Alternatives
January 1894, Paris
The first two weeks after the fire in the Opera the thin young man in Antoinette's spare room barely ever spoke. He was awake most of the time, but seemed somehow not entirely present; he seemed to be so trapped in his own thoughts that he remembered almost nothing of the things she told him, or the events that transpired in the previous weeks. He later confirmed remembering Antoinette coming to get him and forcing him on his feet, covering him in a thick hooded cloak, but seemed to have no memory of how they reached her house. She was inclined to think it was more merciful that way, since he wept silently all the way there. She put him in the same room as the first time he was at her house eleven years prior, hoping at least the familiarity of the place would be comforting to him; it was a small spare room her daughter never entered. She made sure he had all he would need and told him to keep quiet or they'd both be doomed if they found him. Seemingly waking up from a trance, the man looked directly at her and nodded, only to continue staring straight ahead with a disturbingly empty look in his eyes.
The man, seemingly completely disconnected from the outside, was more of a raging storm on the inside and it didn't take long for whatever was holding him together to break. Even though Antoinette had to admit he listened to her and didn't make a noise, she soon found out she would nevertheless not get to relax for a while longer. The morning after his return, she entered the room to find him curled up on the bed, clawing away at the skin of his neck and scalp; his face beneath the white leather mask was contorted in a silent scream. Tears streamed down his face as he seemed completely unaware of her presence. Antoinette found out in the following days that there are in fact many ways someone can inflict harm upon himself without being heard or noticed, and she decided to keep constant watch on him. She spent those days in the room with him in near darkness, as the light seemed to upset him further, pretending she wasn't bothered by the nonsense that came out of his mouth, or the incredibly eerie way he seemed to move around the room at times when he would grow more agitated. His movements were quick and silent, but looked unnatural somehow – twitchy like a ghost trapped in a doll, he seemed to have to make a conscious effort to navigate his body from the inside, but without any regard to the safety of the vessel that carried him. It wasn't her first time seeing him like this, but that didn't make it any less unnerving. He refused – or, more accurately, ignored completely – all the food she brought him, and seemed to be unable to sleep more than a few hours at a time, which meant she had to adapt and do the same if she wanted to keep watch. She wondered how long this would last, and if it would even get better at all as she sat next to him and witnessed his silent but obvious agony.
Just when she thought she would go insane as well, he calmed down. From then on, he tried to distract himself with anything he could get his hands on – but he still had so little focus that he couldn't really do anything. He still seemed unable to hold a normal conversation, though at least he no longer talked absolute disconnected nonsense, and instead even got out an occasional lucid sentence or two. He would occasionally pick up a book that she brought him. She wished she could afford to let him play the piano, but it was out of the question – it attracted attention, and she was afraid somebody might connect two and two together. Books provided him with temporary relief, letting him escape into some imaginary realm for a short time. Most of the time, though, he paced nervously around the room or stared at some point in the wall. He still slept very little until he collapsed for nearly a day. In that state, those first weeks passed. He became more lucid after a while, but as his reason returned, he seemed to be drained of all emotion and energy he previously had. He remained on the bed, staring silently ahead, lost in his thoughts – which, if his words were any indication, were a horrible place to get lost in.
Antoinette being herself, it was only a matter of time before she lost her patience. After the man had sufficiently made his suffering known, she one day decided she'd had enough. Without warning, one evening she burst into the room, violently drawing back the curtains and opening windows, tidying the room before turning to him.
„Get up!"
He didn't care.
„Get up, I said!"
He barely registered her through the haze of nonsensical thoughts occupying him.
„This is not a matter for debate! You will get up right now, and, and wash yourself, and eat something, and we will talk about what we're going to do now!"
He had no energy to do any of that, really.
She must've realized that, and the annoyed, angry look on her face was replaced with concern.
She sat on the edge of the bed next to him, leaned on the wall, and spoke quietly this time.
„I know this must have been horrible for you. I care about you, and I am trying to help you, really. I thought you were getting better, but you went from constant outbursts to no emotion at all, and I don't see how that's better."
He didn't really feel like debating if it's better to actively want to die or passively wait for it to happen, so he kept silent. But she continued.
„I want you to get on your feet and try to eat something for a change. You'll feel much better. Please. Get up and come with me."
I really could do that, he thought, if she gave me a few more weeks. Months, maybe. She does have a point. I feel bad for her, having me in her life again, taking care of me and getting nothing in return. I guess she thought it would end differently when she pulled me out of that cage. She must've thought I would be a man worth something in the end, not this destructive unforgivable mons-
His inner monologue was interrupted when she threw an entire pitcher of cold water in his face.
