Song: The Mirror (Angel of Music) from the musical The Phantom of the Opera.
~ Kriss Darcy ~
This was by far the most awkward situation I've ever been in.
Not only was I attempting to give Jase a tour of the manor, but we appeared to be having difficulty speaking to one another, yet we kept catching one another's eye. To top it off, Megan, Jamie, and Sophie decided to tag along, which just make the entire situation even more tense as we all trekked down the hall in awkward silence.
I had no idea where I was going. I was heading through the gallery, and had slowed my pace so we could all take the time to appreciate the theater posters on the walls, as well as the shrine to my father. At least, that's what I told myself. In reality, I was stalling so I could make a decision. Should I turn left or right? Drawing room or library? Billiard room or the piano-less music room? Or continue straight, to the Great Hall? We were eventually going to explore the entire house, but right now it was hard keeping track of my continuously scattering thoughts.
Megan was walking right next to me, offering her silent support, but I knew she had really come along just to make fun of me when the time came. Slowly, I moved closer to her.
"Where should I go first?" I whispered.
She raised her eyebrows. "I don't know. It's your tour."
"It was your idea!"
She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Kriss, just follow your instincts."
I looked at her then with slight panic. "My instincts are going haywire at the moment. They are currently out of commission."
"What are you, a robot? Who says out of commission in casual conversation?"
"My instincts do."
"Kriss, watch - "
Smack.
The breath was nearly knocked out of my body as I walked headfirst into a wall.
My nose ached, and I rubbed it ruefully, glaring at the hard structure I had stumbled upon. Apparently, I had reached the end of the gallery. Now I had a decision to make. After my nose stopped throbbing.
Megan burst out laughing. I shifted my glare from the wall to her.
"It's not funny," I grumbled as the other three people in our party caught up to us.
"It was very funny," Megan laughed even harder at my glare.
"Kriss, are you okay?" Jase asked with concern. I stared at the floor, knowing that I would die of embarrassment if I met his eyes again. I could already feel my face turning red.
"I'm fine," I mumbled, shifting my feet in a random direction. "We're going left."
Drawing room is was, then. I gritted my teeth as Megan dropped back, unable to keep pace with her laughing fit. Jase wasted no time in taking her place.
I tensed, my nerves suddenly crackling with his proximity. I continued down the hall, feeling like I was about to jump out of my skin.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Jase asked me after a minute. I heard quiet chatter from behind and knew that Megan was not going to help me out of this conversation.
"I'm sure," I said, opening the door to the drawing-room. I entered the room, gazing around, looking at anything but the green-eyed beauty standing beside me. "So, this is the drawing-room..." I trailed off. Obviously, he knew what a drawing-room looked like.
It wasn't anywhere near as big as the library or the music room, and it had more of an old-fashioned feel to it. There were two long sofas on either side of the room, both with red-and-cactus-green stripes and red throw pillows. Beside each sofa was a small table with a lamp on it, and in front of each sofa was a small, shiny wooden table holding flower vases. On the far end of the room were two comfortable chairs, a small round table between them holding yet another flower vase. On the other side of the room, across from the chairs, were two wooden cabinets holding antique china cups and plates and bowls and any other dishes that were made of china. Between the cabinets was a large, beautiful white fireplace, on top of which were four candles and a small clock. The light source came from a small crystal chandelier hanging from the center of the room.
There are a lot of chandeliers in this house.
I stepped fully into the room, allowing the others to file in after me. Megan, who must have grown bored, had pulled out her phone and was currently texting somebody - probably Carl. She looked up when she felt my gaze on her, and gave me a wide grin. She was definitely texting Carl. I scowled at her with disapproval.
"I forgot how much antique furniture is in this room," Sophie frowned as she looked around the room. "I haven't been in here in years."
"Nobody goes in here much anymore," Jamie muttered. I glanced at her; she was still scowling, obviously still annoyed at Weston for calling her a child. "The furniture isn't comfortable enough to relax in here, and Sarah has all of her meetings in the study or the library now."
