Chapter 16

When I came to, I was laying on the floor, and for a terrible moment, I didn't know where I was or how I ended up on ground. Covering my face with both palms, I scrubbed my eyes, thinking that if I cleared the haziness out of them, it might also somehow chase away the fog inside my head.

After a few seconds, the grogginess thankfully began to subside. Letting out a low groan, I pushed myself up on my elbows so that I could look around and figure out what was going on.

"Don't move." Erik's smooth voice slithered through the darkness, his softly spoken words coiling around me in a way that I found both oddly comforting and hard to ignore. I complied, letting my shoulders relax and my back flatten against the cold hardwood. "You fainted. You are still weak and should take a moment to get your bearings."

"What?" I frowned, passing my fingers along my brow line. This was twice, now. I wasn't some nineteenth-century damsel in distress who fainted at the drop of a hat; passing out wasn't a normal thing for me. "Why?"

He was strangely silent, and his refusal to answer such a simple question immediately put me on edge. A knot began to form in the pit of my stomach. What was wrong? What wasn't he telling me?

"Erik?" In spite of his earlier warning, I pushed myself up on my elbows again in an attempt to locate him.

At that exact same moment, several frightening images flashed through my mind. A thin piece of wire. Desperately fighting for my life. Erik's terrifying voice, threatening my imminent death.

My hand flew to my throat and I gasped when the pressure from my exploring fingertips sent a twinge of pain rippling across the injured skin.

"It wasn't a dream…," I whispered.

There was a slight rustle of fabric as he slowly emerged from the shadows. His sudden appearance struck an irrational chord of fear in my chest, and out of pure reflex I reeled backwards, desperate to put space between us. In that moment, swathed in darkness, hands balled into tight fists at his sides, he looked every bit the menacing Angel of Death that Christine had so vividly described in the book. I tried to tell myself that it was utterly ridiculous to be afraid of him. He was my friend. But my resolve abruptly faltered as I recalled the first time we'd met face-to-face and how truly terrified I had been as he towered over me and demanded that I tell him how I knew the things I knew.

The knot in my stomach tripled in size.

He had come so close to ending my life, and that instinct had come to him as naturally as breathing. What was worse, it was painfully clear from the calm, detached, and methodical way he had twisted that cord around my neck that he had taken a life that way many, many times. For the first time in months, I wondered who exactly I was dealing with, and how in the hell I had forgotten how dangerous he was.

XXX

"It wasn't a dream…."

I turned away, clenching my hands to try to contain the anger that rushed through my body as I watched her scramble away from me. The look of panicked comprehension on her face and the horror in her voice said it all. Without warning, I was suddenly thrown back in time, to a moment when another woman of the same name finally saw me for the monster I truly was.

"Please don't kill them, Erik! I'll do anything!"

"Anything?" I echoed, peering down at the small fingers clutching at my sleeve. With calm detachment, I plucked her hand from my arm. "Anything, you say? Would you even go so far as to be my wife?"

"Yes! Yes!" Christine hastily agreed. "I'll do anything you say. Let them out and I'll marry you tonight."

"Oh, my dear," I chuckled lowly. "Desperation has made you foolish. I don't think you quite understand what you're agreeing to."

"I understand. I do! Just please…please don't let them die."

I closed my eyes, shoving the memory back into the dark recesses of my mind, where it belonged.

This wasn't the first time I had tried to kill someone I called a friend. The Daroga had been in the torture chamber that night as well, and at the time I hadn't given his impending death more than a passing thought. He had merely been collateral damage, an unfortunate victim caught up in circumstances beyond his control. Just like Christine had almost been tonight. Apparently, my own death hadn't tempered my murderous instincts.

Disgusted with myself and suddenly angry at her for bringing me to this point, I swooped down upon her like a giant bird of prey, trying not to notice how she flinched when I drew near.

"No, it wasn't a dream!" I snarled back at her spitefully. "I very nearly succeeded in ending your life! Do you even realize how lucky you are that I stopped when I did? Your blood would have been on my hands, and for what? What in God's name were you doing out there?"