„WHAT - "
„OH, so you can still speak! Good, now that I have your attention, you can go ahead and get up before I get more water! Either you will go willingly, or I swear I will drown you in this room one glass at a time!" Antoinette made a mental note she would later apologize for throwing something at his face, but right now she couldn't afford to show weakness. She looked at him authoritatively from above, her arms crossed and brow furrowed.
He stared at her with disdain. The shock of cold water combined with newfound hate for Antoinette did raise his pulse enough to make standing more doable. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet, and he stayed there, realizing he was actually weak with hunger.
„Very well. I'll go", he managed through his teeth. His voice sounded lower and coarser than he remembered it.
„Great!" she smiled, „There are clean clothes waiting for you in the bath. Come to the kitchen when you're ready." She patted him on the back gently, sending him on his way. He had already commited to this, he realized, so there was no quitting now.
The man locked the bathroom door behind him, covered the mirror with a towel and, lowering his mask on the cabinet, started washing his face and hair in the small sink. He had to admit his head did feel a bit less clouded afterward, as he dried his hair with the towel, facing away from the mirror. He had always enjoyed it, the small pleasure of feeling clean and smelling good. He never really had the luxury until he met Anoinette eleven years prior. He could remember washing the dirt and smell and neglect off of his abused, emaciated body; her bandaging his wrists and ankles, treating him like a being worth of sympathy and care. He had made it a point to do that regularly from then on, not only for the cosmetic reasons. It made him feel more... well, human.
Eventually he put on some fresh clothes and joined her in the kitchen. As she was heating up a stew, she looked over at him and smiled. She was making a conscious effort to seem normal and cheerful, and it grated against her own ears, but she had to do something.
„My boy! You look better already. Come, sit and eat first. We'll talk later." He obediently sat down to the table and looked at her, stiff and silent, anxiously awaiting for her to talk. He was aware this wouldn't go on forever, but dreaded being kicked out so soon. There was nowhere to go, and the world didn't seem particularly friendly. She waited for him to finish eating before she pushed the subject again.
„I'm very glad you're feeling better, Erik. I'd like to help you get out of this alive, one way or another."
She paused.
„But, I am afraid that this is all I can do for you. I can't give you anything but this one spare room, and that's not much of a living. The police are still looking for you. We need a long-term plan."
„Do you perchance have any other basements I could hide in?" he asked dryly, and she slapped his arm.
„Oh, and that attitude is back already! Good to see you alive, Erik."
„Mhm."
„No, I don't. As much as I would like to have you within my sight, too, I'm afraid you won't be safe as long as you stay in France."
„That much is clear."
„Yes, I've thought about it for some time, and I think it's best if we get you out of here. I'll find you a ship, I have some savings to pay your fare- "
„Madam, I'd say those savings are better spent on someone who's not a crimin- "
„Quiet, now, they are my savings and I'll spend them as I like. I'll find a ship that goes somewhere far, arrange that they take you, no questions asked, and you might even have some spare money so you can survive at first."
„But-"
„Do you really wish to argue minute details of your escape, which I will pay for and arrange, with me?"
„No."
„Then it's decided. I admit I have no idea how you'll survive once you get there." She looked up from her plate at him, suddenly sharp and formidable. „But I want you to know this. I am doing this for you. I am doing this because I truly believe, from the bottom of my heart, that you will make it right this time. No one else can be hurt. I'll do everything in my power to help you live like an honest man, but you have to promise me that you'll do just as much."
He suddenly felt very small.
„I'll try."
„You'll try your very best to respect what I'm doing and what I believe to be true about you."
„Yes. Although I think you're mistaken. But I'll try."
„Then it will be worth it."
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Thick snow fell in large, wet clumps on the streets of London, sticking to the brown mud and slush on the ground and making an absolute nuisance of itself. The city was even grayer, browner and wetter than normally and it was hard to keep one's spirits up in the bitter cold and depressing dark of the early January morning. The young woman navigating her way through the sludge normally loved snow and winter, but found it hard to enjoy with everything that was on her mind. She sped through the streets, not really making an effort to keep herself dry anymore.
Her life was not going very well, as much as it hurt her to admit. She walked towards the small orphanage where she worked, remembering there was a time when she got up in the morning eager to see her children and skipped through the streets with a smile on her face. Lately, she found herself with less and less energy to go about her daily life.
If something doesn't change, I might actually have to go back home, she thought. It was not a good option. She'd rather avoid admitting defeat; moreover, she'd rather avoid living under her father's roof again. The thought made her uneasy.
If I couldn't be happy in the wrong place doing the wrong things, I simply had to change something. It was never a problem before. Why is it a problem now?
The answer was almost physically painful to think about.
I'm not in the wrong place and these are not the wrong things.