"It's more used as a storage space for her antique furniture now," I said, aware of Jase's gaze traveling around the room. "She can't bear to get rid of it."
"Well, I like it," Jase declared. "It feels like I stepped into another century."
Jamie shrugged, and Sophie began whispering urgently to her. Probably telling her to calm down, the thing with Weston wasn't that big. Which it wasn't, really. Only Jamie noticed him eyeing Sophie at all.
I nodded slowly at Jase's words, as if in agreement. Tension still crackled between us. He tried to catch my eye again, and I suddenly found the walls very interesting.
"The billiard room is next," I murmured, turning on the heels of my sneakers and leaving the room.
The billiard room was further up the hall, closer to the gallery than the drawing-room. Further down this hall only lead to the maid's giant closet, Mr. Abram's and Mrs. Green's offices, a large bathroom, and ended in a side door leading out to the gardens. The maids, groundskeepers, and cooks all slept upstairs, on the second floor, at the insistence of my father, as they were our equals and should be treated as such. There were enough bedrooms on the second floor that there was enough for everybody, though some decided to get their own houses in Plattsburgh and others wanted roommates, so there are still quite a lot of vacant rooms. I don't think they've ever all been occupied at the same time.
The billiard room wasn't that interesting. There was a small round cards table in the corner, though nobody played; we normally used it to play Hungry, Hungry Hippos or Monopoly. There was a pool table in the middle of the room, but nobody ever played that either. Mother used to, with Father, but she hasn't touched it since he died. Father said he would teach me to play one day, but we never got around to that, and I was never really interested in the game.
I steered my thoughts away from Father. I couldn't afford to break down now, especially in front of Jase.
There was a bookshelf against the wall, though it held board games instead of books. The Game of Life. Clue. Mystery Date. Pictionary. Scrabble. Risk. Battleship. Snakes & Ladders. There was a chessboard there as well. I was decent at Chess; Mother taught me how to play when I was six, and we each took turns destroying my Father at it. He was terrible at it. Afterward, he'd beat us both in Scrabble.
There were way too many memories of my father in this room. And a lot of them didn't even happen in this room - most of them took place at our old home outside of Rochester. It was just the games that held the memories.
Megan's phone started chiming. I shot her a glare just as she gave me a sheepish grin and held up the phone for me to see. A FaceTime request. From - you guessed it - a horse.
Wait, I squinted closer at the contact photo. Nope, it's Carl. Nevermind.
Jase had begun wandering around the room, examining the game boxes with a nostalgic look on his face.
"Carl!" Megan exclaimed when Carl picked up his phone.
"Hey!" he said back.
She squinted at her phone. "Are you eating ice cream?"
I went over to Megan, peering over her shoulder. Sure enough, Carl had a bowl of ice cream.
"Did you actually go to Davey's?" I asked him, reminding him of the suggestion I had made right before we had left the city.
Carl scowled at me. "Are you always with her?" he asked. I think he was talking to Megan, but I answered anyway.
"We're kind of a package deal," I said, narrowing my eyes. "I can't believe you took my suggestion and went to Davey's."
"Davey's is too far from my apartment," he said. "I went to Morgenstern's."
Sophie, hearing the ice cream argument, leaned over to get a better look at Carl. "Oh, is that your boyfriend, Megan?"
Jamie danced over, her bad mood forgotten in an instant. She gave Carl a long look. "He really does look like a horse," she announced. "I thought it was just the picture Megan showed us!"
Carl turned a bright shade of red. "Kriss, what have you been telling them..?"
"Nothing that isn't already true," I said sweetly.
"How's your boyfriend?" he suddenly - and very obviously - changed the subject, probably just to spite me. "I heard he's coming to your glorious manor today."
