Was that why he gave Thorn the violin to begin with, all those years ago? When he told him to play it every chance he could? Because Erik knew it had been tied to her father somehow? Some kind of magical tether?
Thorn would never forgive himself if it were true, especially now, if his role had put Rune in even more danger. It was one thing, if she wanted to escape her voice like Erik had always said she would. But Thorn had come to realize she needed the chance to embrace the gift, free of pain, before making that decision. He of all people understood what it was like to have such a talent stripped away.
None of it mattered, though, if the spy behind the cupola was the Phantom. Everything would be over tonight.
Already things were spinning out of control. Law enforcement was out of the question. Erik had trip wires and land mines set in place on the upper floors, and would trigger them all without hesitation should he sense someone closing in. Everyone in the academy was a sitting duck unless Thorn could sabotage the pitfalls himself, covertly. He was the only one who could, since he had helped Erik plant most of them, two years earlier.
He’d already disarmed the ones he knew of over the past few weeks, but there would be some Erick had set up in secret. Thorn had searched all the floors except the top two. He needed at least another day. One more day of committing treason against the man who’d raised and nurtured him.
Thorn’s chest ached. “Show yourself!” He shouted to their stalker, straining his voice.
A rush of rustles and growls stirred behind the cupola, but nothing came into view. He would’ve suspected Tomlin, had he not already checked in on Erik’s puppet before coming to the roof tonight. The drummer still hadn’t returned from the city.
That left only the Phantom. But how? When Thorn last saw him, he was barely able to stand. It usually took him all night to recuperate from pouring his energy into the cryogenic chamber.
Thorn’s feet shifted as Rune’s body slumped against him. He wrapped an arm around her. “Come on. Snap out of it. Rune—”
Snarling hisses and tingling bells preempted a flurry of movement from the shadows. A sprinkle of red feathers tufted on the wind in the wake. Thorn almost laughed, so relieved to see the swan and the cat. Both animals had the habit of behaving like dignified emissaries in the presence of the Phantom. They’d never lower themselves to this level of playfulness were he here.
But there was still the chance he might be close behind.
Scooting everything to one end of the bench, Thorn eased Rune down and lifted her legs so she could lie on her side. He patted her face until she roused.
“W-wha’s happening?” She slurred, her eyes wide as Ange fluttered past, squawking, with Diable happily prancing in jingly pursuit. “Wait . . . Diable, no!” She rolled off the bench, diving to grab Diable but missing when the cat ducked and slapped a paw across the swan’s tail feathers.
Thorn caught Rune before she face-planted next to his boots. She looked up, blinking, not fully cognizant.
“H-how’d Diable get up here?” She rubbed her eyes as he settled her to sit back on the bench. “Oh, yeah. Ghost kitty.”
Thorn frowned. It was taking her longer than he’d anticipated to come down from the drunken crest of energy they’d shared. How was she going to manage the trek downstairs?
She leaned forward, elbows on knees, so low her hair hid her face.
He could scoop her up and carry her. He’d prefer that, with her warmth nestled against him—as close as possible to the citrusy vanilla clinging to those glossy strands wound about her head.
Diable darted past, Ange chasing him this time. Her wings splayed low as she waddle-hopped behind. She stretched her neck and chomped the cat’s tail. Diable let out a nerve-wracking yowl.
Rune sat up straighter, though still wobbly. She peered through her hair. “Why aren’t you doing something? They’re going to kill each other!”
Thorn steadied her. “They’re fine. Tag is their favorite game. They were playing it that day we first met in the chapel. Ange doesn’t need our help any more than Diable needed yours then.”
“But . . . he was drowning.”
Thorn rolled his eyes. “That was a ruse on his part to get your attention. He was sweet on you from the beginning. Cats are naturally afraid of water but can overcome it. I made sure Diable could swim ever since he was a tiny kitten, because of where we live.” Thorn winced. The less Rune knew about the Phantom’s lair, the safer she was. He must be energy-drunk himself to let that slip.
One glance at her face and the ribbon marks on his arm sizzled with hot friction as if in confirmation.
“Where you live . . . under the opera house, with the Phantom,” she reasoned, knotting her unruly waves at the back of her head. Her mind was getting clearer by the second. “That’s what you mean, isn’t it?”