Phantom (Tattered Curtain Series)
Phantom: Act 4 – Scene 28

Scarlett

Iwanted to go to the bathroom to get a moment to myself, but now I just want to go to bed.

“Seriously, are you okay?” Rand asks, his frown apparent through his devil masquerade mask.

“Yeah.” I nod. “I’m okay. Just ready to call it a night.”

“Do you think what Jaime said was true?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure. But can I be honest?”

“Of course.” His voice is smooth and coaxing. “You can always tell me anything, Lettie.”

Stop using my dad’s nickname for me.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say the words, but I bite them back instead. He’s been sour all night, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t grateful for the reprieve in his mood.

“I don’t know if what Jaime said was true, but I think I might’ve drawn the curtain too soon with Sol. I think… I think I need to talk to him. At least apologize for the way I left.”

Rand’s lips thin as he nods slowly. “Why don’t you think on it tonight? I’ve got something in mind that might cheer you up.”

My tense muscles lighten at his suggestion. “Really? What is it?”

“Always so curious, Lettie.” He smirks. “I left your drink on the table, hold on for a second and I’ll go back and get it—”

“Oh, no that’s okay.” I wave him off before he turns all the way around. “Let’s just go. I’m guessing I’ll be getting my surprise somewhere else? I was kind of hoping to just go to bed. I’m pretty wiped.”

“This won’t take long, I swear. Just trust me.”

Those last three words are almost enough to make me say no, but the pleading in his eyes softens the blaring alarm bells in my mind.

Without my answer, he still grabs my hand and guides me through the hallways and staircase that lead up to the New French Opera House. But instead of going toward my dorm, we continue up the stairs.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s something I think you need to see.”

The speakeasy is meant to be hard to get to and depending on how you get in, you have to go through the inner trappings of the opera house to get there. Bordeaux students have free rein and we’ve learned the ins and outs, but somehow Rand knows exactly where he’s going.

We go up—flight after flight—until we reach the very top roof access.

“The roof? How did you even know there’s access up here? Students aren’t even allowed—”

He presses his phone screen—an older model than I thought he had—and the door opens with the same kind of whirs and clicks that the doors in the tunnels have. As soon as the clicking is finished, he pushes open the door, revealing the rooftop, and turns with a smug smile.

“There’s a lot about the French Quarter that Sol Bordeaux doesn’t realize I know.”

My chest seizes and I freeze as Rand yanks me through the door and closes it behind us.

“Rand… what does that mean?”

He steps out onto the rooftop and twirls in a circle with his arms out. “Look at it, Lettie. New Orleans in all her glory. The French Quarter in all her splendor.”

I follow him to the Bourbon Street side of the building and rotate to see my surroundings. The rooftop of the New French Opera House is flat with a waist-high wrought iron parapet that lines the outer walls of the roof to protect people from falling over. From her perch in the middle of the building, a bronze statue of the Greek goddess Athena stands guard over the city with her circular shield in one hand and her spear in the other. Only a few blocks away, the Central Business District towers in the night sky, and below us, the lights and sounds of Bourbon Street glow and drift up to us.

“It’s beautiful,” I agree. “But, um, why are we up here, Rand?”

He rips his mask away from his face and finally settles his wild gaze back on me. Apprehension knifes down my spine and my heart thunders in my chest. I have the urge to remove my black butterfly mask too, but I refrain, not wanting to take my eyes off of his with the chilling vibes emanating from him.

The exact same clear blue I remember when I was a kid now glares back at me. The fact that there’s no manic insanity there makes his dramatic and loud movements more unnerving.

There are so many people who are afraid of mental illness and the ones who suffer from it. Some even go so far as to believe we’re all capable of being monsters. But people who don’t require madness to behave irrationally are more dangerous than us all.

“It was my brother’s dying wish to own New Orleans, you know. Like the Bordeauxs think they do. And I’ve come back to finally fulfill his dream. But this stupid truce is getting in the way. I thought by getting close to you again, I would get underneath Sol’s skin. If he doesn’t care about you, though… then I get to finish what I started.”

