They've met… sort of… Selena hasn't actually looked at him yet.
I forgot to mention it before but I tend to put some quotes from either the novels or musicals in most of my chapters so if you ever find any leave it in the reviews and if you are correct you get a snippet card ;)
Disclaimer: I own nothing except Selena. Everything belongs to either Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay and Andrew Lloyd Webber.
CHAPTER 6: ANGEL OF DEATH
Spring 1851, Tehran – Selena's POV
Bahar had dressed Selena in the most indecent red she had ever encountered, only made worse by its revealing cut that showed far too much skin for Selena's liking. Despite her horror, she was perfectly aware why such an outfit had been chosen and shuddered at the thought.
Selena had considered many options throughout the night including escape and even the mortal sin of suicide but Bahar, likely understanding her position, advised her to bide her time, to understand the Persian ways if she were to have any chance of survival, even if it meant losing her purity.
With her survival instincts taking precedence over her fears she allowed Bahar to hand her to a man she introduced as Nadir Khan, and two guards who would accompany her.
The guards' faces could not be seen behind their helmets but Mr Khan was wearing only minimal armour. He was shorter than most men she had seen and appeared to be in his 30's. Despite the brutality of Persia, there was an air of kindness about him that relaxed Selena. He looked at her with something akin to sympathy and nodded, though he did not seem as concerned for her as everyone else. Why would such a kindly man allow her to be carried towards her doom was beyond her comprehension?
She said her goodbyes to Bahar as Mr Khan waited surprisingly patiently. When she deemed herself ready, he began to lead the way and Selena followed, the guards behind her to prevent any escape attempts.
The walk across the palace felt like a funeral procession to her. They walked slowly but Selena found herself disinterested in the colourful gardens and intricate interiors around her, preferring instead to look at the ground as if looking ahead meant staring at her future in the face.
They strode for a while, reaching an empty and desolate wing that, despite its beauty, looked like a tomb. Their steps echoed menacingly as they climbed the steps that would likely lead to the Angel of Death's rooms.
She continued to look stubbornly at the ground as the man opened the door, seeing only his perfectly polished shoes. Even as the man granted them entrance, she did not look up.
The man and Mr Khan talked briefly and she was surprised by the melodious baritone that she heard, especially when contrasted with Mr Khan's tired, hoarse voice. The voice sounded like that of an angel, not a devil. Then again, even the Devil was once an angel and it was dangerous to underestimate someone's cruelty. She had learnt that from the Khanum.
Curiosity finally forced her hand and she looked at the man who would now control her future. Nevertheless, though she may have lost control of her fate, she refused to give him the satisfaction of believing so. So, she looked up while giving him the most furious look she could muster. It must have faltered immediately, however, when she looked at him.
She had expected a Persian like those she had already seen but before her stood an abnormally thin and tall man whose face was completely covered by a black mask, only his piercing golden eyes adding colour to his otherwise sombre appearance. He was clearly European though she did could not discern from where. He looked down at her, though his mask impeded her from determining what he was feeling.
He was unlike any man she had ever met.
Nadir Khan looked once between the two of them before saying something to the guards and together the three left, leaving Selena and the man alone.
For a long time the two merely stared at each other, unsure of what to say. Finally, the man seemed to come out of his stupor, addressing her in perfect English.
"I am Erik and I have been told your name is Selena Turnour, correct?" Selena only nodded weakly. His tone promptly turned from formal to jovial as he continued. "Please come, sit. I shall prepare you some tea. I also have some sweet biscuits if you are interested."
He was indeed unlike any man she had ever met.
Despite her plan to protest, Selena found herself sitting on a chaise lounge in the parlour. She watched him walk with a cat-like elegance to what she assumed was the kitchen, returning shortly after with a tray of tea and biscuits.
As he poured the tea she wondered why he bothered with formalities. She was entirely at his mercy. He did not need to flatter her with fake civility only to take advantage of her later in the night. Was it his plan to attempt to make her lower her guard through flattery and mock-kindness? If it is it will not work.
She was also wary of drinking the tea, fearing it might be drugged. Erik must have noticed this because he placed his tea down.
"I did not put anything in it if that is what you fear," she said with a sigh.
"Then why do you not partake?" Selena replied with as much courage as she could gather.
His eyes darkened considerably and for the first-time Selena caught a glimpse of how dangerous the man before her was. "Because to do so causes me discomfort in this mask. I assure you, you do not want to see me without it. Either way, I care not if you drink. I was merely trying to be civil."
"Why bother? I'm sure you will be taking advantage of me soon enough!" Selena cried out.
"No," Erik replied coolly.
"I beg your pardon?" Selena asked, incredulous.
"I said no. I do not make it a habit of mine to force myself upon unwilling women and I shall not flatter myself and believe you are willing. You shall stay with me for your own safety but I shall not go near you if you do not wish it."
