Sing for Me

by Penelope Reece

  Shaking, she kept her eyes locked on the spot Earon had vacated while she slowly began to back away toward the stage. He could not hurt her among so many people. Adrenalin took hold of her. She turned and rushed toward the rest of the cast as the lights went out, engulfing the theatre in darkness

  Screams and surprised shouts tore through the darkness echoing off the walls like a mad man’s disturbed laughter.

  Chloe searched around wildly in the dark, too terrified to move. He was going to grab her, she knew it. Any second now, Earon’s arms would wrap around her pulling her away from the others.

  Sticking her hands out in front of her, she searched for someone. Anyone. She didn’t want to be left waiting in the dark alone.

  Chloe screamed Rhys’s name and prayed he’d find her first. She wanted off the stage, but her feet were glued to the floor. Her legs shook so bad she thought she’d fall. She called out again, but her voice was lost in the chaos as other voices continued to shout.

  As she stood there, her fingers held out groping at air, she felt something graze her neck. A silent scream tore through her throat, like a mouse’s squeak. She clutched at her neck, petrified.

  “Would someone turn on the damn lights?” Wilson’s voice shouted from somewhere to her right.

  Chloe tried to move toward the sound of his voice, but hand grabbed her wrist as warm breath blew again her ear. “Mon ange.”

  She shrieked and jerked away. But Earon’s arm encircled her waist crushing her against his chest. She flung her hands out trying to claw at his face and felt his masks rip away.

  He grabbed her and turned her so that her back was against him. He clamped her arms down with one arm while the other covered her mouth with a sweet smelling cloth.

  His lips against her ear, his tongue caressing her lobe was the last thing she remembered before darkness took her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The lights came on slowly, each bulb warming up, producing an illuminated path toward the stage. The voices of the audience rose up in chaotic dissonance as all eyes, bewildered, were drawn to the stage, where an equally perplexed cast stood side by side, their gaze locked on each other silently asking a question that no one could answer.

  With the stage crowded with actors, no one seemed to notice that Chloe wasn’t there. But Rhys had. He’d known it way before the lights had even turned back on.

  As soon as Jett had whispered that Chloe needed him, he’d sprinted down the narrow aisle and, ignoring his brother and Josie’s worried inquiries, quickly pushed through the door leading backstage. He didn’t know what was wrong but Jett’s frightened urgency had made his blood run cold.

  Finding no sign of Chloe backstage, Rhys had barely made it to the wing when the lights had gone out throwing the entire theatre in an impenetrable oblivion. He’d stood there holding on to the curtain to keep his bearings and, his mind only on Chloe, urgently willed the lights to come back on. Then he’d heard her scream his name and for the first time in his life he’d been afraid.

  His name had pierced through the darkness like the call of a dying animal. Its last once of strength used to communicate one final time with its mate. And he’d stood there unable to do anything but call out to her while slowly feeling his way across the stage.

  With the lights back on, Rhys rushed out onto the stage. He knew it was already too late. Knocking actors aside, he’d run the length of the stage not stopping until he reached the opposite wing. She wasn’t there. A part of him knew she wouldn’t be.

  In his mad search, his eyes fixed on two glittering paper masks lying on the floor. One a red devil cackling and the other a weeping angel. At first he couldn’t believe what he saw. It didn’t make sense. However, the proof was there. There was only one man he knew who was a master of face-changing. And that man now had Chloe.

  Picking up the masks Rhys turned to the person closest, Simon. Rhys grabbed his shirt front, desperation driving him. “Did you see who took her?”

  “Who?” Simon asked. Surprised by his outburst, Simon took a step back and bumped into Heather.

  “Chloe. That son of a bitch took her!” He grounded out the words. He was wasting time. No one could have seen anything in the dark.

  It’s my fault! The voice inside his head mocked him, driving his anger to its peak. “Where is she?”

