Page 42 of Bewitched By the Phantom
He doesn’t answer.
“I don’t understand what you are,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t even know if you’re real, and I can’t keep unraveling because you know the right notes to sing.”
My voice cracks at the end, thick with everything I’m not ready to feel. I still have a competition to win. I can’t let my band down, and letting myself be seduced by a ghoul doesn’t really fit into that.
I turn forcefully, like I’m slamming a door in a dream, and walk away from the darkness, away from him. Behind me, there’s only silence, not even the whisper of retreating footsteps. And still, that final lyric hangs in the air like incense.
I’ll be waiting when the song is done.
I don’t look back, but when I arrive back at my apartment, I can’t help but find myself humming the melody, like he’s under my skin.
Like I’m already too far gone . . .
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Islam the common room door shut behind me later and brace my back against it like I’d just escaped a fire. I’m not sure I haven’t. Every nerve feels raw, like I grabbed a live wire and let it course through me. That’s why it takes me a few minutes to realize I’m not alone in the room. I should have expected I wouldn’t be, but I also didn’t expect to find Raoul waiting around for me after his confrontation with Erik.
He's watching me from the couch, his phone in his hand, concern etched across his ridiculously good-looking face. “You okay?”
I don’t answer right away. Instead, I cross to the mini fridge and grab a bottle of water. I twist it open like I’m throttling something invisible, imagining someone’s neck, before I tip it up and take a long pull. My pulse is still too fast. Erik’s voice still curls around my ribs like smoke that I can’t cough out. And here I am, faced with Raoul now.
Raoul stands, cautious. “He was with you again, wasn’t he?”
I freeze, my eyes on him. “Don’t.”
“I’m not trying to fight, Chris,” he says, his voice soft. “But you don’t see what he’s doing to you. You’ve changed.”
“I’ve always been like this,” I snap. I don’t mean to, but it comes out that way. “You just liked the version of me that fits your narrative better.”
My words hit. His mouth opens and then shuts again and I can see the hurt in his eyes. I don’t mean to hurt him, and I open my mouth to apologize, but before either of us can speak further, Ted bursts in, all corporate swagger and dad-coded backstage chaos.
“Found you!” he grins, waving a tablet. “Okay, major update. Just came down from the top.”
I turn toward him warily. “What now?”
“The final round,” he says, tapping his screen. “The label wants something different now. It’s no longer just about the music. They really liked the last performances.”
I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean? Please don’t tell me we have to do another duet.”
“It means the label’s going full gladiator. No rules. No holds barred. You want to sabotage another band? Go ahead. You want to pull a stunt for attention? Even better. We’ve got a full production crew ready to film you twenty-four-seven for the next two days. Candid stuff. Behind the scenes level content. Fans eat that shit up.”
Raoul actually looks sick. “That’s insane.”
“It’s viral gold,” Ted counters. “And speaking of which—Chris . . .” He steps closer to me and I tense. He lowers his voice into the coaxing, comforting dad tone he uses with all of us. “I’ve seen the metrics. Your duet with Erik? Insane numbers. We’re talking overnight growth, new fanbase crossover, and algorithm magic. You two could blow the whole thing wide open if you perform together again.”
I laugh bitterly. “Of course you want me to duet with him again. This is ridiculous. He’s an asshole.”
Ted blinks. “Look, I don’t care if he’s got horns or a halo, as long as he gets clicks.”
I look away, my jaw tight, not sure how I feel about being told to sing with another band again just to win this label. They can’t keep changing the rules. I was pissed before, but now I’m seriously contemplating if this is even worth it at this point.
Raoul takes a step closer. “You don’t have to play their game,” he says quietly. “Not like this. Not with him.”
I turn to face him. Raoul’s hands are in his pockets, but the vulnerability in his voice is laid bare. He genuinely cares about me. This isn’t just about jealousy—though there’s plenty of that, too. This is about him trying to protect me from a perceived threat. The problem is that I’m just as much of a threat. I always have been.
“I know we’ve changed,” he admits. “But I still remember who we were before this. Who you were. You don’t need shadows and masks to win this, Chris. You shine on your own.”
