around.”
We’re heading toward town within a minute.
The country turns into the city and the streets all lead to one place.
To Dare.
I’m out of the car before the wheels have even stopped turning, racing into the hospital, through the people, only stopping to ask directions to Dare’s room.
Then I’m off again, running through white halls and sterility, and I don’t stop until I burst through the door of a room on the fifth floor, until I see Dare resting in a bed.
He’s alone, and the room is quiet.
I pause, hesitating now.
He’s asleep, his dark lashes inky against his cheek.
I marvel at how big he is, how much he’s grown over the last nine months, at how beautiful he is even in slumber. He’s long, he’s slender, he’s strong. He’s a man. I gulp and the wave of warmth that gushes through me is confusing at the same time that it’s familiar. I’ve always felt it when I looked at him, but it’s more pronounced now.
It’s unarguable.
Dare opens his eyes.
“Cal?” he asks in confusion, groggily, and he searches the doorway behind me.
“I’m alone,” I tell him quickly, striding into the room and sinking into the chair next to him. “What happened? Why are you here?”
I itch to reach over and grab his hand, to offer him comfort, to touch him.
But I can’t. Because he probably wouldn’t want that. He’d reject me and that would be devastating. I’d never recover.
“I’m fine,” he assures me. “It’s no big deal. Just a minor hiccup.”
“Did my uncle do this?” I ask, the words cold on my lips, the thought even colder in my head.
Dare shakes his head. “No.”
“Where is he?”
“Not here,” his answer is blatantly obvious. “I’m alone.”
“Not anymore,” I tell him stoutly.
You’ll never be alone again. I swear it.
“Why are you here?”
I meet his gaze and in his, I find the thread of rebelliousness that I was so afraid had been smashed by the Savages. He grins.
Dare me.
“I got myself a tattoo for my sixteenth birthday. And I had a reaction to the ink, apparently.”
“A tattoo?” I can’t even keep the joy out of my voice. Because this is so Dare. And this is something Richard and Eleanor will hate. That, in itself, gives me joy. “Is it something cute?”
He stares down his nose at me. “Cute? Like a puppy?”
“Maybe. Or a kitten.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t do cute.”
I snicker. “Well, what is it?”
“Writing. On my back.”
I wait. He sighs.
“It says Live Free.”
My heart picks up because that’s so utterly perfect. I tell him that, and he grins again. “I know. But who knew I’d have a fracking reaction?”
“Can I see it?”
He shakes his head. “Nah. Not right now. It’s covered up with bandages and it doesn’t look good. But you can see it after the swelling goes away.”
He’s casual and friendly, but the notion, the mere thought, of looking at Dare’s bare back gives me a thrill. I’ve changed a lot since last summer. He just doesn’t know it yet. I started my period, I have to wear a bra… I’m completely different. On the outside, and on the inside. Unfortunately, they tell me that the monthly spike in hormones will contribute to my craziness, but I’m not going to dwell on that. I’ll just take what they tell me to take, and everything will be fine. It has to be.