I heard something clatter on the other side of the room. I looked up in surprise, meeting Jase's equally surprised gaze. He had heard Carl's comment, and had dropped one of the game boxes. Trouble. Blinking, he bent down to pick the box back up.
I wasn't sure which one of us looked more embarrassed.
Suddenly furious with Carl, I reached over and snatched Megan's phone away from her, giving Carl an angry grin, and ended the call.
"Would you stop doing that?" she hissed, grabbing her phone.
"Your phone seems to have technical difficulties whenever Carl calls you," I said nonchalantly. "You should look into that before you attempt it again."
Jamie giggled.
Suddenly aware of the tension within the room again, I rotated my shoulders and looked around the room - avoiding Jase's still-surprised gaze.
"Right, onto the music room, then?" I said awkwardly.
The trip down the hallway wasn't as quiet as before. Megan, Sophie, and Jamie were all chatting about the not-attractive Carl: How old is he (who cares), where is he from (Long Island), where did she meet him (at NYU), why does he look like a horse (was definitely swapped with a foal and taught the human ways).
Jase caught up to me and was silently walking next to me again. The tension crackled.
"Are you avoiding me?" he asked me all of a sudden. I started.
"Um... no," I said. "If I was trying to avoid you, I wouldn't have offered to give you a tour?" I said weakly, my voice rising at the end like I was asking a question. I winced.
"Megan offered the tour," he said. "Don't think I didn't notice that whispered conversation."
I saw him look at me out of the corner of my eye. I kept my gaze fixed firmly ahead.
"You won't look at me, either," he continued. "Or talk to me, unless I asked you a direct question."
Why is he being so observant?
He sighed. "You know, I didn't have to come with Weston. I could have stayed in Syracuse with my dad. But when Weston offered to take me along, I jumped at the chance to see you again."
This is getting cheesy.
"Yes, I was terrified that you'd be different from the fourteen-year-old I remembered," he said, matter-of-factly. "Yes, I was scared that you'd met somebody else in that five-year-gap..."
Um... what?
Scared that I'd met somebody else? Like I haven't been thinking about him whenever I rejected somebody?
"I never met anybody," I said quietly, a bit hung up on that part of his little speech. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye again. I saw him trying to fight a smile. Slyly, I added. "There's never been anyone I wanted."
He frowned and threw me a sharp look. "Did you just indirectly quote..?"
"Yep," I was now fighting off a grin.
"Did you read it?"
"Yep."
"Even the..?"
"Yep."
He didn't ask anything else, so finally, finally, I turned my head to look at him. He looked bewildered.
"Did you read it?" I asked him.
He cringed. "Possibly."
"Even the kinky parts?"
His fight against a smile was lost as he laughed at my wording. "It's hard to skip them. There's just so many." he frowned. "I cannot imagine you reading those books. Why would you destroy your innocence by reading them?"
I smiled cheekily. "My mother told me not to."
He finally laughed. "Despite the circumstance, I'm proud you finally had a bought of teenage rebellion."
"We aim to please," I quoted.
"Why couldn't you have been more rebellious earlier in your teenage years, before you vanished out of my life?"
"For the last time, I was not going to sneak out of the house with you to get tacos mere hours after your mother's funeral!"
We were at the doors to the grand hall. I paused, wondering if I should leave the large room for later.
"What is it?" Jase asked, frowning. "Is this the music room?"
"No..." I trailed off, suddenly feeling awkward again for no apparent reason. "It's the grand hall."
Jase shrugged and pushed open the double doors. "Well, this I've got to see."
I gave him a weird look as I followed him in. I had no idea why he was so eager to see the grand hall. It's not like there isn't one at his home, outside of Syracuse.
The Charlton's manor wasn't near as glamorous as ours, as Ryan Charlton cared more about practicality than showing off, but it was still nicer than most homes. Before Jase's mother died, I remember the manor being well-decorated and comfortable, warm and welcoming, but even right after her funeral, the manor had lost that sense of comfort and seemed cold and foreboding, like she had taken all the light with her when she had died.
