Chapter four- A Masquerade Nightmare
Vanessa
Two weeks passed and I still hadn't found the culprit. I began to feel like a Phantom myself; with all of the lurking and searching I had to do. I never crossed The Phantom of the Opera off my list of suspects and I had not seen hair or hide of him since out first introduction. The police had come and gone. I finally had to walk into the office of the managers.
"Messieurs, I have come to cancel half of my contract. I no longer require you to pay me, but I wish to continue to attempt to solve this Mystery." I stated, sitting at the desk of Monsieur Moncharmin, Monsieur Firmin sitting on a corner of the desk next to his partner. No case had defeated me, and I was determined that no case ever would.
"Mademoiselle VanCartia, we are grateful to you for all that you have done for the opera so far and I propose a suggestion. Why don't we with hold Payment until it is solved, rather than cancel out right." Moncharmin replied diplomatically "And Firmin and I personally invite you to the Opera's annual Masquerade."
"If it is what you two want, I thank you."
I rose to my feet, gave a gracious nod and exited the office. As I traveled down the Grand Staircase, I ran into Meg.
"Vanessa! I was looking for you." The Ballerina exclaimed joyously. "I want you to join me and some friends of mine for some coffee. Come on follow me." I never got the chance to accept or decline. Meg grabbed my wrist and dragged me to the Ballet dorms.
Meg was an overwhelming presence sometimes, with her endless enthusiasm and optimistic views to life. She wasn't as silly and frivolous as the other ballerinas were, as I soon came to find out.
"Meg, you're late!" a brunette sneered.
"Sorry just had to find the newest member of our little family." Meg smiled her hand behind her head in a childish pose. "Be nice, this is Vanessa."
"How do you do," I muttered, god I hated frivolous dancers.
"Oh... so you're the one that's been irritating the Phantom." A black haired girl strolled up to me.
"I irritate everyone who's guilty of a crime, comes with the territory. Would you mind stepping back?" I stated coldly. The girl did as I asked and I sat down authoritatively in a ladder-back chair. Meg burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" I asked arching an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry, it's just you reminded me of my mother. She acted just like you." Meg said, fighting her mirth. Sympathy warmed my heart towards this young woman who had taken responsibility for all of the dancers.
"Oh Meg you aren't thinking straight. Poor dear, here, drink this." The brunette sympathetically handed Meg a shot of Whisky. To my amazement Meg downed the strong liquor in one gulp without any expression of disgust. So much for the coffee!
"So, may I inquire as to what happened to Madame?" I tentatively touched the subject.
"She died a year ago. She was an excellent dancer." Meg stated matter-of-factly.
"I give you my deepest condolences." I was shocked. This woman had secretly harbored a villain for how many years, I do not know, and her Daughter was the only one to pry the secret out of her. I had to hand some credit to her name, the dearly departed Ballet instructor sounded like she had some independence in her. I gazed at her Daughter, the light hearted blonde sitting across from me laughing at something her friends had said. How was it that these two women had kept this dark secret, and how is it that the younger Giry could speak so casually of her mother's death?
"So Vanessa, what's your poison?" The black haired girl asked.
"I have a job to do." I stated, not in the mood for drinking. I rose to my feet, but the brunette pushed me back into my seat.
"The Phantom's not going anywhere anytime soon; you can spare one evening to have a life." Meg stated over the brunette's shoulder. A look of injured pride crossed my face. "What? Did you think we didn't notice you searching like a fiend for clues?" After rolling my eyes at them I caved to their wishes.
"Do you have a Merlot?" I asked.
"Do we... Ha ha! Meg I love this girl. Yes dearie, we have Merlot. And it's a damn good year too!" The Black haired girl chuckled.
"By right, I'd be calling you all 'Dearies'. I'm at least ten years older than you." I growled. Such adolescent disrespect I could not tolerate.
"You're in our home Nessa, we have the superiority rights." The woman stated handing me the glass of wine she had poured and laughing at her own wit. Nessa? I stared stupidly in reaction to the pet name. I took the glass and thanked her as graciously as I dared.
"So tell us about yourself Nessa." The brunette suggested, adopting my new name. That was so annoying. Why did these Dancing folk have to give each other pet names and such?
"Not much to tell. Just a simple Detective." I answered.
"Not to mention, one who's successful and rich." Another blonde, who I hadn't noticed, stated.
