I know them by the surge of cruel adoration in my heart.
They appear to have made a tentative peace with each other, though I wasn’t privy to that conversation. Jealousy, familiar and poisonous, coils against my ribs. Their supernatural heritage is complication enough—they do not need the corrosive influence of a damaged god. A better soul than mine would leave them alone.
For a moment, I imagine such unselfishness. I picture myself taking a few possessions, departing from this place, and finding another haven. But the only times I have ventured outside the New Orpheum were to follow Christine. Those excursions were fraught with purpose. The thought of leaving without her or Raoul sends a bolt of keen terror through my chest. I break into a chilled sweat, and my heart rate spikes, thundering in my throat.
The violence of the fear startles me. I hadn’t anticipated that response within myself—hadn’t questioned my aversion to being outside the New Orpheum. I thought I was simply yielding to my summoner’s request that I stay hidden. I did not realize that I am terrified, down to my very core, of leaving this place alone.
The realization chokes me, sends a red haze to my brain, colors everything around me in the raging hue of blood.
I, the god of death, refuse to be afraid. I fear nothing, notthen, not now, not ever again.
Never again will I be taken beyond my own control, suffocated and imprisoned. Never again will I be torn out of my refuge, whether it be body or lair. Never again will I lose what’s most important to me.
To prevent such travesties, I will exert my remaining power, such as it is, over everyone here…especially Raoul and Christine. I can feel them slipping away, wriggling out of my grasp before I’ve had a chance to show them all that I am, everything I can offer. Only through my teaching can Christine rise to be the star she was always meant to be. Only with my assistance can Raoul fulfill his true potential. Only together can we turn this musical into a masterpiece that will captivate the world.
Then I will feel strong. I will have accolades; I will have reverence. I will have happiness and security.
This is my goal, and I will work to its end, manipulating this crowd, tugging their puppet strings, motivating first one, then another, until I achieve my purpose.
These puppets of mine are blithely ignorant of their fate. They do not know that Death walks among them, dressed in the color of blood.
22Raoul
Seeing Christine again is like breathing fresh air after being locked in a dark closet for days, yet I feel oddly awkward around her, and she seems a little withdrawn from me, too.
I wore contacts tonight to accommodate the mask. Contacts usually make my eyes feel dry and itchy, but the new brand I’m trying isn’t too bad. Still, I keep touching the mask where the bridge of my nose would be, to push up the nonexistent glasses. A nervous habit I’ve developed, I guess.
“How did rehearsals go?” I ask Christine, and I want to bite my tongue for it, because just a week ago, my tongue was inside her, and now all I can do is ask about work. I blunder ahead without giving her the chance to reply. “Sorry I was absent. My family is excited that I finally unlocked my other form.”
Alarm flares in her eyes, and she steps closer, shushing me.
She’s right; I spoke too loudly. But we’re masked, and everyone else is busy drinking, taking selfies, grinding, and dancing.
“Your family,” she says tentatively. “They treated you so badly in the past.”
“Because they wanted me to change on their timeline.”
“And now?”
“Now…” I scoff bitterly. “Now, for the first time in my life, they value me. They’re not embarrassed of me. I’m a wolf, one of the higher animals. A predator.”
Her eyes harden behind her glossy mask. “If that’s all they see, they don’t really understand your worth.”
“Yeah…they don’t seem too concerned with anything except my wolf form,” I admit. “My preferences and my consent aren’t high priorities right now.”
She actually growls, a threatening purr deep in her throat. Her anger isn’t directed at me, though. She’s furious with my family on my behalf. A sign that maybe, just maybe, she’s coming to terms with this. Accepting me for who I am.
A slow thrill rolls through my stomach. Emboldened, I reach out and lightly grasp her wrist like I did the day she auditioned for me.
“Christine,” I say softly.
She inhales, sharp and quick, then releases the breath gradually, yielding to my touch. “Do you want me to kill any of them for you?”
I laugh, but her echoing laugh is shaky, strained. She wasn’t joking.
“I would, you know,” she says, beneath the violent thrum of the music. “That’s the horror of it all.Hehas already killed for me. I’d kill for you, and I’d kill for him—” She shudders. “The things we might do, Raoul. It’s unthinkable. I never wanted to be part of any murderous, supernatural family. That’s why I can’t do this with either of you, much as I want to.”
She withdraws her wrist, her cool fingers slipping through mine. She glides away, and I let her go.
