Encore of the Avenging Muse (Sylvia and Rupert) novel Chapter 504

The rain in Rupert’s dream came down in torrents.

In reality, Rupert was drenched in sweat, tossing and turning until he finally shot upright in bed.

His heart thudded painfully, a burning ache that seemed to crawl through every vein, crushing his bones and leaving him gasping for air. Every cell in his body screamed in agony.

He squeezed his eyes shut, fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white, fighting to keep himself under control.

When he opened his eyes again, thick snow was falling outside the window, blanketing the world in white.

Rupert got up, grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the windowsill, and lit one. He watched the snow swirl through the glass, smoke curling from his lips.

He’d barely taken two drags when Orson burst in, clearly having heard him moving.

“Mr. Rupert, you’re awake! Are you feeling alright?”

Rupert exhaled a cloud of smoke, his voice cool and distant. “How is she?”

Orson knew exactly who he meant. “Other than a few scrapes, she’s fine. She’s been moved out of the ICU.”

“That’s good.” Rupert stared at the floor, his voice raw and gravelly as he added, “Orson, tell the doctor not to come.”

Orson blinked, surprised, but nodded. “Of course.”

—

In another room, Sylvia sat by the window, chin propped on her hand, watching the snowflakes drift down.

Chris knocked and stepped inside.

“Feeling any better?”

“I’m alright, Dr. Lennon,” Sylvia replied with a small smile.

Chris glanced at the chart in his hands, grinning a bit. “Funny, I never introduced myself. How’d you know my last name?”

Sylvia’s fingers curled slightly under her chin, the smile never fading.

“My mom told me.”

Chris moved to the foot of her bed, looking at her intently. “If that’s the case, then hear me out for a second.”

“Sure.”

Sylvia turned back to the window, apparently uninterested in whatever Chris had to say.

Chris nodded.

On his way out, he noticed the window where Sylvia had been doodling. Tiny stars were scattered all over the fogged-up glass.

—

Sylvia took the medicine the nurse brought, and soon drifted off to sleep.

When she woke, a man was sitting quietly by her bed.

She jumped, startled. “Who are you?”

The man had sharp, fox-like eyes and a faint, mischievous smile.

Hearing her voice, he smiled wider. “Would you believe me if I told you? What if I said I’m your boyfriend?”

Sylvia’s cheeks flamed pink.

“Don’t be ridiculous! I don’t have a boyfriend.”

He shrugged, still watching her closely. “Alright, I get it. You don’t have one now—but that doesn’t mean you never will.”