"I was locked out!" she screamed back at me. In seconds, she was on her feet and had bridged the small gap between us, bringing her face defiantly close to mine as she thrust her hand in the direction of the dining room. "It was freezing outside, and I had no way to call for help!" She took a step forward, forcing me to retreat in order to maintain adequate distance between her and my mask. "What else was I supposed to do? Sit out there and wait on the porch until someone noticed that I was slowly turning into a popsicle? Wait for you to realize I was gone and come looking for me? And then what? You're a goddamn ghost! It's not like you could've opened the door for me! So yeah, I broke in. The only thing I was thinking about was getting inside where it was warm, not that I was going to be attacked in my own home by someone who I thought was my friend!"

The world around me narrowed to a pinpoint as blind fury exploded in my chest, spreading out through my veins like molten lava. It was bad enough that my instinctive need for space had caused me to lose precious ground, making it seem like I was submitting to her weak attempts at intimidation, but the razor-sharp accusation behind her scathing retort cut right to the bone and slashed clean through what remained of my self-control.

XXX

Erik's eyes crackled with fire as he let out a primal growl.

"I thought you were an intruder!" he roared.

My heart leapt into my throat as he squared his shoulders, straightening up to his full height before he deliberately advanced toward me. Each step he took radiated with barely contained anger, and I was suddenly afraid that one wrong word, one careless movement, might cause him to snap.

"Who else would be coming through your window at this time of night?" he demanded, mimicking my earlier gesture by flinging his hand in the direction of the open dining room window. "I had no reason to suspect that it was you! In that moment all I saw was a threat. Damn it, Christine!" He grabbed my shoulders, halting my backwards retreat. "Do you even realize how close I came to killing you? If you hadn't said something when you did, I—"

With a stifled sigh, he let go of me and stepped back, leaving the sentence unfinished and hanging in the air between us.

"I'm sorry," I whispered tremulously. It was all I could think to say. I could feel the sting of fresh tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. Gazing up at the ceiling I tried my best to hold them back, but the events of the past few hours proved too much for me to handle, and they spilled forth, cutting an uneven path as they zigzagged down my checks and dripped off my chin. "If Ben hadn't called and gotten me all worked up, I wouldn't have run outside like an idiot and we wouldn't be in this mess."

The heat in Erik's eyes slowly cooled as he studied me, and a frown centered on his bottom lip. "You shouldn't need to apologize," he eventually sighed, the soft, musical lilt returning to his voice. "It is I who should be begging for your forgiveness. I overreacted. I hurt you and for that I am truly sorry. It was never my intention…." He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry that you had to see that side of me."

The regret in his voice was obvious, and in the wake of such openly displayed remorse it was hard to stay angry at him. Whatever he may have been all those years ago when he'd taken up the mantle of Opera Ghost, when he'd done everything in his power to rightfully earn his reviled reputation, it wasn't who he was now. At least to me he wasn't. I couldn't speak to how he used to be, because I hadn't known him at the time, but I was fairly certain I knew the man standing in front of me now, and I believed him when he said he never meant to hurt me.

"Thank you."

Confused, Erik cocked his head to one side. "For what?"

"For protecting me."

Without thinking, I reached out and laid my hand over his forearm. It was such an ordinary way of expressing gratitude and understanding that I didn't think anything of it until he recoiled, yanking his arm away as if I had just branded him with a hot metal poker. Only then did it occur to me that I had felt the silky fabric of his sleeve and the rigidness of skin and bone beneath my fingertips.

Erik's eyes were wide with disbelief as he nervously tugged down the front of his waistcoat.

"It's late," he muttered. "You should get some sleep."

And with that, he vanished into the night, leaving me standing alone in the dark.

XXX

The house was quiet and dark once again, the earthly furnishings bathed in beams of moonlight that managed to slip between the slats of the shuttered windows. Christine had retired hours ago, but I remained, content to linger among the nighttime shadows, unable to quell the thoughts that still raced through my mind.

A touch.

How many times had I longed for such a simple gesture? How many times had I fantasized about being able to reach out and caress Christine's cheek during one of our many lessons in my house beyond the lake? To run my fingers down the length of her arm, savoring the softness of her flawless skin as my hand threaded its way into hers? And how many times had I yearned for her to find the courage to break through the barriers that fear had erected between us and return that touch with the love I desired about all else?

