Wandering Soul (20 page)

“What reality?”

“Your true desires are all too clear. You used your ability to bring the Phantom of the Opera to your time as your companion. Here I am.”

He spread his arms wide in a theatrical gesture. That there might once have been some truth to his words pained him, and he let his displeasure show.

“That's not true,” Elsa said, but then she snapped her mouth shut. At least she did not try to immediately withdraw her words or apologize.

“The irony is not lost upon me. All my life, I have been so concerned that people would look at me and only see my face. As if somehow the mask could not hide what lay beneath and I would be cursed to forever be reviled for my appearance. Yet with you, I fear that all you can see is the mask.”

Her eyes were wide, her lips parted. He could practically see the words she longed to say fighting for their freedom. He pressed on.

“Tell me. When you look at me, do you see Dante, the man holding his heart out to you, or do you see this?” He gestured toward the mask in her hand. “A phantom?”

“You know I don't care about—”

“Don't you? Are you certain?”

He remembered his fear that she saw him as nothing more than research and his relief when he determined her password was his name. She had proven herself to him. He wanted to do the same for her, but she was not giving him a chance.

“If you care so little for the legend, why fix the mask? I have the modern one Garrett provided me. I can make others of new design and with better materials. Yet you fix this mask. Why is that?”

“This is what you're used to. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Have you listened to anything I have said these past days? I want this world. I want this time. I do not care about familiarity. Relics from the past have no place with me, and yet you cling to them. You refuse to let go, of your fears, of your doubts, of this!”

He reached for the mask, but she jerked away. The piece she had been newly attaching came loose, and she lost her grip. He tried to catch the mask, but it bounced from his hand and fell, shattering against the floor.

Dante had not intended for the mask to break, though he could not say that he was sorry. Perhaps this time, she would let it go.

“Elsa, I—”

His voice caught in his throat when he saw the look in her eyes. They were wide as a startled dove's, her mouth hanging open and her delicate brows drawn so sharply together they nearly touched. Her chest rose and fell like a bellows.

“Are you hurt?” He reached for her so he could carry her over the debris on the floor.

Elsa ducked beneath his arm, stumbling in her eagerness to get away. Away from him.

“It was an accident.”

She let out a mirthless laugh, then spat out, “Right. It's always an accident.”

“I don't understand.”

He took another step toward her, but she shrank back from him. She was frightened of him. He was trying to push her, yes, but he had never intended to frighten her.

Dante felt his heart shatter, the shards falling through his body, leaving his soul in tatters. He wished he could go back, could take it back, but it was too late for that. He could see it in her eyes. He had somehow gone too far.

“I'm sorry.” He kept his voice as gentle as he could while trying to puzzle out what had affected her so greatly.

He knew that he had been expressing his frustration openly, but no more so than he had done in the past. He did not understand the severity of her reaction. She seemed frozen, staring at him with those terrified eyes.

He just wanted to fix it. If only he could fix it.

“Elsa, please. Say something. Do something.”

Without a word, she bolted from the room.

It took him a few moments to recover, but when he did, he followed her. He could not let her slip away. He had to make her understand how sorry he was for his mistake. And once he did, he and Jazz were going to have a very long talk.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The last few moments replayed in Elsa's mind over and over again. Dante knocking the mask from her hand—everything seeming to slow down as it fell—the horrible crash as it hit the floor.

The instant the mask had left her grasp, she felt a small part of herself break. It was too familiar.

Once the courting was done, the
real
masks came off. The invisible ones that everyone wore until they had what they wanted. She was a fool to have thought it would be any different with Dante.

And now she was back in her usual hiding place—huddled on the floor in her bathroom, knees pulled to her chest, chewing on a towel to muffle her sobs so that no one would hear her. So that no one would find her.

She had never seen that side of him before. Was this the man that he was? The man he so desperately wanted her to see? If so, she wanted nothing to do with him. Nothing.

He'd never acted like this before, though. He'd been kind and gentle. He'd never made her feel afraid. Not like today. How could she have been so wrong? Maybe this was just what love did to people.

When she heard his soft rap on the door, her heart started beating frantically. Thank God she had remembered to lock it.

“Elsa? Are you all right?” His voice was deceptively gentle. The doorknob jiggled, and she scooted closer to the bathtub, pressing herself against it and hugging the towel to her chest. “I am so sorry. Please, this is all a terrible misunderstanding.”

How many times had she heard her parents say that to each other? How many times had they talked their way back into the other's good graces, only to fly off the handle again at some imperceptible slight?

“I did not mean to frighten you.” His voice sounded strange, constricted. “Please, let me explain. Winston and I were worried about you. You have been so withdrawn. We didn't know what to do, so we called Jazz. She said we needed to push you until you pushed back. I should have just talked to you, but I have been trying so hard to do things on my own, to show you that I do not need you.”

