Disclaimer: Even if I had the entire cast chained up in my basement, I still wouldn't officially own The Phantom of the Opera.
Title: Peccata Mundi
Summary: The history of a man lies behind his white mask and his devotion to those in need. Through the shadows of his past and the light of the future, he seeks to right the wrong.
Assignment 1: The Nightingale
Summary: With his night terrors growing steadily worse, Erik must find the strength to locate a kidnapped woman. Will he be able to discover and protect her before it's too late, and will he be able to correctly distinguish between the past and the present?
Author's Note: Sorry if this chapter seems a little pointless. I guess it gives a smidge away about the mystery of Erik, while still being subtle. I just wanted to show his devotion to his work and a little something more…Oh, and I really like his encounter with the owl. Don't ask me why, it's just neat and it just…fits…
Chapter 7
- Endless Night
Time passed quickly when one thing possessed the mind entirely. People passed quickly on the streets, exchanging curious glances. Birds chattered and flew from tree to tree, not as interested in the 'spectacle' so much as the humans. The clouds shifted from one point in the sky to another. The little bell clanged a few times. And the sun eventually began to dip below the horizon, casting shadows from their hiding places and covering the town in darkness. Still, Erik waited.
Nothing could distract him or tear his gaze away. He was focused on the task at hand and wouldn't budge to geysers exploding around him. His eyes were intense and hard, cold even. He forgot about his posture and expression within the driving force. His legs were crossed in front of him, while he was supported by the lamppost behind him. One arm cupped the elbow of the other, which was up toward his face. His hand encompassed his chin in deep contemplation. The look he wore brought out wrinkles that came with the job. A large frown weighed down his jaw.
That and the addition of the white porcelain mask were enough to assume the worst about him. That's why a majority, if not all, of the passersby couldn't help casting inquisitive glances or unsettling glares his way. He received each one unfazed and uninterested. He had blocked them out quickly. No longer could he hear the whispers as the pedestrians hurried away. No longer would he dare look in their eyes to read what was on their minds as they conspicuously stared. They thought the worst of him in a moment when he was trying his best to solve a mystery and aid a poor old man in his last request. They didn't know this. Still, Erik waited.
Finally the realm of darkness was upon the town. The once crowded streets were now barren. It was rare to find anyone out after dark. The night was a time for drunks and no good people. Sometimes there would be a group stumbling home from a party, but this was still scarce. Everyone knew what waited in the deepest shadows and dimmest corners. Nothing good came from the darkness.
Despite this unspoken curfew rule, Erik remained stationed in the same spot he had held the entire day. He hadn't moved a muscle to the change of time. He was not a normal citizen. The darkness did not frighten him. He knew it all too well. It had, in fact, become an unrelenting part of his life. There was no way for him to escape so he had stopped trying long ago. Instead, he learned to tolerate it and its inhabitants.
"Monsieur?" an old man with a broom moustache addressed him. Erik didn't take notice of his guest. "Monsieur, I must light the lamp. Will you move?"
Erik didn't answer. He remained where he was, not a single movement shaking his body. The old man simply nodded and proceeded with his job. With the long pole, he opened the glass container at the top then set the oil within it ablaze. Immediately, the circular perimeter was alight by the flickering flame. The man closed the case and, after taking another look at Erik, continued on his way to finish his task.
The lights were still on. Every other shop on the street had closed and the owners had gone home long ago, but he still remained there. Obviously, there were many reasons why he would stay later. Perhaps he was working on some instruments or creating some of his own. However, Erik wasn't convinced that easily. He had his own suspicions about what was occurring inside that shop.
He had watched Monsieur Richeleau go through normal closing routines at the beginning of the night. He had swept up, wiped down the counters, straightened the displays. Then he took his leave to that infamous backroom. It had only been about an hour ago that he had disappeared behind that heavy curtain separating the public area from the private area.
Erik was wary, waiting for the right moment. He didn't want Monsieur Richeleau to finally notice that he had been, and was still in the process of being, spied on. In fact, he didn't know why, but he was slightly surprised that he hadn't been caught. There were enough gawkers during the day to draw attention. Besides, he was directly in front of the main front window of the instrument shop. If Monsieur Richeleau had merely glanced outside for a minute or two, he would have noticed the strange man with the mask hovering outside on his every movement.
Erik believed he had put enough time in between Monsieur Richeleau's retreat and his advance, so he decided to finally move. It was the first motion he had made all day since becoming attached to the pole. He straightened in stature and strolled slowly toward the shop. He took the familiar route around to the back that he had discovered earlier that day. Each step he took was soft and easy. Even though the alley was devoid of any light, he still seemed to function like it was midday. He avoided anything and everything that would give away his position. He was careful, sneaky.
