Page 101 of Wolfsbane Hall
She had always been dying.
Celestine always only had limited time with him, and as much as she hated him, she also loved him. He had been her rock, and for the last moments she had left, she would remember him. Her time with him would coat her mind as she took her last steps and last breaths.
And that hurt more than her terminal heart.
“Go away, Dean.” It was a broken sob.
“I can’t.” He caught up to her and clutched her shoulders. “I can’t let you die. I won’t.”
Her lips pinched together, and her cheeks ached from holding back all her emotions. “Tell me why.”
“What?” His azure eyes were pleading.
“Why do all of this?” Devastation ate away at her stomach. “Why become the Phantom for one night? Why poison me and torture me on my last night to live?”
He didn’t seem to understand her last words, because he ignored them and said, “Because you have to get away. This place, this family, will kill you…” He cupped her face, his fingers sliding through her hair. “I will kill you.”
“You already have.” Celestine wanted to fall into his touch, but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t allow it. It hurt too much.
“I am trying to save you from me.” The light from the streetlights flickered in his eyes, highlighting the desperation lingering there.
“How noble of you,” she spat out. Anger wasn’t an emotion she’d felt that often until tonight. She didn’t feel like it was a very useful one. Yet it was all she could focus on now. He’d stolen her peace. He’d stolen her peaceful last breaths. “Save me by destroying me?”
“You’ve met my family. My mother nearly killed you, andshe won’t ever stop. She thinks she owns us, and she can’t be killed. Ever.” His thumb brushed her cheek. “Go to Hollywood, become the star you were always meant to be, and leave this…” He motioned to the city around him and back at Wolfsbane. “Leave me in your rearview mirror.”
If only she could do that. But it was as impossible as Dean genuinely loving her. “I can’t do that, even if I wanted to.”
“Yes, you can.” His whiskey-coated voice was hollow with fear. “All you have to do is answer the riddle.” Dean knew she’d solved it but refused to say it. “Who is the Specter, Celine?”
“No. I won’t say it.”
“This isn’t a game, Celine. You will stay dead.”
“I know.”
“And you would commit suicide like that?”
“I am not.”
“Yes, you are. Answer the riddle,” he begged. “Please.”
Celestine shook her head, the movement causing her to feel dizzy, and Dean had to reach out and steady her.
“When, Dean?”
He scrunched his face.
“When? When would you like me to tell you who the Specter is? How about when I am looking into mirrors or talking to an animated painting? That’s Everett. Or how about when he’s the voice in the darkness or smoke? Then that would be James. And in my bedroom, after it’s all over…or when I need the Specter the most, and he shows up as a hovering voice to help me?” Her voice cracked. “That’s you, Dean.”
Her forehead scrunched, the veins popping out from the anger, tears, and unending sorrow she was holding in her head.
There had been three elixirs. There had always been three Specters.
“There have always been three men who betrayed me,” sheseethed. “There is no answer to this riddle, because it is all of you. Congratulations, you made an impossible game and killed your entire cast.” She offered a slow, sarcastic clap. “Truly, congratulations.”
She felt the poison leave her body, lifting from her like a wave. It was gone, but still destructive. It had already done its damage. It had already ravaged her sickly body.
A proud smile stretched on Dean’s face. “It’s like your favorite book. I thought you would enjoy the final solution.”
