In front of Christ on the Crucifix,

and the two Marys.

St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our defense against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly hosts, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits, who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.

“Do you believe in evil?” I whisper when we’re finished, and for some reason, my goose-bumps are back. I feel someone watching me, but when I open my eyes, Christ Himself stares at me. From his perch on the wall, his eyes are soft and forgiving while the blood drips from his feet.

“Of course,” the priest nods. “There is good in the world, and there is evil. They balance each other out, Calla.”

Do they?

“Because energy can’t be destroyed?” I whisper. Because it goes from thing to thing to thing?’

The priest shakes his head. “I don’t know about energy. I only know that there is good and evil. And we must find our own balance in it. You will find yours.”

Will I?

The priest examines me for a moment. “Twins are such an interesting thing,” he tells me. “Did you know that some believe that Cain and Abel were twins?”

I shake my head.

“There are scholars who believe that,” the priest nods. “They feel like they were the first example of the darkness and light capable in people.”

“Cain killed his own brother,” I manage to say. “That’s pretty dark.”

“And Finn died thinking he was saving you,” Father Thomas says. “That is light.”

I don’t ask him how he knows that. I just thank him and stand up and he blesses me.

“Come back to see me,” he instructs. “I’ve enjoyed our chat. If you’re not Catholic, I can’t hear your confession, but I am a good listener.”

He is. I have to agree.

I make my way out of the church, out of the pristine glistening silence, and when I step into the sun, I know I’m being watched.

Every hair on my head feels it, and prickles.

I turn, and a boy is standing on the edge of the yard, just outside of the fence. He’s watching me, his hands in his pockets, but I can’t see his face. His hood is pulled up yet again.

With my breath in my throat, I hurry down the sidewalk to the car, practically diving inside and slamming the door behind me.

“Has that guy been standing there long?” I ask Jones breathlessly.

“What guy, miss?” he asks in confusion, hurrying to look out the window.

I look too, only to find that he’s gone.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Finn’s bedroom is still and quiet. Since Castor and Pollux are dead, not even the dogs keep me company. Yet somehow, I still feel Finn in here, as though if I spoke to him, he’d answer.

“Finn?”

I feel ridiculous, but God, I miss my brother. It’s only been a few days without him, but it feels like eternity.

There’s no answer, of course, and I press my forehead to the glass, watching the cars come and go. Finn is laid out in a room downstairs, for visitation. His funeral will be tomorrow and I can’t bear it.

I lay with my face on his pillow and I close my eyes and I rest.

“You don’t belong here, do you?”

The voice is quiet, yet cool.

Startled, I open my eyes and stare up at the boy in the hoodie. With a gasp, I sit straight up in bed, because the voice was feminine.

His head is tilted just enough that I can’t see his face.

I peer toward him and his face is dark.

“Who are you?” I ask, and my words sound hollow. He cocks his head but doesn’t answer, although there’s a low growl in his throat.

“What do you want?”

He’s calm, his head is down. But his arm comes up,

And he points at me.

He wants me.

“Me?”

“Of course.” I know him I know him I know him.

But I can’t place from where.

“I can help you, you know.”

“You can?”

He nods.

“Let’s get out of here. I’ll show you where horrid things hide.”

His smile is one of camaraderie, and any port in a storm.

When we’re in the driveway, he turns to me.

“Maybe you should’ve brought a wrap. You might get cold.”

But he puts the top down on his car anyway, and we speed through the night, away from Whitley.

“Where are we going?” I finally ask, relieved to be so far away.

He glances at me.

“Someplace you should see. If you think you want to be with Dare, you should know all about him.”

“Do you know Dare?”

“Of course,” he says. “He’s my brother.”

I’m surprised, but not, because I knew that I knew that I knew that. I just don’t remember how. There’s something in his voice now, something rigid, and I startle, because maybe I shouldn’t have chosen this port.

He turns down a dark road, a quiet lane, and then we pull to a stop in front of an old, crumbling building.

“Come on,” he calls over his shoulder, traipsing up the steps. The sign by the door says Oakdale Sanitarium and I freeze.

“What is this place?” I whisper as he opens the door.

“You’ll have to see it to believe it,” he murmurs.

In front of us, a long hallway yawns farther than I can see, the walls crumbling with age, the lights dim when he flips a switch.

There’s no one here, but I can hear moans, screams, whimpers.

“I don’t understand,” I feel like whimpering myself. He rolls his eyes.

“Do you really think someone like Dare is without baggage? Grow up, little girl.”

He pushes open the doors as we pass, and they’re all empty, every single one.

But I feel presences here,

Ugliness.

When we’re almost at the end of the hall, he turns to me, his gaze ugly now and I should’ve known.

In my head, I see Dare and he’s so small.

He sits on a bed in this place, and his arms and his legs are bound.

The screams around us are deafening.

Dare’s eyes are wide and dark,

Haunted,

Haunted,

Haunted.

“Mum?” he asks, his eyes searching the wall behind us, and his tiny voice is hopeful.

A nurse hustles past us, and gives him a shot in the arm. “Hush, boy,” she tells him. “You know your mum is dead. She chose you instead of your brother, and then she went crazy. It’s your fault.”

Dare’s eyes cloud over before he closes them. “I know she’s dead because of me.”

“And you’re here because of that,” the nurse agrees. “You’re a little monster. If it weren’t for you, your mum would be alive.”

The hooded boy turns to me and his eyes are pained and he has Dare’s eyes.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

“The nurse is wrong,” he tells me in a strange tone. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be alive and Dare would never have been here. You can change it, Calla. You can change it. Do it. Do it.”

He reaches out his hand to me,

And I reach to take it,

Then I open my eyes.

And we never left Finn’s bedroom.

We. Never. Left.

And I’m alone.

What is happening to me?

I do need help.

I need Dare.

Because he was so hurt, and I don’t know why, but I know I’m hurting him now, more and more each day as I keep pushing him away.

He didn’t deserve that.

He doesn’t deserve this.

I’m reeling,

I’m reeling.

The room presses down on me, swirling and bending and stifling. I lunge for the door, and find Dare on the veranda, a drink in his hand as he stares absently into the night.

“Dare… I…”

Tears streak my cheeks and he grabs me.

“You’re not a monster,” I whisper. “You’re not. It’s not your fault your mother chose you.”