I looked up from the letter in my hand. It was crinkled from the number of times I had picked it up and read it, over and over again, just to make sure it was real. The ink was smeared and fading, and the paper was thin and threatening to tear. Not completely unlike my sanity. This whole thing still felt like a dream. So Celeste was alive. Funny how she mustered up enough decency to tell me. I didn’t think her capable of human emotion anymore. I checked the letter once more for the date and time: Palais du fantôme, minuit. Phantom’s Palace, midnight. A bit of a dark name for a coffee shop, but fitting for the occasion, I supposed. The Paris streets were quiet that night. I’ve found over the years that the deeper you dare to venture into the night, the more silence you’ll find. The only light was the flickering glow of the street lamps; not even a single car could be seen gliding through the rain-soaked streets. There was a stillness to the air, and a gentle haze was setting over the city, not unlike the night I first met Celeste. The night that changed my life forever. I pulled open the door of the 24-hour coffee shop. It was empty and dark, save for the owner, Maurice, who was humming to himself and was busy wiping down the counter with an old rag that should’ve been replaced long ago. Maurice wasn’t quite right in the head anymore, but he was a fine Frenchman, and I never had the heart to talk any bad about him. “Evening, Maurice,” I said, flashing him a warm smile. I’d been seeing him for years, but he never remembered me. Then I flung open the dark velvet curtains to the shop’s only private room, and walked inside. She was sitting at the very back table. A small iron lantern was flickering in front of her, casting an eerie glow along the wall. Her hair and face were covered by a long black veil. She was wearing a dark cloak with a single clasp; a calla lily. A symbol that had come to haunt me in my dreams over the last few years. “Sit,” she said, pointing to the chair across from her. I did despite the way my mind was begging me not to. Celeste had a way of talking to people so that you couldn’t refuse her. So she hadn’t changed as much as I’d thought. “Get to the point,” I said shortly. “I have places to be.” “You have nowhere to be more important than here.” I drummed my fingers on the table. If this was how we were playing the game, I wasn’t backing down. “I left you for a reason, Celeste.” “Really?” “You joined an assassin group and murdered my sister!” I shouted, banging my fist on the table. She drew her pale fingers up to the table and placed them gently over my hand. “Shh. Not so loud.” I couldn’t explain why I listened to her. “There is something about the murder you do not understand,” she whispered. I felt my face heating up again. “There was no mistake. I saw the order. I saw the clasp. I saw what you did.” “I never intended for you to see the body.” “I saw it anyway.” “I tried to refuse the order.” “It doesn’t matter to me.” “I shouldn’t have done it.” “I should’ve killed you before you killed Alexandra.” She squeezed my hand tighter. It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold either. “I had no other choice.” I shot up from the table. “You had every choice in the world, Celeste,” I sneered. I could tell how dangerous my voice sounded. Good, I thought. Let her feel afraid. And yet she remained gentle and steady. “You must listen to me, Louis.” God, I hated her. I hated how calm she was in the knowledge that my sister, my dear Alexandra, was dead... because of her. She had been the one to wield the knife. The blood was on her hands. I rammed my hand through one of the glass display cases. The crystal shattered everywhere. Mugs, teapots, and saucers went clattering to the floor. “I will never listen to you. I trusted you. I trusted you even after you joined them.” I pointed to her golden clasp. The calla lily. My fingers were shaking with rage. “I trusted you enough to ask you to marry me. I still asked you, even after I found out.” “I understand, Louis.” “You lied to me. You had already lied to me and I was still trusting you.” “I know. I understand.” “YOU UNDERSTAND NOTHING!” I shrieked. “I was the only one who understood. I was the only one who stood by your side when the world shunned you away. I was the only one willing to love you, Celeste. And where did that lead us?” I pointed to her clasp. “Calla lily. ‘A beautiful flower, though a hidden poison lurks beneath.’ Well, I’ve sure seen your poison.” “There’s another side to the story.” “That you faked your own death?” I barked a laugh. I didn’t care how hysterical I sounded. “Bah! More lies. Typical for you.” “You don’t know who I am.” “I know exactly who you are.” “Louis,” she said softly. “I faked my own death.” “We’ve already established that, Celeste,” I snapped. “You distrust me.” “You’re my ex-fiancée. I’ll always distrust you.” “Will you?” I gripped the edges of the chair. I was at the end of my thread with her. I was done with her lies. Done with her games. Done with her. “Show your face, you coward. Throw up your veil.” “You don’t know me,” she said again in her soft voice. It only made me angrier. “I know you well enough. Show me your face.” She pulled back her veil. My breath caught in my throat. “A-Alexandra?”