Chapter Twenty-One
“Of all the frustrating, aggravating, annoying, impossible . . . Justyn Patko is just completely . . . aghhh!”
Rebecca stalked into her bedroom and tossed her handbag across the floor in her agitation. It landed on the ground in a small heap and all its contents spilled out onto the carpet, including the crystalline geode that she had gotten into the habit of carrying with her everywhere. It rolled to her feet, sparkling brighter than any diamond, and making dozens of little rainbows flash across the wall as it glittered in the brilliance of the overhead lights. The colorful rainbows reminded her that earlier that night she had experienced the most perfect and magical date of her life. She picked up the stone and caressed it lovingly.
“Justyn you are . . . the most romantic, sweet, amazing, wonderful . . . moron . . . that I have ever met!”
Rebecca heaved a sigh. There weren’t enough adjectives, positive or negative, in the entire English vocabulary to sum up exactly the way she felt about Justyn at that moment. She was frustrated with him, yet she wanted him in a way she had never wanted any other man. She was angry, yet resentfully respectful of his methods. No other man alive had the power to attract and annoy her in the way that he could. No man alive had ever had this kind of effect on her at all.
It was ridiculous, really. One minute she was fuming, and then the next she was daydreaming about him. She just couldn’t believe that Justyn hadn’t kissed her. It made her feel slighted. Yet, at the same time, the fact that he hadn’t kissed her and had wanted to wait until the moment was true and sincere, had permanently tipped the scales in his favor. It could only mean one thing—something that Rebecca was no longer able to deny or push to the side. She was falling in love with Justyn. Maybe she was already in love with him. And this was no schoolgirl crush like what she had—and it was past tense—felt for Tom. This was the real deal. The once in a lifetime connection that some people waited their whole lives to experience. Rebecca knew without a doubt that there was only one man for her. And that man was Justyn Patko. Lord Justyn. It was an exciting but also a terrifying revelation.
Every touch sent fire through her veins. Every word left her hanging on breathlessly, waiting for more. All she wanted was the chance to hear him speak. It didn’t even matter what he said as long as she could hear the sweet sound of his voice. All she longed for was his gentle touch. It didn’t matter where he touched her as long as his hands were on her body somewhere. This was the kind of connection where she felt his presence all the time, even when they were apart. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, this was the thing that she, that every human being on the face of the earth, longed for, and waited for all of their lives.
She had never given herself over to anyone so completely, and Rebecca was more than a little afraid. The old proverb that no one could choose who to love was certainly a true one. She had never fantasized about a dark Gothic prince carrying her off on his ebony stallion. She had only ever seen white knights in her dreams, just like every other teenage girl who had been weaned on stories of fairytale princesses. The fact that Justyn not only broke the white knight’s mold, but also seemed to ridicule it with his very existence was a little disturbing. Yet still, he made her feel every bit as beautiful as a princess. And more than that, he made her feel like a grown woman, with all the wants and yearnings that a girl blossoming into womanhood should be feeling. She wasn’t a fairytale princess longing for love’s first kiss. She yearned for more—so much more that the very thought of it brought a ferocious blush to her cheeks.
Riiiiinnnnggggg.
The sudden jarring ring of her cell phone startled her from her deep thoughts. She jumped and dropped the crystal geode she was still holding. It rolled under her white dust ruffle and she forgot about it as she reached down to pick her handbag up off the floor. She pulled the phone from the bag so she could rid herself of the obtrusive noise that dared to take her thoughts away from her daydreams. But then again, the thoughts she was having were frightening and unfamiliar. So maybe it was better that they were disrupted after all.
She glanced down at the number display as the phone rang for the third time. “Unknown number” flashed threateningly across the brightly lit screen. Rebecca immediately forgot all thoughts of romance as she felt her rebellious heart begin to pound.
She had sworn up and down that she wasn’t going to let her mystery stalker terrorize her anymore. She had vowed to herself again and again that she would not live in fear of some unknown psychopath. But as the phone continued to pulse and vibrate in her open palm, she found that she didn’t have the courage to flip back the cover. On the fourth and final ring, she was so overcome with panic that she flung the phone across the room with all her strength. It slammed against the far wall, making a dent in the plaster, before falling silently to the ground.