I'm the one that needs to change.
She opened the door to the orphanage and took off her coat and fur hat, shaking off the snow.
„Good morning, Miss Alina!" a tiny, seven year old girl ran up to her and embraced her.
She smiled sincerely, some of her bad mood dissipating. „Good morning, Alice. How are you today?" She followed the girl into the small classroom, pulling up her sleeves and beginning a long day of work.
Later that day, walking back through the snowy streets alone, Alina realized she felt tired, and not just from the amount of standing, running and talking she had done. A different kind of tiredness sat on her shoulders, and she had no idea how to brush it off, only that thinking about how to solve it made her slightly more tired.
„Good evening, Mrs. Bigley", she smiled her best smile as she entered the hallway to her tiny apartment, passing her landlady who was currently sweeping the hallway floor.
„Good evening, dear. You look tired. Are you alright?" The middle-aged woman with her hair in a strict bun looked at her with worry.
„I am", she replied politely, not eager to explain which of the two. „How are you, madam?"
„Oh, you know", she laughed. „Earnest and I are going on a little trip next month. It's our anniversary. A little getaway in the countryside, just for a week."
„Congratulations!" Alina lit up.
„Isn't your birthday in a few weeks as well, dear?" Mrs. Bigley was good at chatting and doing chores at the same time, and Alina looked around for something to do to help her. She felt awkward just standing there and watching her work.
„It is", she admitted, opening a small closet door to take another broom. Not that it's much more efficient like this. „I'll be twenty-five. It sounds strange, doesn't it?"
„It sounds like you're getting old", Mrs. Bigley laughed. „Are you going home to celebrate?"
„Home? No, that's unlikely. It's a long and expensive trip, and I have work to do", she repeated the excuse she wrote in the letter to her mother. „But I might visit my – uh, aunt – in Paris for a few days. I wrote her a letter sometime ago, we'll see what she says. I haven't seen her in a while", she started talking, forgetting to sweep. „Mrs. Bigley, what do you think it takes for a person to feel like they matter?"
„Pardon me, dear?" Mrs. Bigley stopped as well to look at her.
„What do you think would take for a person to... feel like their existence made a difference?" she asked, suddenly feeling stupid. „I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me lately. I do need a holiday."
„Are you alright, dear?" Mrs. Bigley asked. „Do you feel like you don't matter?"
„No, no, it's stupid. Forget I said anything."
The woman shot a glance at her from the corner of her eyes. „I suppose one would feel that way if they knew there were people left behind them who remembered them. Whose lives they changed, somehow."
„I suppose. And how does one go about achieving that?"
„That depends on the path they choose." Mrs. Bigley didn't like where this was going, and felt it was her duty to at least try to talk some sense into her eccentric young friend. Alina had been living under her roof for several years now, and was by all means a good tenant – she never caused trouble, she helped around the house and kept her rooms and kitchen clean, she would sometimes sit with Mrs. Bigley and chat politely over tea. Mrs. Bigley had grown used to chatting with her on weekends; it did not escape her that the young lady was growing somewhat weary and less energetic than her normal tireless self, and Mrs. Bigley thought it had something to do with the fact she spent more and more of her days working at that orphanage and spent a lot less time with her friends and family; as most of the other young ladies went to pursue other paths in life. „I think you're just lonely, dear. It doesn't take grand-scale fame and glory to be important, you know. Sometimes it's enough to have people you love, a family, someone to take care of. You're a lovely young lady, and I'm sure if you could take a break from losing your nerves over other people's children, you would find it more enjoyable to lose your nerves over your own children. They do come with husbands, as a bonus", Mrs. Bigley winked.
„You think that's what I need? It would make me happy?"
„I think so."
I really don't, Alina sighed.
„Oh, I almost forgot. You were waiting for a letter from Paris?" Mrs. Bigley turned around to reach one of the shelves. „Something did arrive. Here you go, darling. I hope you have a wonderful time with your aunt." She gave her a small bundle of letters, taking the broom gently from her hand. She thought it was a sweet gesture – Alina always trying to help her with whatever she was doing – and had no heart to tell her in the end it would often give her more work to do to fix the things Alina did wrong (or at least did completely different from how a competent and proper English housewife would do them, maybe due to cultural differences).
„My- oh, thank you. I should read this now. Have a nice evening, madam", she excused herself.
Alina went up to her room to read the letters that had arrived – one from her mother, about how disappointed she was Alina wouldn't visit this winter; one from her father, which contained more of the same but worded in a way that made Alina's skin crawl a tiny bit more, one from her sister – a birthday card with a badly-drawn picture of Alina surrounded by seventeen cats, and the one from Paris, with the return address of one Antoinette Giry.