So of course Jase was fascinated by the manor. Even after my father died, even with ghosts running around the place, it was still more welcoming than his own home. He looked around the room with a small smile on his face, his shamrock eyes sparkling, and even let out a low whistle of satisfaction.
"I can see why it's called a grand hall," he said, staring up at the beautiful chandelier. "It's by far the nicest room in the house."
He was right; The grand hall was the nicest and largest room in the house, and it never failed to dazzle those who stood within its walls. It was shaped like an octagon, the northernmost walls holding large windows that showed a beautiful view of the gardens. The ceiling was a plain white, except for the edges where the walls met the ceiling, where there was a beautiful design of golden flowers, their stems entwining together until you couldn't tell where one flower stopped and the other began.
"You should see it after it's been decorated," Megan said. "It's breathtaking then."
"Especially during the yearly Christmas party," Sophie added.
The Christmas party my mother put on every year in the grand hall was always fun and lively, even the year after my father passed; I think she worked harder than usual to brighten up the holidays. I hadn't gone to the previous party, though, instead deciding to hide in my room, huddled in my bed with a comfy blanket and Wuthering Heights.
"The masquerade decorations look astonishing," Megan said, grinning. "I saw the decoration plans my mother made for Mrs. Darcy to go over, and it looks fabulous."
"Fabulous?" Jamie perked up at the word. "How fabulous? Is it all sparkly and glittery and fun? Will there be treats that match the theme? Will the food be sparkly and glittery too? Will there be scones? Oh, I hope there's scones, especially the ones with jam and whipped cream!"
"I look forward to seeing it," Jase said, his eyes suddenly meeting mine, the green irises suddenly intense. I swallowed.
"We still need to go dress shopping," Sophie suddenly said, sounding slightly anxious. "We'll have to set a date to go into Plattsburgh."
"We're going into Plattsburgh tomorrow!" Jamie exclaimed, practically bursting with excitement. "Sarah told me yesterday that she wants to give Fancy-Pants Charlton a tour of the theater! We can tag along and go shopping!"
Fancy-Pants Charlton? Is she talking about Weston?
I heard Megan try to suppress a laugh as she too discovered who Jamie was talking about. Sophie pinched the bridge of her nose in order to keep herself composed, and even Jase looked amused at the nickname for his brother.
I did want to go dress shopping, but I still wasn't completely sold on the idea of staying here until the masquerade. I know I said that I would, but things between Mother and I are still tense, and I don't want her pestering me about school.
"Maybe not tomorrow," I said sharply, earning a surprised and hurt look from Jamie. I took a deep breath. "I mean, maybe we could go closer to the actual masquerade? We don't want to ruin the dresses by trying them on over and over again. Getting them closer to the day of would keep the temptation lower."
Sophie and Jamie exchanged a look. "She has a point," Sophie said. Jamie sighed and nodded her defeat, looking deflated.
There was an awkward silence.
I shifted my weight and cleared my throat. "Lunch?"
Megan grinned at me. "Is there any sushi?" she asked. "I want sushi."
"You always want sushi."
"That's because it's the greatest food ever invented."
"I disagree," Jase said, injecting himself into the conversation. "Tacos are the greatest food to be created."
Megan narrowed her eyes and turned to him. "Who thought mashing a bunch of spicy ingredients into a roasted tortilla was a good idea?"
"Who thought that eating raw fish was a good idea?" he countered.
"Not all sushi is raw."
"Not all tortillas are roasted. Haven't you ever heard of a soft taco?"
God, they could be at this all day.
"There is no sushi, and no tacos," I interrupted. "Sophie, what do you want?"
Sophie thought hard for a moment.
"Sandwiches," she said. "I want a sandwich for lunch."
Nobody had any complaints, though Jamie did start singing softly to herself.
"I mean, it's crazy... what?... we finish each other's..."
