It was a dream.

It was a dream.

My thoughts are muddled though. It’s hard to focus and something moves in the corner. Something with dark eyes. It stares at me for a moment, then it’s gone, and I remember Finn’s scream.

“The demon is here, Calla!”

My heart is frozen as I sit straight up in bed and stare at the empty corner, where I could swear a black-eyed being was standing just a scant moment ago.

That’s impossible.

Impossible.

I feel so tired, so weak, so confused.

I shake my head, trying to clear it, but it refuses. The fog remains, mucking up my thought processes, interrupting everything.

From outside the door, I hear voices.

“Will she be ok?” my mother’s voice is anxious.

“Her hold on reality is tenuous.”

It’s a murmur that cuts through my panic.

I pause, halting all movement, not even breathing. The whisper comes from the other side of the door.

“No, I don’t want to do that. Not yet.” The voice is hissing and firm, and it can’t be real. There’s no way. I’m frozen as it envelopes me, as reality slithers further away.

“We have to. She wouldn’t want this.”

Confused, I stare at the wooden planes of the door, at the grain.

Is this really happening?

Or is my mind playing tricks on me?

I gulp and draw in a shaky breath.

“Anything could send her back over the edge,” the familiar voice cautions.

“That’s why we have to handle her carefully.”

Handle me?

The door opens and I look up to find three shadows looming over me.

My father.

My mother.

And someone I can’t see, a faceless, nameless figure lurking in the shadows. I peer closely, trying to see if it’s him, even while knowing in my heart that it can’t be Finn.

It’s impossible.

I scoot backward until my spine is against my brother’s bed. I’m a skittish fawn, and they’re my hunters. I’m prey because I’m in danger, and I don’t know why.

But they do.

“Calla,” my dad says, kindly and soothingly. “You’re ok. You’re ok. But I need you to trust me right now.”

His face is grave and pale. The air in this room is charged now, dangerous, and I find that I can scarcely breathe.

I brace myself.

Because deep in the pit of my stomach I feel like I can’t trust anyone.

When I open my eyes, the room is empty.

They’d given up.

Whatever they wanted to tell me, I’m safe from it now.

Because I’m alone.

With shaky steps, I climb to my feet and walk to Finn’s nightstand. I pick up his St. Michael’s medallion and fasten it around my neck. If he’d been wearing it at school, he’d be here right now. He’d be fine, he’d be safe.

Holding it in my fingers, I whisper the prayer, each word quick and stiff on my lips.

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.

I say the prayer three times in a row, just to make sure.

I’m protected.

I’m protected.

I’m protected.

I’m safe now. I’m wearing Finn’s medallion. I’m safe.

I’m just drawing a shaky breath of relief when the door creaks open again and I’m faced once again with my insanity.

My startled eyes flash upward, finding the impossible.

Finn.

My dead brother.

Standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

He walks in just like normal, and there is no blood, no fear, no crazy look in his eye. His hair is brown, his eyes are blue, like always.

He sits next to my bed, his face pale as he takes my hand and his hand is real, and he’s alive, and he’s here. He’s breathing and he’s warm and he’s here.

I exhale.

“The doctor says you’re crazy, Cal,” he tells me seriously. “You have to take your medicine, and everything will be ok.”

I’m crazy, and everything will be ok.

Will it?

But I nod because Finn is here, and I’ll agree to anything because he’s not dead.

He’s here.

And I’m here.

And I don’t care if I’m crazy.

Finn squeezes my hand, and I breathe and breathe and breathe.

“Our cousin is here,” he tells me finally. “He’s going to stay for a while. He’s nice and you’ll like him.”

I nod but I don’t really care. All I care about is that Finn is here and I had a nightmare and it wasn’t real.

My mom comes in and flutters about, and my dad speaks in a quiet voice, and they make me stay in bed. Later, my step-cousin comes in.

His voice is low as he introduces himself. He’s three years older and his name is Dare.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I say politely, and I’m still tired. I look up at his face and I suck in my breath.

His eyes are black.

Chapter Three

Black like the night, like the dark, like onyx. Black like obsidian, like ink. I can’t help but stare at Dare’s eyes as Finn and I walk with him along the trails a few days later.

“Why do you keep looking at me?” he asks with impatience. His hands are grubby because we’ve been outside, on the beach and on the trails.

“Because your eyes are black,” I tell him stoutly. Because honesty is the best policy.

He snorts. “They are not. They’re brown.”

With a flicker of hope, I study him again, watching the way the sunlight hits his eyes. He might be right. His eyes are very, very dark brown, like dark chocolate or the darkest of tree bark. Almost black.

But not quite.

I exhale in relief.

Finn watches me. He watches my relief, the way I can breathe now, and he sighs.

“Cal, it wasn’t real. You know it wasn’t.”

His voice is soft because I’d told him everything. They way he captured the flag, the way he’d seen demons, the way he’d died.

He’d laughed at first, until he realized I was serious. And then he made me promise not to tell the doctor, because the doctor and my parents already think I’m crazy and everyone is watching my every move. I have to rest, I have to stay in bed, I have to take my medicine. It’s been exhausting.

“There is no black-eyed demon,” Finn assures me quietly, so quiet. I stare at Dare’s eyes from across the trail as he searches for pebbles to skip on the water. I’m not sure though, and Finn knows it.

“Trust me,” he instructs firmly. “You have to.”

“It felt so real,” I tell him finally, limply. “At first it was you. You were crazy, and then you died. You died, Finn. But when I woke up, you were alive and I was crazy. I am crazy. I’m so confused, Finn. What is happening to me?”

My brother looks at me, then away, and he grabs my hand.

“I don’t know. But I’m not dead and I won’t let you be crazy, Calla. Never tell mom and dad the things you see. Only tell me, ok?”

I nod, because I can see the wisdom in that. They can never, never know.

“It’s you and me, Cal,” he says solemnly. And he’s my brother, and I know he’s right.

“You and me,” I whisper.

He smiles.

“Let’s take Dare to the beach before mom figures out that you’re gone.”

“Why do I have to stay in bed so much?” I grumble as we wind our way down the rocky trail to the sand that lies below. Finn shrugs.

“I don’t know. They want you to rest. It’ll help you get better.”

I want to get better. That is something I know for a fact.

So when my mom finds us a little while later, agitated that I’m not in my bedroom, I go with her meekly back to the house. I climb the stairs to my room, and I watch Dare and Finn from my window.