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Chapter no 11 – WHISPERS

Phantasma (Wicked Games, #1)

As Ophelia made her way back to her room, she kept wondering if the scream sheโ€™d heard had really been Genevieve or if it was just another trick the house was playing on her. It occurred to her, of course, that her own mind might have been the one playing the trick.

The real trials havenโ€™t even started yet, she chided herself.ย Donโ€™t psyche yourself out of the game before the competition gets a chance to.

A few wrong turns and retraced steps later, she found room 426 exactly as she left it. Though, she regarded the bookshelf with a bit more suspicion now that she knew what was likely still lurking behind it. After a brief debate, she decided sliding the hideous wing-backed chair in front of the shelf was her best chance of getting a decent nightโ€™s sleep.

Once that was settled, she opened her trunks and sifted through the contents to find a particular wine-colored dress she had packed. It was made of a lightweight chiffon, with a high collar and billowing sleeves that cuffed around her wrists. The skirt fell in tiers to her ankles, and that made it much easier to walk in than the heavy corseted ensemble she currently wore. In other words, it would be much easier to run away in, not to mention it was closer to the color of blood.

She stepped into the attached bathroom to wash off the remnants of crimson on her rapidly healing arm. Waving a hand through the air before her, she directed her magic toward theย sconces on either side of the vanityโ€™s mirror. The flames flicked to life, licking up from the ivory candles and illuminating the reflection of her ghastly appearance.

She peeled off the ruined gown and filled the bathtub with water, as scalding hot as she could get it. Grabbing a washcloth and bar of soap off the vanity, she climbed into the water. Lowering herself until her shoulders were submerged, she relished the steam clouding the air around her. She needed this. A moment to breathe. To think.

She couldnโ€™t leave this wing of the house until level seven. Which meant she was stuck playing this game for at least the next week. It was important for her to maintain her sanity.

She leaned her head back against the edge of the tub and let her eyes fall shut as she worked on lathering the soap into the washcloth.

There would be no more exploring trap corridors or leaving her room unless absolutely necessary. She would go to the dining hall to eat, show up for the levels as directed, and that was it. Minimize the risks she took to avoid any more unwanted excitement.

She ran the washcloth over her flushed skin, gentle circles across her shoulders and dรฉcolletage.

Minimizing risks also meant no more encounters with certain green-eyed phantomsโ€ฆย Something about him disarmed her in a way that was concerning, and she didnโ€™t need such a distraction. Even if he was intriguing. And handsome. And exactly the type of being she had been trained to assist. Not that he seemed to need her assistance. Even if he did, he spoke in too many circles and she couldnโ€™t figure him out. His mouth much too smart.

Oh, his mouth.

She wondered what it would be like to have that mouth on her skin. Running along her clavicle, over her chest, down her stomach, to herโ€ฆ

Water sloshed out of the tub and onto the floor as she sat up, ramrod straight. The washcloth in her hand had been trailing down the planes of her stomach before she realized what she was doing, what she was thinking about. She hurried to finish bathing and drained the tub. Drying off and getting dressed for bed with lightning speed, she tucked herself beneath the covers and ordered herself to get some sleep.

This place was definitely going to drive her mad.

Ophelia awoke the next morning at a quarter past eight. Sitting up, she stretched out her limbs before climbing out of bed and headed to the bathroom. As she made her way through her morning routine, she refused to light the sconces, her eyes still too tired for the brightness.

Which meant it took her nearly ten minutes to see the fresh streaks of blood smeared across the wall next to the mirror. A shriek crawled up her throat as she realized that not only were the walls covered in gore, but blood was dripping from the faucet on the tub.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

One, two, three.

Another screech caught in her throat as something began to emerge from the pool of crimson as if it had been waiting for her to notice it. Something human-shaped with long, stringy hair covering its face. This time she knew, without a doubt, what the hellish creature was. A Ghoul. Mindless, deteriorating, with a hunger for mortal flesh.

She stumbled back and spun for the exit to her room. She twisted the knob with all her might, but it wouldnโ€™t turn. She pulled and pulled, her heartbeat erratic as she looked over her shoulder to see the Ghoul slowly dragging itself out of the bathroom.

