Page 26 of Bewitched by the Phantom (The Bewitching Hour #6)

Chapter

Twenty-Five

T he performance day comes with a chaotic rush of cameras and people asking me how I feel about the competition.

Today, there’s a larger crowd, people they’d brought in off the street who’d been outside hoping for a chance to catch a glimpse of us.

We’ve apparently got a cult following now, and though our location is supposedly secret, someone found us, and now we’re not allowed to go outside the power plant since it’s a security risk.

I didn’t get to enjoy my coffee outside today, so I’m already grumpy when the first camera is shoved in my face and someone asks me, “How do you feel about the lead singer of Angels Bleed Mercury?”

I scowl at the interviewer. “Raoul is a great friend,” I try.

“Are you aware he calls you his girlfriend?” the interviewer asks.

I grit my teeth. “No, I’m not. Excuse me,” I say, pushing past them and trying to ignore the herd of people calling my name. For fuck’s sake. This is ridiculous. How am I supposed to prepare for this performance with so much going on?

No one seems to care though. The best I get is a quick, “Deal with it,” from Ted before we’re told we’ll be the first to perform. And we’re given about thirty minutes to prep.

“This is bullshit,” I growl.

“It’s okay,” Claudia tries to reassure me. “We’ve got this. We know this song like the back of our hand. We’re gonna go up there and fucking rock out and take this whole competition.” She squeezes my arm. “We’re gonna win this.”

I nod, taking a deep breath to try and clear the tension in my chest. I’m not even nervous about the performance at this point.

I’m just pissed at all the cameras and this song and dance bullshit the label expects us to perform under.

It no longer feels like a good career choice to sign with NYX. It feels more like a death wish.

Thirty minutes later, we’re walking onto the stage, prepared to leave our souls on the atmospheric concrete for the entire world to see.

The crowd screams louder than the distortion feedback when we step onstage.

The lights pulse, the drones hovering overhead like metallic vultures.

Cameras pivot in place, making sure to catch all our angles, which means no ass scratching or titty adjustments. There’s no way to do that covertly now.

“Please welcome Hell Hath Honey!” the announcer says, and the crowd gets impossibly louder. With all the chaos, I hadn’t seen Erik or Raoul backstage, and I don’t see them in the crowd now. I don’t know where they’re at this morning, but I’m glad I didn’t have to entertain them after everything.

We stand center stage, our tight black finale outfits shining in the lights.

Our makeup is expertly applied, smudged eyeliner under lashes, black lipstick, the works.

We look like sexier, badder Hex Girls, like we belong up onstage.

My nerves are coiled beneath my skin like a snake, humming with anxiety despite how prepared we are.

The electric buzz of all the cameras and the lights only seem to make it worse, my perception of the hum like bugs under my skin.

I can’t help but itch at it to try and alleviate some of the tension.

I step up to the mic and grip it with both hands, the small chip on my black nail polish suddenly coming into view.

Fuck, I should have doublechecked that before we came on stage.

My throat burns with adrenaline as I turn to look at Claudia over my shoulder and she nods, giving the signal that we’re ready.

My guitar rests against my back, waiting for the solo I wrote into the song.

This is it. This is everything we’ve worked for.

We’ll leave it all on this stage. No one will be able to say we didn’t fight for this.

“We’re Hell Hath Honey,” I purr into the mic. “And this is ‘Ashes how honest the words are. It’s raw and aching. There are no tricks here. No masks. Just us.

“ How can I breathe when the darkness trickles in ,” I whisper sing. “ How can I leave when the world begins again? ”

The chorus slams hard with the first strum of my guitar, the beat hitting just at the right time for me to sing, “ This is our ashes and reverie! This is what you’ve done to me! We’ve taken our hearts and ripped them out. Now you’ll see what this is all about! ”

My fingers work across my strings, building the tension, preparing for the second verse where we start to rise in power, when it happens. I stumble over my notes as, from stage left, Raoul appears.

The spotlight is already hitting his polished boots and shining hair like this had been rehearsed. His mic is hot—too hot. His voice cuts through our music like a blade, like he has someone in the soundcheck booth on his side. His voice drowns out mine immediately.

No rules. Fuck. We’re playing by rules when clearly no one else is.

I glance at Claudia with wide eyes, even as she continues to play, an attempt to gain back control. What the fuck do we do now?

“ You don’t have to fall to feel alive ,” Raoul sings, his eyes on me rather than the crowd. I notice he makes sure to glance at the cameras though. “ You don’t have to burn to rise. Come back to the light, Chris. Come back to me .”

I bare my teeth at him, fury breaking through my panic and confusion. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter, teeth clenched between the words.

We try to keep playing, but whoever is in the soundcheck booth has Raoul’s volume set to overpowering, and the cameras follow it all, eating up the drama as Raoul practically begs me in front of the entire world to choose him.

“Of course he’s turning our set into a soap opera,” Claudia growls from behind her bass. “Fucking respond, Chris. Don’t let him take control!”

I turn to face Raoul, my chest tight with anger. When I open my mouth and start to since, my voice trembles with rage and disbelief that he’d stoop this low.

