Wandering Soul by Cassandra Chandler

hands. He took a few steps toward the bed, but paused in the doorway. His gaze never left the mask.
    â€œWhat the hell?” Garrett said, lifting the mask. “Did Elsa put you up to this?”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œThis mask. It feels like porcelain. And the design is just too much. There is a line, man.”
    â€œI fear I am still at a loss.”
    Garrett shook his head and said, “I don’t know what you guys have going, but this is a little messed up.”
    Garrett’s lip twitched up, as if Dante’s mask offended him. The irony of the idea nearly made Dante laugh aloud, until Garrett looked up at them, the same expression of distaste on his features. He walked around the bed, then set the mask on the bedside table nearest Dante.
    â€œLook, if you guys want to dress up and play Phantom of the Opera , that’s your business. But I think it’s a little weird and more than a little unhealthy. Tell me you at least have some more practical masks you use out in public.”
    â€œThat is the only mask I possess.”
    In fact, it was all Dante possessed, aside from his mother’s ring and the clothes he’d been wearing when Elsa brought him to this time. Dante was used to having little, though this brought the matter to extremes.
    â€œWell, if you ever want something more comfortable, come see me.” Garrett pointed over his shoulder. “I’m just next door.”
    Dante could not fathom what had upset Garrett so, but it was troublesome enough to end their conversation. Strangely, even after such a short time, Dante missed talking with him. Garrett sat by the fire, a grim set to his lips as he stared at Dante. Exhausted as he was, he doubted he would sleep under Garrett’s watchful gaze.

Chapter Six
    Gravity was crushing every molecule of Elsa’s body. The mattress couldn’t possibly keep supporting her. She envisioned it collapsing as she sank into the earth.
    Panic chewed at the edges of her mind. She pushed it away by focusing all of her energy on waking up. Gradually, the weight lifted until she felt strong enough to force open her eyelids.
    Dante was lying on the settee, a book splayed open in his hand as he slept. Most of his face was concealed behind his mask. With each gentle rise and fall of his chest, Elsa’s panic was replaced with wonder. She might have thought she was dreaming, except for the bone-deep exhaustion. She was too tired to be asleep.
    He had pulled the settee right next to the bed, close enough for her to reach out and touch him—if she could lift her arm. He was wearing black slacks and one of the white linen shirts from his wardrobe. His shirt had fallen open a bit, revealing his pale skin.
    She noticed he wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks. A warm feeling spread through her at seeing him dressed so casually in her home. He looked comfortable, like he belonged. Several dozen books from the encyclopedia set were stacked around him, forming a miniature city.
    Dante must have sensed her watching him, because his eyes slowly opened, an earthy jade today.
    â€œElsa?”
    She shivered at the velvet sound of his voice.
    â€œHas your chill returned?” He put his book next to him as he rose from the settee. He sat next to her on the bed, then lifted one of her hands in his and pressed it against his left cheek for a moment. He didn’t release her hand when he lowered it from his face. “You seem warm enough. How do you feel?”
    When Elsa tried to speak, her throat was dry and raw. She half expected sand to come out instead.
    â€œI’m fine,” she croaked.
    Dante frowned. “Let me get you some water.”
    She wanted to stay in that perfect moment for a while longer, to tell him not to go, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate. Instead, she tried to gauge how much time had passed.
    Light peeked around the edges of the curtains, so it was at least morning. She was still in