Disclaimer
I do not own the rights to the Phantom of the Opera. This is a work of fiction based on the works of Gaston Leroux, Andrew Llyod Webber, and Susan Kay. I in no way intend to infringe upon the copyrights of above said artists and am making no profit from this work. This story may contain adult situations, language, and romantic scenes which may not be suitable for minors. A toned down version will be posted here. If you wish to receive an un-edited adult chapter pleasee-mail me or state so in a review.
A New Beginning
Prologue
Erik surveyed the destruction of his lair. The mob had ruined everything, looting anything they thought of value and tearing apart anything that wasn't. The magnificent organ he had lovingly composed upon was now beyond repair.
Several of the ivory and ebony keys were ripped from the frame, the metal parts twisted and distorted. He depressed one of the remaining keys and cringed when the once beautiful note came out sour. He sighed heavily as the destruction weighed in his mind.
The beautiful room he had once prepared for Christine was robbed of its beauty. 'Christine… even my beautiful, sweet Christine has forsaken me to this cold unfeeling hell.' He crossed through what was once an ingenious torture chamber, the metal tree the only thing whole as each and every mirror was broken or cracked into thousands of pieces.
Crossing to his bedchamber he noticed that his coffin had been left undisturbed. 'Stupid superstitious lot,' Erik thought to himself. He moved to the far wall and using a sharp piece of debris managed to pry loose a piece of stone in the wall. His 6'3" frame easily allowed him to pry apart the stone by the ceiling.
Reaching into the crevice he retrieved a heavy bag, looking inside eased his nerves a bit, the gold, gem-encrusted cat collar from Persia and other valuables lay undisturbed. Ayesha, the long haired Persian he had stolen from the Shah, had long ago passed away from old age.
The heavy weight of gold and gems reassured him that forethought is everything and he would recover from this mess as he did every time disaster struck. It was time to pay the daroga a visit; it was time to leave France. Where to go, however, was the question.
One Month Later
To say that Nadir Khan was surprised to see Erik in his apartment when he returned from the apothecary would be an understatement. "Erik, must you always attempt to make my old heart stop with ghostly appearances and disappearances? What is it you want of me now?"
Erik relaxed into the leather wingback chair by the fireplace and quietly studied the Persian man before him. Locking the door behind him and crossing to the opposite chair Nadir deposited his packages on the side table and sank into the comfortable leather. Erik solemnly regarded
his companion a moment before he replied, "I am leaving France, it no longer holds my interest. I have several tasks that require your assistance."
Erik thought a moment, as if considering how much to say. "I require money, and as you can guess it has become difficult for me to procure it. You will withdraw 50,000 franks from the bank account I entitled you as the owner of seven years ago. Of that sum you will purchase a complete wardrobe for me, one that befits mildly cold winters and hot summers, with the remainder of the money you will buy bars of silver.
I will also require you to place an advertisement in the Saturday paper composed of three words, 'Erik is dead'." Erik looked at Nadir as if he might object. "These tasks are simple enough Erik. What would you have me do with the rest of your funds?"
Erik stroked the arm of the chair and replied "consider it payment for your silence and cooperation; I will no longer have a need of French notes." The daroga regarded the man before him silently, taking note of the slight wearing of linen with faintly torn stitching at the shoulders.
He wondered what had transpired in the past month since Christine fled for his meticulous friend to have become so exhausted. "Why do you wish me to print your obituary, Erik?" Erik smiled grimly, "When she left, that night, I told her to return to the lair and bury the engagement ring I gave her along with my body."
Nadir seemed slightly puzzled by this, "what trickery do you mean?" Erik raised his hand to his heart in mock-grief, "you wound me daroga. I mean her no harm. You will bury my coffin, nailed shut, after she leaves her ring.
She could never be happy if she thought me alive and suffering…" he answered almost to himself. His head snapped up as if he had forgotten the man sitting in the seat before him. "I believe I have been more than generous tonight in answering you infinite questions.
I leave in One week's time, I expect you can accomplish everything in that time?" Nadir nodded as Erik excused himself from the room. The daroga thought a moment before silently shaking his head.
One Month Later
Erik looked out the window at the faint, hazy line of land amidst the deep blue waves of the Atlantic. After weeks on endless sea the ship headed to America was finally at its destination. The faint shadow of buildings seemed to arise out of nothingness, as if the angry sea had merely spat it out of its depths one day.
The statue of a woman clothed in draping robes beckoned the weary travelers forward with her light of liberty and book of promises, a calm and just expression upon her face. It was perhaps a bit ironic that he was fleeing France only to later be welcomed into the land of freedom by a French statue.
The ship slowed and rocked as it berthed at the New York docks, the foul, cloudy waters churning. A waft of brine and urine filled the air as young boys and men worked to tie the boat to the wooden posts.
After weeks at sea he had finally landed in America, the land of freedom and opportunity; his salvation.
Author's Notes
For those not familiar with Susan Kay's work, here are some explanations:
-Erik built a palace for the Persian shah and torture rooms/devices for the shah's mother the Khanum.
-When he left he took the shah's cat's gold collar that was encrusted with gems.
-He befriended the chief of police, or daroga, Nadir Khan, a.k.a. the Persian who later followed him to France.
For those not familiar with Gaston Leroux's work, here are some explanations:
-Erik has a small nano-gonal torture chamber with mirrors for walls that replicate an endless desert, slowly driving the prisoner insane until he hangs himself from the only object in the room, a metal tree, or dies from dehydration.
-Erik told Christine to return his ring to his grave in the Lair upon his death.