Alina read the letter from her lifelong friend and mentor once, then twice, and then for the third time, trying to decide what to think about it. It seemed she would definitely be visiting auntie Giry very soon, and it also seemed it would be more eventful than she had previously imagined. Auntie had a „proposition" for her – to put it that way, because to Alina it seemed more like she needed help. Alina needed help from Antoinette so many times in her life that there was no chance she would ever refuse to return the favor if asked; the fact that Antoinette would not tell her openly exactly what she needed made her more than a little worried.
Taking out her little timetable containing schedules of various trains, Alina wrote a brief reply confirming her arrival to Le Havre next week.
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The next few days were spent negotiating and preparing. Antoinette took a train to Le Havre and spent days trying to find a ship with low enough standards to accept any passengers without asking questions, while Erik nervously paced around the room cleaning up the mess, packing up and readying himself, somewhat better now that he had something to do. Antoinette's daughter, Meg, between work and her friends only came home to sleep and wasn't altogether hard to avoid; Erik would only have to be careful to keep quiet and not leave a trace of his presence when she was around. Whatever excuses Antoinette gave her for her absence, something about meeting some young former protegee of hers in Le Havre, Meg must have believed them. After a few days, Antoinette found a small cargo ship with a remarkably uncaring captain. As long as „her son" didn't disturb the crew or try to sabotage the ship, he said, he was fine to go, but if he tried anything, his boys would make sure he wasn't a nuisance anymore. Provided he even survived the journey all the way across the Atlantic ocean in winter. Antoinette paid him a generous sum in advance and told him he'd get the rest when they arrived, and a bonus if she got a letter from her son confirming his safe arrival to his destination. This seemed to seal the deal for the man, and Antoinette sincerely hoped he valued money more than Erik valued his own life. She went back, not at all reassured.
„What do you think of him?", Erik asked Antoinette that evening when she came back to tell him the news.
„I'd rather not think of him at all. Not a likable man. But I've heard he does keep his word, and he agreed to take you for the money I offered. He won't harm you, but he won't lift a finger to help you, either. You're on your own."
Erik nodded. That much he had learned by now. The thought of going outside and putting his life in the hands of those people horrified him, but upon reminding himself it was his own fault, he decided to keep his pride and not voice out his concerns.
Antoinette knew him well, though.
„That sounds rather bad now that I think about it."
„I'll manage it. I can take care of myself, I'm not a child."
„You'll have to, since we have no other option. And I believe you're capable of surviving anything at this point." She smiled. The sincerity in her compliment didn't escape him, but he never was very good at receiving her compliments, so he brushed it off. „There are also other matters we have to discuss."
„Such as?"
„Well, such as the fact your spoken English is not that good, you are still wanted here and are otherwise not very welcome as an immigrant in the New World. It's not just sailing the sea, you have to stay there once you reach New York." She tried to sound casual as she recited her prepared speech.
„I'll sneak in. I'm good at it", he shrugged.
„You are", she nodded, „but there might be another way. I know someone who can go with you and help get you across the border. It might be a chance for you to get a better start. Not from the absolute bottom."
That was rather unexpected. He stared at her in shock for a moment.
„And just why would this someone do that? Is this a person with nothing better to do? Someone who regularly smuggles people into America? What even makes you think I want that?"
„You do want that. It would make a huge difference to have someone of trust for a change."
„Why would I trust this hypothetical person?"
„It's not a hypothetical person. She's here in Paris, and I'd trust her with my own life as I would with yours." For all it was worth, Antoinette was telling the truth; the problem was whether that would be enough.
„She?"
„Yes, in fact, it's a she. She is a friend of mine that I've known since she was a child. She'd gladly help you, I think, partly as a favor to me. She owes me a few favors for similar reasons that you do. Also, her heart is in the right place. She'll do it if it's the right thing to do."
Erik was annoyed for most of this conversation, and he felt it intensifying as tingly spikes of anger crept up his spine. He realized he was raising his voice halfway through the sentence.
„But it's not the right thing to do, is it, she'd be smuggling a goddamned freak of nature who also happens to be a criminal and I don't see how her righteous sensitivities would be alright with that!"
„Well perhaps if you had paid any attention to anything I've been saying and doing until now you'd notice that not everyone's righteous sensitivites are as shallow as you make them out to be!" She stood up, yelling as well. He couldn't say anything to that. Erik had never in any way diminished what Antoinette did for him and now was not the time to start. He was well aware he owed her his life and sanity, and a very basic sense of decency told him he should probably not be making miserable the only person close to family he had left. If she wanted him to play along in this then he would have to do so. For now, at least.
„Alright. How will I find this person?"
„You don't have to. I'll have her come over in a few days so you can meet her without risking being seen."