โ€œWhatโ€™s with the damn doors in this place,โ€ she cried. โ€œLet me out!โ€

Click.

She sobbed in relief as the knob finally turned and the door flung open, but it was not a hallway on the other side. Instead, the door had opened to a void of pitch-black nothingness. She halted on the very edge, almost tumbling over. As she checked back over her shoulder, she recoiled at the grotesque smile spreading across the Ghoulโ€™s face beneath their hair. Not waiting for another close call, she turned back to the inky oblivion, and braced herself.

She stepped into the darkness.

Ophelia couldnโ€™t tell if she had been falling for minutes or hours. There was not a single point of light around her. Only whispers.

As she fell, she passed through wisps of words. Shameful secrets and confessions of love. Snippets of conversations and hushed arguments. And one voice that seemed louder than the rest. A voice that felt hauntingly familiar. She strained to hear more from that voice, but she was falling too fast, and their words drifted away. She tried to call out, to scream for help, but no words would come out of her mouth. When she wondered if she would be adrift forevermore, she crashed through the floor.

โ€œQuite an entrance.โ€

Debris rained down atop her and the firm, cushioned surface sheโ€™d landed on. Sitting up slowly, she was too stunned to even grunt with pain. When her gaze locked with a pair of deep viridian eyes, she sucked in a sharp breathย of disbelief.

โ€œMissed my presence already?โ€ the stranger drawled.

She dusted herself off with shaky hands, giving him as much of an indignant look as she could manage through the shock. โ€œAh, soย thatโ€™sย the true distinction of a Phantomโ€”an ego.โ€

โ€œThat, and what Iโ€™m able to do with my hands,โ€ he taunted, lips curling up at the corners. โ€œShouldnโ€™t you be settling in before breakfast? Or was there something wrong with your room?โ€ He lifted a crystal goblet of amber liquid to his mouth.

Her forehead wrinkled at the sight. โ€œAre youย drinking?โ€

โ€œWould you like some? It looks like you might need it.โ€

โ€œNo,โ€ she deadpanned, though the idea of having another conversation with him that went round and round in circles made her think perhaps a drunken stupor would be preferable.

โ€œHere.โ€ He snapped his fingers, and she was instantly clean of the dust and chunks of ceiling clinging to her dress. He set his glass down on the table he was leaning against and moved to crouch before her. โ€œHow did you find your way to this room?โ€

It took everything in her not to flush at his proximity, which piqued her a bit.

โ€œGhosts canโ€™t eat or drink,โ€ she noted, ignoring his question.

โ€œIโ€™m special,โ€ he retorted. โ€œNow,ย focus. How did you get here?โ€

โ€œIโ€™m not sure whereย hereย even is,โ€ she answered, waving him back so she could stand from the chaise she had fallen into.

He obliged, rising and stepping away. He was looking at her as if she were a puzzle and he was deciding whether to bother solving it.

She sighed, then explained. โ€œI went to wash up in my bathroom and there was blood all over the mirror andย in the tubโ โ€”โ€

โ€œYes, Iโ€™m familiar with the scene,โ€ he told her. โ€œThe Ghouls and Apparitions havenโ€™t gotten very creative over the years.โ€

โ€œYou mean they use the same tricks every time?โ€

โ€œYes. Ghouls donโ€™t have the capacity to be retrained once theyโ€™ve been stuck doing something for so long. Even the Devils use the same nine levels of terror for every competitionโ€”and yet thereโ€™s still an incredibly low success rate.โ€ He shrugged. โ€œWhy fix what isnโ€™t broken is sort of the philosophy around here.โ€

โ€œDevils,โ€ she whispered, mostly to herself. She hadnโ€™t had time to add them to her list of worries yet. But it was only a matter of time before she came across one. It was called the Devilโ€™s Manor after all. They were the only beings with magic powerful enough to operate a place like this.