"Do not finish that sentence," Megan growled. "It's enough that I have to listen to crazy city toddlers sing Frozen songs on a daily basis."
Jamie scowled at her, but stayed quiet.
Julienne was still in the kitchen when we entered.
She looked up and her eyes widened as she took in the group of us. Her eyes met mine, and she smiled softly. "Hi, Kriss!" she greeted. She looked shyly around at the rest of the group, which I thought was odd. She didn't appear to be shy this morning. In fact, she was exactly the opposite of shy this morning. Maybe she was more nervous in groups. Her blue eyes turned to Jamie. "Jamie!" she said enthusiastically. She glanced at Sophie, bit her lip, and blushed. The latter swallowed hard and was suddenly very interested in Megan's outfit, which was only a pair of black leggings and her NYU hoodie.
Now, this was interesting.
"You must be the new cook!" Megan said by way of greeting. She stepped out of Sophie's line of sight - who started examining Jase's bright green shoes - and shook Julienne's hand. "Megan Green, pleased to meet you."
"Julienne Lanster," the other girl said. Her gaze slid over to Jase. "One of the Charlton boys? Judging by your age and obvious lack of maturity, I'd say you're Jayson."
Jase grinned. "Just Jase, please. Only my brother and other boring adults call me Jayson."
"Then you shall call me Julie," she said, looking around at us. "Since all of you have insisted I call you by your nicknames, you must do the same for me."
Megan, the closest one to her, nodded and took a step back. "We're just here to make lunch," she said. "Don't let us get in your way."
Julie frowned and shook her head. "Let me get it," she insisted. "I have nothing better to do until Stephanie and Corbin get back from their grocery run," when nobody moved, she turned and began pulling things out of the fridge.
"Grocery run?" Sophie, who finally found her voice, sounded confused. "Didn't you and Corbin get groceries the other day?"
Julie didn't turn to face Sophie, but I saw her shoulders tense. "We did," she confirmed. "But even more things have disappeared from the kitchen," she glanced at me out of the corner of her eyes. "Even since you were here this morning, Kriss. Some of the pasta Stephanie made last night is gone."
"Poof!" Jamie said in a small voice, making a disappearing motion with her hands.
Julie grabbed ten slices of bread and divided them into pairs. I grabbed two slices and ignored her sound of protest. I could make my own sandwich, thank you very much. I learned how to be independent in the city. I heard movement behind me, and a moment later Megan stood beside me at the kitchen counter, spreading butter over her bread. I cut up some cheddar cheese and passed her a few pieces for her own sandwich.
"I can do it," I heard Julie's voice from the kitchen table, where the others set up their sandwich-making committee.
"It's fine," Sophie responded. I could almost see the stubborn set of her jaw, so similar to my own, as I imagined her spreading lettuce and tomatoes on the bread. "I can handle it."
"But it's my job to prepare food," Julie insisted. I heard Sophie's sigh.
"Could you pass me the block of cheese?" Sophie asked. Movement from behind me. Wordlessly, I grabbed the cheese block Megan and I were using and passed it to Julie, who grabbed a knife and cut out rectangles of cheese.
Megan and I exchanged a look.
The door to the kitchen opened and I spun around, finished sandwich in hand, to see who had entered. Mother walked in first, followed by Weston and Mrs. Green. Jamie's bubbly, energetic mood vanished instantly as her expression darkened and she glared down at her sandwich, then decided it was much more effective to send silent daggers at Weston instead.
"Oh, Kristina!" Mother said, sounding surprised. "I didn't know you were all in here!"
Sighing, I took a bite of my sandwich and set it back onto the counter. "It's lunchtime, Mother, where else did you expect us to be?"
Megan elbowed me, warning me to watch my tone.
"We're just giving Weston a tour," Mother said, ignoring my cold words. She turned to Jase. "Are you enjoying yourself, Jayson?"
Jase winced at the use of his full name, but nodded, his eyes meeting mine. "Immensely," he said. I felt heat rise to my cheeks, and he grinned at my blush.