„What?"
„Yes. I'll give you time to prepare. Be polite."
„I don't- "
„For Christ's sake, Erik, you'll survive! If you absolutely cannot cooperate, you can bloody well go on your own! Just give it that one shot at having someone help you for once!"
He nodded without a word, still furious. Antoinette excused herself to bed and he went to his own little room to think.
Antoinette always had a specific way of shutting Erik up. Never in his adult life did he put up with someone yelling at him – well, except for, actually nevermind – but Antoinette was different, and she was so good at it. She showed a strange mixture of acceptance for who he was, as well as high expectations for who he should become. It made her a very hard person to disappoint. She had always managed to criticize his actions without ever insulting him - a natural teacher, perfected by decades in the ballet.
When Erik first met her, he found her extremely strange. Until then, he thought there were very limited things he could be – such as a monster, a freak, a demon and so on. Whatever he did, he felt it confirmed one or more of those attributes. He found it absolutely shocking when he first did something that made her mad and she didn't suddenly think he was the devil himself all along and want to send him back. Although he did hear his fair share of scolding over the years, he never felt any doubt in her care for him – which was not something he could say about anyone else in his life. It took him a while to understand some things she took as simple truths, such as that people are people, even when they do something wrong or look a certain way. He was not entirely sure he actually accepted that yet. If she's not there, will I still be myself?
As his anger dissipated, Erik realized that soon he might never see her again.
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The woman arrived in two days. Antoinette told Erik she talked to her beforehand, and that she agreed to come and discuss how she could help.
"It seems that Alina was thinking of moving before I spoke to her", she said.
"What… have you told her about me, exactly?" Erik asked carefully, unsure if he wanted to know.
"That you're a fugitive and that I needed her help so you could escape unnoticed."
"And she didn't question it?" He raised his eyebrows under the mask.
"It's not that she didn't question it so much that she didn't question me", Antoinette admitted. "I told her a friend of mine was escaping police, and that I personally want to help him escape because I think a lot of injustice has been done to him and he deserves a chance to start anew."
"She seems to trust you a great deal." I almost feel bad that you're deceiving her like this, he thought, but he couldn't help but feel grateful that she wouldn't know all the gritty details.
"We do share some similar attitudes towards the world", she shrugged. "In any case, you can tell her as much or as little about yourself as you please once you're on your way."
"We'll see what she says once she comes here." Erik was still furious about it all. He didn't want to be sitting there, meeting a strange woman and dealing with her inevitable reactions. He had had enough of those in his lifetime, and he didn't even want to interact with a single person in the whole world in that moment. Why do I even need this? I'd always found a way to survive alone.
The recent realization that Giry would soon be gone; rather, that he would be gone kept him silent. He noticed she looked much older as of late, tired somehow, perhaps from the strain of having to care for someone going through a mental breakdown. All of it made him… sad. Not furiously, maddeningly sad like before, but simply sad. It kept him calmer. He tried hard as he could to make her life easier.
When the woman – Alina, was it? – arrived, Erik was hesitant. He truly, really didn't want to deal with the possibility of Antoinette being wrong. A woman screaming after seeing him would not only grate on his already raw nerves, but would also be quite dangerous in this situation. He remained in my designated room while Antoinette went out to greet the woman. He checked everything twice – his shirt covered every single part of his arms, his gloves were in place, his mask never even left his face but he checked it twice and tied a few more knots, anyway. Just as he was considering tying a couple more just in case, Antoinette came in.
"Would you like to join us?"
No, I definitely would rather stay here. But he went after her, anyway.
As he entered the living room he noticed her immediately.
An unusually tall woman – although, the top of her head still barely reached above Erik's chin – stood in the middle of the room and looked around nervously. She turned her head immediately when she heard him arriving. She was tall, and slim, and long - limbed; dressed in a very simple black dress and jacket. Her hair was brown, pulled back in a bun, and her eyes beneath dark eyebrows were brown, and her skin was a light olive-brown. She looked vaguely foreign - Italian, maybe. Maybe not. Erik was told she only spoke English and some convoluted Slavic mess of a language. Her jaw was sharp and angular, but her eyes beneath dark eyebrows were soft. Warm and friendly. He could see why Antoinette trusted her – something about the warm eyes and inviting smile. Her eyes widened slightly when she saw him, and he braced himself for what would happen next - but nothing happened. She composed herself within a second, as something definitely neither soft nor warm swiftly passed through her eyes.
Erik found himself observing her more carefully than he had intended to.
