by Joy Elbel
The importance of everything Clay had told me so far paled in comparison to the impact his last few statements made. If Jackson wasn’t the killer, who was? “Quick, Clay— describe him to me. What did he look like? Why couldn’t you see his face?”
“Well, he was thin and kinda tall but not too tall. He was sort of old but not real old. His hair was—“ I cut him off and finished his sentence for him. “Let me guess, his hair was short but not too short?” I said sarcastically. If a police sketch artist were drawing my attacker based on Clay’s description so far, he would be sitting here staring at him with a blank expression and not a single line drawn on the paper.
Clay didn’t pick up on my sarcasm and responded enthusiastically, “So you know who I’m talking about then!” Mentally, I realized that Clay was basically the male, ghost version of Rachel. If it weren’t for Boone, the two of them would have made the perfect freakin’ couple! Why couldn’t I have found a ghost who paid more attention to detail? But he was all I had and he was doing his best to help me out so I decided not to hurt his feelings by telling him that his description of the killer was completely useless to me. At this point, my attacker could be anyone from Andy, to Mr. Raspatello, to my own dad.
“No,” I replied, “I still have no clue who he is. Why couldn’t you see his face? Was he wearing a ski mask?” “Yeah, he was wearing a mask all right but a fancy one. The kind you see in movies and stuff. As a matter of fact, the entire wall behind you is covered in them—and tons of movie posters, too.”
“Mr. Fantastic!” I shouted. “Those posters are from
The Phantom of the Opera, aren’t they?”
“Yep, every single one of them. So you know who he is then?” “Jonas,” I shouted excitedly, “his name is Jonas!” The proverbial light bulb in my head went from a dim flicker to a Broadway spotlight. While Drake heard the words Mr. Fantastic, what Allison truly said to him was Mr. Phantastic. As in The Phantom of the Opera—which Jonas was clearly obsessed with. Suddenly, the plot of “A Phantom Affair” took on a more ominous meaning. He fancied himself as The Phantom—kidnapping girls and trying to force them to love him. Kidnapping me and trying to force me to love him. My stomach churned at the thought.
There wasn’t enough time or reason to try to explain the entire situation to Clay. I was in a seriously bad situation. If Crimson didn’t make it out alive, neither would I—it was as simple as that. The police thought they already had their suspect in custody. I’d already lied and told the police that I was thinking of running away and my current situation at home would solidify that notion. In the last few weeks, I’d distanced myself from everyone but Rachel. She was the only one who might believe that I didn’t leave of my own free will but even she thought that Jackson was the killer. My life was truly in Crimson’s hands right now. I did everything in my power to save her—now I prayed that what I did for her would be enough to save myself.
“How long ago did Jonas leave me? Did he say anything about when he was coming back?” “I’m not sure, Ruby. I lost all concept of time after I died. I mean, I know that time still passes but I’m sort of outside of it or something. For some reason, I—“
When I heard the sound of approaching footsteps, I held one finger to my lips and whispered, “Shhh!” We held our breaths as the noise grew closer then stopped altogether. Soon, the jingle of keys followed and the sound of a lock clicking into place. Frantically, I scrambled to come up with a plan to keep myself alive long enough for someone to rescue me. If he wanted perfect obedience, that was exactly what I was going to give him.
Clay struck a manly pose like he was ready for a fight. Obviously, I wasn’t the only one who sometimes forgot that he was dead. There wasn’t a single thing he could do to protect me but bless his heart for the attempt. As I heard the door open, I willed my body to relax. If I looked like I wasn’t resisting, maybe I could convince Jonas to untie me.
“Oh, you’re awake! How grand! I was afraid that nasty ex of mine had injured you severely. Don’t worry—she will never harm you again. You must be in tip top shape for our wedding. Is there anything I can get for you, my lovely?”
I felt like I was having a conversation with the Mad Hatter himself. I’d seen some strange things in my life but this vision before me definitely ranked in the top five. Jonas was wearing a flowing black cape and the mask of the Phantom, his every word and gesture delivered with flamboyant Broadway aplomb. I was going to have to pull out a performance just as spectacular as his to convince him that I truly was “his lovely”.