Mrs. Green was eyeing me carefully, and she frowned ever so slightly at my reaction to Jase's words. Deliberately, she walked over to the fridge, opened it, and pulled out an apple, tossing it in Megan's direction. "Do remember to eat your fruit, Megan," she said as Megan caught the apple and scowled at it. Mrs. Green glanced at me - and zeroed in on my collarbone. "That's a lovely necklace, Kristina," she said, stepping closer to me to get a better look at the rose. She lifted it up into her palm and examined it closely. "The craftsmanship is exquisite. Wherever did you get it?"
I gently took the necklace back from her and set it back down so it rested gently on top of the neckline of my shirt. "It was a gift, from a friend," I said. Calling the Ghost a friend might be a bit of a stretch, but how else would you describe our relationship to somebody who had no idea we even had one?
Also, I had no evidence that it was he who gave me the necklace, but who else could it be?
Mrs. Green narrowed her eyes at my words, but didn't say anything more.
"Well, Weston," Mother said, when it became clear none of us really wanted them there. "Shall we show you the gardens, then?"
Weston, who was busy returning Jamie's glare, glanced up at Mother's words. "Yes," he said. "That sounds fantastic."
With a final dark look at Jamie, he turned and stalked out of the room. I gave Jamie a quizzical look.
"I think he despises you almost as much as you despise him," I said, finishing off my sandwich.
Jamie shrugged, looking indifferent.
"It's because you called him out earlier," Jase told her, looking amused. "He never gets called out; he's not used to it."
Megan, who had finished her sandwich and was raiding the chocolate cupboard, passed me a Snickers bar. I gave her a thankful smile and slid it into my jeans pocket, intending to eat it later - when my hands brushed against a small slip of paper. Frowning with confusion, I wandered over to the paper towel dispenser, making it look as though I was wiping off my hands. I slid the paper out of my pocket, unfolding it and examining it while keeping it hidden from view.
Bedroom, Angel. Now.
Very direct. If anybody else happened to see this, there could be some very kinky interpretations as to what this note meant.
But I knew what it meant. Without a doubt, it was from the Ghost. Nobody else called me Angel, and nobody would be able to slip a piece of paper into the pocket of my jeans without me noticing.
But what did he want? He made it clear that we could only meet after everybody else had gone to bed, so as not to be overheard.
Curiosity and a desire to know what he wanted made me anxious to leave. I turned away from the dispenser, making a big show of tossing a towel into the garbage.
"Could you finish the tour without me?" I asked, trying to make my voice sound weak.
"Why? What's wrong?" Jase asked, immediately jumping to his feet with concern.
"Migraine," I said, unfocusing my eyes and swaying on my feet for good measure. "I just need to go and lie down for a little while."
Abruptly, I turned and headed for the kitchen doors, fighting to keep my pace slow and weary.
"Do you want me to walk you to your bedroom?" Jase asked as I passed by him.
"No..." I said. "I'll be fine."
"Feel better!" Sophie called after me as I closed the kitchen door behind me.
The moment I heard the click! of the door being securely shut, I turned and raced upstairs at full speed, not stopping until I reached my door. I hesitated outside for a minute, fighting to catch my breath as a million questions surged through my head.
What did the Ghost want? Why were we meeting in the middle of the afternoon? Why did he sound so curt in his note? And why did the note's writing look so... familiar?
I didn't notice before, but there was something about the neat, elegant swirl to the letters that tickled my mind.
Or maybe curiosity was making me crazy.
With a deep breath, I opened the door to my bedroom and flipped on the lights...
... and was immediately met with the feeling of another presence in the room. The lights didn't even flicker, just dulled down until the majority of my bedroom was in shadows.
"Kristina."
My heart began pounding as he spoke. There was something different about his voice today. It was less heavenly and more... dangerous? disapproving? angry?
