Master of the Opera, Act 5: A Haunting Duet by Jeffe Kennedy Read Free Book Online

guacamole, the other two women chattering happily about the upcoming wedding and other family. They seemed determined to set Christine at ease, complimenting her hair and her dress, and telling charming stories about Reina’s nieces and nephews.
    Christine nodded and smiled, acting the role Roman and his father had assigned her, while she turned over the family history in her mind. Some detail of the wedding ceremony niggled at her, combined with what Hally had explained about circles and bindings. Then she knew the right question to ask.
    “How can the wedding be here?” she asked. Reina closed her mouth primly, and Christine realized she’d interrupted a story about the most precious niece’s First Communion in the gazebo, where Roman and Christine would be married. “Shouldn’t we be married in a church, under the eyes of God—on consecrated soil?”
    Domingo gave her a long look. “Our land is already consecrated. All of Sanclaro property has been blessed and dedicated to the One True God.”
    “Oh.” And wasn’t that something. “How did that happen?”
    Roman frowned at her, shaking his head slightly, and she shrank back, not having to fake a ripple of fear.
    “The Sanclaros owe their fortune and prosperity to God,” Angelia recited, sounding far younger than seventeen. The puppyish way she peered hopefully at Domingo for approval gave Christine a tremor of revulsion. Too familiar. “Right, Daddy?”
    He didn’t answer his daughter and she sat back in her chair, wilting like a flower without water. Instead he addressed Christine. “Never doubt that God stands behind the Sanclaros. We will do whatever it takes to maintain the purity of the family. Now, let us retire to the chapel for prayer.”
    The prayers were interminable. They all knelt on hard stone that came from a dismantled monastery, she was informed. That should have been interesting. If the Sanclaro ancestors had been part of trapping the Master, then any kind of religious artifact could do it. Hally had said to look for circles or stars. Or stones set at four points of a circle, like she’d drawn to protect Christine in the cave.
    But these stones were only gray and hard, the little chapel a windowless room, barren of anything but a plain wooden cross, the height of a man, hanging on the blank wall.
    Domingo led them in reciting the same few phrases over and over, until the Our Fathers and Hail Marys ground into her brain, numbing her into a trance. Twice she fell asleep, and Reina viciously pinched her arm to wake her. Roman glared at her in warning from the men’s side of the small chapel.
    Finally, Angelia was tasked to show Christine to her room. It was a pretty room, with glass-paned doors that opened onto a balcony overlooking the front drive. Those doors, however, were closed and bolted. So much for fresh air.
    “Am I a prisoner?” Christine asked, driven by exhaustion into speaking the thought aloud.
    Angelia closed the bedroom door and leaned against it, pulling off her pearl headband and shaking out the soft sweep of black hair. “Pretty much. It really depends—how stupid are you?

7
    “E xcuse me?” Christine gaped at the sharp-eyed girl, who no longer looked docile at all.
    Angelia sighed. “Maybe you are that stupid. Never mind.”
    Christine held up a hand, realizing as she did so that it was Hally’s gesture. “Give me a minute to catch up.” Was this some new gambit of Roman’s? Get his sister to work on her next? “Why don’t you tell me what you’re talking about, Angelia?”
    “Call me Angie. Just not in front of the family. I’ll help you if you’ll help me. But we have to pinky swear or something. I’m trusting you, here.”
    “Okay, what shall we swear on?”
    “Tell me a secret. That way we’ll be even.”
    Trust your gut. “I’m only pretending to be engaged to Roman. I won’t marry him, even if I have to kill myself to prevent it.”
    Angie grinned and sat on the white coverlet of the