“My darling,” I uttered, shaking as I tried to piece together the perfect response for him. “All I really need is some good conversation with you. And a cup of tea, if it’s not too much trouble. I could make us both some, if you would like.” Tea? I hated tea! For some odd reason, though, I pictured Jonas’s perfect wife as being a tea drinker. It was a more sophisticated drink than coffee, more refined. But it was really going to suck if he actually brought me a cup and I had to drink it.
“Tea! What a splendid idea! I will brew some for us straight away. Chamomile or Earl Grey?” I have no freakin’ idea! All tea tasted the same to me—like boiled chalk. Was it a trick question? If I gave him the wrong answer, was he going to lop one of my ears off? Tea wasn’t the only thing brewing—panic certainly was too. Lately, instead of black, gray was my new go-to neutral of choice when it came to clothes and shoes. It hadn’t failed me so far, so I chose it yet again.
“Earl Grey, please,” I said daintily and then added, “unless you prefer Chamomile, my dear. Would you like me to make it for us?” I didn’t think it would be that easy to convince him to untie my restraints, but it was worth a shot.
Jonas smiled and stroked the back of my hand. “Earl Grey is my favorite—what an excellent choice! I knew that we had many things in common but this is truly delightful! What a happy occasion! Thank you for the offer, but I will retrieve it myself. While the tea is brewing, I will prepare a tray of Turkish Delight for us to share.” He swished his cape around him like a Dracula wannabe in a cheesy vampire movie and left the room without locking it. It would take time but if I could gain his trust, at some point he would let me out of this chair—I had to believe that.
“Geez, Ruby! You almost had me convinced that you wanted to be here with that nutjob!” Clay exclaimed once Jonas was gone.
“Thanks—he seemed to be buying my act. Playing along with his nutty fantasies is the only thing I can do until someone finds me. If they find me….”
“No, don’t think like that, Ruby. Someone will find you before it’s too late. You said that other girl escaped—the police will probably be here any second now.”
He tried to smile and seem confident but I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. When Jonas said that his nasty ex was the one who hurt me, he was speaking of Crimson and not Allison. His assurance that she would never harm me again surely meant that he killed her. Now, no one knew where I was except for Clay and the only thing he could do for me was provide emotional support as I tried my best to survive. Unless….
“Clay, I want to try a little experiment. There may be a way for you to help me after all. Are you in?” I asked even though I already knew his answer.
“Hell yeah, I’m in. What do you need me to do?” It was an off the wall plan but there was no harm in trying. “I know you tried to go other places before you met me and it never worked. But now that we have some kind of weird connection, I want to see something. When I asked for you to come, you appeared. When you think about me, you appear. Let’s both concentrate on Rachel and see if we can send you to her. If it works, do anything you can to get her attention—or at least try to. Okay?”
“I’ll never pass up an opportunity to spend time with Rachel Mason,” Clay joked as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and began to concentrate.
“Wait a second,” I said to him, suddenly filled with the thoughts that if my plan worked, I would truly be alone with Jonas once he returned. “Be
fore you go, come closer. There’s something I need to do first.”
Clay leaned in towards me with a puzzled expression. When he got into the right position, I told him to stop where he was and stay still. “If this works but something bad happens before you get back to me, I want you to know that I’m grateful for everything you’ve done to help. And if my spirit is doomed to roam this earth unsettled the way yours is, I’ll do everything I can to find you. Thanks—you’re a good friend.” And with that, I kissed him on his ice cold cheek and told him to think of nothing but Rachel Mason.
Two things happened at exactly the same time. The door swung open to announce Jonas’s return just as Clay vanished from my sight. He would do everything he could to help—all I had to do was stay alive long enough for it to matter.
“Kira!” Jonas called as he approached my chair, “Your tea is ready dear! I added only a touch of sugar since you are so sweet already.”
Just when I thought the man couldn’t possibly get any more delusional, here he was calling me Kira. My plan with Clay had to work. I pasted a superficial smile on my face as he thrust a small silver tray loaded with powdered sugar covered confections my way.