A touch.

It was something so simple. So ordinary. Most people didn't even stop to consider it as they went about their day. They clasped hands and embraced one another casually, as though such actions were commonplace. Hell, I daresay people even expected it. And yet, the touch of another was always something that had been denied to me. The presence of my mask and what lay beneath it categorized me as a monster, and since monsters weren't capable of warm gestures of affection, they did not deserve any in return. The sting of a whip, the bruises from hurled stones, the pain of a steel blade slicing tender flesh—no, that was the typing of touching I was accustomed to.

I had gone my entire life without knowing what it was like to be touched with kindness, resigned to never knowing how it felt to have the weight of another's hand upon mine. I had accepted that fact a long time ago. There was no sense wasting precious energy dwelling on something that would never, could never be.

I never imagined that I would receive such a gift so long after my death.

Three times now I had made physical contact with the woman who slept upstairs. Three times and each time I had done so reflexively, without even realizing what I was doing. And to my complete and utter astonishment, she hadn't flinched or shied away from my cold, lifeless touch. She certainly had enough reason to. I was a gruesome sight to behold even before I died. But instead of reacting in terror because a disfigured ghost had laid his hands on her, she had reached out and touched me in return. Me! And not out of fear or revulsion or in a desperate attempt to push me away from her and create space between us, but with empathy and compassion and understanding! All the things that I had craved for so long!

If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the weight of her fingers gently pressing against my forearm.

Turning my hands over, I stared at my open palms and wondered why, after I had spent over a hundred years as a restless, disembodied spirit, was I suddenly corporeal enough to make physical contact with my surroundings.

Almost involuntarily, my eyes traveled to the ceiling, locking onto the spot where I knew Christine's bedroom was located. I could no longer pass off what had happened since I appeared in her house as mere coincidence. Whatever I was experiencing, it related back to her.

Somehow.

XXX

As expected, I tossed and turned for hours that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Erik's black shadow lunging for me through the dark. I heard his cry of despair as he spun me around, witnessed the horror in his eyes when he realized what he'd done, and the relief in them that followed immediately afterward. And while all those things were certainly worthy of consuming my thoughts, it was the physical contact that I couldn't get out of my head.

Even now, hours later, I could still feel the pressure from his hands as they grasped my shoulders, the cool sensation of his gloved fingers sliding over my skin as he examined my neck, the firmness of his forearm when I impulsively reached out to him. It felt nothing like the first time we had made contact. This time, there wasn't a crackling, electric feeling between us. He felt as real as anyone else, and if I didn't know the truth about him being a ghost, I would have sworn that he was just as alive as any other ordinary person standing in front of me.

Did he feel it, too?

He must have, for him to pull away from me like he did. I longed to call out to him and ask. I had so many questions that needed answering. But I didn't. The whole experience had rattled him, and the least I could do was respect his privacy and let him process everything that had happened. I just hoped he wouldn't stay away too long this time.

At four-thirty I completely gave up on the pretense of trying to sleep and got out of bed to brew a pot of coffee and start getting ready for work. I hated starting the week feeling so drained, but there was really no point in forcing myself to stay in bed with my mind racing the way it was.

With a mug of steaming hot coffee in hand, I went back upstairs to get dressed. It had been a while since I'd been able to really take the time to get ready in the morning; I usually favored a few more minutes of sleep over primping myself. So at least being up this early allowed me some extra time to focus on my hair and makeup.

Flipping on the bathroom light, I walked over to the sink and set my coffee down to open the mirrored medicine cabinet and grab my toothbrush and toothpaste. I squeezed a line of toothpaste on the bristles, replaced the cap, and put the tube back on the shelf and shut the door.

"Oh my god!" I cried when I looked up and saw my reflection.

My toothbrush clinked against the porcelain sink as I let go of it and touched the dark purple ligature mark that wrapped itself around my neck.

"Oh my god, what am I going to do?!"

It looked like I had been strangled—well, I had been, but now everyone else was going to know about it. How in the hell was I going to explain this?

"Okay, don't panic," I told my reflection in a voice that was clearly starting to panic. "You have some time. Think, Chris."

