Phantom (Tattered Curtain Series)

Sol

My triceps, shoulders, and chest strain against my long-sleeved black shirt as I lift the weight in my chest press. It’s been days since I’ve been able to be maskless and go without wearing my eye prosthetic, so it’s been just as long since I’ve worked out properly. With Scarlett hopefully coming to see me again soon, I want to go ahead and get a good one in. It feels good to get some frustration out. Other than Scarlett’s audition, it’s been a shitty day.

The shadow who drove my Aston Martin while I was in the cemetery with my family has gone missing. He’s one of my best, so not being able to get in touch with him is out of the ordinary. I’ve reached out to my contacts and while some of them don’t know, others sounded… cagey.

My shadows have never had a reason to distrust me. I have to figure out where their wariness is stemming from before Scarlett comes by so I can give everyone my full attention.

That’s why I watched Scarlett’s audition, not that I could’ve resisted going in the first place. I had to see her one more time to get it out of my system before I went about my day. She did so well, but for the first time, I was able to see how much she holds back when her heart’s not in the song.

I can’t wait for her to perform again on Friday at the Red, White, and Black Party. Ziggy Miles, the lead singer of the jazz and blues band, was more than excited to have her perform with them again, and all those details between the band and Madam G have been worked out, too. All Scarlett has to do is show up and bring the house down with her gorgeous voice. I’ve even already arranged an outfit to be delivered to her dorm. Until now, I’ve never looked forward to going to Masque, but seeing Scarlett in the dress I picked out for her will be divine—

An alarm chimes on my phone and I rack the bar before sitting up. The cool air in the room nearly makes me shiver as it kisses my damp skin through my long sleeves. My home is exactly the way I want it, but some of my scars are sensitive to the chill that’s everywhere but my den and bedroom.

As I pat some of the cool sweat off my forehead, I check the security app I installed on my phone. It’s a close proximity alert. Something’s tripped a scanner in the tunnels. When I thumb through the security feeds, I narrow my eye to make out who it is.

“What the—”

Scarlett is navigating the tunnels with her cell phone flashlight. If she’d just called me, I would’ve turned on the lights for her.

“What the hell are you up to, little muse?”

It’s not a problem that she’s in the tunnels. It’s that I’ve only shown her the path once, and if she deviates from it in the dark, there’s no telling which of my traps she might accidentally trip.

The feed cuts off as a phone call comes in. My finger flicks it to answer and I bark into the mouthpiece. “Sabine, what the fuck is she doing down here? She was supposed to call me.”

“I don’t know, sir,” Sabine answers in her alto. “Do you want me to get her?”

“No. No. I’ll get her. Watch all the other entrances, I won’t have her in danger down here.”

“Will do.”

We hang up simultaneously and I jump off the bench press, not wasting time to retrieve a jacket over my long sleeves to combat the cold, damp tunnels. I turn on the screen again, just in time to watch her almost land face-first in the channel. My heart thuds as she catches herself, but I quickly activate the tunnel lights so she can see where she’s going.

I race through my apartment, locking the door behind me before I navigate the still dim, but much brighter, tunnels to get to her. I hear her cursing before I see her and when I round the corner, I wrap her in an immobilizing embrace to prevent her from doing anything else so reckless.

“What’re you doing, Scarlett? You could’ve gotten hurt,” I hiss, my heart pounding as I take deep steadying breaths, attempting to get my pulse under control now that I know she’s safe.

“Let me go, Sol! Don’t touch me!”

Confusion has me furrowing my brow, and I try not to let my heart ache at her tone. I drop her to her feet and raise my hands at the sides of my head before taking a step back, giving her space.

She brushes off her T-shirt and leggings before straightening her posture. When she finally looks up, she gasps and stutters back, her hand over her mouth.

“Your… your…”

I forgot to put on my mask.

Her eyes are wide and as her hand moves, her lips stay parted. In any other circumstance, I’d think the look was wonder. It morphs into something akin to understanding, and hope takes flight in my chest… Until the horror I feared finally replaces her features.

My stomach churns and I instinctively know that look. It’s the same one my mother gave me when I finally fought my way home at fifteen. It’s the same one everyone had before I got fitted for prosthetics and masks. But this sinking sensation that makes me feel like I’m falling into an endless pit… that’s new. Because for once, I’d let hope get in the way of reality.