There was definitely a good amount of sound emitting from the room for that time of night. It helped him assess where exactly Monsieur Richeleau was standing. Erik went all the way to the end of the line of windows where the sound was the faintest then carefully propped himself up so he could peer inside. The stool he used was little more than a cardboard box. However, he had renounced meals time and time again, and was left with a very thin frame and low weight in consequence. Now was the time when he would show Madame Giry that his habits were just fine.
Within the building, Erik could just make out Monsieur Richeleau on the opposite end with the large barrel of bronzer he had carried in earlier that day. Erik knew he wouldn't be able to be seen, but continued to remain low and still and quiet. It was hard to actually see what was going on with that tub, but he assumed that it must relate to getting the top off. A weird prying noise was what he had heard when approaching. He could now see that it corresponded to the forceful motion Monsieur Richeleau was busy doing. However, by the rather violent effort and minutes that flew by without much success, Erik guessed it wasn't working out too well.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, there was a loud sucking noise and then a big pop! Monsieur Richeleau lifted the lid off of the white barrel and placed it on the table next to him. He moved away to retrieve something from his desk, giving Erik a fairly good view of the contents. The bronzer was dark and thicker in density. If that liquid wasn't kept in motion, either, it would harden quickly. That was something else that confused Erik. Monsieur Richeleau was going to have to use this stuff soon or else face the consequences. But what could possibly need that amount of bronzer?
Suddenly, catching him off guard, a large gray object swooped down on Erik's head with a loud shriek. Erik ducked, almost falling from the box he stood atop of. Instantly his body froze. He listened and waited. There was no sound. Had Monsieur Richeleau heard the commotion? Was he going to come outside and discover Erik's whereabouts? He had no answer to these questions. He just kept telling himself to remain low, remain quiet, and remain still.
Meanwhile, his eyes searched the area for whatever it was that had almost decapitated him. A low fluttering of wings off to the side caught his attention. He turned his head in that direction and spotted a large gray owl land nearby. The bird let out a small hoot and blinked at him. This became fairly peculiar to him. It seemed like he was now the one being spied on and this bird was the watcher.
"Where'd you come from, little fellow?" Erik questioned the creature.
The bird cocked its head to one side. A small smirk slowly formed on Erik's lips. He found himself relaxing around the bird without even meaning to. He felt connected to it in a strange way that only the nocturnal beast could understand.
"You and I are one in the same, my friend. We are both predators of the night," Erik whispered to it.
The bird's head turned to the other side. Its large eyes remained fixed on him with all their perplexity and savagery.
"Like you, I, too, am on the lookout for prey."
"Who?" the owl asked back.
"That has yet to be determined, my friend. But I'm close. I feel it. I'm very close."
Sound erupted from inside the building. Again, Erik froze. He pressed himself against the dirty wall. He turned his head toward the door, expecting it to open at any moment and Monsieur Richeleau to walk outside. He could see the entire scene playing out in his mind. He was done for. The entire search he had spent on this man would be over in the blink of an eye.
But Erik continued to wait. He didn't know how long he spent hugging the wall and waiting for the worst to come true. The sound had stopped what seemed like hours ago. The only thing he heard now was his ragged breathing. He began to wonder if he had assumed wrongly. Light still fell on the disgusting pavement in front of him, so he knew that Monsieur Richeleau hadn't left the shop yet. But if the previous noise hadn't been him trying to get to the source of the disturbance, then what was it?
Erik cautiously extended to his full height. Holding his breath, he peered through the glass and into the workshop. The air in his lungs was released in a questioning gasp. It was empty. It was completely empty. He had lost sight of his prey, and was now lost on what to do. Still, he believed the man hadn't returned home yet. He would never leave the shop in such a state.
His muscles went lax in confusion and he no longer cared how inconspicuous he should be. Somehow Monsieur Richeleau had found a way to escape his gaze. Had he noticed Erik's presence after all, then? Did he feel the need to get away because of this? Erik was thoroughly bewildered. He had thought he knew most of what there was to know about the place. He had definitely not seen any type of door or other passage besides the front and back entrance.
He examined the empty room with his gaze. No sign of life at all. He ceased his exploration when he reached the spot Monsieur Richeleau had been occupying. His eyes went wide and panic seemed to strike every nerve, even though he couldn't necessarily pinpoint why. The large barrel of bronzer was missing. The spot it had occupied on the wooden table was empty, except for the lid.
Erik turned away from the window and hopped down from the cardboard box. He didn't know what to make of the situation. Both Monsieur Richeleau and the bucket of bronzer were missing, and he had no idea where to. How could he lose his main suspect and an important part of the investigation in such a short amount of time? He knew that bronzer meant something, but he wasn't about ready to make a prediction on it quite yet. He just couldn't conclude on anything.
"One step forward, two steps backward," he mumbled to himself. "I will find him."
"Who?"
Erik glanced upward quickly just in time to see the owl, which had been perched in the same exact spot the entire time, took flight with a couple flaps of its wings.
