Phantom (33 page)

All feelings of guilt were gone. The slight pangs of sympathy she had felt for Debbie was also gone, replaced by the nagging need for revenge. Debbie had hurt Justyn. Debbie had to pay. But first, Rebecca was going to have to somehow gain control over the situation. She was going to have to get the gun.

She could see Tom out of the corner of her eye. Now that Debbie had turned her attention away from him and back to Rebecca, he was trying to send her some kind of secret signal. He was waving one finger, pointing it first at Debbie and then at himself. Rebecca wished they had an interpreter. They didn’t have time for games anymore.
Justyn
didn’t have time.

“Are you happy now, Debbie?” Rebecca demanded. “Another death on your conscience?”

“Happy? How can I be happy, Becca, when I don’t have the one I love?”

There was a whole string of four-letter words Rebecca had never even thought about using before that suddenly seemed appropriate. It took a lot of self-control not to scream them at the top of her lungs—harder still to keep from flinging herself, claws barred, towards Debbie’s unsuspecting face. But a plan was starting to formulate in her mind—one that wasn’t quite as kamikaze. Tom just needed time, and a distraction. And Rebecca was just the one to give it to him.

“Did you even think of just telling me, Debbie?” Rebecca forced her voice to sound sympathetic. “If I had known . . . .”

 “What if you had known, Becca?” Debbie interrupted. “What? You would have loved me back? You would have suddenly changed your sexual orientation?”

“You never gave me the chance. Maybe if you had, I would have felt something more . . . something more than just friendship.”

The crazed look in Debbie’s eyes softened to an almost whimsical twinkle. “And if I gave you the chance now . . . would you . . .
oufff!”

Debbie was cut off in mid-sentence when the full bulk of Tom’s weight crashed into her midsection, in pure football tackle style. The two of them crashed to the ground and scuffled around on the floor for less than a minute. But Debbie was quick to recover, and Tom was already hurt. She never lost her grip on the gun. She had the advantage. She swiftly kicked Tom in the groin, and before he could even double over, she hit him hard in the temple with the edge of the gun.

Rebecca wouldn’t let herself cry out or run to his side as he slipped to the ground, unconscious. Tom was out. Justyn might not even be breathing anymore, for all she knew. Rebecca was on her own. She needed to keep her one small advantage. She had to let Debbie think she had a chance. If she lost that edge for even a minute, they were all going to be dead.

“Having four older brothers can have its advantages,” Debbie said smugly as she pulled herself to her feet, completely unscathed. “So tell me, Becca. Were you a part of that little escapade? Did you know that your hero, Tom, was going to attack me like the territorial animal that he is?”

“No,” Rebecca said. She was never very good at lying. She hoped it didn’t show on her face. “No, of course not! I wouldn’t let him hurt you, Deb. Never.”

Rebecca was doing her best to hold it together. To not let the overwhelming desire to break down into hysterics take over. She had to stay calm. She had to stay on track. She was the only hope to save Justyn, who was coming closer and closer to bleeding to death with every second that passed. She needed to keep Debbie talking. She needed to stay in control. And she needed to figure out who was hiding in the shadows behind the curtains before Debbie noticed they were there.

A shadow was all she saw—a dim figure lurking in the darkness. Were they a friend or foe? She had no way to tell. Was it possible that Debbie had an accomplice? She didn’t seem to need one. She was doing pretty well solo. She was strong enough that she could take on a teenage boy in hand-to-hand combat. But if it wasn’t Debbie’s phantom assistant, than who was it? She started to wonder if maybe the whole thing was an illusion brought on by severe stress and the very real desire for someone to come to her rescue. But Rebecca couldn’t get that lucky. No one was coming to help her.

Then she saw a flash of black hair, and she knew. She knew who it was. Her would-be savior was Carmen!

Rebecca felt a little weak in the knees as relief washed over her. Carmen peered at them through the curtain, and put a finger to her lips. Rebecca did her best to keep her face blank, to try not to alert Debbie to the new arrival. For one glorious moment, she thought her prayers had been answered, but then reality set in. It was just Carmen—tiny, little Carmen. She was barely one hundred pounds. No match for Debbie when the boys couldn’t take her, even if she
didn’t
have a gun.