I seriously contemplated calling in sick and hiding in bed, but the reality of it was that it would probably take a week or more for the bruise to fade, so taking one day off really wasn't a viable solution. Plus, I had called in a lot lately, and I didn't need to add losing my job to the list of shit I was already dealing with.

There had to be some way to hide it.

"Oh!" The solution hit me almost immediately. I hightailed it out of the bathroom and over to my closet, sorting through my blouses until I found a turtleneck and a couple of scarves, all the while thanking my lucky stars that the weather had turned cold enough that wearing these pieces wouldn't draw unnecessary attention to myself.

Of course, wearing a scarf meant that I wouldn't be able to wear scrubs for a few days, but that was okay. It was a small price to pay to keep people from asking about what happened to me. Besides, wearing scrubs to work wasn't mandatory like it was in some doctor's offices. It had been my idea, borne out of laziness and a desire to take the guesswork out of getting dressed every morning. I could handle a week of dressing up.

Alejandra whistled when I walked through the door a few hours later.

"Damn, chica! What you all dressed up for?"

I had chosen a burnt orange turtleneck sweater and paired with it my favorite dark blue skinny jeans and calf-high brown heeled boots. For extra flair, I had added a long gold pendant with a huge jade stone that nestled just below my breasts and had curled my hair in loose ringlets.

I shrugged, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "It's amazing what you can do when you get up three hours earlier than usual."

"You look good. I might have to step up my game," she said with a mock frown, pulling at slick black jacket she wore over her similarly colored scrubs. "You're making me look bad."

I laughed and slid into the seat next to her and switched on the phones.

"Good morning, ladies," Dr. Stevenson said when he walked in a few minutes later. He paused when he saw me, his eyes resembling that of an elevator as he slowly took in my appearance. I could tell he wanted to say something, but couldn't, since doing so would have pushed the boundaries of a superior-subordinate relationship.

I had expected things to be awkward between us after I failed to follow up on his invitation to O'Malley's, but to his credit, Dr. Stevenson had acted like nothing had happened. He'd been his usual cheery self and after a while I had begun to wonder if I'd been reading too much into his offer. Maybe he wasn't interested in me that way at all. I certainly didn't mind. I had made the right decision to take Erik to the symphony rather than going out for drinks with my boss and his family, and the more time that passed the more I came to the conclusion that getting involved with someone I worked with just wasn't a good idea at all.

"Morning," I quietly replied. The phone rang and I snatched it up, grateful for the distraction. "Dr. Stevenson's office."

At a quarter after ten the phones had finally quieted down enough that I could get away for a short break. I dug into my purse, pulling out my own phone, and went into the small breakroom behind the waiting room to send a text to Maddie.

C: Hey, I know this is super short notice, but can you go to lunch today?

She texted back after a few minutes.

M: I don't know…. It's payday week and I've got a lot to do today to get payroll ready by Friday.

C: Please? I need to talk. It's kind of an emergency.

The phone was silent for a few more minutes. Finally, she relented.

M: Okay. I can probably sneak away if we go soon. Where did you have in mind?

We decided on a little sandwich shop that was equal distance between us and agreed to meet just a little after eleven-thirty. Maddie was waiting for me when I drove into the parking lot, her back hunched and camel-colored trench coat pulled tightly around her as she stood there shivering in the wind.

"How long have you been out here?" I asked in lieu of a greeting when I walked up.

"J-just a few minutes," she stuttered. "C'mon. Let's go inside."

I just shook my head and smiled and followed her into the shop.

Because it was before the lunch rush, the inside was still relatively empty. There was a group of four older ladies in a booth in the corner and a man and woman closer to our age holding hands at a bistro table by the window. Other than that, Maddie and I had the place to ourselves.

We hurried up to the counter and ordered lunch; a tofu lettuce wrap and strawberry-banana smoothie for Maddie and half a roasted turkey sandwich with a small cup of creamy tomato basil soup for me. Once we had our trays, we sat down in a booth along with wall opposite the younger couple.

I set my tray down on the table and shimmied out of my coat, tossing it on the bench next to my purse before sliding into the seat. Maddie did the same, except she draped hers neatly over the back of the bench seat. Underneath her coat she wore a mocha brown sweater dress with a dark brown belt cinched at the waist and thick dark brown stockings and matching high heels. No wonder she was freezing.

