Page 25 of Wolfsbane Hall
“The only way you can learn our identities is to discover them yourself.” The Phantom’s voice touched the back of her neck.
Celestine bit her lip. There had to be a loophole, some other way to get information. If no one could tell her the identity outright, she might be able to gather it by asking questions.
If the men and the Phantom played along.
“I can ask about how the magic works?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, can you project your voice through your mind?”
“Meaning?”
Celestine grounded herself by rubbing her fingers through a tassel on the throw pillow next to her. “Could you be standing next to me right now?”
He chuckled. “Perhaps.”
Her skin grew taut, from the flesh of her stomach to her tingling scalp. And as if the Phantom were mocking her, the shadows currently burrowed into the walls, and the hollows of the fireplace and beneath the chairs froze, petrified like ice sculptures formed from dripping ink. The room was now filled with a maze of them.
“Stop playing with her.” James slid onto the couch and pulled her into his lap like a weightless doll.
The Phantom scoffed—if a floating voice could scoff. “But is that not what you do?”
What did that mean? As the Specter? Or did the Phantom mean James’s stolen kisses?
“Hilarious,” James said, his lips on Celestine’s hair. “Why don’t you go and bother someone else? I’m sure my family will be starting to show up soon.”
As if on cue, the sinister sounds of a theremin scratched at the door. The music was a beast that desperately wanted in. “Perhaps I shall leave for now.” He disappeared, and Celestine’s entire countenance turned gray with sorrow.
These men had betrayed her in one way or another. “If you didn’t drink the elixir, how will you interact with the house tonight?”
“It would seem that the Phantom wants us only toobserve,” Dean said. “Perhaps that’s how he plans to play with us tonight.”
Celestine scoffed and turned her head into James’s chest. Dean said it like their fate was worse than poison. “You’re letting this happen,” she cursed into James’s shirt. “All three of you. You’re allowing the Phantom to torture and possibly kill me.”
James kissed the top of her head, trying to be comforting. “You’re not going to die. I know you’ll figure it out—”
“Your faith in me is supposed to make me feel better?” she interrupted.
“Yes,” Everett said. “You’ve never met a riddle you couldn’t solve. I mean, you help me every time I play the detective. I love the part, but we all know I’m shit at it.”
“This isn’t a game, Everett. This is my life.”
Everett shuffled his feet. “It is a game. This is Wolfsbane Hall. It’s always a game.”
“Even my life?” Her voice shook, and her chin quivered with anger or fear. Maybe both. “Are you hearing yourselves?”
James and Everett shared a concerned look, but Dean smiled. Amused by her pain, as usual. “Finally, a genuine reaction.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Celestine snapped.
“I’ve never seen you get angry with anyone.” Dean slid his fingers into his pockets. “You simply accept the way people treat you. Which is terrible, in case you were wondering.”
Celestine inhaled sharply and ignored the comment. “Twenty-nine.”
“What?”
“Words.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “In case you were counting.”