"Why are you here? Why do you care so much about this incident? Others have happened before." The Brunette asked quizzically.
"I'm here to make sure every criminal gets what they deserve. A short drop and a sudden stop." I gave a small self satisfied smirk as I stared at the group over my glass. I even winked at Meg, who countered with another.
"Oh aren't you the little hand of god." The trying woman sneered.
"Am I to assume that you and I are ill disposed to each other?" I asked. That silenced the interest in my life and morals. The conversation went to varying subjects. Finally a subject that I hadn't expected came up. The Corps du ballet, a group of fifty ballet dancers, male and female, began to discuss the Phantom. I, being the only sober one, listened earnestly.
"I heard that he likes to kidnap innocent dancers and use them in occult sacrifices." One girl stated.
"What utter nonsense. He's just a devil's pawn." The black haired woman scolded.
"Well look at Christine! No one's seen or heard from her since her abduction." The girl squeaked.
"Oh Annette, you and your religious superstitions." A man laughed, to great applause. I couldn't resist chuckling along, the sense of family overwhelming me.
"He's just a person like you and me." Meg spoke up. "He knows a lot more than we ever would. And it's best if we stop talking about him, it will upset him."
"Oh Meg you're no fun!" Annette mocked.
"Well you wouldn't want to be spoken about if you had been rejected by everyone!" Meg snapped. "You would want to be left alone and disappear. Now you all best silence yourselves before he starts causing problems in retaliation!" And that was the end of the conversation. As the drinking died down, I went and sat down next to Meg.
I asked.
"Is it that obvious?" Meg responded.
"Yes and no. You looked like you were looking for an excuse to protect the Opera, but I'm a detective and I see things more deeply than others." I responded in turn.
"I only wish he could live a normal life, that doesn't mean I love him. I saw where he lived." Meg whispered. "But that's a secret I'll take to the grave."
"I understand. Tell me about the incident of Christine Daae's abduction."
"It was about ten years ago. Christine had been growing distant, no longer talking to anyone except her fiancée, for a few weeks. Everything came to a head when The Phantom himself went onstage and kidnapped Christine right before the audience's very eyes." I suddenly remembered the incident myself. I had been there. I was sitting in the third tier of boxes when there was an obvious change in actors on stage. The plump Piangi was replaced by a thin mystery man, who came out from behind the curtains masking the difference under a long black Spanish cape. As far away as I was, I could see the desire he had for the young Christine was making him drop his guard foolishly. He was amazing on stage, passionate and attentive, seeming to offer Christine everything in exchange for nothing. The sudden connection sent a jolt through me.
"I haven't heard from her or seen her since." Meg's voice brought me back to reality.
At about three in the morning I slipped out of the Opera's Dormitories and began my quiet walk home. I had another piece to the Phantom's puzzle. But I was stopped by a strange sight. Signora Carlotta was shutting the door to her Dressing room, and hurriedly leaving the Opera. In her hurry she left the door unlocked. A thought occurred to me. It was so obvious I was amazed that I hadn't come up with it before. I silently approached the door and glanced to see if anyone was watching me. You could never be too careful around these sneaky underworld folk. I opened the door and slid inside as inconspicuously as possible. I turned a gas lamp on and immediately wished that I hadn't.
The walls were every shade of pink you could come up with and the perfume of flowers nearly choked me. God, could this woman be any more ridiculous? I coughed and stepped toward a vanity covered with every kind of cosmetic you could imagine. I slid a drawer open and gazed inside. Eye makeup. The next was just as useless. But the final answered my suspicion. Hidden in the back of the drawer was a tube of lip color and it was the same color as the red on the Count's neck. I burst into a smile. In a fever, I dug through all of the drawers. In the last one I found a charred letter. Most of it was still intact, amazingly.
My dearest...,
I shall gladly give you anything that you ask for. You need never fear a rejection. A world tour, privilege, title. All of it is yours. All you ever need to do is ask, my little song bird. I love you, and never wish to be parted from you. To our everlasting happiness.
Yours forever,
Francis
Even though the name of the recipient was burnt off, it wasn't hard to tell to whom it was directed. I had finally found my culprit. And tomorrow was the Opera Garnier's Annual Masquerade Ball. I stuffed the letter and lipstick in my pocket, knowing that I was breaking the law by not getting a search warrant first, but the ends justify the means in my book. I then left the Opera House and headed home. I barged inside my home, scaring Natalie awake from her post at the door.
