Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert)

Chris shot up from his chair so fast it nearly toppled over.

"No way! You just got out of the hospital, and since you got back from Mountain City you haven't even stopped to catch your breath. Your body can't take this."

He waved Rupert off. "Go home, seriously. I swapped shifts with someone for tonight—I'll keep watch for you. Besides, don't you have your own people on this, lurking in the background?"

He gave Rupert's arm a nudge.

Rupert rubbed his temples, sighed, and without another word, turned and left the office.noveldrama

Late that night.

Rupert sat alone in his study, hands resting on the worn leather armrests. A cigarette smoldered between his fingers, the rising smoke veiling his face in shifting shadows.

On the desk, his phone was playing a recording he'd gotten from Freya, looping over and over.

"...So you really wanted to marry Mr. Rupert in secret! And have a little family! So, would you rather have a boy or a girl?"

"A girl."

"A girl..."

"Gi..."

The first time Rupert heard that recording, it felt like someone stabbed him right in the chest.

Now, no matter how many times he listened, the pain didn't fade.

With Sylvia's delicate, careful voice echoing in his ears, he closed his eyes.

He must have dozed off, because Rupert rarely dreamt. Yet suddenly he found himself standing in front of a house-strange, but somehow familiar.

A little girl darted across the garden. He chased after her, but even though she was only a few steps away, he could never quite catch up. Her laughter floated around the house-pure, innocent, haunting.

Rupert called out, "Who are you?"

"It's me." The girl appeared abruptly in front of him, walking slowly toward the porch. "Do you really dislike me that much? Why don't you recognize me?"

"Who are you?" Rupert demanded.

Outside the dream, Rupert's fists clenched tight, the butt of his cigarette pressing painfully into his palm. But he wanted-needed to see her face, so he refused to wake up.

Inside the dream, the girl paused beneath the porch light.

"Why, after I died, can't you even treat Mom right?"

"Why do you hate us so much?"

Her voice sharpened, trembling with hurt and accusation.

Rupert took a step forward just as she spun around, eyes blazing.

"Daddy, why don't you love me? Why did you hurt Mom? I hate you! I really do!"

"No-!"

Rupert blurted out, reaching for her, but his hand felt seared, as if by fire.

When he looked up, the little girl and the beautiful house were being swallowed by flames.

"No!"

"Mr. Rupert? Mr. Rupert-!"

Orson's voice dragged him out of the nightmare.

Rupert sat up, drenched in cold sweat. He glanced down-just a burn from the cigarette, nothing more.

Orson pressed a glass of water into his hand. "Are you alright, sir?"

Rupert took a sip, brow furrowing. "Find me a photo of Sylvia when she was a kid."

"Of course."

Sometime later, Chris stepped out of Sylvia's hospital room, stifling a yawn.

He was about to head back to his office for a quick nap when his. phone buzzed-a DM from Rupert

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"What did the girl in your dream look like?"

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Chris texted back, "Man, that was ages ago. Funny thing, though haven't dreamt of her in a while Gontent

Rupert sent a photo: Sylvia as a child.

Chris whistled. "Wow! She's gorgeous! Looks just like one of these porcelain dolls you see on the top shelf at Macy's."

"Really?" Rupert's impatience came through loud and clear.

Chris zoomed in, squinting at the photo.

"Close, but not quite. Needs to be... I dunno, a bit less perfect."

"Less perfect how?"

"Mix in a bit of your own grumpy childhood mug." Chris replied, completely serious.