her.
“Why?” he said finally. She knew what he asked. He’d asked her a thousand times, and she had not been willing or able to give spirits up for him. Perhaps she had not been able to give up drink because of him, because of the pain he caused her.
She sighed. “Shame. I was so ashamed of what I’d done, how low I’d sunk. Alexi was disgusting, a womanizer. I was disgusting to have allowed him to touch me. I hated myself for that. I hated that you had seen how disgusting I was, not just with him, but night after night when I went on some drunken rampage. I couldn’t be that woman anymore.”
He looked at her now, reached over and stroked her cheek. “I like this woman much better. Do you think there’s a chance for a woman like you and a man like me?”
She swallowed and fought back the sting of tears. “No.”
He gave her a sad smile. “I didn’t think so.”
***
“You insist on maintaining this farce?” she asked the next afternoon as they made their way to the Teatro di San Carlo. She was dressed warmly in a wool gown, boots, and a cape. He was dressed as an accompanist, plain black coat and breeches that seemed alien garments on the Blue she knew. “More people could be killed,” she pointed out.
“If we close the theater, more people will be killed. Reaper will merely lie in wait. I’d rather go after him now, when I’m expecting an attack. You, however, have no reason to stay here.”
“I’m not going to leave my friends to the mercy of a killer.”
“I’m here to protect them.”
“And who is going to protect you?”
He stopped, a cloud of snow flying out in front of his boot from the swiftness of the movement. “I hope you do not think you will protect me.”
She shrugged, shivering now that they’d stopped. “I saw him. I know what he looks like. Admit it, Ernest. You need me.”
“Blue, and I don’t need you. I will find him on my own.”
“But you’ll find him faster if I help you.”
He began walking again, and she knew what she’d said was true. He didn’t want to admit it because her staying behind put her in danger. And Blue didn’t want her in danger. She supposed that should have pleased her. He obviously cared about her. Perhaps he had not been lying when he’d said he still loved her. And yet she could not allow his feelings to affect her. The truth was that the Barbican group still came first with him. She would do well to remember that when she started thinking, once again, about the warmth of his hands on her bare flesh and the feel of him, hard and swollen, inside her.
They neared the theater, and as by some unspoken agreement, they split apart, entering separately and without acknowledging one another.
The next several days and nights were full of rehearsals, fittings, and skirting around the set construction. Helena usually loved this time of anticipation. It was always exciting to learn new music and wear new costumes. A few weeks from now she would be deathly bored with her arias and the entire score, but right now the music was fresh and new.
But as much as she anticipated the debut of Don Giovanni , she could not help but feel a sense of dread as day after day passed without incident from Reaper. She hoped against hope he had left the city and would leave her and the company in peace.
But when she expressed the sentiment to Blue, he shook his head. “He’s biding his time. The longer he waits, the more secure we feel.”
But Blue did not seem as though he felt secure. When he was not playing accompaniment, he was constantly walking through the theater, inspecting every corner, until he probably knew the place better than any of them. At night, he often stayed at her apartment, but he had not joined her in bed again. In fact, she did not know when or if he even slept. He was constantly on guard, constantly keeping watch, constantly protecting her.
She would have fallen in love with him if she wasn’t still in love with him.
But it was