"I like your outfit," I said.

"Thanks," she replied, pointing to me. "I was just going to say the same thing about yours. What's the occasion?"

Jesus. I needed to make more of an effort to dress up during the week if everyone seemed to think that there was a special reason why I wasn't wearing my traditional scrubs.

"No occasion. I just wanted to embrace the fall weather. That, and I couldn't sleep so I had extra time to get ready this morning."

Maddie took a bite of her lettuce wrap and scrutinized me while she chewed. "Does you not being able to sleep have anything to do with the 'emergency' you needed to talk to me about?"

"Yes." At least part of the reason, I thought as I slowly pushed the soup around the bowl with my spoon. "Ben called me last night. He told me—"

"Oh, Lord. Here we go."

I shot her a dirty look. She sighed, shaking her head.

"He called to tell me…he-he got married over the weekend."

"Seriously?" Maddie asked.

I nodded.

She threw her hands up in the air. "Well, Hallelujah! It's about damn time!"

The four older ladies glanced curiously in our direction.

I blinked. Her enthusiasm was like a knife straight to my heart. "You're happy for him? Whose friend are you, anyway?"

"Yours, of course. And yes, I am happy. Now you can finally move on. You've been pining for that asshole for over a year now, Chris. He's gone. It's over. And you have to let go."

I pushed my tray away from me and put my elbows on the table, letting my head slump into my hands. I wasn't going to cry. Not here. Not when I had to go back to work.

"There's a great big world out there," Maddie went on, "and you're missing out on it. Right now, you're letting him ruin your life. Don't let him do that. The son-of-a-bitch doesn't deserve the satisfaction."

"I don't know how to let him go," I whispered. "I just keep thinking about all the good times we had together. I'm afraid I'm never going to find that again."

"And you won't if you continue to lock yourself up in your house night after night. You need to get out and meet new people."

I thought back to the last time I had tried to meet someone new and how I had immediately been accused of cheating on my spouse because of the gold wedding ring around my finger. I shook my head. "I'm not for that yet, Maddie."

"You'll never be ready if you keep making up excuses. You've just got to do it." She pulled out her phone and started typing as she continued, "Let me text Eddie and see what his friends are doing and if we can set something up for this weekend."

"No—!"

She paused, plastering me with a "don't argue with me" look. "I'm not saying you need to fall in love and marry the guy, Chris. I just want you to get out and have some fun. Tell you what. I'll make you a deal. If you go out with us and you absolutely hate it, I'll buy you a new pair of boots for trying. From my store, obviously, so I can get a discount," she added with a sly smile. "Sound good?"

"I don't know…."

"C'mon," Maddie cajoled. "At the very least it's a night out of the house and a free meal. You'll have a good time, I promise. Just trust me."

XXX

I was thoroughly exhausted, both mentally and physically, by the time I got home and decided to turn in early in the hopes of getting some decent sleep. My brain, however, apparently had different plans.

I thought back to my conversation with Maddie over lunch. Had I really expected her to react any other way? Maddie had always been the sensible one, the friend who didn't pull any punches and wasn't afraid to tell it like it is. Even if it meant hurting someone's feelings. But still, would it have killed her to show a little empathy? It was easy for her to tell me to get over Ben and move on; her relationship with Eddie was still brand new. Everything was still rose-colored in her world. She had no idea what I was going through.

Sighing, I tossed the covers aside and climbed out of bed. If I didn't start sleeping soon, I was going to have to resort to taking sleeping pills, and that just opened up a whole new can of worms. Padding quietly down the stairs with bare feet, I walked into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of wine and went into the living room. Then I curled up on the couch, used the remote to turn on the gas fireplace, and stared into the flames as I quietly sipped from my wineglass.

"Trouble sleeping?"

I twisted around to see Erik appear from behind me.

"What gave you that idea?" I replied, somewhat sullenly.

He didn't answer. Instead, he walked around the couch and positioned himself near the mantle of the fireplace.

"Sleep is one thing about being alive that I do not miss," he said. "It was always more of an annoyance than anything else. Second only to eating. I don't miss that, either."

"What do you miss?" I asked quietly.