Selena eyed him sceptically. "So you allow me to stay? Out of the goodness of your heart? What do you want in return?"
Erik's voice was barely a whisper, "No more innocent deaths on my conscience."
The reply struck Selena to the core. Though she wanted to know what he meant, she also felt like having that knowledge would haunt her. Erik noticed her curiosity, however, and indulged her.
"Do you believe you are the first concubine the Khanum has offered me? The last one cried and I sent her away. A week later the Khanum called upon me. I watched the girl die a slow and agonising death. She was barely fifteen. Still a child." The emotion in his voice was making the eloquent man's speech sloppy, Selena noticed, and it terrified her almost as much as his anger. "The Khanum laughed as she died. I killed that child by not making her stay. I will not make the same mistake with you. So, you shall stay with me."
After the revelation, the room descended into awkward silence again. Erik seemed lost in thought but Selena was desperate to fill the uncomfortable stillness.
"You said your name was Erik," she started hesitantly. "I find myself at a disadvantage. You know my surname but I do not know yours."
"That is because I do not have one. My turn. How old are you?"
Selena was startled that her attempt to question her new host had backfired so quickly. "I am seventeen. I shall be turning eighteen next winter. What about you?"
"I am nineteen I think."
"You think? How can you not know?" Selena asked doubtfully but was only met with a vicious glare.
"Come with me," Erik said, standing.
Selena found herself with little choice but to follow him. He led her through a corridor and into what she assumed was his bedroom. At this realisation, she shot backwards out of the room and glared at him betrayed that he would lie to her and attempt to abuse her trust.
Erik turned at her flight and glared at her. "These will be your rooms for now. I find that I am unused to guests and have not found any reason to furnish a guest room. Tomorrow we shall go to the market to procure the required items for your room. We can also purchase any clothing you may need and any food you may want. Goodnight."
With that he turned to leave but Selena stopped him. "Wait! What about you? Do you not need a place to sleep?"
"I do not sleep much. I will come in the morning to procure some clothes. There is a lock on the door, you may use it if you see fit." He turned to leave but then remembered something. "If the Khanum asks you about me try to burst into tears and claim that I am a violent and horrific lover and beg her to relieve you of your service. That should amuse her for a while."
"Will she relieve me if I ask?"
"Of course not." Erik laughed, a strange sound that was more melodious than his speech, despite its mocking tone. "But if she believes you are suffering you will be of little interest to her. She does so hate happiness in her court."
After he left, Selena began to explore her new surroundings, though first she made sure she locked the door. She briefly wondered if he might not have an extra key to open the door but decided that thinking about that would do her no good. Her life was in Erik's hands, a fact that she had no choice but to accept. Trust, however, was something she would not give. The man wasn't called the Angel of Death for nothing, of that she was sure.
The room could only be described as dark, a stark contrast to the gentle creams she was used to. All furniture was made of dark mahogany and his linens of a deep red. The walls were covered with a black wallpaper, decorated with grey fleur-de-lis. So he is French, Selena assumed, explaining Bahar's interest in her knowledge of the language, though she did not understand why she would need it if Erik was also fluent in English.
Overall, the room blended the Persian and European styles perfectly, becoming an intricately woven chamber of East and West, accentuating all their best features. The room also looked like a catacomb, dark and dreary… waiting for death.
Shuddering, she opened a side door, finding it to be an entrance to a bathroom, furnished with everything one can dream of, including, to her delight, plumbing. Even the bathtub had taps for both warm and cold water!
She was startled by a knock at the door, opening it cautiously to find Erik on the other side holding what appeared to be a bundle of clothing.
"I realised you would have nothing to wear," he said, "You may use this until tomorrow. Then, we will find you something more suitable."
She muttered a muted thank you before closing and locking the door once again.
She found that he had given her one of his white dress shirts, which would easily reach her knees, and a simple red dressing gown for modesty. She changed gingerly, expecting the fearsome man on the other side of the door to come barging in at any moment but he never did. The house was eerily quiet so she assumed he must have left altogether. At least that meant that she would be safe… for now.
He was a strange man, who reminded her of a fallen angel, cast out for some mortal sin.
She knelt before the bed and, for the first time in weeks, was able to pray without fear that doing so may remind the infidels around her that she was not Muslim, potentially leading to horrific tortures to make her convert.
Oh Lord, you have seen fit to test me by sending me to this strange land. I know not what your plan is, be it to test my faith in you or some other matter entirely. But remember that I will dedicate myself fully to your service. I need your guidance too. I know nothing of the man that I am now bound to. Is he the Devil, sent to tempt me into sin and hedonism? Is he an Angel, sent to guide me through a land of blasphemers? Help me Lord, for I am lost.
Finishing with an "Our Father", for lack of a rosary bead, she then lifted herself onto Erik's bed, falling asleep quickly with dreams of angels and demons battling in the sky.