“They look delicious,” I swooned meanwhile hoping they would help me swallow down the taste of that awful tea he was sure to offer me next. “Thank you so much.”
“Anything for my precious bride,” he said as he selected a piece of Turkish Delight from the tray. “Open wide!”
With a not so slight fear of having my tongue ripped out while I was least expecting it, I parted my lips and accepted it. I wasn’t sure if he was just an inept baker or if I wouldn’t have cared for it regardless of who made it. It was bland and dry but I complimented him on his choice of dessert. When he asked if I was ready for some tea, I didn’t have to practice my next line in my head. While I wasn’t a fan of tea either, I would have willingly swallowed poison to erase the taste of the Turkish Delight from my mouth.
“Be careful not to burn yourself, my love,” he said as he tipped the delicate porcelain to my lips. “The tea is still quite warm, I am afraid.”
And bitter, terribly freakin’ bitter. Was that why he wanted a wife so badly—because he was the world’s worst cook? I swallowed a few sips then instinctively backed away from the cup when he tried to offer me more. Without a word, Jonas placed the cup on the floor beside me. He turned away from me briefly then swung back around quickly.
CRACK!! The sound of his palm as it struck me violently on the cheek echoed through the small room. I wasn’t expecting it—the pain, his sudden change in mood, or the way it was going to affect me. My courage drained out of me as quickly as the blood rushed to my face. I began to cry.
“Oh, you are quite the little debutante, aren’t you Kira? Isn’t my tea good enough for you? Do they serve better tea back at the mansion?” he asked mockingly.
Terrified, I shook my head no. “What’s that?” he said sarcastically. “I can’t hear you. DO THEY SERVE BETTER TEA BACK AT THE MANSION?” he shouted directly into my face. Before I had a chance to answer him, he slapped me hard against the opposite cheek and whispered into my ear, “You’re a spoiled little brat. But you’re not like those other little whores—obedience can be taught. Purity cannot. I’ve waited long enough for you. Drink it all—now!”
He shoved the teacup against my mouth, grabbed me by the hair and tipped my head back. With one hand, he forced my lips open and poured the tea with the other. Hot liquid scorched across my tongue and down my throat. When I began to cough and choke on it, he let go of my hair and allowed my head to drop. As I hacked and gasped for air, a sharp pain ripped through my right side. It felt I was being disemboweled from the inside outside out. When I finally caught my breath, he asked, “Are you ready to drink the rest the right way?”
“Yes,” I whispered. Despite the pain in my side, I leaned forward in a show of obedience. He placed the rim of the cup to my lips and I drank it all as quickly as I could.
Once the cup was empty, he looked at me lovingly. “You know it’s bad luck to see the groom before the wedding, Kira. Hush, close your eyes—it won’t be long now.”
That’s when it hit me. My situation was more serious than I even guessed. While Jonas kept the other girls for weeks and even months before killing them, I wasn’t going to suffer the same fate. One of two things was going to happen to me. Either he would kill me or he would “marry” me— maybe even both. Whatever he decided to do to me, he was going to do it to me tonight. Whatever he put in my tea was powerful—there was no way to fight it. My eyelids began to feel exceedingly heavy and within seconds, I was out.
39. Red Reception
“Oh, this production is going to be grander than I ever imagined it could be! It was so kind of you to join us, Roarke.” Before I even opened my eyes, I knew what that phrase truly meant—Zach was here! Clay found a way to get Rachel’s attention and Zach flew to my rescue as always. Jonas was a small man and absolutely no match for my superhero boyfriend. A small scuffle would ensue, Zach would overpower him, and I would be freed from my velvet restraints in no time. Or at least I thought I knew what that meant.
I lifted my eyelids in sheer relief but what I saw was nowhere even close to what I was imagining. I was back in the small room where I’d found Crimson, seated with my back to the staircase that led down to the dressing room. Zach was there too—just like I hoped he would be—but he was sitting in a chair across from me, bound and gagged the same way I was. He looked as helpless as he did the day I ran away and left him broken at the bottom of the stairs. His fear of running out of luck was more than just a fear now—it was reality. But if Rachel sent him to save me, she would have called the police as well, right? All we had to do was wait. Yes, we just had to wait a few more minutes for them.