Erik was silent as he contemplated. "The weight of piano keys beneath my fingers. Composing and playing my own music." He hesitated and then whispered, "My lessons with Christine."

"You miss her a lot, don't you?"

"Yes."

"What is it like having a love like that?" I asked suddenly, emboldened by the alcohol rushing through my veins. "I can't imagine a love so powerful that it transcends space and time."

"You seem to have forgotten the part where I was the monster who kidnapped her and held her against her will and she was in love with another man and chose him instead of me," he countered dryly. "I wouldn't call that a great example of love."

"Yeah, but we already established that she may have regretted leaving you and that's why you're still here."

"That is entirely speculation—"

"Damn it! Can you just pretend that I'm right and she's out there waiting for you?" I cried. "Just for a moment? So that at least one of us can have a happy ending."

He stared at me, stunned into silence by my unexpected outburst.

Pulling my legs to my chest, I buried my face against my knees and promptly dissolved into tears.

Erik shifted uncomfortably.

"You have been drinking…," he replied unsteadily. "Perhaps it would be wise for you to go upstairs and try to get some rest."

"It won't help!" I wailed. "It won't change that fact that he's gone and he's never coming back."

"Who's gone?"

"Ben! He married that homewrecking whore Carly. And then he called to rub it in. That's why I ran outside last night. That's why I got locked out. And none of my friends understand!" I spit, frantically waving my hand in the air in front of me. "They're happy he married her. Happy! They say this is just what I need to finally move on, but I don't want to move on! It's really easy for them to sit on the sidelines and make judgment calls. They don't know what it's like to have something wonderful only to have it taken away without your consent, to love someone so much that you feel like nothing by an empty shell without them."

"I do." The couch cushion dipped subtly as Erik slowly sat down. "I won't lie to you and tell you that the pain eventually goes away, nor will I fill your head with meaningless platitudes about it getting easier with time. I'm not sure it will. But for what it's worth, I understand. The pain, the hurt, the grief, that paralyzing fear that you'll be alone forever…. I know."

Resting my chin on my knees, I peered up at the man sitting next to me. I don't think I'd ever seen him sit before. He normally preferred to stand, and usually kept a fair amount of distance between us. The movement made him seem so ordinary. It was easy to forget that he was a ghost and not a real person. But it didn't matter if he was real or not. I took comfort from his presence all the same. In that moment, we were just two really close friends, commiserating about our failed relationships and lost loves.

The thought tugged a small smile from my lips, a smile which Erik timidly emulated. It was awkward at first, as though the simple motion were completely alien to him, but then his bottom jaw relaxed, and he allowed his lips to curve into a warm smile in return.

I thought that hearing him laugh was something to behold, a sure sign that he was growing more comfortable around me. But it was nothing compared to the expression he wore now. Mask or not, the meaning beneath it was easy to read. His yellow-gold eyes met mine and in them I saw compassion and understanding reflected in their depths. We were kindred spirits, each sharing in each other's pain and crippling disappointment without judgment, both of us acutely aware of how soul-crushing it was to lose the person you cared about most and be forced to carry on without them.

As we stared at each other, silently communicating all the emotions that words seemed incapable of expressing, an unexplainable shiver of…something worked its way up my spine. The moment was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, as if Erik had suddenly realized that he had shared more than he wanted to. He averted his gaze, focusing instead on a point somewhere over my shoulder.

"How do you deal with it?" I asked. "How do you keep on going in spite of it?"

A self-deprecating smile replaced the warmer one that had graced his lips a few seconds earlier. "I'm not sure I'm the one to ask," he replied. "I didn't."

My eyes widened in horror when I realized that he was referring to his own death, and I could have kicked myself for being so selfish and wrapped up in my own misery to remember that before I went and shoved my big dumb foot in my mouth.

I was about to apologize when his expression softened once more. "Don't make the same mistake I did."

"Okay," I said in a small, strangled voice. I wasn't sure how to take what he'd just said. Was he merely cautioning me against the pitfalls of sinking into depression, or did his comment come from genuine worry about my well-being?

The idea wasn't so far-fetched. We were friends, after all. Friends cared about each other. Right? I swallowed, suddenly unnerved at the way my heart fluttered at that thought.