“Never?” Debbie was asking. “You’d
never
let Tom hurt me? Even if I killed your boyfriend?”

Rebecca forced herself to tear her eyes away from Carmen. She also had to remind herself that trying to gouge Debbie’s eyes out at the moment would be considerably suicidal. Just the fact that she dared to mention Justyn at all made her furious all over again. But she couldn’t give herself or Carmen away. She couldn’t let Carmen get killed, too. Besides, she had to keep Debbie talking—keep her on track.

“My girlfriends will always come before some guy,” Rebecca told her. She almost choked on the next words. “I . . . I love you, Deb. More than you know.”

 “Love me?” Debbie was skeptical. “As a friend, you mean?”

Carmen had vanished into the shadows. Rebecca wasn’t sure what she would do. But she decided that she needed to distract Debbie as much as possible. That was their only chance. And there was only one way she could think of to do it—only one way that she could keep her attention away from whatever Carmen was planning and save all their lives.

 It wasn’t a pleasant thought, in fact in was downright revolting. Not because Debbie was a girl, but because she was a cold blooded murderer. But when she stole a glance in Justyn’s direction and saw the puddle of blood beside his chair was spreading, she knew she had to do what she had to do. She had to bring to life to final scene of
Phantom
one last time.

“Maybe . . . maybe we could be . . . more than friends.” Rebecca offered.

A brief glimmer of hope crossed Debbie’s face before it hardened once again. “Liar. You can’t mean that.”

“No.” Rebecca shook her head. “Let me show you. Let me prove it.”

Debbie was skeptical. “How?”

Rebecca swallowed hard. She thought that under other circumstances, this might have been exciting—a forbidden thrill. But there was no excitement now, just a deep-rooted horror.

“Let me . . . let me kiss you. Let’s see if I feel anything.”

“You want to kiss me?”

What she really wanted to do was run screaming in the other direction, but she forced herself to give a different answer. “If you’d like me to . . . .”

Carmen had moved into the light. She was no longer behind the cover of the stage curtain. She was armed, but Rebecca had to wonder if it would possibly be enough. Debbie would really have to be preoccupied for Carmen to be able to sneak up on her. Which meant Rebecca would have to be
really
convincing. Her acting abilities would be seriously put to the test.

“I’ll kill you if you try anything. I’ll kill you if I even
think
you’re trying to trick me.”

Love or no love, Rebecca knew she meant it. “I’m not trying to trick you,” she lied. “Let me show you.”

She inched a little closer, taking slow, tentative steps. Debbie’s hand was dangerously close to the trigger. One wrong move and she was dead. Debbie watched her with obvious longing as she moved forward. Gently, as lovingly as she could manage, she lifted a hand to stroke her former friend’s cheek. The mist of tears that filled her eyes might have seemed like touching emotion, but it was really only blind fear. Yet, she knew she had to be as tender as possible. It was a struggle to keep her voice steady, but she repeated the lines she had sung to Justyn in the finale of the play, hoping it would make her seem all the more sincere.

“Sad creature trapped in the darkness.
A life filled with pain is all you ever knew.
But know this, my dark tortured angel.
A part of me will always love you.”

Even as the last note echoed off the high ceiling of the tiny room, Rebecca leaned over and kissed her. She pressed her lips against Debbie’s with a desperation she hoped would be interpreted as passion. She didn’t allow herself to shy away as her mouth was urged open, and Debbie’s tongue began a tentative exploration. She forced her hands to lift so we could wrap her arms around Debbie’s shoulders, pulling her closer, making her a more open target for Carmen.

