Selene ducked inside, pulling the panel shut behind her—badly. There was a gap, small enough that Selene could just see the sliver of Madame.
Gigi reached for Selene, grasping her hand tightly.
Madame settled onto her bed. One shoe after the other fell to the floor as she let out a deep, bone-weary sigh.
Madame rolled up her sleeves, fingers tracing the constellation of scars on the back of her arms, over her fingers, her palm. A terrible knowing settled over Selene. Madame hadn’t merely seen the ghost. She knew him. She had been there. She had seen his magic. She had done it with him.
Once, there’d been a girl who’d grown so frightened of the ghost she jumped off the roof of the opera house. Selene had always thought that the girl had died. Brigitte must have sung her safety out of instinct. Not enough to completely stave off injury, but enough to survive. Selene’s eyes lingered on Madame’s cane. Had she let the rumors of her own fall circulate to spread fear and prevent the students from going to the ghost and learning his secrets?
She wanted to scream at Madame, to beg her to let him out. But if she confirmed Madame’s fear, what was to stop her from getting rid of the mirror? What was to stop her from letting it shatter?
What now?Gigi mouthed.
Selene leaned into the framed architectural plan. She could make out this corner of the opera house, this suite, which had initially been intended for guests. The trick panel was marked, as well as the space they were hidden in.
There was a passageway that connected to the main hallway. Selene committed it to memory. When she was finished, she put a finger to her lips. She took Gigi by the hand, moving gingerly down the passage. She kept her free hand against the wall, feeling for where to turn in the dark. She wished she could bleed herself a thread to lead them out. But with Gigi here, all she could do was push through the dark and hope against hope that they wouldn’t be caught.
There was a click.
A flood of light.
Selene pulled Gigi around the corner a beat before Madame’s voice echoed in the passage. She’d be back for the letters. She’d be back for everything if she could.
“Hello?”
Selene clung to the wall, barely moving, barely breathing.
The light faded. The panel clicked shut.
Selene had never moved so quickly in her life, twisting through the narrow spaces and around the tight corners. When they finally burst through the exit, they were both breathing heavily. Selene didn’t stop in the hallway. She ran—barely caring about the sound—back to their room.
Gigi was a few steps behind her. She collapsed onto her bed. “That was close.”
“Maybe we should go back.” Selene wanted what was rightfully hers. She wanted to sift through the secrets. She wondered if she’d find a name written on a scrap of old sheet music, discarded and forgotten. It would be so easy to save the ghost that way. But when had her life ever been that simple?
“Knowing my mother, all those things will be somewhere else within the hour. She works quickly.”
Selene knew all too well. She put on her nightgown, ran her fingers through her hair to catch the knots and spiderwebs. The adrenaline was already running down, fatigue settling in.
Gigi’s voice was edged with exhaustion. “I just wish I could talk to her about it, you know? Her life before, why she feels the need to keep it hidden. I wish I could talk to her about anything at all.”
By the time Selene thought of a suitable response, Gigi’s soft breaths had turned to snores.
Selene knew one thing for certain: the opera house had more secrets left for her to uncover. One of them would be the key to the ghost’s freedom.
And Selene was running out of time.
Chapter 26
Selene slept with her music tucked against her body. This was the song her heart had longed for. This was the best thing she’d ever written.
When the sun was up, Selene tossed on a simple, marigold gown with wide pockets and a skirt above her ankles. Enough to hide her sheet music and keep her hem from dragging in the damp below the opera house. It wasn’t pretty, by any means. But who was there to judge her? If things went well, she wouldn’t see another person for the rest of the day.
Save for the ghost. She had to see him, had to speak Madame’s name, and see if he remembered her.
But to do that, she needed to find a fragment of what once was. A piece of the past. This seemed the simplest task. Her father’s watch was heavy in her pocket. She considered giving it up. No longer having the familiar weight. No longer being able to rub her thumb against the tarnished silver and imagine her father checking the time.
Not this. She’d have to find something else.