Elsa heard Dante groan, then he said, “That came out wrong. It is not that I do not need you. I do. But not in the way you think I do.”

She slowly stood, staring at the door. She could hear soft thumping, as if he was tapping on it or knocking his head against it. Every tap sounded like a threat. They echoed in her mind, taking her back to the child she had been, reminding her that she was trapped. Again.

“I love you,” Dante said. “I am afraid I love you somewhat desperately, and that has led me down this errant path. Please forgive me. Please tell me how to fix this. I will do anything…”

And then he tried the doorknob again.

Elsa covered her ears to stop the sound of its rattling, and shrieked, “Go away!”

There was a long pause. She slowly lowered her hands from her ears, wondering if he had done as she asked and left. Strangely, the thought didn't comfort her. In fact, it threw her into a near panic.

She didn't want him to go away. She wanted him to be with her, the way he had been before. Laughing with her, sitting in the sun, spending time together in the studio.

But hadn't she changed first? He was right about her being withdrawn. She had purposefully shut herself away from him, trying to avoid the very situation they were in now.

“I will not trouble you further.” There was a rough quality to his voice and it broke over the words, as if he could barely manage to speak them.

If he moved away from the door afterwards, she didn't hear him. Moments ticked away, counting down with her heartbeat. If he actually left, she imagined her heart would just stop. If he left, she'd be alone. Truly alone. She'd never get over it, never move beyond where she was.

It wasn't just Dante that Elsa was keeping out. She didn't let anyone in. Ever. And now, she had yet another excuse to keep everyone at arm's length, to keep them all at a distance. To keep herself safe. And alone.

If she had told Dante about her parents, he never would have listened to Jazz's advice. He would have understood what was bothering Elsa in the first place and helped her through it. She was certain of it.

But she hadn't even told Jazz, her oldest friend. Not even in college, when Elsa went to identify her mother's body after she wrapped her car around a tree during another drinking binge. Elsa told Jazz she was away on family business and refused to answer any questions until Jazz finally gave up.

Elsa kept everyone out. She thought she was leaving her past behind by never mentioning it, but she was stuck there, making herself repeat it. Hiding in a bathroom again.

The result was a crushing loneliness that made her gasp for breath, that made her so desperate for companionship that she had traveled over one hundred years into the past to find a kindred soul. And even still, she couldn't—no, wouldn't—let Dante in.

This wasn't fair to either of them. She wouldn't let things go on this way. Elsa had allowed her fear to keep her isolated for long enough. She wouldn't remain trapped in her past.

Dante was her future, her present moment. Everything she wanted was right in front of her. All she had to do was have the courage to embrace it. And to do that, she had to let go of what she was holding on to.

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Panicked, Dante paced in his room, running his fingers through his hair and tugging on the strands as if he could pull ideas from his mind on how to fix the situation. No solutions came.

Elsa wanted him away from her. The very thought made his chest constrict painfully. He had terrified her, and he still did not understand how, what he had done that was so terribly wrong. How could he possibly fix a problem when he had no idea as to its cause?

He slumped down onto his bed, burying his face in his hands. If she wanted him to leave, he would, though it would devastate him.

He did not understand how she could have reacted so viscerally. The raw emotion on her face replayed in his mind, an image he did not think he would ever forget.

Elsa had been afraid of him. Terrified. It was his worst nightmare come true.

Despair was encroaching on his mind as he heard the door to his room swing open. Looking up, he was astonished to see Elsa standing in the doorway.

Dante did not dare move, afraid that she would flee again. So he sat where he was, waiting, praying, for her to come to him.

She lingered in the doorway, as if she was uncertain what she wanted to do. Finally, she took a tentative step over the threshold, and then another. When she was in the room, she turned and closed the door behind her.

Resting her forehead against the wood of the door, she said, “I know you didn't mean to scare me.”

Dante longed to agree, but kept himself silent. He could tell she remained at the edge of flight by the tense way that she stood, how her shoulders were bunched so that they nearly brushed her ears.

“When the mask left my grasp, why did you reach for it?” she asked.

Her question baffled him, yet he could sense the importance of his answer. “Whatever your reasons, you had worked diligently to repair it. I was trying to catch it before it fell. I am sorry I failed to do so.”

Her body trembled as she let out a huge breath. “That isn't what I thought happened. I'm glad I was wrong.”

Eventually, she turned to face him, though her haunted gaze passed through him as if he was a ghost. She slowly crossed the room and sat on the farthest corner from him on the bed.

