SWNOVELS Phantasma: Chapter 12
Ophelia looked at the stranger—Blackwell—as if he had just grown a second head. “What are you talking about?”
“I have a bargain for you,” he told her.
“Sorry, but my offer to help you has expired. I’m not giving you anything, and I certainly am not going to trust someone who chooses to work for a place like this.”
Ophelia made to step past him, but he shifted to block her path.
“Didn’t I tell you that I’m not part of Phantasma’s staff?”
“Not exactly,” she echoed his words from earlier.
Wicked delight lit up his eyes as if he were a cat who’d found a mouse that might learn to equally enjoy the game.
“I’m not working against you like the others,” he vowed. “In fact, I’ll do the exact opposite—I’ll help you win this competition.”
Ophelia dropped her arms in shock. “How?”
“You cannot leave this wing to look for your sister until you manage to survive the first seven levels. From experience, at least half the contestants in this competition will die, or forfeit, by level five,” he told her. “But I can make sure you survive long enough to reach the last two levels, and then you’ll be able to learn your sister’s fate. All I need from you is a blood bargain.”
“A blood bargain?” A wild giggle escaped her throat at the ludicrous idea. Any being that possessed magic could offer a blood bargain to someone, an oath that was unbreakable until every term was fulfilled exactly. And the consequences of such contracts with more powerful beings, like Devils, were unavoidable even in death. “I don’t make blood bargains with rogue Phantoms. Or anyone else, for that matter.”
Even as she spoke the words, however, she had to admit he had intrigued her greatly. If he really could help her survive this Hell house and make sure she didn’t have to deal with any more demonic surprises coming out of her bathtub, she could hardly put a price on the value of that. After all, her mother had always warned her not to make deals with Devils, but never told her anything about making them with Ghosts…
Blackwell leaned forward until their gazes were level with one another’s, the tips of their noses nearly touching. “No one has ever turned me down before.”
She felt her face twist into a mocking expression at his words, but her traitorous pulse was beating erratically at his further proximity. He smelled faintly of vanilla and tobacco, and it irked her greatly that she found it to be a delicious combination.
Clearing her throat, she retorted, “I’d say I find that fact surprising, except it is not the least bit shocking that any fool willing to enter this place would also be willing to enter such a foolish pact. Good day, Blackwell. And don’t you dare follow me.”
This time, she shouldered past him without hesitation and pushed her way out of the closet. As she strutted down the hall, something small blinked into view next to her, matching her pace.
“Hello, cat,” she grumbled. “Did you come to plead his case? Or do you just get a kick out of watching me stumble around this wretched place?”
“The latter, definitely,” Blackwell’s voice rang out behind her.
Ophelia didn’t bother looking back at the Phantom as she snapped, “I thought I told you not to follow me?”
“I apologize if I gave you the impression that I do what I’m told.” His tone was anything but apologetic.
Now she did look back. “Do you truly not have anything better to do around here than stalk me?”
He was strolling leisurely behind her, hands shoved in his pockets. It was odd to see a Ghost walk so casually—usually they hovered. She was again struck with the desire to know more about him. Phantoms were rare, and her knowledge of their abilities was much shallower than that of other Ghosts. It took everything in her to shove her curiosity out of reach.
“I was trying to be helpful,” he insisted.
“You were not,” she scoffed as she hooked a sharp right down another hall. “A blood bargain is almost never beneficial for anyone but the one offering it.”
Before she could take another step, he blinked directly into her pathway, causing her to pull up short before she smacked right into him.
“You’re going the wrong way,” he advised. “And you didn’t give me a chance to tell you what the price of the bargain was.”
Ophelia couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Fine. If it’s the only way to get you to go the Hell away, I’ll bite. What is it that you’re offering?”
“Don’t forget, you keep finding me.” He gave her a pointed look, and she was already regretting giving in to his antics.
“Yes, and I’m starting to wonder if it would have been less hassle to just get murdered by the Ghoul in my bathroom.”
“They wouldn’t have fatally harmed you on the very first day,” he offered. “They like to play with their victims for a little while first.”
“You have a response for everything, don’t you?”
“Yes.” He winked, and she hated herself for thinking that the gesture was attractive. She couldn’t help it, though. Everything about him was frustratingly attractive. It was hard not to be keenly aware of that fact when he kept taking up all her space. Annoyingly, he seemed to be just as aware of his attractiveness, which was really starting to grate on her nerves. He was the sort of man that thought his face could get him anything he wanted, and she was determined not to prove him correct.
“Are you at least going to help me get back to my room first?” she quipped. “The cat was being more helpful, honestly.”
“This way.” He blinked out of sight and reappeared down the hall behind her, unperturbed by her obvious annoyance.