I slap my hand over my face to cover my awful shame. My voice is flat when I whisper, “I’d hoped you would be different.”

She blinks rapidly, as if she’s coming out of a trance, and she shakes her head. “Sol, no… that’s not it.”

“I’m hideous Scarlett. Believe me, I know. I’ve been horrified and ashamed at what was done to me for over a decade.”

“No, Sol, you don’t—”

But I can’t hear her excuses, not with that look still plastered there.

“Why are you down here, Scarlett. You shouldn’t be here.”

Her gaping mouth finally shuts and her fingers massage her temple. When she finally seems to remember her purpose she gazes up again at me and anger flares back into her eyes.

“When did you start following me?”

Her question catches me off guard and my mind scours itself for reasons why she would want to know that now. I come up with nothing so I go back to what I’ve done all weekend and answer in a way that won’t endanger her. Until I find the full connection between Gus Day, his murderer, and the Chatelains, telling her my theories could only put her at risk. Or make her hate me more than it looks like she does right now.

Or worse… Scarlett is loyal and protective to a fault, especially over her father. If I tell her that I suspect he still dabbled in the criminal world, working for the wrong side, and that he could be the reason why she was assaulted and he was murdered, all that could easily drive her straight into Rand’s arms.

“When, Sol?”

I swallow and carefully blank my expression. “After your father passed away.”

As soon as I see hurt crumple her face after the words fall from my mouth, I know they’re the wrong ones.

“When exactly?”

My jaw tics. “The night of.”

Her eyes flare at that. “Why then? Were you there?”

I keep my mouth closed. There’s so much I can’t say yet.

She’s not one of ours.

She’s not, but she’s mine.

That puts her in even more danger.

But what if telling her will save her?

What if telling her pushes her away for good? In the wrong direction?

“Secrets again, huh?” she tsks. I’ve never heard her voice with such venom. “Okay. How about this one? When did you hire Jaime to be my friend?”

My jaw falls open, stunned, but she keeps pressing.

“When you hired him, did you tell him he was going to be a professional cockblocker? All so what? So my virginity would remain intact? For you? How fucking disgusting.”

My head shakes hard. “I didn’t know you were a virgin, Scarlett. Not until that night you told me.”

“Oh, right, when you assaulted me while I was drugged.”

“You weren’t drugged yet,” I growl. “It’s not my fault you begged a phantom to get you off.”

“Ugh, it’s only your fault!” she shrieks, tears of fury suddenly spilling down her cheeks.

Her accusation stings, but it’s her despair that breaks me. It echoes off the stone walls, crashing back into my chest, pulverizing my weakest muscle. My heart only just started to grow stronger because of her, and now the pain I’ve caused is crushing it to pieces.

“Scarlett, it wasn’t like that—”

“No! You’re not getting out of it this time! All of this is your fault,” she repeats and glares at me. “Me thinking I was going crazy. Me thinking I had started a true friendship—”

“Jaime loves you as a friend, Scarlett,” I insist. Deep down, I know this is hopeless, but I won’t give up. “His job was to watch you and protect you. The way he went about it wasn’t part of the job description. Befriending you was true to his nature.”

“And what about his ‘nature’ made it so no guy would look at me for the last year? Or was that part of his ‘job description’ only to sate your jealous obsession? Your… your primitive instincts!”

I step forward, huddling her into the wall. Even though she’s mad at me, and even though I’m horrifying to look at right now, that small, pink muscle in her mouth darts out to lick her lips as she holds my heated gaze.

“You crave those primitive instincts, Scarlett. And you love being my jealous obsession. Don’t let your anger turn you into a liar. Think about it.” My voice pitches low and my hope returns when I cradle her cheek and she shivers with pleasure. “You’re right, I don’t want anyone to touch you. You had to be off-limits or else I wouldn’t have been able to control myself. My position in the darkness would’ve made you an easy target for enemies to manipulate my emotions. Beyond that, not every shadow knew who you were to me and if someone touched what was mine, I’d have had to hurt them, no matter who they were, and I never harm my own if I can help it.”

Hatred flares in her eyes again and she swats my hand away. “Not harm your own? What about Jaime then?”