Icy dread freezes in my veins as I finally realize that the misplaced trust I had as a kid has led me astray once again as an adult. But this time, it wasn’t just at my expense. I hurt the one person in my life who has only ever cared for me. I even went so far as to blame him for the very thing that Rand is admitting to right now.

He walks in a semicircle around me and I fight the terrified stiffness in my body to turn with him to keep him in my sights. When my back is to the street, he stops and faces me, evil tensing his handsome features, and I gulp before taking a small step back.

Talk to him. Try to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about, then run the hell away.

“Wh-what did you start?”

“Did you know your father worked for mine?”

That makes me still. “He did? I knew your family helped ours when my father was in between gigs—”

Rand snorts. “We don’t just help people, Scarlett. No one deserves handouts, least of all your father.”

I shake my head. “No… my dad was one of the best. That’s why your dad sponsored him—”

My former childhood friend barks out a laugh. “He was mediocre at best. You, however, have talent. And yet you’re planning to waste your life playing for tips like he did. What I can’t decide is whether you’re pathetic or delusional for thinking that’s a good idea.” He pauses and pretends like he’s thinking. “Although, considering your diagnosis, probably both, right? Hmm… too bad stealing your meds backfired so badly. I’ve heard stories of your episodes. That could’ve been fun to see.”

My mouth falls open. “That… that was you?”

He smirks, triumph shining in his eyes. “Guilty. Wanted to see how long it’d take for your little Phantom friend to come out of hiding. I hadn’t considered he’d kidnap you. Tell me, did you sleep with him, Lettie?”

My eyes narrow. “That’s none of your business.”

He huffs before shrugging. “Yeah… I thought you might have. I never dreamed you’d be slutty enough to spread your legs and let him ruin you. But hey, I suppose that’s just the cost of doing business.”

“What do you mean, ruin me?” I argue nervously.

“The bastard fucked you and discarded you.” He sneers as he throws his arms out to the sides. “I’m sure your sweet, naive little brain believed he thought you were someone special. But you wasted your body on a monster.”

“Rand—” My eyes burn and embarrassed anger bubbles in my chest.

He inches forward, his head tilted. “Did he brand you?”

The question makes me blink. “Did he what?”

Rand waves his hand up and down in my direction. “I don’t see any skull jewelry or any of those stupid amulets. So did he brand you? Bordeaux followers are barbaric in their loyalty. The most loyal get branded. They can never leave after that. The shadow I tortured for information had one, although it didn’t do the Bordeauxs any good. So did Sol do it to you?”

Inappropriately timed butterflies flutter in my stomach at the thought, but I push them away and shake my head.

“Christ. Maybe he doesn’t like you as much as I thought,” he mutters.

My eyes blink as I try to compute all the information he’s spitting at me. “Why are you saying all of this?”

“Because, sweet Little Lettie, you’re no good to me now. I went to New York to get away from this shithole of a city. But when I got there, I met some people who shed light on all the hard work my brother was doing to get New Orleans under Chatelain guidance. I was studying abroad when Laurent assassinated the patriarch of the Bordeaux family and then decided to use dear, artistic Sol as further leverage for our negotiations. It was genius. He even placated Ben once the fool suggested a truce.

“We split New Orleans to ‘avoid further bloodshed.’” He uses finger quotes and rolls his eyes. “Laurent didn’t care that we were denied the ports for our particular brand of business, because why would he? He was just biding his time, waiting for Ben to come out of hiding so he could kill another Bordeaux when he had the chance and take over the whole city. But then your fucking father meddled.”

“My… my father?” Blood drains from my face and gears begin to turn inside my dizzy head.

“Yes, your father. That one took me a while to figure out. It was only after I put one of my best guys on him that I realized what a thief and a con artist he really was. He and my father had an arrangement. If he spied on the Bordeauxs in the French Quarter, then my father would pay Gus Day’s bills.”