  Simon shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Heather came to Simon’s defense. “Chloe was right next to me standing in the wing before the lights went out. Maybe she’s backstage.”

  Rhys kept his grip on Simon and felt like screaming in their faces. “She’s not backstage. Didn’t you hear her scream? She was right next to you!”

  Heather shook her head.

  “Everyone was screaming,” Simon said as if that were a good excuse.

  Rhys pulled his fist back with the urge to hit him. He would have too had Bill not caught him around the shoulder and pulled him back.

  “What the hell is going on?” Bill demanded.

  “Good Lord, Rhys, what’s the matter with you?” Josie called from the orchestra seats.

  He dropped his arm, the fight draining out of him, leaving only agony. Shaking Bill off, he looked around desperately. “Did anyone see them leave?”

  “Where is my daughter?” Asked a new voice, its French accent drawing his attention.

  He gazed down toward the orchestra seats and found Sophie standing next to Josie.

  “You,” Rhys snarled and jumped off the stage. “Where did he take her?”

  When she made no answer, he dangled the masks in front of her face. “That son of a bitch Earon took her, and you know where!”

  Sophie stepped away from the masks as if they were some rabid animal about to bite. “But he’s dead.”

  He grabbed Sophie’s arm to keep her from fleeing and yelled for Bill to call the police. He glared. “You will tell me where he took her.”

  ****

  As her eyes strained to focus, her mind a torrent of activity as it attempted to make sense of what her eyes were actually seeing. Lights danced about her like little pixies. Red wings fluttered as they floated around her, their tiny bodies flickering skyward.

  Chloe blinked. They were candles. Red and yellow flames pulsated, their beat mirroring the slow rhythmic beating of her heart. She was so sleepy. She closed her eyes.

  When she opened them again, she was sure she was dreaming. The fairies were back hissing and dancing angrily, their tiny fingers pointing accusingly in her direction. It had to be a dream. A heavy fog covered the floor nearly engulfing her in a cool blanket of moisture.

  Buried beneath the fog, Chloe realized she was lying on bed surrounded by fur blankets and decorative pillows. Above her head a tower shot to the sky, an iron bell hung silent and still among the rafters.

  High above, through a large window, the moon was a Technicolor disco ball, its surface a glittered hue of blue’s and yellows. And on its surface a rabbit played the drums. Its ears flopping as its head moved with the motion of its arms.

  Chloe blinked again.

  She was in a house somewhere. No, it was a church. The thick stained glass windows decorating the walls made it impossible to see out. The heavy wooden doors at the back stood open in welcome as it allowed the fog to roll in. Was it even fog? Vaguely, she wondered if she could be hallucinating.

  The house was open concept. The dining area was near the door with a wooden dining table decorated as if for a romantic dinner for lover’s standing. The kitchen was to the right of the dining area. A few chairs were arranged to make up a living space in the middle. Long gold curtains hung on a few of the walls, while the others had been painted a deep plum.

  Chloe wanted to get up and flee, but her legs weren’t listening to her brain. How did she get here? In the back of her mind she wondered if she’d been drugged. She felt dazed, her mind blurry, her muscles ignoring her commands.

  The bed was near the fireplace. The heat from the fir
e caressed her skin as she watched the flames contort into hellish fiends snarling and snapping. An old church organ sat nearby, its keys resting under a mountain of dust. Or was it fog? She couldn’t tell. Why was there so much fog? And why was that angel on the table winking at her?

  Movement caught her eye, and she watched as a figure approached the organ. He was dressed in a long black robe, its hem a black pool on the floor.

  The phantom.

  The evil magician.

  Earon.

  He stood above her, his hand waving out in a grand gesture. “What do you think mon ange? Isn’t it all so beautiful?”

  She tried to rise and couldn’t. “Where are we?”

  Earon knelt down beside her, his gloved hand stroking her cheek. “Ma chérie. My gentle little lamb. Can’t you guess?” He smiled mockingly and arched a black eyebrow.

