Chapter 8 - The Ghost
Ballroom A was packed.
Soft, mournful cello music played through the speakers.
Giant blown-up photos of me in my dress uniform flanked the stage.
Julian stood at the podium, dabbing his eyes with a handkerchief.
Sylvia sat in the front row, wearing a black veil that couldn't hide her smug posture.
"...Clara fought so hard," Julian was saying to the captivated audience.
"She survived the desert, only to be taken by the snow.
I will never forgive myself for not holding onto her tighter."
The heavy mahogany double doors at the back of the ballroom were closed.
I placed my hand on the brass handle.
I looked down at Titan.
"Let's go say hello."
I pushed the doors open.
They hit the walls with a resounding CRACK that echoed over the cello music.
The room went dead silent.
Hundreds of heads turned.
I stood in the doorway, the harsh lobby light framing my silhouette.
I took off my sunglasses.
I walked down the center aisle, my gait slightly uneven but undeniably powerful, Titan matching my every step.
May you like
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Someone dropped a champagne flute; it shattered loudly against the floor.