 Rebecca knew Debbie’s eyes were closed in ecstasy because her eyes were wide open. There was no way that Debbie could have seen Carmen sneaking up behind them with a heavy, black candelabra in hand. She had no idea anything was happening at all until that cast iron candelabra came down hard on the top of her head. Then Rebecca and Debbie’s kiss ended abruptly as, with a groan, Debbie slumped lifelessly to the ground.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Carmen was a statue. It was like someone poured quick drying cement over her head. She didn’t move at all. Not even to breathe. The cast-iron candelabra was still raised high above her head, frozen in its place. Maybe because she was afraid Debbie was going to get back up. Or maybe because she was afraid that she wouldn’t.

“Did I kill her?” Carmen asked in a strained, hushed whisper. “Oh God, tell me I didn’t kill her.”

“No . . . no, she’s breathing.”

Rebecca saw the slight rise and fall of Debbie’s chest, so it wasn’t a lie. But she also saw the blood gushing from the wound on her head where Carmen had hit her. She had to wonder how long that statement would hold true. Either way, she wasn’t going to take any chances. She kicked the gun as far out of Debbie’s reach as possible with the heel of her shoe before jumping to her feet and running over to help Justyn. Rebecca was smarter than the average B-horror movie heroine.

“Oh, God,” Carmen repeated. Her voice rose in pitch several octaves. “They’re dead. They’re all dead, aren’t they?”

Carmen was nearing hysteria. Rebecca had been there herself more than enough times in the last few weeks to recognize the signs. She might have found herself in the same condition if fear for Justyn hadn’t overshadowed every other emotion. He was silent and still and the dripping blood was growing from a puddle to a pool with every second that passed. There wasn’t any time to waste. Rebecca had to pull herself together. She had to take charge. There was no one else who was going to do it.

“Carmen, go check on Tom. Then get out his cell phone and call for help.”

Carmen nodded and obeyed wordlessly, subservient for the first time in her life. She seemed relieved to have a purpose. The candle holder fell to the ground with a loud clank. But even over that noise, Rebecca heard sirens in the distance. She realized Tom must have gotten through to someone on his cell after all. At least, she hoped that was the case and it wasn’t just wishful thinking.

Rebecca heard Tom murmur and moan as Carmen reached into his pocket to get the phone. She heard the three quick beeps, one long and two short, as she dialed the familiar emergency number. As soon as she got an answer, she began to explain their present situation to the operator, in hurried, heated sentences.

  Rebecca was pretty busy herself; untying the complicated knots that bound Justyn’s wrists to the chair. When she finally managed to succeed, she wondered if she had made the right decision. The full weight of his unconscious body fell heavily against her small frame. She was sure they would both go crashing to the ground. But before that happened, a pair of strong arms reached out and helped Rebecca ease Justyn gently to the ground.

“Is he alive?” Tom asked.

“Of course he’s alive!” She didn’t mean to snap at him, especially not when Tom was obviously not at his peak. His face was bruised and bloodied and almost as white as Justyn’s. But it was such a terrible question. One Rebecca had been too afraid to ask herself, and one she certainly didn’t want to hear. Instead, she focused on giving orders. “Help me stop the bleeding.”

 While she knew it was bad to move people who were seriously injured, it had to be far worse to just stand by and watch them bleed out. So Rebecca made an executive decision, and put Tom in charge of pressing a white ruffled dress shirt against the gushing wound on Justyn’s shoulder.

His shoulder! Rebecca was more than a little relieved to see that it was only his shoulder that had been hit, not his chest as she had originally thought. There wasn’t much chance that the bullet had hit his heart or his lungs or anything else vital. At least she didn’t think so. She was also beyond grateful to the powers that be when she noticed his breathing got a little stronger. He even flinched when Tom’s strong hands pressed down against his shoulder. Still, he had already lost so much blood. That couldn’t be good. The fact that his face was so completely chalk white couldn’t be good either.

“Justyn,” she whispered. She tried to keep the tremble out of her voice as she touched his colorless cheek. She didn’t want to give away how scared she was. “Justyn, can you hear me?”

“This is bad,” Tom muttered. He was doing his best to keep the pressure on the wound, but the white shirt was already soaked through with bright red blood. “Really bad.”