Alina, on the other hand, had to give herself credit for keeping her wits about her as auntie Giry introduced her to the strangest man she had ever seen in her life. Auntie did mention Don't gawk at the mask, my dear, which Alina would not have done anyway, since she did understand the concept of manners. But I guess in her good intentions she forgot to mention everything else, she thought, such as the fact he was incredibly tall and eerily thin and so pale or that his overall posture and mannerisms were quite intimidating or that his eyes beneath the mask were an unmistakeable shade of yellow. Not that I mind that, she thought. The yellow eyes are rather striking.
On an otherwise frightening fellow.
A mask made of some kind of white leather covered most of his face, with only enough of his mouth and lower jaw exposed that he could talk and eat. For what it was worth, it seemed like a normal-looking jaw, but it unnerved Alina that she couldn't see his facial expressions. Above the mask, straight black hair hung a bit messy around his temples. It might've looked good if he'd combed it back, but it looked like he just snipped the front parts so they wouldn't get in his eyes, and then someone tried to salvage it by cutting it short and tidy on the back of his head.
Alina only had to keep her face straight for a split second before she remembered that her mother didn't raise her to be a judgemental arse towards people she didn't even know. In a desperate attempt to not make the man more self-conscious than he probably already was, she smiled her best pleased-to-meet-you smile and introduced herself like a proper human being.
„Glad to meet you, sir. I'm Alina." She held out her hand. Right hand, too. She didn't make the stupid mistake of offering someone her left hand again and then having to explain it's my dominant hand-
But the man stood still and looked at her in that same unnerving manner that made her feel very insecure. What did I do? What did I do? Did I offend him? She wondered before noticing in the corner of her eye that his hands were covered with gloves, and that his body was almost completely covered in clothing and oh my God he probably doesn't like when people touch him he's going to be offended now so she started lowering her hand –
- but he accepted it and lightly shook it for a second. Alina felt her heart start beating for the first time in what felt like eternity.
God, I hate meeting people. I hate people. I'm not too fond of myself at this moment either.
„Hello", he said quietly.
Antoinette gestured for them to sit down at the kitchen table, pouring Alina a cup of coffee – which, thankfully, have her something to occupy her hands with. What an absurd situation, she thought. What is wrong with me? Have I lost my mind? I'm not a child anymore, and I'm not so delicate to be afraid of anything, let alone some unknown man. I am an adult, and I will handle this like one. She decided to gather herself quickly.
The man observed Alina quietly and for a moment she thought his unusual eyes could see all of her secrets.
She noticed he wasn't drinking anything. Well, that's his problem, she thought as she drank Giry's delicious coffee a little too quickly for a proper young lady.
„How have you been, Alina?" Antoinette said. „I have not seen you in ages."
„No-one has seen me in ages, actually", she replied sadly. „I've been busy."
„How's work?"
„Distressing. Depressing. Underpaid. Poor job security."
„Who's upsetting you, the children?", she asked.
„The kids are alright, for most of the time, they do the best they can. We get along. It's the adults that bother me on a daily basis." The man – Erik, she remembered – was looking at her with interest now.
„Shame", she said, „but I do believe you're making a difference, there. Didn't you mention the orphanage children were getting calmer and friendlier over the past few months?"
„It's not like they could possibly have gotten louder and more problematic, ma'am."
She laughed. „Well, at any point, you did some good there. Am I right in assuming that you're ready for a change of scenery now?"
„You are right, yes. This job is eating me alive."
She did it in a subtle manner, but the tone of the conversation shifted slightly. Alina knew what Antoinette was referring to because they had spoken about it earlier, and it still made her suspicious. She already knew that she wouldn't say no, and she knew that Antoinette knew it, and it made her even more suspicious. The whole thing didn't seem so bad at first, and Alina trusted that Antoinette wouldn't just trick her into a dangerous situation for no good reason.
But she was still on her toes, moreso from the presence of the eerily silent man.
„I'd like to discuss this directly", she said. She happened to hate covert, roundabout, walking-on-eggshells type of conversations. She turned to the man, who was still silently attentive.
„You'd like me to go with you to New York and ensure you get in with as little trouble as possible, and teach you some English, and make sure they don't kick you out or kill you when you arrive. Right?"
He paused. „Yes and no."
„Sorry?" she raised her eyebrows.
He paused again. „I am better at listening than speaking English." Alina noticed he actually sounded very pleasant when he spoke, his voice deep and melodic. His accent was strange, pronounciation slightly awkward. Did he learn this much without actually speaking it to anyone?
Gesturing at Antoinette, he continued, „she wants you to do it, not I. Her idea."
Well, this was not mentioned. Alina didn't like it.
„And what do you want?" she asked him, lowering her cup on the table.
The question caught him off guard. „I don't know."
„I've been told you have no other option but to escape. That the parisian police will surely hunt you down if you stay here, and then it's over for you."
