Chapter 24 The Phantom
The Phantom
Raoul has been shouting at me for nearly an hour.
I have barely responded. This night was supposed to be triumphant. I was supposed to prove to myself, to all of them, that I am in control. That I have power. That I can shape this new life to suit my goals.
I succeeded, in a sense. Carlotta won’t be performing for a long time, and thanks to the secrets I hold over them, Gil Leveque and the conductor are moving forward with the new score I composed.
But the only two people who matter to me are furious.
Raoul is walking back and forth along the edge of the canal, ranting about intellectual property and common decency and such things, while I sit disconsolate, staring at my hands. I’ve taken the gloves off, and I’m examining my own pale skin, the knuckles and flesh and fingernails of this body.
Despite my faulty memory, Christine’s words are permanently etched in my brain.
You complete narcissist. You self-absorbed piece of shit.
You honestly believe you have the right to mess with people’s lives like this?
You think you’re still a god? You’re not.
At best, you’re a deeply disturbed man with a few supernatural powers.
I am death. I am ruin.
I ruin everything. For myself and for them.
Raoul has been berating me for so long that his voice has grown thin and strained. He stops in front of me, touching the bridge of his nose where his glasses usually rest. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
I was wrong. Forgive me. Simple words, and yet I cannot bring myself to say them. Pride will not allow it.
“What does Christine think about all this?” he asks. “You said you saw her and that she was angry. What else did she say?”
“Does it matter? She hates me, like you do.”
“Stop.” He sighs, exasperated. “I don’t hate you. When you love someone and they do something wrong, you call them out on it. That’s what I’m doing.”
I look up, a vivid pulse of hope flaring through my chest. “You still love me?”
He kicks my foot lightly with his. “Yes, motherfucker.”
“And what about Christine?”
“Well…” He runs a hand through his hair.
“Might be a little more complicated with her. When I spoke to her at the party, she seemed pretty set against the idea of the three of us. I tried not to let it get to me. I figured she might just need some time to adjust. It’s a lot to deal with.
But then the thing with Carlotta happened, and I’m not gonna lie—that doesn’t really help our cause.
In fact, it probably just confirmed to her that a relationship with us would be toxic.
” He releases a long sigh. “Tell me everything she said to you, and tell me everything you’ve done. ”
We talk for another hour. Raoul tries not to yell again, but I see the judgment in his eyes, the unmistakable truth that I have broken humanity’s moral code. I tell him about the blackmail, the secrets, my plans and goals.
His gaze softens by the end, and at last he says, “Yeah, it might take a while for Christine to forgive you. Instead of trusting her talent to take her where she needs to go, you tried to force people to give her the role. She’s hurt.
Your first step needs to be an apology. And I’m talking an apology with groveling. ”
“Gods do not grovel.”
“You want her back? Because I sure as hell do.”
I sigh. “Yes.”
“Then, groveling.”
“Fine.” I rise, straightening my vest. “I suppose I should begin now. I can slip into her room through the mirror and—”
“No, don’t do that. Go knock on her door like a normal person.”
“Very well.” I hesitate. “Will you come with me?”
He smiles, warm green eyes meeting mine. “Sure.”
Carlotta’s party is long over by now, ended in chaos and tears. I have ruined a woman’s life, at least temporarily, and apparently I should feel remorseful about it. But though I try to summon regret, I cannot.
Raoul and I approach Christine’s door together. It appears shut, but when I knock, it swings open, as if it was hastily closed and the latch did not click properly.
“Christine?” Raoul calls.
When she doesn’t answer, Raoul pushes the door wider and steps inside.
Intimately acquainted with her room as I am, it takes me only a second to realize what has happened. Christine has packed up nearly all her possessions.
I thought this night could not get any worse. Obviously, I was wrong.
“She left,” Raoul says blankly.
My limbs feel strangely hollow, as does my heart. I walk into the room and sit weakly on the bed. “Of course she did. She does not wish to be with us.”
“Yeah, but I thought she’d come around to it. I didn’t think she’d go this far.” He plops down beside me, inhaling. “Goddamn it,” he whispers brokenly. “I can smell her everywhere.”
I place my bare hand on her pillow, my palm covering the indentation where her head usually rests. There’s a long, dark hair curled on the pale pillowcase.
Raoul bends over, elbows propped on his knees, head sunk in his hands. His coppery hair falls over his forehead and temples in bright waves. “I love her,” he whispers. “I can’t stand losing her again.”
Seeing him in pain hurts worse than the ache in my own heart. With a moment of lightning-sharp clarity, I realize that no goal of mine, no power I could ever achieve, no security or joy I could ever attain will mean anything if Raoul and Christine aren’t happy.
I’ve caused them so much harm already that I’m not sure I can repair it.
But there’s one thing I never do, and that’s yield to my fate.
Even when I was trapped for centuries, cursed and bound, I did not fade into oblivion like some of the other gods.
I held on. I struggled. I fought to rise, and I came back.
“Perhaps I have done everything wrong since my resurrection,” I say.
“Perhaps I’ve ruined any chance of Christine truly loving me.
But I refuse to give up. I refuse to avoid the pain of trying to do better.
If I have to sacrifice every shred of my remaining power, lie down at her feet, and yield my body to death, I will do it if the last sounds I hear on this earth are her words of forgiveness. ”
Raoul glances over at me. “Now that was some beautiful poetry. Dark, yes…but beautiful.”
“We are going to follow her,” I tell him.
“How?” He shakes his head, despondent. “We have no idea where she’ll go.”
“Your wolf’s nose is sensitive, and the driver’s side window of Christine’s car does not close all the way,” I tell him.
His eyes fill with a hopeful light. “I can track her by scent.”
I nod, a smile tugging the corner of my mouth beneath my mask. “We can track her.”
“Is it right to do that, though, if she wants to get away from us?” he asks doubtfully.
“Perhaps not. But both of us want the chance to speak to her again—me to apologize, you to persuade her. After that, if she wants to go her own way, we will not disturb her again.”
“Stalking her for the right reasons,” Raoul says with a smile of his own. “Okay then. Let’s go after our girl.”