  He was no longer wearing his paper masks. Chloe indistinctly remembered ripping them off. But that seemed so long ago. Earon looked exactly as he had one year ago. His face was sculptured perfection. Flawless skin covered high cheek bones. His strong square jaw taut. His black hair was slicked back and tucked behind his ears.

  Earon ran his fingers along her cheek. His amber eyes glowed like two hungry wolf eyes. His touch should have been revolting, her brain screamed as much, but she shivered beneath his hand, a sigh escaping her lips.

  She closed her eyes again wanting so much to sleep. “What did you give me?” A voice sounding a lot like her own echoed softly against the stone walls of the church.

  “Only a little dose of Rohypnol to calm you down. Don’t fret, my love. It should wear off soon enough.” He kissed her forehead, his lips moist and warm against her cold skin.

  She looked at him, her eyes wide and dry from the smoke of the fire. He’d given her a date rape drug. If he tried to rape her again, she wouldn’t even be able to fight him. She’d be completely powerless.

  Wrapping his arm around her, Earon pulled her up against him. “I have missed you so.”

  She lay helpless and paralyzed in his arms, her emotions tearing through her like a confused and deranged harpy attacking its prey, its sharp talons ripping and shredding. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn’t shake off the fog that had seeped inside her brain. She knew she should be disgusted. Frightened. But her body felt so electrified. So aroused. What was happening to her?

  “You’re dead.” It was getting harder to speak as the drug spread throughout her body relaxing her muscles and forcing her mouth to go slack.

  He laughed bitterly. “That’s what you wanted wasn’t it?” He pulled off one of his gloves and held up his scarred palm. “Did you enjoy setting that fire? Did you enjoy hurting me?”

  Chloe shrank back from the puckered red flesh. She weakly shook her head. “I didn’t –”

  He put a burned finger against her lips. “Hush my lamb. I forgive you.”

  He lowered his face toward hers, his breath fast and heavy against her face before he moved on to her neck. When his lips began feasting against the sensitive skin, her lips parted in desire and she closed her eyes once more. “What’re you going to do to me?”

  Her body may have already succumbed, but her brain was still fighting.

  “Do not worry my angel. I will not make love to you like this. Once the drug wears off you will sing for me. And then I’ll make love to you.”

  “But I don’t –” Her voice was a dreamy whisper cut off when his mouth covered hers. He was like a thief, hungrily feasting on lips that didn’t belong to him. It was wrong. She didn’t want this.

  Chloe turned her face away from his and was surprised she still had some motor function left. Whimpering, she begged Earon to stop and cried out for Rhys.

  As soon as his name had tumbled from her lips, she knew she’d made a horrible mistake. Earon’s breath blew hot and angry against her face, his amber eyes glowing bright in the candlelight. His arm tightened around her bruising the flesh above her ribs.

  She cried out as he dropped her onto the bed. Like a crazed animal, Earon turned his head up toward the rafters and howled at the moon. He damned her and he damned Rhys.

  His deranged gaze fell on her. “He’s as good as dead! I promise you that.” He spat the words at her before stalking away.

  His infuriated shouts continued and were full of threats directed toward her and Rhys. Each and every one of them ramming into her like physical blows.

  Earon was going to kill Rhys. The realization seeped down deep inside her, a gremlin taking apart her soul.

  ****

  “Tell me once again what happened.” Detective Mason said, his latex gloved hands holding the paper masks as he examined them. Other officers combed the stage dusting for prints, taking picture, and collecting nonexistent evidence.

  The audience had been escorted out long ago, along with most of the cast and crew. Only a handful remained, clumped together in the lobby. Rhys stood near the front with Bill and Josie. Bill had a restraining hold on his shoulder trying to keep him in check. He listened to the questions, not caring. They were wasting time. The police should have been out there looking for Chloe. Instead they were playing twenty questions and getting absolutely nowhere.

