Katelienne.
Katelienne.
Katelienne, you were right about him.
I am so sorry.
Come quickly, before it is too late.
Katelienne, Katelienne, I am so sorry.
I sat up in bed with a start, pressing my hands to my hot face, feeling nauseous, and tried to push away the images of the nightmare, but failing. I pushed the covers off and hurried over to the balcony door, swinging it open and stepping out into the cool night air.
It took a long time for the nightmare's seeping tendrils of fear and grief to leave me; but when it had finally gone I felt better. The stars were bright in the dark sky, and I gazed up at them, looking for Orion. It had always been my favorite constellation, and tonight the warrior was shining like he was made of fiery diamonds. I took a deep breath of the night air and closed my eyes, tipping my face up towards the sky.
I did not hear the balcony door open, and when the Phantom spoke behind me I jumped, and nearly broke my wrist by smashing it into the railing as I went for my knife, which wasn't even there. I had left it on my bedside table.
"Pleasant evening, isn't it?"
"What are you doing on my balcony?" I snapped, turning around and cradling my hurt wrist with my left hand, and then blushing as I realized I had forgotten my robe. Then I scowled.
"Visiting," he said, politely, and stepped up next to me to look down over the city. "Why are you awake so late?"
"Bad dreams," I said, and then wished I hadn't told him the truth. He was going to mock me; I was sure of it. I pushed the balcony door open, retrieved my robe, and donned it, wrapping the ties around my waist in a firm knot.
"I'm sorry," he said, and turned his head to look at me through the doorway. "What about?"
"Nothing of import," I said, and remembered his note. "Now that you're here, I'd like you to explain about that ring."
"Do I really need to?" he asked, wrapping his fingers around the railing and pulling experimentally. The wood creaked in indignation.
"Leave my balcony alone," I said. "Yes, you do. And you need to return it. I can't have stolen goods in my room."
"Garmin doesn't even know it's missing," said the Phantom, with a prideful air. "He's a stupid one."
"Not that stupid," I said. "Nobody's that stupid. He'll figure it out soon; I'm sure he will. Either you return it or you hold onto it. I don't want it."
"I'll take it then," he said, coming into my room and looming over me. He was at least a foot taller than I was.
I did not like being loomed over. I turned my back on him and went to my jewelry box and got the ring out. "Here."
Instead of pocketing it, as I had assumed he would, he went out the balcony door and tossed it into the night.
"What are you doing?" I cried, hurrying to the railing and peering down into the narrow streets below, seeing absolutely no sign of the ring, just as I'd thought I would. "That was utterly uncalled for!"
"Garmin is a murderous wretch," said the Phantom carelessly. "I doubt you would have accepted it anyways."
"Of course not," I snapped. "But it would have been more prudent to simply return it. When he finds out it's missing he'll turn the whole Opera House upside down, and later, after he's given up, he'll just go out and buy a new one. Either way, he's going to be more annoying than usual, thanks to you."
"Perhaps," said the Phantom, "staying up too late addles your brains. What you just said makes no sense. When Garmin discovers that his ring is gone (and the more harm that comes to him, the better) he'll become confused and worried and bothered. We want that to happen, don't we? Or have you changed your mind?"
I said, "No, I haven't. Have you?"
"No," he said, and looked down at me with a suddenly somber expression. "Why?"
"What?" I said. "What do you mean, why?"
He turned back to the sky. "Generally," he said softly, "most of the bargains I have made do not last very long."
"Well," I said firmly, "mine will. As long as you hold up your side of it. Which reminds me – you haven't."
He grinned; he was in silhouette, but I saw the corner of his lip curl upwards in amusement. "It is too late for that tonight, mademoiselle. You should probably get some rest."
He went past me and put his hand on the balcony door to open it, but paused, and turned back, his expression quizzical.
"Why are you suddenly so keen to turn Garmin in?"
"What?" I said. I hadn't expected him to ask me that. I thought he had been about to make a rude comment about my nightwear.
"Well?" he said. "Are you going to answer my question?"
I shifted from foot to foot. "I'm…I'm not sure, I suppose. It's just that you have no reason to hate Luke – well, besides his general attitude of snobbery – so I've come to the conclusion that your claims that he's a murderer may actually have some bearing."
He nodded, slowly, and pushed the door the rest of the way open. "After you."
I went inside and sat down on my bed, but instead of leaving, the Phantom crossed the room towards me and held out a hand.
I stared up at him.
"Your wrist," he said, impatiently.
I gave my hand to him, feeling confused, and he turned it over in his fingers, examining my wrist with cool, dark eyes. His hand was warm against my cold skin.
"You're going to have bruises," he said, finally.
"Why do you care?" I asked, withdrawing my hand. "You're the one that surprised me so that I smacked it."
"I take responsibility for my actions, mademoiselle," he said, in return, and he drew out a small container from his left pocket.
"Bruise balm," he said. I reached for it, but he pulled his hand back and said, "Let me."
He was gentle as he applied it to my reddened, tender skin, and his dark-haired head was bent down low, low enough for his breath to brush my forehead in passing.
When he had finished he wrapped a handkerchief around my wrist and let me take it back.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight," I said, feeling even more nonplussed than ever, and watched him cross the room to my door and let himself out.
That night, I heard the underground music for the first time: it rose up through the floors of the Opera House and wove its way into my dreams as I slept, and the nightmare that had plagued me for so long did not return. I slept until the sun rose out of the night and brought with it the joy of morning, and the little I remembered of my dreams were scenes of beauty and peace.