"Natalie, we have a ball to prepare for." After a few hours rest, Natalie and I headed into the shopping district to pick out a costume for the party. With Natalie's eye for fashion and my conservative taste, I managed to find an attractive blue gown made of satin. After racing home and styling my hair, choosing accessories, and adding finishing touches, I finally felt disguised behind the black mask. I stepped into the carriage, and with a jolt, I was off to the Masque.
The glamour and sparkle of the Opera's Lobby was heightened in the jubilant atmosphere. All of the rich and famous were gathered in one room. High society never interested me, unless of course one of them needed my skills to solve some 'great mystery' for them. But on only one night of the year could Princes and Paupers gather together without class strife. I stood amongst the crowd, feeling entirely out of place, my dress being far from my norm, but Natalie had insisted.
"Ah Vanessa, how good of you to come." Moncharmin exclaimed as he threw an arm drunkenly around my neck. I blanched. Was I that recognizable? How would I be able to catch Carlotta if she could see me from a mile away?
"Yes. Of course I came." I replied shaking the manager's arm off of me.
"Well, have a jolly time." Firmin hiccupped.
"I will try." I answered.
I glided across the floor, weaving between the revelers. I kept my eyes sharp for any sign of La Carlotta. The rich and the bourgeois all floated in their taffeta and silk. It was dizzying. Finally, I managed to make it to the base of the Grand Staircase. I watched the dancers with mild interest, they all seemed so happy. I felt the faintest pull of longing in my heart. I wanted to be one of them. I realized that I had always spent my life on the problems of others, rarely, if ever, focusing on my own life. As I was wandering in my thoughts, I suddenly became aware of a white rose tied with a white ribbon floating before me, supported by a black gloved hand.
"May I have this dance?" A familiar, gorgeous voice asked. I turned to see my former suspect staring at me. He was wearing a Persian ensemble of black with a red sash and a red cape pinned attractively on one shoulder, trailing to the floor behind him. I would have mistaken him for a Persian had I not recognized his gold eyes from behind a Middle Eastern mask. They seemed to be piercing me in a cold appraisal. I was unexpectedly very glad that I was wearing a mask, because I started to flush under his intense gaze.
"No, thank you." I answered immediately. "I have important matters to deal with."
"I know." The Phantom responded wryly. "I also know that Carlotta won't leave the party until she's the last person left, unless she finds someone to lust after. And that is very rare. Her ego is too inflated to let her leave her public. So in conclusion, you have a few minutes to spare at least." I felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. He was the last man on earth I wanted to see. I ought to say no, my conscious screamed, yet my gut said go ahead and do something spontaneous, dance with the ex con-man and murderer.
I caved in to instinct.
"You knew Carlotta had killed the Count, yet you said nothing. Why didn't you tell me? All of this could have ended much sooner." I asked feeling irritated.
"Would you have believed me?"
That silenced me. Accepting the rose from him, I nodded as nonchalantly as possible, affecting an air of boredom. I picked up the faintest hint of a rather charming smile as I let him lead me onto the dance floor. The sweeping notes of a waltz began. The Phantom placed his hand at the small of my back and I placed mine on his broad shoulder as we entwined our free hands together. Then with a sweep, we were twirling around the room.
"You look well. I take it that you've been listening to my advice?" He asked in muted tones.
"Yes," was all I could say.
"Good."
"So Monsieur le fantome, may I enquire as to what you are doing here among those of the upper world?" I asked.
"I don't spend all of my time alone down in the cellars. I too enjoy a good masquerade." He replied.
"And the rose?" I continued.
"Think of it as a flag of truce," His voice lowered to a conspiratorial hush. "I'm on your side. I want to clear my name from this particular murder. But cross me and you will not find me as forgiving as last time we met."
"What makes you think I need a criminal on my side?" I said icily.
"Because, I'm the only way you're going to catch her!" He hissed. I laughed whole heartedly in his face. Him, the only way to catch Carlotta, My god he was arrogant. I caught a flash of anger behind his eyes. I then spied Carlotta, laughing with some brainless twit of a noble born. I extricated myself from the Phantom's arms.