She sighed and pivoted, her gown swishing with the movement. Poe mewled as he winked out to reappear beside Blackwell, who scooped the creature up in stride. Ophelia tried to memorize the way back to her room as she followed, not wanting to have to rely on him again.
When they finally stopped in front of her door, she hesitated, worried about what she might find inside.
“Here’s the first term of my offer,” Blackwell said as he let Poe drop to the ground. “I will clean up any haunts that you may accidentally stumble upon outside of the nine levels. Within the levels, however, you will have to do the work yourself—but I can assist.”
He opened her bedroom door and waved for her to step over the threshold before him. She hesitated, but he gave her an encouraging nod, and she lifted her chin and poked her head inside. There were bloody footprints all over the room. Long, jagged gouges ripped through the wallpaper as well as the doorframe. She shuffled forward and Blackwell began to close the door behind them, letting Poe slip through at the last second before pushing it all the way shut. The cat went straight for her bed, padding his white paws into the comforter before curling up on the corner.
Ophelia opened her mouth to comment on the state of the room, but shrieked instead. The bloody Ghoul was dragging itself into the bathroom. She stumbled back a step—right into Blackwell’s surprisingly hard body. His muscles were even more toned than she had imagined they’d be.
She felt his chest vibrate with quiet laughter against her back as he leaned his mouth down to her ear and drawled, “Watch this.”
Lifting a hand, he gave a sharp snap of his fingers and it all disappeared. The Ghoul, the blood, the scratches. Everything cleared in less than a second.
She swallowed. “Where did it go?”
“Somewhere on the Other Side. I can move things in and out of this corporeal plane.”
She tilted her head. “Is that something all Phantoms can do? And if you intercept all of the haunts around me is that considered cheating?”
“I don’t know any other Phantoms,” he admitted. “And if it’s not against the rules you were given before you entered, it’s fair game.”
“Alright then, enough beating around the bush.” She spun toward him. “You showed me what you’re capable of, so what exactly do you want in return? That key I assume?”
“Angel, you have not seen even a modicum of what I am capable of,” he told her, his green eyes flickering down her figure with an emotion she couldn’t quite catch before turning more serious. “And what key?”
“You know—the heart and the key thing.” She waved an impatient hand in the air between them. “Before I left last night, you told me that’s what would set you free—I’m assuming it’s some sort of riddle, right?”
He froze.
She frowned. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Tell me what I said exactly,” he urged.
“Hell, you really do just walk around with holes in your memory, don’t you?” she said, and she could have sworn her words made him flinch, but his ability to recover was impeccable.
“Something like that,” was all he commented.
If she were a different kind of person, she might have pitied him. Instead, she simply explained, “I asked if you were stuck here and if there was a way I could help you, and you said…” She racked her brain for his precise words. “… a heart and a key would set me free. But you should hope we do not meet again…”
Angel.
She decided to take creative liberty and omit that last bit.
“Why didn’t you mention that detail earlier?” he demanded, tone rather intense.
“How would I have known that I needed to?” she shot back. “What’s the big deal?”
The glint in his eyes became slightly wild. “The big deal is that I have been trapped here for an amount of time I cannot even remember, because of the aforementioned holes in my memory. And I will continue to be stuck, eternally, unless I find whatever tether or anchor is keeping me bound to this place, and figure out how to free myself. And somehow you managed to catch me in a moment of clarity—a moment already erased from my mind—where I supposedly told you exactly what I needed to find in order to untether me. You have no idea how extraordinarily bizarre this is.”
Her head was spinning as she tried to keep up with his words. “You’re trapped here eternally? You mean, you cannot choose to pass over like other Ghosts?”
“Correct.” He shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. “Every time I get close to finding what is keeping me in this place—I lose it again. This is—you are—the first concrete confirmation I’ve had that there is something to find. That it is possible.”
She propped a hand on her hip. “So, you were going to ask me to find something that you didn’t even have any concept of?”
“Given your abilities to summon mysterious doors and magic parlors, I figured you’d still be the best hope I’ve had yet. And my gut was correct.”
“But I haven’t meant to do any of those things. It was purely coincidence that we met that first time. I wasn’t even supposed to be out that night.”
“Whether you meant to or not, you did them,” he implored. “I don’t believe in coincidences. You claim you weren’t supposed to be out that night. But you were. And you found me. If you’re truly a Necromancer, you will be able to see things others can’t. Which means you can search this place like no one has been able to for me before.”
“And if I don’t find this key?” she asked. “What’s the price of failing?”
“The blood bargain ensures I’ll get payment if you fail your task,” he told her. “If you succeed, you’ll have nothing to worry about.”
“That didn’t answer my question,” she pressed.
“If you fail”—one corner of his mouth lifted in a grim smile as he spoke—“one decade of your life span will be transferred to me.”