A slow grin spread over the strangerโ€™s face. โ€œDonโ€™t tell me youโ€™ve never seen a Devil before?โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t make it a habit to seek out trouble.โ€

He raised a single, silvery brow. โ€œDonโ€™t you, though? You claim I took the time to warn you away and yet here you are.โ€

She opened her mouth to retort until she realized he was right. To him, it probably did seem like she was a glutton for punishment.

โ€œWell, I didnโ€™t use to,โ€ she muttered as she looked away from him and finally took in the room around them.

There was an enormous table dressed with intricate black and gold centerpieces in the center of the room, at least fifteen blood-red upholstered chairs lining each side. A large crystal chandelier hung from an ornate ceiling rose, sending scatters of rainbow light over the dark walls.

โ€œIs this the dining hall?โ€ she asked.

โ€œYes, and you shouldnโ€™t be in here while itโ€™sย being prepped,โ€ he told her. โ€œYou shouldnโ€™t have been able to leave your room yet at allโ€”you were supposed to be locked in.โ€

โ€œIย was,โ€ she spat. โ€œAnd then I finally got the door open, and the hallway was gone. There are too many magic doors in this place.โ€

He opened his mouth to speak, but something stopped him. His eyes narrowed and began to dart around the room, and she was about to ask what was wrong when she felt it. That dark, invisible gaze.

Is something watching me?ย Or is itย himย theyโ€™re following?

A beat later, a low sound of frustration came from his throat, and he moved into action. Guiding her around the chaise by her elbow, he gently steered her out of the room through its wide, arched entrance.

โ€œWhere are you taking me?โ€ she demanded.

โ€œSomeplace we can have a conversation that wonโ€™t get you into more trouble,โ€ he murmured. โ€œThough, Iโ€™m starting to suspect that keeping you out of trouble wouldnโ€™t be an easy task.โ€

She gave an indignant hum in protest, which he ignored. He led her down the main hall and into the first room they came to, which just so happened to be a broom closet, identical to the one in the other corridor that had magically appeared. He snapped his fingers as he kicked the door shut behind them, and a candle flared to life on one of the wooden shelves.

โ€œShouldnโ€™t you take me back to my room?โ€ She lifted her brows as she soaked in the details of the dingy space, trying to put as much distance between herself and his towering figure as she could; the size of the room, however, made putting more than five inches between them rather difficult.

โ€œDo youย wantย to go back to your room and finish the haunt?โ€ he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

โ€œWhy do you care where Iย do or donโ€™t go?โ€

โ€œI think youโ€™re grossly misusing the wordย care.โ€

โ€œWhat would you call it, then?โ€ She shifted on her feet with impatience. โ€œConcern?โ€

โ€œMore like self-preservation if weโ€™re going to continue running into each other,โ€ he corrected. โ€œNow back toย myย questionโ€”tell me the rest of how you ended up falling through the dining room ceiling.โ€

โ€œBut I donโ€™tย knowย how I ended up there.โ€ She threw her hands up. โ€œLike I said, I opened the door to my bedroom, and when I went through, I fell.โ€

โ€œFellย where?โ€ he pressed.

โ€œIt was some sort of void. There wasnโ€™t anything around but pitch-black. Onlyโ€ฆย whispers.โ€

He froze. โ€œWhispers?โ€

โ€œYes.โ€ She felt her forehead wrinkle at his reaction. โ€œA bunch of whispers of conversations andโ โ€”โ€

โ€œYou found the Whispering Gate?โ€ His eyes grew wide.

โ€œWhatโ€™s the Whispering Gate?โ€

โ€œA place that you should not be able to access. Itโ€™s on the Other Side.โ€

โ€œThe Other Side. You meanโ โ€”โ€

โ€œOnly those who are non-corporeal, or Devils, should be able to access the Whispering Gate,โ€ he confirmed. โ€œThe fact that it showed up for you isโ€ฆย interesting, to say the least.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m sure it was just Phantasma playing a trick on me,โ€ she reasoned.

โ€œNo, the Whispering Gate isย summoned, and no normal mortal should be able to call it.โ€

โ€œWho said I was normal?โ€ she challenged.