My heart is throbbing in my chest and I want to sit down, but I can’t put myself in a weaker position than I already am. Rand, thankfully, seems lost in his story as he continues to expose my father’s secrets.

“He was a fantastic snitch, and he rose so high in our ranks that my father confided in him about his plans to take over. But your father betrayed us by telling one of the Bordeaux shadows… and then you guys suddenly moved again and he went AWOL. A week later, my parents died and Laurent had to move up the time frame on their original plan.”

“Sol s-said they were in a tragic accident—”

“Bah! That’s rich, coming from the professional ‘suicider.’ Jacques Baron… are you really dumb enough to think he hung himself? No, Sol did it. Jacques was a Chatelain man—”

“Who hurt women—” I spit back, unable to hide my animosity, and Rand glowers at me.

“I don’t give a fuck what he was doing to women, he was my second-in-command and my proxy when I was gone.”

“Why would you want someone like that to work for you?”

“Oh, like the Bordeaux shadows are angels? Do you really think liquor is the only thing they spill in the streets? They’re easy to catch, though. If I hadn’t captured the one at the cemetery last Sunday, I wouldn’t have been able to teach your stupid friend a lesson, or unlock the roof door to give you this splendid view tonight.” He lifts the old phone he used to activate the door and shakes it for emphasis. “The Bordeauxs will never replace their missing man though. Unlike Sol, I don’t leave my bodies out in the open.”

“You’re an animal…” I grimace and take a step back. He mirrors it forward, and sweat prickles on the back of my neck.

The laugh Rand lets out makes my stomach churn. “You know who’s an animal? Sol. I’ve seen the footage of what my brother did to him, and the guy howled like a dying cat when he burned.”

Vomit builds in my throat and I barely swallow it down.

“Afterward, your beloved Sol strangled my brother. It was his first ‘suicide,’ as reported by the police the Bordeauxs paid off. I was too young and alone to do anything then, but I grew the fuck up while I was away. Now I’m demanding Chatelain justice—true justice—for everyone who got off scot-free. No more of this Phantom bullshit. The businessmen I made a deal with in New York said I could have it all if I just secured the port for their specific… trade… you could say.”

My breaths are coming too quickly, exacerbating my light-headedness. As I try to force slow inhales and exhales, Rand prowls toward me and I back up just as slowly, my eyes darting around the rooftop for some kind of escape plan.

“The Bordeauxs wouldn’t budge and that’s when I realized Sol’s obsession with you would play in my favor. I thought about having the whole family killed, but Sol murdered our best assassin a year ago, and I couldn’t take the chance of fucking up my plans.”

“Y-your assassin? Why would Sol care about him?” I question Rand.

“Because Two-Shot killed the Bordeaux patriarch and kidnapped Sol a decade ago. That was Two-Shot’s last job, but I brought him out of retirement. And do you know why I did that?”

“Why?” Suspicion drifts across my mind and my mouth dries while the answer remains on the tip of my tongue.

“To investigate your father. Once he found out it was your dad that tattled to a shadow about my father’s plans and got my family killed, I ordered Two-Shot to take him out.” He spits out every word, and each one feels like a slap in the face. “Your father lived unpunished for way too long. And, well, you know the rest. You got to meet Two-Shot up close and personal, didn’t you?”

My back hits the Athena statue. Our steps have steadily mirrored each other until now, and he smiles when he realizes that he’s cornered me. But his words have flipped a switch in my mind as he rants.

“From what I could tell from the police reports, he got a little sidetracked when your dad tried to hide from him. Two-Shot had a thing for unwilling girls. His fooling around probably cost him his life, though.”

Oh, you have no fucking idea.