My head jolts back at the topic change. “What about him?”

“He sure didn’t look unharmed with the skull imprinted over his cheek.” She grabs my hand and shows me my own ring. “This size to be exact. Just like that tourist who says the Phantom of the French Quarter knocked him out.”

“Scarlett, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Only a betrayal is punished with violence. It’s not the Bordeaux way. I’d never hurt Jaime after everything he’s done for me and you, but the tourist fucking deserved it. How do you even know about that?”

She falters at that question before blurting out an answer I’m not sure is totally truthful. “It was in the news! But what about me? Am I someone you would never hurt? I’m not one of yours. Your brother made that quite clear.”

“You’re not one of ours, yet. But you are mine and under my protection.”

“What if I need protection from you, hm? So I don’t think I’m crazy? So I don’t believe someone is my friend for over a year? So I can live my life without being manipulated and tricked? Or can you not let go of your ‘key to everything,’ yet?”

“Scarlett—”

“You are a monster. Rand was right about everything. Are you using me to get to him, too?”

My eyes widen. “When did he say that? Yesterday? I thought you said you barely talked?”

I knew she was lying to me, but I’d hoped she’d come to me with answers in time. Apparently, our timing fucking sucks.

“He probably would’ve told me earlier if you hadn’t had my phone the whole time! But yes. He bumped into me when he was visiting his brother’s grave, which he says you’re responsible for, too, by the way.”

Alarm bells blare in my head. “Scarlett, we were at St. Louis Cemetery No.1. Rand’s family isn’t—”

“He said you’re using me to get to him. Has this all been to get back at the Chatelains? Because I’m his friend and his family did something unspeakable to your family and vice versa and back and forth until everyone dies, right? Well, at least the Chatelains have only helped me. They supported my dad. Paid for our housing and they were there for me even after my dad died by paying for my room and board for school.”

“What the fuck, Scarlett?” I laugh at the absurdity. “Do you really think the Chatelains paid for your room and board at my family’s school? The Bordeaux scholarship you received after your father died set you up in the only room in the New French Opera House that directly tunnels to my apartment. Think about it.”

Confusion tries to twist the anger away in her features. I brush a curl from her face and enjoy the way her body still leans into me while her mind fights me.

“Why do you insist on hating me, Scarlett? Why do you insist on seeing me as the enemy when all I’ve done is protect you?”

“Not protect me.” She shakes her head. “You manipulated me.”

“I encouraged you.”

“You owned me.”

“I love you.”

The angry retort on her lips dies with my murmured confession. She shakes her head and slides along the wall to get out from underneath my direct gaze.

“You’re not in love with me. You’re obsessed with me,” she whispers finally, although she seems much less sure of herself. “There’s a difference.”

I tilt my head. “There might be a difference, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be both. You’ve been in theater for years, so you know. Obsession and love make the best stories.”

“Or the most tragic ones.”

She drags her hand along the wall as she retreats toward her room. Every step is slow and reluctant. Like she’s trying to convince her body to commit to the wrong actions.

“It’s up to you to decide which story is ours,” I finally reply. “If you stay, I promise to give you the best love story ever told, every day, for the rest of our lives. I was forced into the shadows, and I’ve made my home here. But I’ve only ever wanted to share a life with someone. Like my parents shared. The kind of love that consumes you in life and leaves you a shell when the other goes too soon. I used to feel sorry for my mother, but some days she gets to escape to a world where the love of her life still exists. He’s not just a phantom, he is her everything. I want to be that for you, with you. I want one love that survives this lifetime.”

Her head slowly shakes. “What you’re describing is madness, Sol.”

“Is madness so terrible, when euphoria is on the other side?”

“It is when you lose yourself in it and it makes you behave in ways you never would otherwise.”

“Isn’t that the definition of love?”

Her sigh weighs me down and I sag my shoulder against the wall.

“I don’t know,” she answers. “But I do know that I can’t have that with you. The man I’m with won’t use me like a pawn.”

My heart threatens to burst out of my chest as our gaze breaks, and I grab her hand.

Her moonlight eyes flick to my hand before meeting mine.

“I’ve never used you, Scarlett, but it terrifies me that you don’t realize you’re Rand Chatelain’s pawn right now. He’s playing you. I don’t know what happened to Jaime. I’ll get to the bottom of it. But Rand feeding you lies? I would think you could see right through that.”