„That is true."
„I've also been told that you know absolutely nobody in the world that would help you escape, except for auntie Giry, and if I go with you, then also me."
„Also true."
„Do you think you can manage it alone, then?"
„Maybe", he replied slowly.
„Would someone please explain what is going on, then?" Alina asked, feeling like she didn't really want to get involved in all this.
Antoinette opened her mouth, but he waved his hand at her, still looking at Alina. He seemed impressed by the fact she was speaking and looking at him at the same time.
„I don't care what happens to me. I don't care if I live or die. She cares."
He continued, „She also thinks I deserve to live, and I don't. I think you should know that."
I was right, she thought. I really don't want to get involved in all this.
And, she realized, she was getting angry. But this was something she could deal with. The angrier she got, the less afraid she was, and found herself suddenly much more composed than moments prior. I think i know what this is about, it dawned on her. I've seen this type of situation in the orphanage, and back when I worked at the hospital.
Just another crisis to handle. Nothing personal.
Alina turned toward Antoinette, suddenly realizing what the problem was.
„Auntie Giry, this man clearly does not want to go with me."
Antoinette gave her a look that could have easily cut straight through a stone cliff. „You promised me. Seventeen years ago. Do you remember?"
„I do very much remember, Madam. And if you are honestly saying this man is being unfairly hunted down, if you say he deserves an honest chance, then by God I believe you because I know you and I've never seen you wrong in your assesments of people's character. You told me that Erik is a good person, and by my heart I believe it, I swear."
He looked a bit shaken now. Good, she thought. I want him to be. Antoinette, on her end, still looked at her with icy anger that made Alina's skin crawl.
„However," she continued, doing her best to seem convincing and authoritative, „I find it unfair to force my assistance on anyone, no matter how few options they may have left. This man may not have much of a choice, but out of respect for his human dignity we have to still let him choose."
Antoinette went silent as Alina turned to the seemingly suicidal stranger sitting across from her.
„I have worked with various people for close to seven years now, sir, and I am very good at what I do. But I have never denied someone the basic choice of accepting or ignoring my help. It would be an offense to you, as well as me, to be put in such a situation. If you wish for me to travel with you, I will, and I expect nothing in return save for the same respect I have shown you. If you do not, however, I won't do it, even if it means owing this debt to madam Giry for the rest of my life."
He took his time processing her words. He looks a bit too shocked by being called a good person, she thought. Something about it suddenly made her incredibly sad.
He nodded. „I'll go", and after a short pause, added „With you."
Antoinette smiled.
„But", he said, „I have a... hm. Condition?" He was actually unsure about the word, not the fact that he wanted to negotiate, it seemed.
„Alright, I'm listening", Alina nodded.
He took a deep breath while he composed the sentence in his mind and for a moment, he seemed more relatable. Likable, even, Alina thought.
„As I said, I don't care if I live or die. There is only one thing I want to avoid." He looked straight at her again with those unnerving eyes – „I don't want to be caught. I don't want to be in chains until I die. I prefer if you kill me, rather than let them have me."
„What?" What?
„Yes. I don't want to live like an animal. I'd rather die than let it happen again." In a very upside-down, messed-up way, Alina could see how that made sense. What does he mean, again? "You sound like you understand that", he added, nodding at her.
I knew this would somehow be my fault, she thought weakly. I knew these rants about freedom and human rights would bury me some day. It's sort of fitting.
"And you want me to promise that I'd kill you if they catch you?" was all she could manage.
He shrugged. "Not really. I know how. Just promise to help me do it."
Alina came very close to killing her own damn self at that very moment for the sake of getting out of that situation. Antoinette was still so furious that Alina was afraid she might end the dilemma right then and there by straight-up murdering them both. I still owe her. I promised to pass on the favor, to do some good in this world. She never asked anything from me until now.
But, how can I promise something like this?
He put his elbows on the table and watched Alina intently with his fingers crossed in front of his mouth. Alina gave her best to think about it rationally, despite the obviously distracting, unnerving eyes poking holes in her head. Between the sleeve and the glove, a small patch of pale skin shone on the man's wrist. He didn't seem to notice his sleeve shifting and revealing it.
And on the pale wrist sat an even paler, deeply indented, ancient scar.
That's a peculiar location for a scar, Alina thought. It looks too thick to be caused by a razor. Handcuffs, sooner. Ropes? Shackles?
Alina suddenly knew exactly what she would do, reason be damned.
"I'll do it, alright. They won't catch you while I'm alive." She paused, suddenly having another disturbing thought. "Although I also have one condition. As long as they don't catch you, you'll make an effort to stay alive. You'll go out of your way to actually live. Not harming anybody, including yourself. Is that fair?"