"Excuse me; I have a job to do." I said matter-of-factly. Walking around him, I caught Carlotta as she walked away. With a deft motion, I cut her off with my arm in her path. I cornered her against the wall, our skirts swirling in our hurry.
"My dear Carlotta," I greeted sarcastically as I removed my black mask. "Might I have a word with you? Do you remember this?" I pulled the tube of lip color and the letter out of my bodice and held them up. "The same color was found on the neck of the Count. Would you mind explaining to me why it was in your dressing room, and what a charming letter like this was doing in your dressing room?"
Carlotta's breath became ragged and I noticed her eyes widen in fear. Suddenly she shoved me so forcefully I fell to the ground. A collective gasp slithered through the Lobby as the other guests became spectators in this drama. I instantly replaced the lip color and letter to where I had kept them and pulled my revolver from my garter. The blue satin of the dress I wore rustled as I raced up the Grand Staircase after Carlotta. I pursued her through the Auditorium and to the backstage. I regretfully noticed that she was climbing to the roof of the opera. Forgetting my fear for the sake of catching a criminal, I flew up the stairs. Carlotta slammed open the top most door and I followed.
"Don't move or I WILL fire," I shouted over the wind. "It's over Carlotta! I know everything! You are responsible for the Murder of Count Francis De Sandersville. But one thing eludes me. Why?" It was cold on the roof. Frigid.
Carlotta stood there angrily glaring at me.
"Ou want to know why I keeled heem?" She snarled. "Ee promised to get me a world traveling production. Ee LIED to me." I stepped forward shaking my head. "Stay where Ou are Detective."
Suddenly the impossible woman lunged at me, knocking my gun from my hands as we tumbled to the stone roof. I urgently tossed the woman off of me and strained my entire being to grasp the revolver, which was barely out of reach.
Carlotta pinned me to the roof and took the revolver in her hand, pointing it at me. In self defense I toppled the woman over me and jumped to my feet. Carlotta rose to her own feet and backed me to the edge of the precipice.
"Ou ave been much too troublesome, detective," Carlotta stated holding my gun. "Adios."
Time seemed to slowdown as I watched my gun fire on me. Searing pain coursed through my left shoulder and the force of the shot blew me off the roof.
My heart raced as my body plummeted to the street below. The adrenaline made my breath ragged. Was this the way I was meant to die? I closed my eyes and began to pray for forgiveness of any sin I may have committed. I braced my body for the unbearable pain of every broken bone I would sustain. It never came. I gasped at the sensation of a hand grabbing my left arm. I was jolted to a stop by my injured arm.
I screamed in pain.
"Detective, give me your hand!" I opened my eyes and stared directly into those of the Phantom. At his petition I reached my free arm for or his. I was amazed at how effortlessly he pulled me onto the Balcony he was on. We toppled to the floor and I cried out in pain.
"Hush!" My rescuer whispered. Rescuer, how odd that that is the only way for an independent woman to describe him in that moment. My mentality toward this enigmatical man was immediately shifted. I smiled a weak smile that looked like my last at him. He had saved my life despite our differences, and that alone was baffling. He picked me up and the last thing I saw was Carlotta staring at me and The Phantom's white mask.
* * * *
The Phantom
(As written by Erik)
I stood among the crowd of fops and merchants, watching the Detective as fury made my hands shake. How dare she! I couldn't believe that such a strange person had caught my eye on her first day in the opera. I watched as the detective confronted the 'diva' Carlotta. I laughed as the detective cornered the red head and showed her the major piece of evidence. Crafty woman, I thought admiringly. I liked her method. She was using Carlotta's pride and lust for fame against the flashy singer. She might just arrest the banshee after all. Suddenly I could see everything going to hell as Carlotta attempted to flee. Following a safe distance behind, I tracked the progress of the two. They were heading for the roof. Knowing the one fact about the Detective that I had been privy to witness, I knew that this direction would cause some complications. Chasing the sound of their feet, I heard a gunshot and ran to the nearest outdoor area I could find. I watched as the blue garbed body of the Detective plummeted from the roof top. I grabbed her arm deftly and urged her to give me her other. Pulling her up, I was knocked off balance and we fell. I realized that I had landed on top of her. I stared at her and silenced her when she cried out from the pain in her arm.
