Page 50 of The Phantom's Vice

“Rupert.”

I snort, thinking how much the name fits him. “Hey, Rupert,” I murmur, running my hands up his neck and behind his ears. Rupert opens his eyes lazily, and I notice the difference between them. He has one blue and one green eye, both equally as striking against his pure white coat.

“I like his eyes, too,” Ghost says, crouching down to join my efforts. “Though they are nowhere near as entrancing as yours.” Our hands brush for the briefest of moments, and even though his is gloved, I still blush.

I stand suddenly, the room spinning slightly from being so close to him. He even smells good. Slightly smoky with a hint of aftershave or possiblyone of those made-up scents they’re always talking about in the romance books. Like sandalwood or cypress—whatever the fuck those are supposed to smell like.

Needing to get my emotions in check, I turn from him and walk toward the bookcase on the wall opposite of us. I stop a few feet from the towering shelves, pretending to inspect the section of anatomy textbooks at my eye level. Something gleaming catches the corner of my eye, and I turn my attention to a small gold-rimmed picture frame sitting on the shelf to my right. I reach for it, brushing my fingertips lightly along the gold-plated edges before palming it.

“You shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you.”

I jump, nearly dropping the picture frame as Ghost’s mechanical voice rings out just above my right ear. “Shit! You scared me,” I huff, holding my hand to my chest while I place the frame back on the shelf.

Ghost reaches out, snatching the picture frame to his chest. “You may look, but please don’t touch,” he murmurs, placing it in the same spot it was before. After looking at it for a moment, he reaches out with an index finger, adjusting it ever soslightly so it’s at a perfect forty-five-degree angle. Then he runs his gloved thumb gently over one of the glasses covering the portrait.

“I need some air. I’ll be back,” he mutters, gliding over to the archway after one last longing glance at the photo. “Don’t touch anything.”

I flinch as the scrape of a door makes its way to me, and I curl my arms around my torso as goose bumps rise along my skin. When I’m positive he’s not coming back, I step over to the bookcase and pick up the frame, careful not to make any noise as I pull the weathered photo from its frame.There’s a reason he didn’t want me handling it. I need to know why—what he’s hiding.

The worn photo pictures two boys—no older than ten years of age—with their arms wrapped around one another, matching grins spreading their cold-flushed cheeks. The one on the left holds a mischievous, all-knowing twinkle in his eye, with hair the color of the snow topping the mountain peaks in the background, his pale irises matching the gray skies above. The one on the right is his polar opposite, with an innocent smile and a smattering of freckles over his nose, which plays adorably with his bright baby blues and the carrot-red hair popping out from his hood.

I wonder why he’s held on to this for so long—who the boys in the photograph are. It clearly held some meaning to him. I just have to figure out what. After thinking for a moment, it hits me like a ton of bricks.I am in possession of the only known photo of the Phantom.The only problem is, I’m not sure which boy's face belongs to him. I’m assuming it’snotthe one with carrot-red hair, but you never know.

I do know one thing, though.

I need to get out of here and show this photo to someone.

It takes me a good half an hour of searching the lair before I realize that Ghost has left the premises. I guess that scrape of stone I heard earlier meant he literally went to get some air. Which is good news for me because now I have time to figure a way out of this stone hell.

The first thing I try is the other two hallways branching off the main room. However, just like the library and computer room, I need one of Ghost wrist thingies to gain access. The next room I search is the basement, seeing as that door is still wide open, but there’s no exit there, either.

I’m just about to give up hope when I notice Rupert standing in front of the stone wall opposite the windows. He paws at the stone, and I frown, moving toward him slowly so as not to spook him.

“Do you know where the door is?” I ask. Rupert wags his tail slightly but does nothing else to indicate there is a door here.

And then I see it.

About four feet off the floor, there’s a slight divot in the stone, like something has touched that exact spot thousands of times. I look down at Rupert, who paws at the stone with a little whine. He shakes, causing his collar tojinglelightly, and my eyes catch the glint of his silver dog tag. Only, it doesn’t look like a regular name tag. It’s thicker—bulkier—as if there’s something inside it.

No. There’s no way.

Still, I reach down to Rupert's neck, unlocking his thick collar with slow, even movements. When he doesn’t try to maul me, I breathe a sigh of relief, and, to test it out, I press the tag to the place a keyhole would be on my handcuffs. To my immense surprise, the cuffs spring open as soon as the bone-shaped tag nears the metal. I straighten with a smile and press the dog tag to that divot in the stone.

I half expect nothing to happen—no one isthatlucky. But I know I've done it when that telltale scrape of stone fills the air.I found a way out.

“Fuck yes!” I cheer, pumping my fist in the air while Rupert gives me a judging stare. I roll my eyes, turning from the door and racing to the library to find Venom. I scoop him into my arms, thanking the stars he remains calm as I race back to the exit.

Rupert cocks his head as I race out of the door, but he doesn’t try to follow. He almost lookssad,but I know that’s just a trick of the light. And anyway, I can’t think about that now. I have to get the fuck out of here before Ghost gets back.

Mindlessly, I race toward an opening in the tree line. The ground beneath me looks worn, and I quickly veer off the path in case he comes looking for me. It’s clear some kind of vehicle has traveled this way many times before, and as long as I stay off the actual road, I can follow it to civilization.

Hopefully,I remind myself, clutching Venom tight to my chest as I crash through the brush. Venom mews in fright, trying to squirm out of my grip, but I just hold him tighter as I continue racing through the woods. Branches and twigs snap at my face and bare arms, but I barrel through, numb to the pain.I have to get to the main road. If I can get there, I can flag downanother car.

I’m not sure how long I keep going like that, but by the time I see the crest of a road in the distance, the sun is well past setting. I nearly trip over a root in my haste to reach the road, causing Venom to let out a distressed hiss. I console him while I run, watching my steps carefully until I’m only a few yards from the asphalt.

I look both ways down the two-lane highway, my heart thundering in my ears as I wait for a car to come around the bend.Please. Please, please, plea?—

I race out into the road, holding Venom with one arm while I wave the other above my head like a madwoman. The rusted navy truck screeches to a halt a couple of yards away, and I race over to the driver’s side, probably looking like a crack addict.

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