โ€œClearly, you arenโ€™t,โ€ he agreed with a slow flick of his gaze over her figure, not leering, but scrutinizing. โ€œSo, what sort of beingย are you, then?โ€

She lifted her chin. โ€œIโ€™m a Necromancer.โ€

โ€œNow thatย isย something.โ€ His smile turned almost feline at her claim. โ€œWhich would maybe explain why we were able to meet yesterday.โ€

โ€œThat reminds meโ€ฆย why do you think I wasnโ€™t able to see you then? And why did you bother to warn me away? Isnโ€™t everyone here supposed to want people to enter the competition?โ€

โ€œThere are wards around the perimeter of the estate to stop passing mortals from being able to interact with any beings beyond them unless they enter the competition. Your Necromancy abilities must have messed with their effectiveness. Stop thinking about any being in Phantasma as having good intentions or motives to helpย youย and start asking yourself how their actions are really beneficial toย them.โ€

โ€œIโ€™m not sure Iโ€™m very fond of your riddles,โ€ she said.

The twinkle in his gaze turned sinful. โ€œThatโ€™s too bad. I find riddles and puzzles to be rather thrilling. Most mortals who enter this competition are usually fond of such things as well.โ€

โ€œI didnโ€™t enter because I wanted to. Iโ€™m here to find my sister.โ€ He didnโ€™t need to know all the murky details; like the fact that Ophelia was actually just making a very strong educated guess that this was where Genevieve had run off to. โ€œI need to find her and convince her to come home before she can get herself killed.โ€

โ€œDonโ€™t you think if your sister came here, of her own volition, that she knows exactly what she signed up for?โ€

Ophelia shook her head. โ€œGenevieve can be impulsive. I worry she didnโ€™t understand the full scope of what she was signing up for.โ€

โ€œIf youโ€™re both already here, though, wouldnโ€™t you like to see if you could win?โ€

โ€œI donโ€™t care about winning. I donโ€™t care aboutย whatever prize this hellish place is promising. I just care about getting my sister home.โ€ She tore her eyes away from him when she felt tears prick at their corners. She would not show him any sign of vulnerability. โ€œShe didnโ€™t leave me much to go off of, and no one here will tell me if theyโ€™ve even seen her. Oh, and that she wrote in her diary that sheโ€™s trying to find someone named Gabriel.โ€

His eyes flashed when she spoke the name, and her guard immediately went up.

โ€œDoย youย know a Gabriel?โ€ she demanded.

His expression was carefully blank. โ€œI know many people.โ€

โ€œThat isnโ€™t a real answer,โ€ she chided. โ€œAnd if youโ€™re not going to be helpful, then I would like it if you stopped holding me hostage in this broom closet.โ€

โ€œYou shouldnโ€™t be exploring right now,โ€ he warned. โ€œIf the wrong person catches you outside of your room during a haunt, theyโ€™ll know youโ€™re different. And who said I couldnโ€™t be helpful? What if I told you I could make sure you get to your sister?โ€

Now she was the one who crossed her arms. โ€œAnd at what cost would you help me do that?โ€

โ€œYouโ€™re catching on,โ€ he murmured.

โ€œI offered to help you yesterday, you know,โ€ she revealed. โ€œAnd you pretty much told me that wouldnโ€™t be a good idea for my own health. Now, if youโ€™ll excuse me, Iโ€™d like to go, please.โ€

Surprise shined in his eyes. โ€œYou offered to help me?โ€

โ€œYes. Iโ€™m a Necromancer. Helping wayward Ghosts is part of our job description.โ€

His expression shifted to something like thoughtfulness. โ€œWhat is your name?โ€

She stared at him for a long time, deciding if she should risk giving it over this time.

He gave a dramatic sigh. โ€œIf I give you my name first,ย would that help?โ€

โ€œPossibly,โ€ she answered.

โ€œYou can call me Blackwell. Itโ€™s nice to officially make your acquaintanceโ€ฆ?โ€

A long pause. Then, โ€œOphelia Grimm.โ€

โ€œOphelia,โ€ he repeated, tasting every syllable. Her name on his tongue sounded like a wicked prayer. โ€œYou are exactly the person Iโ€™ve been waiting for.โ€

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