Her smile, it was so fearless. She wasn't afraid of Death, of life, or of me. A slight hidden trace of regret shone through and I understood it immediately. All of that was made crystal clear to me in that moment of resigned beauty. Her hazel eyes glazed over before they fluttered shut. Why am I thinking this way? Why has this stalwart woman brought out the depths of compassion in me? As I held the creature, I realized that she had lost a large quantity of blood. Her complexion grew paler as I hastened headlong to the house by the lake.
I gently deposited this curious woman on a couch. I checked for a pulse and for any sign of breath, the likeness to death was so compelling. When I was satisfied that she was still among the living I found some gauze and cut away the sleeve of the detective's gown. The bullet had imbedded itself cleanly in her shoulder and I had no difficulty removing it. As I bandaged her arm, I paused. She seemed so serene, laying there among the Russian pillows on the couch. Her pale skin was almost glowing softly in the light from the fire. I could tell that she would need a transfusion quickly to save her life. Without a thought, I brought out a tourniquet, cinching it around her arm. I quickly constructed a makeshift transfusion machine and inserted a needle into her arm. I then did the same to my own arm. Beginning to pump a pneumatic device, I drained a pint of blood into her body from myself. That was all the blood I knew anyone could spare. Immediately I saw a result, by the return of her color. Removing the needles from the two of us, I felt entranced as I watched the color spread from her cheeks to her thin nose and finally to her lips. I found myself wondering what they would have felt like if I ever kissed them, not in the intimidating manner I had before. That, in my opinion, wasn't really a kiss. I attentively lent forward and lightly brushed my lips against her's. They were soft and slightly giving, a delicate sensation that was unbelievable. I suddenly pulled away. What was I doing? I hastily finished the bandaging and stepped away. I then decided to put her in Christine's room. Laying her gently on the comforter, I took a few more seconds to just watch her sleeping form. I glanced away. Catching my reflection in a mirror, I noticed a large patch of the crimson liquid on my shirt from the Detective's wound and, with a sigh of aggravation, proceeded to my room to change. I unbuttoned the shirt, and felt a headache coming on due to the lack of blood. I slipped on a simple, oversized, colonial shirt. All that was left to do was to wait. Which is easier said than done. I kept cursing her, under my breath, for all of the trouble she caused me. But then why did I just stop her from falling or bleeding to death?
* * * *
Vanessa
I don't know how long I was incapacitated. Minutes, hours, Days? When I returned to consciousness, I was distinctly aware that I was in a new environment. It was whimsical, and dark. I was in a room made of four stone cave like walls. There was furniture of an out of date style that I couldn't recognize. I slowly, gingerly rose to my hands on a four poster bed. Cold air skimmed my bare arm and I noticed that it had been expertly bandaged on the shoulder and elbow. I slipped out of the bed, still in my torn evening dress, and left the room.
I stepped into the next room in a daze, due to the throbbing in my head. It was a small, serviceable living room that housed a piano, a couch, a small chaise lounge, candelabras, and various sketches and drawings. It was the home Meg had informed me of and I found myself in awe of the gothic beauty. I slowly approached the mantle of the fireplace and stared at a charcoal portrait. The Dark haired beauty was oddly familiar and it only took me a moment to figure out why.
"Christine...," I whispered in awe. She looked like an angel. "No wonder you fell in love with her."
"That has been the second time I've prevented your demise and doctored you, Detective. Is that your form of investigating or are you just generally clumsy? I hope you now see that you do need my help in your attempt to arrest Carlotta." A voice rang in the shadows. I immediately blushed. Two golden pinpricks of light stared at me before the owner of the voice stepped into the light of a glowing candle.
Garbed in an oversized shirt, His every fluid movement was filled with elegance. His presence was oppressive with menace. So much that it was crushing, and I found myself wilting against a wall. I knew he was pissed, but I managed to gain enough courage to respond.
"I ... I... I am very grateful, sir." I stuttered my thanks. He laughed a melodious laugh that caused my heart to race in excitement. It seemed to take control of my senses, and that unnerved me.
"Do I frighten you?" He chuckled, clearly mocking me.
"No you don't." I lied, shaking. "I'm just cold." He came closer to me, and my breath began to tremble. What was he going to do? I placed a hand to my heart, fear and thrill almost choking me. With relief, I felt the menace melt away like wax. He brushed a hair lightly from my face and disinterestedly handed a black cloak to me.
