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

since I don’t have a driver’s license, much less access to a vehicle. I’ll worry about shoring up the rest of my papers later, after—”
    “Whoa, wait, wait, wait.” Christine held up her hands to stop the torrent of instructions. “You’re faking your identity?”
    “You have met my family, right?” Angie raised her eyebrows and spoke slowly, as if Christine might not properly understand English. “They don’t let people go. If I’m going to escape, I have to disappear completely and forever.”
    “And you’ve already figured out all the logistics?”
    “Thank the Holy Mother for the Internet, huh? I might be home-schooled, but the state still requires a certain level of socialization. My mother has no idea how easy it is to circumvent parental controls.”
    “I’m impressed.”
    Angie waved a hand at her. “No, if you’d grown up with a tyrant of a father, you’d have figured this out, too. We do what we have to do, right?”
    Right. “Okay. You have a deal. I’ll help you.” She stuck out her hand and Angie, with an impatient shake of her head, folded her fingers over and gave her a fist bump.
    “Girl power!” Angie grinned, then produced Christine’s phone. “Voilà.”
    “How did you get that?”
    “I’ve been taking my brother’s stuff for years. He’s oblivious. But he’ll probably come looking for it in my room, so be ready to call whoever to come get you if we get caught.”
    “What about you?”
    “I’d appreciate it if you’d figure out a way to rescue me as soon as possible.” She flashed Christine a gamine grin, but the face behind it was haunted with dark foreboding.
     
    The big house loomed quiet, with sconces along the floor showing their way. Angie led them down the grand stairwell to the entryway, then farther, the way they’d gone to the family chapel.
    The chapel sat at the end of a corridor, the waxed Saltillo tile reflecting the foot-level lights. A sculpture stood outside the closed doors, a female avenging angel with a stern face, naked breasts, and carrying a sword. When Christine had seen it earlier, it seemed to be an odd icon for an ostensibly Christian place of worship—almost pagan. The twisted iron handles were looped with a length of chain and a padlock. But why, with nothing of value inside?
    With an impish smile, Angie produced a ring of keys, trying several before the lock gave. She held a finger over her lips, commanding silence until they were inside, with the doors closed.
    “How—?”
    “I’ve been collecting extra keys for years. My mother keeps nine copies of every damn thing. I figured I’d never know when one would come in handy. And see?”
    “Okay, what next?”
    “Secret passageway!”
    “Really?” Christine surveyed the barren room. “Where?”
    Angie deflated slightly. “Well, I’m not exactly sure how to find it. I’ve been blindfolded every time. I tried to spy on my father and Roman once, when I was eight. Boy, did I get a beating for that.”
    “A beating? You mean a spanking?”
    Angie gathered her hair into a tail and tied it into a knot at the nape of her neck. “I mean a beating so bad I couldn’t get out of bed for a week.”
    “Jesus.”
    “Jesus had nothing to do with it. Whatever god it is my father prays to in here, he has no love in his heart.” Angie’s voice cracked, bitterly sharp as broken glass. “That’s the day I decided to leave. Ten years ago. Freedom will be sweet. Now help me look.”
    She was wrong, Christine thought. He wasn’t an unloving god. Just an unwilling one.
    Angie knew the general location and thought the trigger must be on the men’s side. Remembering how sternly they’d all told her never to stray from the women’s side, Christine was inclined to agree. They searched the floor, running their fingers along the cracks, then the stone risers that led up to the wall holding the wooden cross.
    In her pocket, Christine’s phone vibrated with a text message.
    Where are