“If he’d left you alone, Sol wouldn’t have had a chance to sneak up on him. He unloaded a gun into Two-Shot’s chest. Then, in true Phantom fashion, he strangled him for good measure, just like he did to my brother a decade ago. Shooting isn’t his usual MO. The only reason I found out at all was a side street camera that caught Sol carrying Two-Shot into Lafayette Cemetery No.1. My men scoured that cemetery afterward to replace his body in a recently open grave. There was no trace of me ordering the hit, so it looked like a personal grudge between my assassin and your father. I’d had to go back into hiding after that to ensure I kept my cover.”

As I listen to Rand’s version of what happened, realization sets in. He’s got some of the pieces jumbled up, but they all start to come together for me.

Pride and gratitude for Sol, mixed with guilt for not trusting him, fill my chest, making it hard to breathe. But I school my face to keep my scared expression as he continues.

“And now that I’ve gotten my revenge on your father, I’ve set my sights on you. Gus Day destroyed my family, so now I’m going to destroy his. It’s perfect timing really. I’ll get to kill two birds with one stone by taking out Gus Day’s own daughter and Sol’s obsession. Let’s see if the Phantom of the French Quarter really doesn’t care about you. And if he doesn’t, I’ll just hit closer and closer until I get what I want. I’ll take everything from them, like they did me, until I’ve secured all of New Orleans away from those monsters and under Chatelain control.”

Angry tears burn my eyes, and I shudder as he strokes my cheek.

“You are the monster.”

He smirks and drops his hand, but steps just a foot away from me. “Oh, Scarlett. Didn’t you know? I’m a nice guy. And this nice guy is going to finally get what you’ve been keeping from me for years. You were always such a fucking prude.”

“I was twelve,” I growl.

His face grows red right before he grabs me by my shoulders and slams me into the bronze statue behind me. Stunned by the move, I don’t even try to flinch away when he smacks my face, hard enough to make me bite my tongue. My black butterfly mask rips free and drifts to the ground. Pain pounds like a drumbeat in my brain, forcing me to move at a much slower tempo than what is survivable right now.

But the rage that’s been simmering in my veins since he began to taunt me with father’s murder begins to boil. I try to focus as Rand paws at my dress, but flashbacks streak across my mind.

Hands digging into my skin, under my clothes, scratching and clawing to get what they think they deserve. All the memories come barreling into my brain, in reverse.

Jacques Baron.

My father’s assassin.

Rand Chatelain.

The fury flooding through my body energizes me, just like it did the moments after my father’s murder. He’d shot the man who’d tried to assault me, wounding him, inadvertently helping me to finish the job.

“I know Sol says he doesn’t care about you, but I’ve known that bastard my entire life. No Bordeaux likes to share his little toys. I only wish I could see his face when he sees your body after I push you off the roof. No one will question whether the crazy woman committed suicide after her beloved dumped her like the trash she is. It’ll break his sadistic heart.”

I’m so sorry, Sol.

I space out, staring over Rand’s shoulder as he feels up my body and I try to figure out what to do, how to get out of this, how to use my rage to break through the instinct to freeze, like I was able to do the night my father died.

As soon as his murderer had limped away, I’d snapped out of it and grabbed my father’s gun. I ran after him and shot him in the back. When he fell onto the black pavement, he rolled over to face me. The way he’d begged for his life filled me with hate because my father hadn’t been given that mercy. I’d stared into the murderer’s pleading eyes and fired into his chest until the gun clicked in my hands. I’d kicked him to make sure he was truly dead, as if the glazed, wide-open eyes weren’t proof enough.

The unmistakable sound of a zipper rolling down finally snaps me out of my fear. A lithe shadow stalks toward us. Hope sparks the fight in me, clearing my mind and making me realize Rand’s let go of me to take his dick out. I’m completely free.

Charcoal eyes flicker at me as the shadow nods.

I gather up all the courage I can muster, wanting to make sure that if this doesn’t work out, that at least he knows the truth.

“Rand,” I shout.

“What?” He doesn’t even bother to look up from his dick, assuming I’m a nonthreat.