  Professor Wilson stepped forward to answer. “The performance had ended and we were all out on stage doing a customary bow.”

  “And where was Chloe Haskell? She’s the missing girl correct?”

  “That’s correct. But I don’t know where she was. I didn’t see her on stage. She was supposed to be standing between Jett and Simon. They were the stars of the production.”

  “And they are?”

  Jett and Simon took a step forward.

  “Ah you’re the poisoned boy,” Detective Mason said before narrowing his eyes at Simon, “And you. How interesting.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Simon admonished and stepped back into the safety of the cast.

  “Did I say you did? It’s normally a guilty person who is quick to insist his innocence.” The detective sneered. “Did either of you see Miss Haskell?”

  They both shook their heads and the detective gave an exasperated huff.

  “Did anyone see where Miss Haskell was standing?”

  “She was standing there in the wing.” Heather pointed behind him through the open door to the theatre.

  “And then?” Detective Mason asked sounding bored and disinterested.

  “Then the lights went out,” Wilson said.

  “Who is in charge of the lighting system?”

  An older man stepped forward. “I am, but I wasn’t the one who flipped the switch.”

  “Then who did?”

  The old man shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t near the light switch at the time.”

  How could everyone be so calm? Rhys couldn’t understand. They all stood there retelling the same thing and not one person seemed to be disturbed by Chloe’s abduction.

  Where could Earon have taken her?

  He tried to think of any and all locations but it was hopeless. For all he knew they could be anywhere, even leaving the state. Worse still, Earon could be hurting her, raping her, maybe even killing her and there wasn’t a damn thing Rhys could do about it.

  He should have never let her perform tonight. Had he any sense, he should have taken her as far away from the theatre as possible. She’d been so upset during the intermission. He should have known. He should have done something. But what? There was no way he could have suspected a dead man would abduct her. Or at least, that’s what the voice inside his head kept telling him. But he was too distraught to listen.

  The detective yawned. “And when you turned the lights on? It was you who turned them back on correct?”

  “That’s right,” the man replied.

  “When the lights came back on we discovered Chloe was missing.” Wilson finished.

  “And nobody saw anything?” The detective asked and motioned for an officer to put the masks in an evidence bag.

  No
t being able to stand there quietly another second, Rhys moved forward losing his patience. “I already told you this. Earon Tavel kidnapped her. We’re wasting precious time. We need to be out there looking for her.”

  “Mr. Ryther. I’ve already warned you once. If you cannot calm yourself, I’ll be forced to have you removed from the premises. If we want to find Miss Haskell, alive,” He emphasized the last part before continuing, “then the facts are imperative. Clues are often overlooked due to one’s rashness.”

  The detective turned his attention back to Wilson, changed his mind and narrowed his eyes at Rhys. “Who are you to show such concern for the missing girl? Are the two of you involved?”

  “Is that even relative?” Josie said crossing her arms over her protruding belly. “Our friend is in danger.”

  The detective smirked. “Because you think a dead man has kidnapped her?”

  “Yes,” Josie said and rolled her eyes. “Obviously he’s not dead.”

  “What makes you so sure it was this Eric guy?”

  “Earon,” Rhys growled. “Those masks are his.” He glared at Sophie who stood silent nearby. “Why don’t you say anything? She’s your daughter. You must know where he took her.”

  He tore himself out of Bill’s grasp and charged Sophie, his finger pointing in accusation. “Tell us where she is damn you!”

  “That’s enough!” The detective motioned for two of his officers. “Take Mr. Ryther outside to cool off.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  A shiver ran down Chloe’s back. She sat in a leather wing back chair in the living area. She had been sitting there for what seemed like hours, bond, as Earon prepared dinner in the kitchen. Preparing what, she didn’t know and was too afraid to ask.

  He was finished now and sat at the table enjoying a cup of vegetable soup and chicken. He was dressed in costume, a pair of black slacks with a ruffle down white vintage dress shirt. It was the costume he wore in The Magician.