Page 42 of Phantom

Exhaustion weighs me down and I lean into him as he guides me through the darkness.

“Where are we?” I ask, my brutalized voice wavering with uncertainty.

“My home. You are with yourdémon de la musique, ma jolie petite muse.You have no need to fear me.”

He walks us farther into the dark space before helping me lie on a deep, soft bed and tucking me underneath the cool covers. I curl on my side while silk sheets rustle beside me. A thick, heavy quilt is piled on top of me and I ball up into a fetal position, my arms wrapped around my knees as I lie sideways.

My savior’s comforting, large body curves around mine protectively. He scoops his arm underneath my neck to situate my head on the silk pillow while squeezing me to his chest. The fluid move is familiar, like everything with my demon, and it’s easy to trust him and give in to fatigue.

Before I let go, my lips move and the thought I still can’t wrap my head around falls out.

“You’re… real?”

A rough chuckle against my neck warms my insides as he squeezes me closer, molding my body to his. “As real as you want me to be,ma chérie.”

“Good,” I whisper. Relief floods through me, washing away the absurd worry I’ve had over the last couple of days that all this has been in my head. “Don’t leave.”

“Jamais,mon amour.”

Never, my love.

The words flutter into my chest as he continues. “I thought I could once, but that lasted less than five minutes. It took you seeing me to realize I could never miss your songs again.”

I open my mouth to mumble thank you but he shushes me again. The lullaby I almost know the words to whispers in my ear as I finally give in to darkness.

“Sleep now, Scarlett.”

Scene 11

SHE’S NOT A TRINKET

Sol

Scarlett is finally safe in my arms, but I still can’t relax. Instead, I desperately strain to hear every breath and count the beats in between like a metronome. The rhythm is slow, but its steadiness reassures me. Every fermata in between breaths seems way too long and I have to resist the urge to shake her awake to make sure she’s alive.

I should’ve let Jaime take her to the hospital. No…Ishould have said fuck it and gone to the hospital with her, mask and all. But I’m banking on the hope she’s been diligent with her medicine like I know her to be.

The multitude of questions I have flooding my mind are enough to drive me mad. I make it my business to know everything there is to know about Scarlett Day. All I want to know right now iswhy?

Seeing my muse sobbing on the floor was like looking a decade into the past, to when Laurent murdered my father right in front of me and my brilliant mother lost her mind. Those nightmares collided into the present and I couldn’t hold back anymore.

Without a second thought, I’d pushed open the hidden mirror door in Scarlett’s room and rushed to hold her against my chest to calm her. I sang the only lullaby I could think of to keep her breathing normally. When she finally sank into my embrace and sang the English version, my heart tripled in time.

Thank goodness Jaime was there and found her medicine bottle. I’d thought it was solely a severe panic attack at the time, but I’m hoping our family psychiatrist can shed light on the effects of the medication Scarlett took. If I have to, I’ll take her to the hospital, but I’ll do everything in my power to keep her away from the psych ward. I wasn’t able to get to her in time during her first full-blown manic episode, but I won’t let her down again.

A soft knock signals the doctor’s arrival, interrupting my guilty conscience.

I’m loath to leave her, but I have to brief Dr. Portia on Scarlett’s condition, so I peel myself away. When her hand tries to catch mine, a fluttering in my chest makes my heart swell to the point of pain. As gently as I can, I roll her to her side and slide off of the mattress, closing the black curtains of the four-post bed behind me.

Padding lightly across the thick carpet, I travel down the hallway and answer the door. Sabine peers back at me behind her fire mask with a plain plastic bag in her fist.

“Jaime gave me these,” she whispers and hands the bag to me. “Apparently she got these prescriptions filled at the pharmacy today.”

I nod, already knowing that. I’d been planning to get them myself after visiting her dorm, but the pharmacy said she’d taken care of it.

“How many were missing?” I ask.

“All but seven pills are accounted for in one bottle, and there’s one missing from every other bottle.”