Page 53 of A Ballad of Phantoms and Hope
I brush her hair back, tracing the angles of her face with my eyes. Our lips are nearly brushing. Each breath I take presses our chests together, sending a thick ache through my entire body and reminding me of last night.
But as I lower my head and she lifts her chin, we both freeze.
Whispers.
Her eyes widen and panic spreads over her face. All the blood in my veins turns to ice. I jerk my head back to look behind me and all I can see is darkness; the penthouse is cloaked in shadows, a black hole in the midst of the day.
Has it followed us? All the way here?
“Lanston!” Ophelia screams. The sound of her voice is so piercing it shakes my consciousness. I’m moving in her direction before I can even turn my head completely. She’s standing halfway out the window and once she makes eye contact with me and knows I see her, she lets herself fall. Her hair is the last I see of her before I’m leaping from the window after her. I turn enough to see black wisps of shadows clinging near the window’s edge where dark coils writhe in anger.
My heart races with thunderous fear. Ophelia looks much calmer now, staring at me with half-lidded eyes and a relieved smile as the wind lashes around her face.
We’re falling from a twenty-story building and a different sort of fear consumes me. One that is both exhilarating and filled with terror all at once. Rationally, I know we cannot die, but I don’t know what will happen once we reach the bottom. Will we bleed? Will I feel pain?
I despise pain with my entire being.
The ground approaches at an alarming rate, swift and lethal. My instincts tell me to brace for the end, but I only shut my eyes.
The thud of our bodies is vociferous. I only feel a mild tingling across my skin, like I’ve been stung by bees but the sensation swiftly fades.
When my eyes open, I find Ophelia lying on her side before me. I’m on mine as well. She looks like she’s merely asleep. No blood or broken bones jutting from her skin. Just asleep. Though the tears that form beneath her lashes tell me she’s very much awake.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, reaching my hand to her arm in an attempt to comfort her.
She shifts back, leaving my hand cold in the space between us. Does she think it’s her fault that the darkness chases her?
Her head shakes slowly. “It’s not.”
When I don’t respond, she slowly sits up and wipes her tears. I watch as she seals herself away once more inside her castle of safeguards.
And I know she’s going to try to lock herself away again.
23
Ophelia
The sky isgray and angry. Clouds grow heavy with rain as Lanston pushes us off the dock. The yacht's engine grumbles, and we start making our way out of the bay. Dark waves lap at the boat, casting spray across my cheeks.
They found me so quickly.
I sit on the bow of the immense and lavish peak of the boat, knees pulled up to my chest, quiet, as the ocean wind greets me with salty kisses.
This was a stupid thing to do. I knew Those Who Whisper would chase me. My gut tells me they’ll cross the sea and world just to have my soul.
What if I stopped running?
What if I opened my arms and let them have me? Would they finally cease? It’s the not knowing, I suppose, that haunts me the most.
There were no words between us as we ran from the hotel. We’d planned on staying somewhere nice for the evening, butnothing ever truly goes how we intend. Murphy’s Law and whatnot.
We decided it was best to find a yacht and sleep aboard the ocean—hoping that this would be safer than resting on land. I glance over my shoulder timidly at Lanston. He stands at the steer, guiding us out of the bay and into deep water. His light brown hair is wind-blown and messy, his hazel eyes alert but weary from our extended day. Still in his state of contentment, he is beautiful. His posture is sturdy and his muscles flex with the grip of the wheel.
He notices me looking and flicks his attention to me, smiling briefly, carefully. I don’t return the sentiment. Instead, I turn to face forward once more. I put him in danger by coming, and even though he won’t say it, I know he’s probably thinking what a mistake this was.
I fist my hand and pound it against my forehead.Stupid. Selfish.Why won’t the world let me rest? I’m so fucking tired… and just this once, I thought maybe I could have the one thing I actually cherish.
Lanston.