“Sol didn’t kill your assassin…” That stops him. He finally meets my gaze, narrowing his eyes as I tell the truth. “I did.”

I push him back with all my strength, taking pleasure in his stunned face. It hardly makes him move, but it gives me enough room to bring up my leg and kick my stiletto into his naked dick as hard as I can before running.

He’s howling as I tear off my shoes and he limps to catch me by my dress strap, ripping the neckline deeper, but a whistle of wind flies by my ear and his howl ends in a scream.

I turn around to see him writhing on the ground, clutching his dick and his shoulder. A long dagger extends out from just underneath his left collarbone and I whip my head around to see Sabine marching toward us.

“I thought he was done with me.”

“He took everyone else off your detail but me,” she answers as she quickly passes me to get to Rand. “He’s been trying to put together why a Chatelain man murdered your father. It seems this one had the missing pieces.”

“So… so he didn’t know that my father told a shadow about the Chatelains’ scheme?”

She shakes her head. “No. I had no idea it was your father either. Mr. Bordeaux kept his informants’ identities close to the vest and never shared business dealings with Sol or Ben. He’d wanted to wait until they were adults.”

The truth lodges emotion in my throat. “I… had no idea.”

I had no idea about any of it. When I went after my father’s murderer, I wasn’t thinking about how I was killing someone who was fleeing from me. I was thinking about revenge. Sol protected me from getting charged for murder after unloading the gun into the assassin’s chest. And I hadn’t known it, then, but he’d also protected me from Rand retaliating. I owe him my life.

“Run to Sol,” she commands me and points to an open trapdoor in the rooftop. “That will take you the way we went last week. Keep your hand at eye level and never let it leave the wall. It’ll keep you from getting lost. I’ll text him he’s got a new prisoner to deal with in the morning.”

My eyes blink and I realize that relief, fear, and rage has finally made the tears that had been threatening to fall stream down my cheeks.

“Th-thank you.” I choke out.

Sabine just nods. “I trusted a Chatelain when I was young, too. I was a new bodyguard and pissed that my boyfriend was trying to take down my boss. Laurent insisted on meeting me and I fell for it. Sol was just being a kid and snuck out to watch a band play. His father had to go replace him. That’s when Sol was kidnapped and Mr. Bordeaux was murdered. I’ve been wanting to make amends for a decade.” She glances back at Rand before walking to him and twisting the knife farther in. Rand shrieks and recoils into a ball before finally passing out. She looks back up at me. “This may be my only chance. Run. Go to him. You need to be there before I text him or he’ll go ballistic.”

Nodding without another word, I stand up and run barefoot toward the trapdoor to follow her instructions. My ripped dress billows behind me as I race down the wrought iron stairs until I get to the bottom landing. As soon as my feet hit damp stone, I move away from the sound of rushing water on my left and replace the stone wall on my right. Dragging my hand along it, I wind through the pitch-black tunnels.

When I round a corner, a dim lamp gleams just in front of me in the dark. I stagger with relief, but my wobbly legs make me trip and fall, landing hard on my knees. I feel for the wall again, replaceing steel instead.

Still on my knees, my heart pounding in my throat, I bang my fists against the steel and scream.

“Sol! Please help! I need you!”

The door underneath my fingers falls away as it swings open, and orange light glows behind Sol’s silhouette, making him look more like my demon of music than ever before. Tall, imposing, and backlit by hellfire.

His face is bare and he’s wearing a white dress shirt. His angry keloid and burn scars on his face have a beautiful sheen under the light. Pain and remorse make my insides twist.

I didn’t trust him, and he was right about everything. Will he forgive me?

Concern flares over his harsh features as he looks down at me, lighting a fire of hope in my chest. His brows draw together over his midnight eye and the pink socket beside it, and his strong jaw tics.

My breath heaves in my chest as he lifts my chin to turn my face toward the light before growling.

“Who the fuck hurt you, little muse?”