"Hi," I said meekly. I had no idea what to say. What was with his tone? Did I do something wrong?
"I thought I told you to let go of any Earthly matters."
Oh God, not this again.
"I thought I had made it clear that these so-called 'Earthy matters' help me," I said, impatience biting at my words.
I heard a frustrated sigh.
"I also told you to sing for me, and only me," he said.
I was so confused. "I do," I said, frowning. "You know that. You're the only one I can sing for."
"Your voice may sing for me, but your heart sings for another."
This was new.
"What... what are you talking about?" I asked.
"The boy," he growled. "The one you've been staring at all day."
I picked up on a new emotion in his voice. It made me feel like I had to tread carefully. There was something very different about the Ghost today. He definitely sounded dangerous, angry, and...
"Jase?" I asked, forcing out a laugh. "He's a childhood friend."
"He looks at you with infatuation."
Jealously. Jealously?
Why on earth does the Ghost sound jealous?
"We had a... romantic-ish... relationship," I began awkwardly. "Some of those feelings might still... linger?"
"A romantic-ish... relationship?" slight confusion was added to the many layers in his voice.
"It was five years ago," I said quickly. "Our relationship is strictly platonic now."
I didn't know if I was lying or not. My head swirled with confusion at the Ghost's apparent jealously. Why is he jealous? He's dead!
A cold silence sat on the Ghost's end of the conversation.
"It was five years ago," I repeated. "And we just kissed a little."
That got a response out of him.
A sharp intake of breath echoed around me, whistling slightly as if his teeth were clenched. I imagined his eyes narrowed in anger, nostrils flaring, fists tightening.
"You have no feelings for this boy, besides whatever's lingering?"
I nodded.
"Well," he said, chuckling, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. "I suppose I'd better get rid of those lingering feelings."
As I frowned, trying to figure out what he meant by those words, movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I turned and was staring directly into the mirror, feeling as though I was staring directly at the Ghost.
I thought of all those times I saw a flash of movement from that direction. How whenever I caught the Ghost off guard with a statement or question, his voice would come from that direction. How I felt the mirror pulling me towards it during that dream I had.
The lights winked out, and the room plunged into complete darkness. I heard a noise that sounded like a door sliding open, and immediately I understood.
Too late, I understood.
I heard footsteps ahead of me, moving towards me, but in the sudden darkness, I couldn't see anything. I heard breathing, slow and steady, right in front of me. I glanced towards my window, where the curtains were drawn, allowing almost no outside light to seep into the room. I didn't notice that they were closed. I wondered if I had time to rip them open.
A hand wrapped around my wrist, holding me tightly, and I inhaled sharply to build up a scream when another hand clamped over my mouth, muffling any noise I could make.
Then I was dragged forwards, my eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness. I could make out the shape of a figure in front of me, one hand releasing from my mouth, the other clenched tightly around my wrist. Terror swept through me as I saw the rectangle of black we were heading towards, right where my mirror should be.
I tried to yank my wrist back, but the figure's grip was unyielding. I tried working up a scream again, but immediately the figure stopped, turning towards me and held the other hand over my mouth.
"Don't be afraid, Kristina," the figure said, in a soothing, calming, heavenly, and frightfully familiar voice. "I will never harm you."
That was the last straw for me. Terror, confusion, bewilderment, and the echo of betrayal whirled inside of my head as I succumbed to the tornado of emotions. The last thing I was aware of was the two arms wrapping around me as my legs buckled and I rushed towards the ground.
"I am your Angel of Music... Come to me, Angel of Music..."
If the Phantom sang that to me and appeared in my mirror, I'd drop everything and go with him.
The Ghost is getting possessive! Yes, I'm still in love with him, don't sue me.
Now that Jase has been properly introduced, what are your thoughts on him?
What are your thoughts on the dynamic between him and Kriss?
This has been the longest chapter I've ever written. Nearly 5600 words!
Don't forget to comment and vote!
Love you all!
~ Evie