Rebecca left it there, staring at it in wide-eyed horror, half expecting it to come to life and fly back into her hand of its own accord. But it remained still and silent for several long moments. Long moments in which Rebecca held her breath to the point of turning blue. Then, just as she had recovered a little bit of her sensibility and allowed herself to breathe again, a few musical beeps declared that whoever had called had left a message. Rebecca found herself frozen in place once again.
Chicken. Chicken. Chicken. Rebecca chided herself silently. It’s just a stupid phone. What are you so afraid of?
It wasn’t a question that could be answered rationally. All she knew was that she was suddenly filled with a terrible sense of foreboding, an indescribable feeling of dread. She had never considered herself even remotely psychic; in that moment, she clearly saw a future heralding death. The feeling of doom was so strong that she thought she might choke on her own overwhelming fear. Terror was gagging her, paralyzing her. She didn’t want to listen to that message. She didn’t want to prove herself right. But she couldn’t control herself. She inched closer and closer to the phone, drawn to it by some sort of morbid fascination.
She approached the phone with such exaggerated caution; it might as well have been a tarantula or a cobra. She was sneaking up on it, like a cat preparing to pounce on a helpless mouse, even though she knew she was behaving like a complete and total fool. She was grateful there was no one there to witness this lapse in sanity.
When she finally bent down to pick the phone up from the ground, her fingers trembled with a terror that was impossible to contain, and the fear deepened to out and out horror when she saw that she really did have a new message and it wasn’t just her imagination or some waking nightmare.
It took an incredible amount of willpower for her to hit the button that dialed into the voicemail system. Her shaking hands hit the wrong button more than once before she was able to retrieve the message she didn’t really want to hear. She fought the urge to hang up just as strongly as she fought the urge to hyperventilate. But when she heard the voice she had come to know so well begin its gently broken recitation, she came very close to having a panic attack despite all her best efforts to remain calm. These were words she knew well—words of the phantom. Words she had heard Justyn speak every day at rehearsal. Words that sounded eerily melodic despite the machine that distorted the voice beyond recognition.
“Joseph Buquet could not hold his tongue.
So his neck had to be wrung.
Now his silence I guarantee.
As his soul drifts into eternity.”
So many times she had heard Justyn say those words. So many times she watched as his face twisted in feigned anger. She thought it was only the brilliance of his acting ability. But could there be a real darkness, a real evil, lurking below the surface of the man she was falling in love with? Perhaps there a side of him she didn’t know. Could the voice on the message belong to Justyn? And if it was Justyn, could she possibly stop herself from feeling these emotions she had never wanted to feel in the first place?
Either way, she had to know. She listened to the message again, and again. Three times. Five times. Ten times. Maybe more. Before she had played it for the final time, before she had given herself a moment to think beyond who the caller was and to consider the implications of the words, her call waiting announced that another call was coming through the line.
There was a moment of dread before she realized that this time a name flashed across the small screen. It was a name she knew well and was even relieved to see. She needed a friend, someone she could talk to about all this before she drove herself completely over the edge to the brink of insanity. She switched lines without even taking the time to delete the message.
“Carmen?” she whispered.
“Becca? Becca, it’s so horrible!”
Carmen was crying, hysterically sobbing. She heard it in the tremble of her voice. Fear paralyzed Rebecca. Carmen never cried. Never once, not even in kindergarten, had she ever seen her friend shed a tear. She knew something horrible must have happened. Something unthinkable. And something, she realized with that ever-growing sense of eerie premonition, that was directly related to the awful message.
“Carmen, what is it? What’s wrong?”
She knew what her answer was going to be even before she said it. Rebecca didn’t need to be psychic to figure it out. It only made sense once she thought about it with a strange and sudden calm. The mystery caller had spoken of the murder of Joseph Buquet. Jay played the part of Joseph in the show. Another scene from Phantom was about to turn into reality. Rebecca felt her stomach churn as her friend verified her worst fears.
“It’s Jay,” Carmen sobbed. “There was a terrible accident. And Jay . . . Oh Becca, Jay is dead!”