"Would you like some tea to warm you?" The Phantom of the Opera asked me distractedly. I remained silent from my shock at the change in the atmosphere, which caused the masked man to laugh. "I won't poison you, which you can trust. It's dishonorable." I managed to mutely nod my head in acquiescence.
I watched dumbfounded as He left through a passage that obviously led to a kitchen. I listened attentively as He made the tea, wrapping the cloak around me. Within minutes He returned and handed to me a cup made of fine china filled with the amber liquid.
"Thank you." I stuttered. I took a sip of the tea and felt life revive my numbed brain.
"Detective, you've been at the Opera for over a month and a half, yet your name has eluded me." He stated, sitting carelessly across from me at the piano.
"I'll tell you my name if you give me yours."
There was a pause.
"Erik."
"Well Erik, is there a last name I may address you by?" I asked feeling a little confidence building, sipping the warm tea.
"No, just Erik," He responded icily. He gave me a look that said 'do not delve into my past' so clearly he could have yelled it.
"My good man, I don't need to delve into your past." I responded. "I know enough all ready. You are a ventriloquist are you not? That is quite a talent and you use it quite effectively, though for your own means of course. In eighteen eighty you met a girl named Christine Daae. A Girl with a miraculous singing ability, I would know, I was present at the good bye gala for the previous managers of the Opera, at which Mademoiselle Daae fainted, and then disappeared for a time. No doubt you had a hand in that. You caused some 'accidents' to occur in Mlle. Daae's best interest, you embarrassed Signora Carlotta and caused the chandelier to fall, and you killed two workers of the Opera. Now, I am Vanessa VanCartia."
"I will not deny that I had been involved with that famous croak, but the Chandelier fell of its own accord. I truly had no influence over that." Erik interrupted, civilly irritated. "Why are you telling me about myself?"
"I have sufficient cause to have you arrested, and while at the moment you are not my prime target, Monsieur, I will see you get the justice you deserve. I have reason to believe that you killed Christine Daae, her fiancée, the Vicompt De Chagney, and his brother Phillip." I stated, trying to remain calm.
"Phillip, yes: Buquet even: But the other two, I never touched a hair on their foolish little heads." He snapped, regaining composure he continued. "Mlle VanCartia, I must ask that you refrain from mentioning Mlle. Daae again." Erik said solemnly.
"I understand. I would feel the same way." I responded. "To love a woman who had none of the same feelings for you, but rather, loved another. It's no wonder you killed them out of jealousy." Suddenly I was pinned to the wall. I glanced at Erik's eyes and fear, petrifying fear, engulfed me. The self loathing, hatred, and lust burned in him. It was incandescent.
"Don't ever presume that you understand. You know nothing of what it feels like to be rejected by the only person you ever loved. You will never know that feeling because of who you are." Erik whispered fearfully calm. I unexpectedly understood that his whole life had been nothing but pain and misery.
"Don't you dare pity me!" Erik murmured, easily reading my expression. His point was painfully clear. He meant to kill me should I slip up again. God knew how many people he had killed in the past, what did one more matter?
"Is pity the same as Compassion?" I whispered hoarsely, praying for a way to talk my way out of the situation. I saw that my point was made just as clearly. He released me. Swooping to the piano, he lost himself in his music. I collapsed to the floor gasping for air. "But I wonder sometimes if you aren't some kind of monster."
Erik wasn't lost enough in his melody it seemed, because he dropped down in front of me.
"Monster am I not. I'm the same as everyone else." He hissed, then he grabbed both of my hands, causing a gasp of shock to escape me, and pressed one to his heart and the other to mine. "Do you feel that? That is a heartbeat. It beats the same as yours, the same as every other human being." His voice cracked from the raw emotion he was fighting to control. I felt his heart beating as fast as mine, almost fluttering. He was frightened. Afraid that I'd see something he didn't want me to see. And that something was hidden behind the mask and deep in his soul. Knowing that, I grew calm. I watched as Erik crumpled and I awkwardly rested a hand on his shoulders. I realized that I was beginning to feel an emotion myself that I hadn't felt before, and quickly quashed it.
"Erik, you are the most perplexing man I have ever met." I murmured soothingly. I took Erik's face in my hands and looked him directly in the eyes. "You are a murderer and a criminal, yet I am incapable of feeling scorn for you. Perhaps it's out of my gratitude for you saving my life."