My voice never came back. But the music did.
I step into the cemetery. Rows of white and gray. I know exactly where I’m going.
Meg said I am strong. That I survived. Now I have to face the last thing holding me here.
I stop in front of the bright white marble crypt. The color of innocence housing rot. An angel carved above it. Theater masks etched beside the name.
Silas Thorne.
Standing here hurts. It has to.
I move several rows back, toward the arbor. A smaller stone. Quieter.
Angel Daye.
She would have been my world, no matter how she was conceived. I named her for her avenger.
My fingers trace the carved cherubim.
“It’s time for me to live again, my love,” I whisper. “I never wanted to without you. But hiding doesn’t honor you.”
My throat tightens.
“I was never ashamed of you. I was ashamed that I failed you.”
Chapter thirty-six
Dark Angel
I stand in the shadow of the gazebo arbor and watch the heartbreak cross her face.
I failed her once. I know that truth as surely as I know my own name.
Now I watch. I wait. I look for the moments where I can ease the weight without being seen.
She steps away from the small crypt and straightens her shoulders. The movement is subtle, but it matters.
My girl is finding her way.
I turn my attention to the little Angel, and for a moment, I allow myself the weakness of grief.
Chapter thirty-seven
Remy
We’re back at the opera house to check progress and make sure the Patron concert doesn’t implode.
Erik wants to test the acoustics. Again.
I want to see Christianna.
Meg isn’t punishing me. That would be obvious. This is something quieter.
She no longer anticipates. She no longer fills silences. She waits until someone asks.
It’s deliberate.
I’ve noticed. I don’t comment on it. It’s deserved, even though it’s growing old.