She looked even more hopeless than he had felt just a few moments ago. Dante wanted to wrap his arms around her, to tell her that everything would be all right, but he fought the impulse.

“My father left when I was ten,” Elsa said, her voice having that same dull, emotionless quality as earlier in the studio. “I never talked about it. Not even with my mother when it happened. I'm not sure why he left.”

She stared blankly at the floor for some time. Dante held his breath, willing her to continue. She cleared her throat and obliged.

“I was glad, really. That he left.” She glanced briefly at him, perhaps to gauge his reaction. He tried to temper his surprise.

Her gaze dropped back to the floor. “When he was around, he and my mom fought. Constantly. Violently. They didn't send each other to the hospital often, but it did happen a few times. Mostly when they threw things.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered at some unseen memory. “When I was five, I ran between them, trying to get them to stop. I don't remember what it was that hit me, but they had to go to the hospital then. They grounded me for a month.” She let out a sharp burst of air, a hollow specter of a laugh. “They grounded me for not ducking fast enough.”

Dante felt his heart grow cold toward these callous people. To treat a child in such a manner was reprehensible. That his Elsa had suffered it made his heart break.

“After my dad left, my mom became an alcoholic. That's why I don't drink. I would go straight to the library or museum after school, stay there till they closed, and then go home and find something in the fridge and go to bed. On good days, she was passed out on the couch. On bad days, she was awake…”

Elsa's voice trailed off again. He waited patiently for her to go on.

“She would get sober every once in a while. Usually when she went back to church. It gave me just enough hope to think that maybe she would change, that she was finally ready to be a real mom.” She turned to him and gave him a sad smile. “It's hard to give up on your parents. I think that's why I made my mistake.”

Her gaze moved to the wall, as if she could see images, memories playing out across its surface. Dante waited as long as he could, but she seemed so forlorn, he could not bear to let her reverie continue.

As gently as he could, he said, “Your mistake?”

Elsa nodded, still staring at the wall, her eyes wide and unblinking. “I came home one day and she was on the couch, lying so still I thought she was dead. But her eyes were open and moving, as if she was watching something. It took me a while to figure out, but then I realized that she was traveling, like I do. I don't know what would trigger her. There was no art in the room, but I'm sure she was traveling.”

“She shared your ability?” His astonishment overcame his caution for a moment, but Elsa seemed not to take note of his outburst.

“I'm pretty sure. I was so excited. She'd been sober for a long time then. I waited for her to come back to herself, and then I told her about what I could do.”

Elsa's gaze changed, her eyes glazing over as she seemed to shrink into herself, her arms tightening around her middle.

“How did she respond?” Dante asked.

“Riding the Devil,” Elsa said. “That's what she kept saying while she beat me.”

His chest swelled with air as he sucked in a breath. He wanted to yell, to rail against the injustice Elsa had suffered, but that would certainly frighten her. At least now he understood the origin of her fear.

His arms twitched with the urge to hold her, to protect her, even from the memory. But he was uncertain if even that would overwhelm her in the face of such raw emotions.

“How could she?” The words slipped out before he could catch them, barely more than a whisper. When Elsa glanced at him, he said, “How could she when she shared your power?”

“Not that she ever admitted.” Elsa shrugged, the deadened expression returned, along with that even monotone. She was shutting down, removing herself from emotions too strong to experience. “From then on, when she was sober, I was some kind of demon. When she was drunk, I was just a freak.”

Rage built within him. His own experiences fed into his sympathy for her. He knew what it was like to be reviled in such a way. But that her own mother had done so, and for a trait that they shared… He found himself hating the woman.

“That was the worst part,” Elsa said. “I thought it would help her to know she wasn't alone. I guess she really hated herself. And when I told her I was like her, she hated me too.”

“I am so sorry.”

Elsa shrugged again and her hands dropped to her lap. “When I turned sixteen, I became legally emancipated. I changed my name, I applied for early enrollment in college and worked hard to get all the scholarships I needed to get far away.”

“Have you not spoken to her since?”

Elsa cleared her throat. When she went on, her voice was raspy. “I got a call from the police during my second year of college telling me that she had died. She was driving under the influence and she hit a tree.” Elsa's breath became ragged. “At least she didn't hurt anyone else.”

But Elsa had been hurt. All the walls that Dante faced, that he worked to overcome, finally made sense.

If her parents had presented violence masquerading as love, Elsa must have been terrified when Dante began to court her. And he had no idea how much courage she had demonstrated by sharing her secret with him. That her mother had
beaten
her when she did the same…

No wonder Elsa had found it so difficult to trust anyone. Such an early betrayal, and from the one person in the world who was supposed to love her unconditionally, as Dante's mother had loved him.

His heart bled for her.

Elsa had been dealing with so much—alone. He could scarcely believe she kept functioning.