He thought about it, but ultimately knew he wouldn't get a better deal.
"That is fair", he nodded.
"Alright then. It's a deal." Alina offered the man her hand again – right one – and he shook it lightly. She found herself smiling as a wave of relief washed over her. I did my best, auntie Giry. It'll have to do.
"I'm glad to be traveling with you", Alina said doing her best to be civil, and though it was true she was glad to be going away, she was also truthfully horrified by the idea of crossing the Atlantic in winter in a ship full of strangers and the human embodiment of an impassable maze.
Erik looked at Alina somewhat suspiciously. Perhaps the same thing occurred to him.
END OF CHAPTER 1
Ten years earlier, December 1883
Two days before Christmas, Antoinette went back to the Opera with an excuse that she forgot her scarf. She thought it was a stupid excuse, since she never forgets anything, but they let her in anyway. She gave a small bottle to the man on the reception, Jean.
"Good day, Jean. I'm sorry you have to be here today."
She could see he was delighted by the small gift.
"It's not a problem, Madame. I enjoy the peace and quiet for a change after all that ruckus we always get this time of year. It's not that bad, really. There's no one here but me and the Opera ghost", he laughed.
"You don't believe all that nonsense, do you? This opera is worse than a sewing circle."
"No Madame, I am a man of science and skepticism", he winked at her playfully.
"Good. I'll just take care of my business and leave."
"Go ahead, Madame."
She went up to her room and locked the door, taking off her gloves and hat.
"Erik, are you there?" she said to the empty room.
No one answered.
"I just came by to give you something. I'll leave it here on my table, but I can't stay here long or someone might come looking for me."
No one answered.
She walked up to the tiny table in the corner of the room, taking out a small package and letting it down with care.
"Here it is. Merry Christmas, Erik. These cookies are a present from me. Please stop stealing sweets from the manager's office. I'm not angry, so you can come out."
No one answered.
"Alright. I'll see you soon. Goodbye."
She stopped before unlocking the door to take a scarf out of her purse and wrap it around her neck. She'd never been caught in a lie, and she had no intention to start now.
As she left, a very thin figure emerged silently from the shadows and grabbed the small package, disappearing swiftly into the dark again.
She left the same way, nodding to the receptionist.
"Merry Christmas, Jean."
"Merry Christmas, Madame. Did you see the Opera Ghost?" he asked playfully.
"Not today. I suppose he wasn't in the mood for talking."
She stepped back into the cold snowy streets, shuddering. Meg was waiting for her back home. She picked up her pace. One cannot leave a child unattended for too long.
Several hundred kilometers to the east, Alina woke up with a mixture of dread and excitement.
What seemed to her like a horde of relatives arrived last night and today she had to go and greet them all with her best dress and her best pleased-to-meet-you smile. It better be the best one. She was determined this year she wouldn't tick anyone off, or let anyone tick her off. She wanted a peaceful family Christmas, and she was determined her foul mouth wouldn't get her in trouble this time.
She got dressed a little too slowly for the sake of prolonging the blessed peace and quiet, and jumped a little when her sister entered the room, already dressed and proper.
"Alina, there you are! Come down already, everyone's here."
"Oh no." Not everyone at the same time. That was so much social interaction and etiquette all at once that she might actually faint. Or at least pretend to faint, if only to see mama's face.
"Well, you could have gotten up earlier."
Amelija was right, of course.
"Please refrain from sassing our elders while we're down there. Mama and tata are doing their best but you know how they get when they're pressed from all sides like this."
"Yes, yes, I know. I will. Unless they provoke me."
"Especially if they provoke you, Alina."
She rolled her eyes. Getting scolded by her younger sister made her severely annoyed every time, but Amelija was so good at keeping a cool head that Alina might actually benefit from following her example.
"Fine."
"And relax. Everyone's excited to see you. They brought presents. I have a present for you too, but you can't see it until Christmas day."
"I have one for you as well." She remembered the pair of hairpins wrapped neatly in her desk drawer.
"Let's go."
As they walked downstairs, Amelija suddenly turned to her and whispered,
"How long do you think until the first argument? I'm taking bets and cousin Jelka bet her gloves on tata and uncle breaking the ice fighting about politics. Could you cause some minor ruckus early so I win?" She flashed a brilliant smile, entering the room completely calm and graceful.
Alina was not so composed, and she had to stay a moment longer to let out a loud laugh in the hallway. She heard her mother speaking in the next room.
"What is it with her?"
"No idea, mama. She's gone mad. But at least she's in a good mood, no? Let her be."
Alina gathered herself swiftly and entered the room, still snickering slightly, ready to face the enormous, well-meaning, deafening horde.