“It’s wild, for sure.”
“It’s beautiful, all of it.”
“You really think so?” Anxiety etches lines between his brows. “Someone said a few things to me last night that made me wonder if it actually sucks. Maybe I should pull the plug on the whole show.”
“It’sgood, Raoul.” I rise and place both hands on his chest. His heartbeat thumps faster beneath the layers of suit coat and crisp white shirt. I press in closer, listening to that strong, healthy heartbeat that carries the promise of so much rich, red blood…
“Christine?” Raoul frowns deeper. “Your eyes…”
Oh shit. When I feel like feeding, sometimes my eyes go milky white in the middle. It’s a really strange effect—one I can usually control right up until the moment I bite. But with my nerves so taut and my mind on the show, my control slipped. I turn away from him and blink. “Um…new contacts.”
“You don’t wear contacts.”
“How do you know?” I walk away from him. “Maybe I do.”
After a beat, he says quietly, “So this is going to be another thing we don’t talk about.”
My heart kicks into a faster rhythm. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
I whirl around, my hands clenched. “You want to do thisnow, Raoul? Right before curtain?”
“No, but I…” He pokes his glasses up on his nose. “You seem off, and it’s not just nerves. You’re angry and maybe scared. Christine, I’m just going to come out and ask… Is someone stalking you?”
I open my mouth to deny it outright, but I find myself saying, “Not exactly.”
Raoul makes an exasperated sound. “What does that mean?”
“I’m being…” I clear my throat and wince as I say it aloud for the first time. “I’m being haunted.”
“Haunted?” Raoul crooks an eyebrow. “Look, I’ve heard the rumors from the cast and crew, but that’s all just good theater fun. There’s really nothing—”
“But thereis. I can’t speak to what the others have heard and seen, but there’s one ghost in this theater who is absolutely real. My father sent him. I call him the Angel. He’s the one who’s been teaching me, inspiring me. He gave me the confidence to audition.”
Raoul blinks at me.
“I know how it sounds…god!” I press a fist to my forehead. “It sounds like I’ve lost my mind. But I promise I haven’t. Raoul, I’ve heard him. His voice is like nothing I’ve ever experienced—it’s beautiful, musical—”
“Enchanting?”
“Yes. Wait…what?”
He’s staring at me with growing horror in his eyes. “Christine,where have you encountered this angel?”
“I’ve heard him in the back stairway, and…in my room.”
“Fuck.” He swipes a trembling hand over his mouth and jaw. “Christine, that’s not a ghost or an angel. He’s a living human with a physical body. I know, because I’ve seen him, felt him. I’ve heard his voice, too. And you’re right—he’s obsessed with you. He warned me to stay away, and I—god, I should have called the police immediately, but I thought I could handle him myself. He didn’t seem like a threat, just a really intense fan of yours. I should have known better.”
“He’s not human,” I protest, my heart racing faster. “The way he speaks—it’s like his voice comes from everywhere and nowhere. He sings like an angel from heaven—like a literal god. He knows things he couldn’t possibly know.”
“Trust me, he’s corporeal. He was the one in the mask at Alouette last night.”
“No.” I shake my head wildly, dread carving a hole in my stomach. “No, that couldn’t have been him. That was someone different.”
He’s confirming the suspicion I discarded—that our masked listener, the stranger I mauled in the alley, and the Angel my father sent me are all the same person.
Not my Angel, oh god, not my Angel.Limply, I drop onto a small bench by the wall, piecing together the fragments.