A tear rolled down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away. She was piecing herself back together from the shattered remnants of her childhood, just as she had pieced together Dante's mask—as she attempted to fix everything for those she cared about.

“I never looked back,” she said. “At least, I didn't think so. Not until today. Today, I realized that I never really left.” She turned to him, placing one hand on the bed between them. “Dante, I don't want to be there anymore.”

He closed the distance between them at last, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his chest. “Then let it go. You need not remain in your past. All of this is done. You are here with me now.”

She shuddered, then wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. He kissed the top of her head.

“I don't know how to let go of this. It's clouded everything in my life.”

“You have told me that I am free to build a life of my choosing. You have that same freedom. Release yourself from these memories. Put them behind you and do not dwell on them.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“I know that it is not. But if we want something, we must work toward it. Do you think that you can try?”

She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Yes. But it's going to take time.”

“Said the time traveler to the man from the 1800s.” He was gratified when she laughed, however briefly.

“I've never told anyone any of that.”

“I will keep your secrets, if you wish. But I hope that you will consider sharing at least some of this with your friends. They are all good people. Supportive and caring. You do not need to go through this alone, and more than I will help you.”

Elsa looked up at him and smiled. “I think I can actually believe that.”

He smiled back at her, brushing stray locks of hair from her forehead and tucking them behind her ear. They sat together in silence for some time, holding each other close. His relief that he had not lost her was so great that he felt almost giddy.

“Sharing that was kind of a big deal,” Elsa said. “I'm not sure what to do next.”

“Whatever you want. Let us do something to make the present moment fill your mind. We could return to the studio, go for a walk in the garden—”

She lifted her lips to his, melting against him as she pushed him back onto the bed. Dante was delighted by her choice.

There was no pause as her tongue slid into his mouth, her hungry strokes fueling his desire. He tried to roll her over onto the bed, but she straddled him, putting her hands on his shoulders and holding him in place.

She had never taken such initiative, and he was eager to see what she had in mind.

Her hands slid down his chest, over his stomach. She deftly unfastened his pants, then leaned forward to kiss him as she ran her hand along his length. He gasped as waves of pleasure crashed through his body from her touch.

He had thought that she had given herself to him physically before, but this… This was different. There were no reservations as her hands roved his body, and each exploration of her lips, her fingertips, inflamed him more than they ever had before.

Dante finally rolled on top of her, grinding his hips against the warmth of her center, aching to feel her body clench around him. Her groans urged him on.

He sat back on his knees and pulled his shirt over his head, then tossed it aside. Elsa followed him up, raining heated kisses over his chest. She pulled off her own shirt and threw it after his.

Her breasts bared before him, he took a moment to drink in their beauty with his eyes before bending his head to them and covering each with loving kisses. As his lips latched onto one of the dusky buds, she gasped, burying her fingers in his hair and clutching him to her. She breathed his name on a whisper, conjuring streaks of lightning that arced through his body.

Reclaiming her lips, he pressed her back against the pillows. He reached down to rid her of her pajama bottoms with her assistance. She gave him no chance to linger, grabbing his wrist and pushing on his arm as if she thought to roll him onto his back once more. He indulged her, smiling as she straddled him again.

It took every effort of his will, but this was the first time that she had taken the lead in their lovemaking and he was not about to discourage her. He closed his eyes and focused on the sensations flooding his body.

Her kisses moved down his cheek and jaw, along his neck and collarbones. The hunger was still there, apparent in every nip of her teeth on his chest, the strength of her grip on his arms. He opened his eyes as she moved to rid him of his pants. Then she rose to her knees and simply looked at him.

Dante had learned not to be abashed by her gaze. In fact, he was starting to love it, as he loved everything about her. This amazing woman, whose gaze traveled over all of him—even his face—not just without wincing, but with reverence. He had worshipped her body as a temple, and now it seemed she was doing the same for him.

She ran her fingers down his chest again, through the dark trail of hair that led toward his manhood. Without his pants in the way, she gripped him in her hand, languidly stroking him as he gasped from the intensity of her touch. All the while, she kept her chestnut eyes locked on his, watching his reaction, gauging what gave him the greatest pleasure.

She leaned forward to press a kiss against his navel, her mouth moving in a slow line farther down. He was not sure of her intentions until she looked up at him, her tongue running quickly over her kiss-swollen lips. His mouth went dry at the sight.

He managed to swallow and was about to say something, when Elsa dipped her mouth to his shaft, running her tongue over the tip. He nearly came right then. His breath left him in a rush, incredible sensations sparking through his body at this, most intimate kiss. She continued to wet his crown, then wrapped her lips around his shaft, taking him into her mouth.