“The show is about to begin! Does everyone remember their lines?” Jonas asked as he removed the gag from my mouth first and then from Zach’s.
“Keep your hands off of her you sick, sadistic son of a—,“ Zach shouted the very second his mouth was free. “THAT IS NOT THE CORRECT LINE!” Jonas shrieked as he belted Zach across the face. There was something in Jonas’s hand but I couldn’t make out what it was. Whatever he hit him with left an instant welt on his cheek and caused a small bit of blood to trickle from the corner of his mouth.
My first instinct was to scream at Jonas to stop hurting Zach but if I wanted to survive, I needed to stay silent and so did he. After all of those times that he seemed to think that I was psychic and could read his mind, now would have been a good time for him to actually be right. But of course he wasn’t. Our connection to each other was powerful but not quite that strong.
“Kira, either accept my heart or sacrifice it. The choice is yours.” Jonas said as he paced the room in the same manner that he used to pace the stage when the actors disappointed him. “That is your line, Roarke. Say it. Deliver it. Feel it.”
Zach hesitated for a fraction of a second too long and took another blow from Jonas before obeying his orders. “Kira, either accept my heart or sacrifice it. The choice is yours.”
“Excellent delivery, Roarke! I could hear the raw emotion in your voice. You were quite convincing. Yes, the audience is convinced. I am very pleased with your performance.” Jonas squealed gleefully.
Jonas didn’t realize it, but Zach’s line was believable because he was in the exact same situation that Roarke was in. Our relationship was near perfect when Lucas walked in and “stole” me away from him. I’d tried so hard to sort out my feelings for the two of them but when I couldn’t completely figure things out, I turned my back on Zach. Then Lucas turned his back on me. I was a fool to think that Lucas could even possibly come close to loving me enough to risk his life for mine. Zach, on the other hand, had proven his love to me countless times. Based on Kira’s next line in the play, hopefully, it wouldn’t be one time too many.
“Okay, Kira—now it’s your turn to shine!” Jonas said as he walked around behind my ch
air. “Now do a very good job because this is the final line of the play. At the end of this scene, the curtain lowers and you and I can finally be together without him standing in the way.”
As Jonas fidgeted with something behind my back, Zach got a look of pure terror on his face. What could he see that I couldn’t? Jonas reached around from behind and placed something into my right hand and I instantly knew why Zach was wrought with fright. A gleaming pistol now sat in my hand.
It was clearly not a water pistol or a toy of any kind— it was real. The sheer weight of it attested to that fact. I’d never held a real gun in my hand before and I’d certainly never had the urge to shoot one. But that was exactly what Jonas expected me to do, wasn’t it? Just like in the play, he wanted me to shoot the man I loved and choose him instead. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it. No amount of torture in the world could make me desperate enough to do it. Jonas was going to have to kill me instead because the thought of pulling the trigger on Zach made me sick inside.
If I could only loosen my bindings enough, I could turn the gun on him. I wriggled my wrist against the thick cloth but it was simply too tight. The velvet burned against my skin as I desperately tried to free myself. I struggled so hard that I broke into a sweat but was still no closer to freedom.
“Be still, my love. It’s almost over now. Take a moment and rehearse your line in your head, Kira.” Jonas moved over to where Zach sat and grabbed him roughly by the chin. “Look into his eyes and say it—I choose sacrifice! Then, pull the trigger. We share our kiss then exit stage left.”
Frantically, I searched for a way to buy myself some time. Even just a few seconds might be enough to save a life. My hesitation bought me nothing but rage from Jonas. He grabbed me—chair and all—and dragged me along behind him.
“You’re wasting time—precious, precious time. Look at this!” he exclaimed as he approached the poorly boarded up window. “The city lights are already dancing for us, ready to celebrate our happy union!” With brute force, he wrenched the boards from the frame and shoved my face toward the opening. “Watch how they twinkle in anticipation—don’t make them wait.”
