Page 122 of Phantom
I cover my mouth to quiet my shriek. Sol’s chest heaves in his blood-splattered white dress shirt. He swallows and looks back at me. “Are you okay, Scarlett?”
“Am… am I okay?” I sputter. “Areyouokay?”
I unlock the door and sprint toward him. As soon as I get within a few feet of him, Sol wraps me up in his embrace and I cling to him. My hands worry over his clothes, but he seems fine.
“Don’t worry about me, little muse. I only have a scratch.”
The air caught in my lungs escapes me slowly as I inspect his arm, confirming that the blade only grazed him. I glance at the severed head, screaming in silence at our feet. My stomach lurches but I swallow back bile to focus.
“What if I’d lost you, Sol?”
“Jamais,mon amour,” he answers swiftly and kisses my head. “You’ll never lose me. I’m the shadow that will protect you always.”
We stand in silence for a moment with only the water rushing by us at the edge of the room. The hammering pulse in my ears almost drowns out the sound. When my heartbeat finally slows, he loosens his hold on me.
“He’s really gone, huh?”
“Dishonorable cowards always decide their own fate. Rand Chatelain chose to follow in his brother’s footsteps. Death by the Phantom of the French Quarter. It’s… it’s finally finished. The Chatelains are no more.”
I grab his free hand and meet his sparkling midnight eye. “What do we do now?”
“Now?” He inhales and exhales one slow, deep breath, as if the weight of his past has finally been lifted. A small, peaceful smile slowly spreads over his lips, lifting even the right side of his face. “Now I can give you the sunlight.”
Reprise
YOU’D LOVE HER
Sol
Heat radiates from the stone, making me sweat underneath my mask. I keep gently brushing the soft bristles over the etching in front of me, thoroughly clearing the crevices to make sure no more buildup from the elements occurs before its next true cleaning is due. When I’ve finished, I drop the brush into the bucket before standing and dusting off my knees.
I place my hand on top of a stone curtain and stare hard at my father’s etched name.
“Oh, Solomon, it is gleaming,” my mother calls from her seat on the bench several feet behind me. “Thank you. Your father would be so proud.”
Her words of encouragement make me smile, and my chest expands when her brittle soprano begins to sing “La Vie en rose,” the song she and my father danced to at their wedding, the same one she sang to us every night. It still brings her back to the present more than any other grounding tool we’ve used.
A soft hand I already know better than my own folds into mine. “I didn’t know him, but I know you. AndI’mproud of you. But I think he would be too,” Scarlett reassures me and I nod.
“He would be.”
She kisses my left cheek and, for the first time in my life, I wish it had been the right one. Her lips on my sensitive skin is pure heaven. She squeezes my hand again and bends to take the bucket, leaving me with my father.
Now that I’ve cleaned the obelisk, the polished stone is nearly too bright for my eyes, but the comedy and tragedy skulls at the top of the drawn-back curtain look as if they’d been carved today. I trace my fingers over the macabre grave, following the threads of the curtain until I get to my father’s name and epitaph.
“It’s over, Dad. I’m sorry it took so long, but it’s over. The men who tried to take everything from us are gone.” I glance back at Scarlett and revel in the adoration welling in her eyes before I return to the grave. “And I found my muse. She is my moonlight when my world gets too dark. You’d love her,” I say with full confidence. “She’s the one for all of my lifetimes. She’s mine.”
I trace the word “father” one last time and step back toward my family. Maggie takes my mother by the hand and holds Marie as they sit on the bench Ben and I had installed. Ben stands closer to me to whisper in hushed tones so that none of them hear.
“I’ve made all the necessary arrangements. As far as the world knows, Rand Chatelain ran off to the Alps to pout after not securing a business deal in New Orleans. He’ll inevitably be declared missing, and no one will bother looking in his family’s tomb in Lafayette Cemetery. He’s the last of his line. No Chatelain will hurt us again.”
“And the shadow’s family?”
A flicker of emotion passes over Ben’s face. It’s the same one I’ve had gnawing at my stomach ever since Rand admitted he’d murdered one of my men. Guilt.
“They’re set for life.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat. “They’ll never want for anything after his sacrifice.”
“Good,” I reply as Scarlett latches on to my arm and squeezes tightly. I kiss the side of her head before speaking to my brother again. “Scarlett said he bragged about dealings in New York?”