“ You say you’re the light, but you’re blinding me ,” I sing, letting the words come to mind as I freestyle on top of music that should have been our fucking win.

My voice rises, as someone in the soundcheck booth is making sure my lyrics are heard.

“ A history painted in apologies. I’m not your second chance, not your sweet regret, don’t you dare play me like I’m your safety net! ”

The crowd roars with my answer, living for the drama. Raoul’s eyes widen at my lyrics, and where he’d been confident before, his steps falter at the pure rage in my words. But despite all this, despite the fact that my lyrics should end this confrontation, it’s not over.

From the stage right, a hush ripples through the audience like wind through tall grass.

I whirl toward the energy, somehow already knowing what’s coming.

Erik steps into the light, slow, smooth, in that half-shadowed way that makes him feel carved from the dark itself.

His voice is velvet and venom. He doesn’t need volume like Raoul does. He commands attention all on his own.

“ You crave the sun, but you dream in the dark ,” he purrs into the mic. “ Come closer, my love, and I’ll show you your spark. I’ve waited in silence, a breath in your chest. Choose me, and I’ll let you rest. ”

My knees nearly buckle with his words as he strolls forward.

Raoul matches his steps so that they close in on either side of me.

I glance back at Claudia, my eyes wide, and she looks just as confused, just as angry as I am.

What do we do with this? Do we play into it and get the views? Do we play the game? Fuck.

Everything inside me pulls me in opposite directions.

I’m torn between light and legacy, between shadow and desire.

The crowd is losing their minds as these two men close in on me, both begging me to choose them in front of the entire world.

A camera drone swoops low for my reaction as I hover in the center of it all, my shoulders tense, my jaw locked.

Claudia’s voice cracks through the chaos behind me. “Sing back, Chris,” she growls. “Don’t let them steal your voice!”

She’s right. If I don’t respond, they win. No matter what’s happening, no matter the choice I’m faced with, I can’t let them overshadow me. I’m Chris Fucking Feral, and I won’t be outdone.

So, I sing.

“ You—both of you—won’t own my name ,” I sing into the mic. “ I’m not a girl to stake or tame. I’ll write my ending, scream my choice, even if it breaks my voice. ”

But they don’t stop. Of course, they don’t stop. We’re not only competing for the label now. We’re competing for our hearts.

Raoul lifts his mic, his eyes pleading as he slowly lifts his hand toward me.

“ I knew you before all this noise. Before the lights and shattered toys. I’m not perfect, but I’m real, you see. You can still come back to me. ”

Then Erik, smiling like sin beneath the spotlight, holds out his own hand toward me.

“ You were never meant to play it safe. You were born to haunt, to love, to crave, ” he purrs. “ Let them film, let them stare. You’re glorious when you dare. ”

I lean into the mic, my voice cracking on the next line. Not from weakness, but from choice.

“ You both think you own my soul ,” I sing. “ Like I’m some dream you can control. But I won’t break, I won’t belong. I’ll write my name in my own song. ”

Still, I don’t run from them. I don’t reach out for them either. I stand in the middle, torn. Do I play the game? Is it even a game at this point? Whatever I decide feels like it’s a true decision. Whatever I decide, I’ll break someone’s heart. But they put me in this position. They put me here.

So instead of running, I stand in the center of the stage, my heart pounding, my throat raw.

Raoul stretches his hand out further. “ Choose the light ,” he says into the mic.

Erik reaches out from the other side, his eyes sparkling beneath the lights, as if he knows . “ Choose me.”

I stare between them. The crowd goes silent as we all hover, waiting for my answer. The cameras push closer. My heart thunders in my chest. But . . . I know my choice. Somehow, I think I’ve always known my choice.

I look over at Raoul, my eyes filled with pain, and he sees my answer before I even speak.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

Then slowly, deliberately, I slide my hand into Erik’s.

The crowd erupts. My band behind me falters, the low melody they’d continued faltering and then stopping completely. Erik holds my hand up in the air and the roar of their cheering shakes the floor. He steps up to the mic, his eyes bright with enigmatic seduction.

“Sing with me, angel,” he purrs into the mic. “You know the song.”

I don’t, but somehow, I do. We lean forward, and somehow, the song we start to sing together echoes around us despite never having known it. My chorus threads through the rafters, building between us. Lyrics I don’t remember writing fall from my lips like they’re written beneath my skin.

“ I dreamed of you before we met, a shadow’s kiss, a fevered threat. But now you’re real, and so am I, two monsters dancing in the light, ” I sing from some forgotten memory.

Erik’s voice curls around mine, velvet-dark and possessive. “ Let them see, let them scream. We are the truth inside the dream. Yes, I’m cursed, but you’re the same, and I would burn the world to keep your name. ”

He leans in and presses his lips against mine in front of them all, driving the numbers into the stratosphere. His next words are a fervent whisper against my lips.

“ I love you, even in the dark. ”

But something in my chest demands the truth. I reach up, my hand stroking the mask at the edge of his jaw. I lean back and meet his eyes as my fingers curl.

“ Then show me who you really are ,” I rasp, and rip his mask off.

The world freezes. The cameras zoom in.

And beneath the spotlight, Erik smiles.