“Okay, what happened then?” she asks me. “Did you have something to do with Laurent’s death? His parents?”

“Not his parents. His parents’ accident was a tragedy to the Chatelains but the Bordeauxs had nothing to do with it, despite what Rand and his brother thought. As for Laurent…” I let go of her and stand straighter. “Yes, I killed Laurent. I killed him for what he did to my family. And to me.”

“Rand made it sound like it was a senseless act of violence. Not retribution.”

“Not retribution?” I bark. “What about my face?” I point to the scars that web over the right side before I grab the back of my collar and pull my shirt over my head. “What about my chest? My arms? And my back?”

Her eyes flare with heat before I rotate, showing her the cuts, the burn marks, and every inch of the desensitized skin I’ve tattooed to remind me that my body is mine to mark. After Laurent Chatelain skinned me, sending strips to my brother as a morbid ‘proof of life,’ he burned me to stop excessive bleeding. It all grew back in jagged, glossy pieces of varying shades of red and white, like a gruesome jigsaw puzzle.

By the time I’ve done a three-sixty, the disgust I knew she would feel overwhelms her expression. “I told you I conquered my fear of fire. I did it because it was used against me when I was fifteen years old, and I’ve been like this ever since.”

“Laurent… he did this to you?”

“Gladly,” I grunt. “Do you still believe what I did was unjustified? Do you still believe that Rand has your best interests at heart? Like I do?”

“Does Rand know? What did he do?”

“Of course, Rand knows. He fled as soon as he could, like the coward he is.”

She frowns. “So after you killed his brother and the rest of his family was dead, instead of retaliating, he ran away from the conflict?” When I don’t answer, she continues her questioning. “He’s back now. Do you know why?”

“I don’t know. He says it’s to rebuild his family’s business—”

“So… not revenge.”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. But Rand is Laurent’s brother, and Laurent was pure evil—”

“That… that was Laurent, though. Not Rand. Rand wouldn’t… he was—is—my friend. You can’t punish him for what his brother did.”

It’s not lost on me that I thought something very similarly only days ago, but that was before Scarlett was at stake. Now I don’t know what to think.

“I didn’t believe it at first, but now my instincts are telling me there’s more to Rand. You have to be careful with him, Scarlett. I’m trying to figure it all out. You need to stay away from him until I do.”

She scowls and I know I’ve overplayed my hand.

“It’s not your job to tell me what I can and can’t do. Listen, I… I have to go. I’m confused and I need to think about all this. Away from you.”

“When will I see you again?” I ask, unable to help myself. “You still have your gig at Masque on Friday. Will I see you then?”

“I’ll be there. Without you. This… it has to be over.”

I reach for her, attempting to console her one last time, but she dodges me, evading my touch. Instead, I carve my hands into my hair and exhale deeply.

“Look, Scarlett, if you really believe I’ve only hurt you and have never had your best intentions in mind, then you should go.” The words rumble out of me like thunder in an approaching storm. “But if you leave now, I’ll know you’re done with me. And I… I’ll be done with you. Like you want.” The last words burn as they come out of my mouth and I have to swallow.

Her shoulders heave with her breaths and I know she can sense me so close to her. She shakes her head slowly.

“I’m sorry, Sol. I have to go.”

And she walks away.

My muscles, my heart, my very being screams at me to follow her, to pull her back to my chest and never let her go.

But even after everything, she chooses to believe the man whose family tried to ruin mine. Who tried to ruin me. If she doesn’t trust my instincts on Rand and insists on thinking this is all some pathetic feud, then I can’t change her mind. I thought my actions would speak louder than his accusations, but I guess I’m nothing more than some evil creature to her now.

I slide down the wall and sit on my haunches. My heart aches as I listen to her soft footsteps finally make it safely to the mirror door in her room. Once they’re gone, it’s just me and the soft sounds of the runoff channel in front of me.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my pocket and answer it, already knowing who’s on the other side.

“No,” I say, not waiting for Sabine to ask.

“So you… don’t want anyone else on her? You’re actually done?”

“She wants to be left alone, I’ll leave her alone.” But a thought crosses my mind. “But get me Jaime Dominguez. I need an explanation.”