RoseBlood(106)

I shut my eyes, humming the melody he taught me on the violin. It was incredible, performing with him in reality, side by side. It was like our dream-visions. Joined together in triumph to align the planets and rule the universe.

That’s what inspired his scheme, in fact. He believes those visions were the stars intervening, telling us how to defeat the Phantom.

Many of the operatic arias that have possessed me throughout my life were songs Christine learned via Erik’s tutelage with the Stradivarius. And there’s one song they sang together that Etalon’s convinced can break the Phantom: the duet they shared when she was dying.

It’s a ballad. The same sweet, gentle melody that Etalon has played for me through the vent these past weeks to help me sleep. He knows it from his childhood, having heard Erik hum it subconsciously anytime he was busy doing something that made him nostalgic for Christine.

Etalon taught me the lyrics. They tell a story about a tree that’s ugly and withered, losing all its leaves. But the leaves lift to the sky and become shimmering, glittery stars. Decay becoming new life; disfigurement becoming beauty. So poignant, knowing the Phantom’s history as I do now.

Tonight, everything will go according to the Phantom’s original plan, in the beginning. Tomlin is going to sneak out to a party in the city so Erik can use his gas mask/jackal costume and take his place at the masquerade. Erik is a master at mimicry, and has already perfected Tomlin’s voice. He’ll lure me into the hallway away from the party with the excuse of discussing a missing grade. Once we’re out of everyone’s sight, Erik’s plan is to kidnap me through a secret passage . . . to take me to his labyrinth where Etalon will help him perform the transfer.

But things will never come to that with Etalon’s revised strategy.

I’m going to dress like Christina Nilsson for the party. It’s a far cry from the zombie banshee I was planning to be, but Etalon’s observation—that the only thing that ever made the Phantom aspire to be human was Christine—makes this our one and only shot.

The goal is to throw the Phantom off his game when he sees me. He has a portrait hanging on his wall where she’s dressed as Pandora. All I need is a dark golden wig to reflect her Swedish coloring, a long white column dress, a gold-leaf tiara, and a panel of sage fabric to use as a wrap. There are endless costumes and hairpieces behind the locked doors of the opera house. Etalon assured me we have everything to complete the look. He’s putting it together today, using the portrait as a guide. He’ll place the articles in a bag in the orchestra pit this afternoon, since rehearsals were canceled to allow everyone time to get ready for the masquerade at six.

When the Phantom arrives, it’s up to me to make him vulnerable. Shake him back to reality and the ugliness of his obsession. We expect him to move past his initial shock. He’s too determined to be stopped that easily. So I’ll pretend I believe he’s Tomlin, but as soon as we step out of the party, I’ll make a run for the stairs . . . lead him to Bouchard’s workshop on the second floor. Jippetto will already be waiting inside to force Erik to face the quiet, gentle man he used so callously and the animals he inadvertently slaughtered.

If that’s not enough, I’ll serenade him with the deathbed ballad.

Etalon’s job, while the Phantom is preoccupied with us, is to dismantle the machine in the cellar lab that aids in the transfer . . . in case we fail and the Phantom still manages to drag me down.

If that happens, or if anything else goes wrong, Aunt Charlotte and Bouchard will be charged with everyone else’s safety. Etalon will supply them with smoke bombs to set off the alarms and sprinklers, so all the teachers and students will run outside, away from Erik’s undiscovered pitfalls.

It would be easier if we weren’t trying to hide the secret vampire society, and if the Phantom wasn’t a mad genius with traps around every corner. This is the only way to protect everyone.

My gut twists again at the dangerous conspiring. I’m just about to sift through Christine’s letters for a distraction when I hear a knock. More eager to see Aunt Charlotte than my food, I swing my door open to find Sunny’s freckled face looking back, lunch tray in hand and book bag hanging over her shoulder.

A groan escapes my lips. With all of the secret spy tunnels and mirror windows in this place, you’d think someone would’ve thought to install peepholes in the dorm room doors.

The scent of roasted cod drifts between us, making my stomach growl.

“Exactly as I thought,” Sunny says. “When I saw your eyes last night, I knew you must’ve taken a page from my playbook and stolen them from your aunt.” She leans in close. “Coolest zombie contacts ever. How’d you get her to forgive you and let you wear them today?”

A few students walk through the foyer on their way to the stairs and glance over their shoulders at us. It’s too late to hide from Sunny, but no one else needs to see me. I usher her in and go along with her creepy contacts theory. If she only knew the irony of it all.

As I shut the door and lean against it, she sets the tray on my nightstand and plops onto my bed. Diable jumps down, taking a jingly, dignified stroll to the chaise.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” I say to my unexpected guest. What I want to say is: How did you see my eyes last night?

Sunny frowns and drags her book bag off her shoulder. “I swiped your lunch tray before your aunt saw it. I wanted to tell you that I know what you’re up to. It’s honorable and all that, but there’s gotta be another way.”