Page 33 of The Phantom's Vice

I want to reassure him that I’m not like Matt—I’m not going to kill him today—but those thoughts fly out the window when Brenden grabs his knife and charges me. I sidestep him easily, a smirk tipping my lips as he trips over his own feet toward the edge of the circle.

I stand still, watching as he straightens, his chest heaving just from that short sprint. He wheels around, his face crinkled in a furious expression, the knife shaking in his chubby hand.

“Come on! What are you waiting for!” he calls, taunting me. “You scared, you candle wax freak?”

I flinch. Even though the insult is coming from someone like Brenden, the taunt aimed at the appearance of my skin never fails to strike me to the bone. I reach to my waist, pulling my own dagger out and shifting my grip so my blade is pointed downward.

Brenden sneers, though the sweat beading on his brow takes away from the menacing nature of it. He takes a deep breath, then charges me again. This time, I don’t dodge it, though. I stay still, waiting until he raises his blade in the air to strike. He brings his arm down like a guillotine, and I shoot my palm up, catching the blade in the palm of my hand. A deep, nauseating squelching noise pierces my ears as the blade pushes through the top of my hand, and I meet Brenden’s frightened gaze, an eerie smile spreading across my face.

“Boo,” I whisper, sweeping my leg under his feet like the master did to me. He falls flat on his back, his face scrunching in pain a moment before I straddle his chest, pressing the tip of my dagger into his sternum. I press lightly, just enough that no blood is actually drawn. When I see that red, I’ve been known to lose myself, and I can't afford thatright now. Brenden looks innocent enough, but who’s to say what he will do when his neck is on the line?

“Excellent, P-1313.” A slow round of applause makes its way to my ears, and I grit my teeth, holding my position. His next words—so cold and careless—drive a stake through my heart. “End it,” he says. “Show us how a real Phantom deals with weakness.”

Fear grips my chest in icy claws, and I shake my head slowly, never taking my eyes off Brenden’s terrified baby blues. I thought we weren’t supposed to kill anyone today? Why is he doing this?

“I said DO IT!” Master screams, his voice cracking with the rising pitch. “Show me what you’re made of!”

I adjust my grip, pressing down just enough to draw blood. Brenden closes his eyes, resting his head back on the ground. “It’s okay,” he whispers, the tiniest smile lifting the corner of his mouth. “There was no way I was going to get through this, anyway. Better now than later, right?”

I gaze down at his hopeless expression, and my hand shakes. Slowly, I pull the blade from his throat, a loud ringing in my ears as I stand and offer my hand to Brenden. For a moment, he looks like hecan’t believe it. Then he takes my hand, but he doesn’t look disgusted when my skin touches his.

“Boy, Brenden! Back in the fucking line!” Master snarls. Brenden and I jump apart, hanging our heads as we jump back in line. He paces, the swish of his coattails leaving a large cloud of dust in his wake.

He stops directly in front of me, and for the first time, I’m thankful I can’t see the expression on his face. “You,” he snarls, leaning in close so we’re nose to nose. “Mercy will get you killed one day, Boy. Remember that the next time you want to spare someone so…” he faces Brenden, his shoulders tightening. “Worthless.”

I breathe a sigh of relief as he leaves me alone, turning his anger toward the next two Rooks shuffling forward to the center of the circle. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Brenden mouthing something at me. And it seems a lot like “thank you.” My chest feels light as I nod, a genuine smile tipping my lips.

I think I just made a friend.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

BRETT

Jane Evangeline: Entry #8

Hudson stood me up tonight.

I suppose I should be irritated, but the only emotion I possess is an intense, all-consuming worry. What if the Madam found out about our correspondence? What if he’s hurt or worse?

I can’t even think about the story tonight. I’m just praying Hudson is still alive.

I don’t receiveany contact with the Phantom for the rest of the week. Some small part of me has started to believe they did catch him—that he’s really sitting in a maximum-security cell awaiting his trial, and that's why I haven’t heard from him. That same part of me is also disappointed.

Not because I miss his creepy little games—no, that’s not it at all. It’s because my life has been sodullwithout them. I never realized how boring my life had become until last night when I opened my fortune cookie, hoping to find another message from Ghost.

Ghost.I crinkle my nose as the name sounds in my mind. That's another crazy thing I’ve started doing—referring to the Phantom by his name. Of course, it’s probably some kind of code name, but still.

It’s safe to say my mental state has seen better days.

I sigh, flipping through the thirty-thousandth stack of documents this morning. All of the TV shows make this job look so cool—don’t get me wrong, certain aspects are admittedly badass—but for the most part, my job is doing paperwork. Stacks and stacks ofpaperwork.I look at the clock on my phone, and another sigh threatens to break free when I see it’s only eleven.My God, will this day never end?

Placing down my pen, I stand from my chair and stretch my arms out wide, my lower back popping from being in the same hunched position for so long. Looking out, I realizealmost everyone has filed out of the office for an early lunch, meaning I can continue my investigation.

After one last look to ensure no one is paying any attention to me, I head down to the archives room. As soon as I enter the mildew-scented room, a sneeze wracks through me, startling the mousy-haired woman sitting at the entry desk.

“Brett!” Marge coughs, holding a hand over her thick beaded sweater. After catching her breath, she reaches a sun-spotted hand up to her face, pushing her glasses back up her nose. “I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon. I haven’t gotten around to pulling those files you wanted.”

“That’s alright, Marge.” I smile kindly, tapping the oak desk with the tips of my fingers. “Mind if I head back there and take a look?”

---