That would get her Halloween festivities off to a rip-roaring start. I know it has mine.
Bouchard stops writing and shifts on her pointy heels to showcase her equally pointy profile. Her cheek matches the dyed ends of her hair. “‘Ain’t’ is not proper English, Mademoiselle Summers. Assuming that’s the indigenous language of your species.”
Sunny huffs, followed by a snort from Jax and several chuckles around the room. I scowl, being the only one privy to the innuendo behind her criticism.
“Each of these terms,” Bouchard continues, “has to do with masques, pantomimes, exotic heroes and heroines, or the supernatural and mythological. That would be ‘Halloween’-themed homework, for the symbolism impaired. If any of you have an issue with it, we could take a pop quiz instead.”
She slants a glare across the class as everyone returns to scribbling. She’s careful to avoid eye contact with me. Aunt Charlotte’s threats are keeping her at bay.
Although, since I’m wearing sunglasses, she really doesn’t have much choice to avoid my gaze. An eye infection—that’s what Aunt Charlotte told everyone to cover up that I’m still radiating the energy Etalon and I exchanged last night. My aunt’s already planning to get me some green contacts ASAP.
The minute I got back this morning, I went to my aunt’s room, Diable in tow, and using the key she’d let me borrow, crashed on her chaise lounge until it was time to get ready for breakfast and classes. I wanted to be there to make sure she slept off the sleeping gas.
She was fine upon waking, but I wasn’t. I’ve only known I’m descended from ancient vampires for two days. And now, I’m about to be in a fight for the very gift I once wanted to throw away. I’m reeling internally, yet I don’t have time to stop and absorb it all.
I told Aunt Charlotte I’ve decided to stay at RoseBlood. That I couldn’t leave now that I finally found myself and my voice. I had to lie to her about my eyes . . . I used the excuse of snacking on a rose’s life-force. Pretty sure she didn’t buy it. But I’m planning to tell her the truth later today, about everything.
Etalon encouraged me to let her in on the plan. Even Bouchard. He says we can use all the help we can get tonight at the masquerade. And I agree . . .
Now that I’m not betraying him, I’ll be able to talk about him. To make them understand he’s an ally.
I lift my braid to chew on the ends of my hair. Maybe the dry-erase marker fumes are getting to me, because I’m no longer hungry. I’m nauseous.
Of course the real reason behind my kinked-up insides is my concern about the masquerade and the part I have to play. Even more, I’m scared out of my mind about Etalon’s. His part is more dangerous than anyone’s, because he’s betraying the man he lives with, the man he swore his loyalty to as a broken seven-year-old child. The man who was an assassin in Persia over a century ago. The Phantom is not famous for forgiveness.
The dismissal bell rings, and I gather my pen, notebook, and bag then tumble through the door before I have to face Sunny or Jax. I’m sure they think what everybody else does: that the real reason I’m wearing sunglasses is to flaunt that I won Renata’s role. That my superstar complex is growing by the hour.
They’re really going to think that tonight, when I have to give a solitary impromptu performance. But if everything goes as planned only the Phantom will be my audience.
Shivers join my nausea as I wind through the bodies darkened to silhouettes by my glasses. Ignoring their auras, I make my way downstairs to my dorm room. Aunt Charlotte offered to bring my food since it’s an extended lunch today, so I wouldn’t have to hide my eyes during the hour break. I’m hoping she’ll stay and we can talk; maybe read Christine’s letters together. Anything to get my mind off tonight. I have to wait until after school to discuss the plan with her. Etalon insisted we go to the forest so there’s no risk of the Phantom overhearing.
At least it’s promising to be a cloudless day so we won’t be stuck in the rain.
Diable is already in my room by the time I arrive, and I’m so happy to see his adorable grumpy face, I don’t even question how he gets in anymore. He’s seated on my bed like he owns it, his wooly fur taking on a different violet shade with each burble from the lava lamp.
After unclipping the tie at my neck, I drop my sunglasses, bag, and books on the floor. Then I pick up the stack of Christine’s letters I brought over this morning when I came to put on my uniform. Diable doesn’t grouse as I drop beside him on the bed. Instead, he snuggles into my side with a gentle tingle of bells. I rub between his ears until he purrs.
“You know I’m sorry I doubted you, right?” I tease. “As if you could be anything but honorable, with a name like Devil.”