Chapter Eight

Erik scowled at his name, signed messily on the page. The young man he had met previously, Marc if he could remember the name correctly, sidled over to look at the design over Erik's shoulder.

"Leroux?" he asked, "that's your last name, huh?"

"So it would seem," Erik grumbled, unable to change his mind now.

"Right, you're French," Marc chuckled, "I forgot. You don't have an accent when you talk, so it's hard to tell you aren't from here."

"Good to know," Erik murmured.

"You done with that already? It seems like you just started."

"It's a restoration project," Erik answered dryly, "not an incredibly difficult task. Anyone with a lick of talent could easily finish the designs with just as much haste."

"Ah," Marc said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers, "well, I have some work to finish. I'll talk with you later then."

Erik made sure that he didn't speak with the other man for the rest of the day by leaving early, with the excuse of wanting to see the restoration site. His new boss was impressed with his dedication and allowed him to leave, expecting a report the next day. Erik of course agreed to the terms and made his way from the building to the church he was to assist in restoring.

It didn't look to be an overly difficult restoration job, though he had known that from the start. Much of the old stonework needed to be redone, as the masonry was crumbling in many places. Other than that though, it seemed to simply be a job of restoring the building to its former beauty, and that was where the real challenge would be. There was so much that could be done when working on a church.


"You're back early," Angela commented as Erik walked onto the rooftop.

"I am," Erik agreed.

"Well then, perhaps I could make use of you," she said matter of factly.

"I am a rather useless person," he said.

"I would like you to accompany my daughter," Angela said, "she needs to pick up a few things, and I cannot go with her. I would very much appreciate it."

Erik sighed quietly, "I see. Well then, I suppose I should find your daughter."

"She will be in the kitchen," Angela said, "She knows what we need, so just listen to her."

"I was never very good at listening," Erik murmured, wandering back into the house to find Amelia.

She was in the kitchen, just as Angela had said, and turned to greet him, "Oh, good afternoon!"

"Your mother wanted me to accompany you to the market," Erik stated, "You know what you're doing there?"

"Oh, um yeah," she nodded, quickly grabbing a large basket, "thank you."

Erik couldn't say that he was particularly fond of shopping, but there were far more unpleasant exercises that could have been asked of him. After all, following an adolescent girl from store to store wasn't a very difficult task. The most difficult part of it was the conversation that accompanied the trip.

"Are you enjoying Rome, signor?" she asked cheerfully, inspecting some sort of vegetable.

"Thoroughly," he replied.

"It's such a beautiful city," she continued, "We used to live in the country, well a small country town. Rome is just so much grander than that."

"I should hope so," Erik said, humouring her as she continued to inspect different vegetables.

"You're French, correct?" she asked, smiling when he nodded, "I've always wanted to see Paris, ever since I was a little girl. I bet it's a beautiful city."

"It is a fair city," Erik murmured, trailing her as she purchased the food items.

"Only fair?" she asked.

"Once you live somewhere for a long enough period of time, it loses its charm," Erik explained.

"Oh," she said, heading down the street, towards the bakery. In all honesty she was expecting more from Erik, maybe even a conversation. Unfortunately it didn't look like that would happen. All the answers he gave her were reluctant and vague, certainly not easily expanded upon.

"This won't take very long," she said, leading him into the bakery and walking up to the counter.

"Splendid," he muttered, standing near the door as she waited to be served.

The man behind the counter greeted Amelia cheerfully, giving Erik the impression that he knew her. It wasn't really all that surprising, it seemed like many of the shop owners, or those who ran the fruits and vegetable stands, knew their customers well.

"Will that be all?" the man asked.

"Yes, thank you," Amelia answered, handing him the appropriate amount of money.

"Very well," he said, "have a good evening then."

"You as well, signor!" she said cheerfully, turning and heading towards the door, which Erik opened for her.

She thanked him as they stepped back into the streets, and Erik couldn't help but be relieved that they were finished with the chore. He wanted nothing more than to return to the house and go down to the basement.

"Will you be joining us for supper tonight?" Amelia asked.

"Perhaps," he replied.

"Madre would like it," she commented.

"I am aware of that."

"Well then why don't you come?" she asked.

Erik shrugged, "I am not particularly fond of sitting down for meals. They are a bit too personal for me."

"Oh…but you must be hungry?"

"I eat very little, and only when I need to," he answered, though inwardly he would admit that he was eating even less lately than he usually would. He often thought that his time in England had affected his eating patterns, seeing as they had insisted on his presence at the family meals. Truthfully, he missed them a little. Occasionally they had been rather pleasant.


Giovanni was surprised to hear that Erik had gone to the market with Amelia. From what he remembered, Erik had scarcely left the house when he had been apprenticed to him. In fact, he could remember quite clearly the wariness that the boy had suffered from when around other people.

"He's a rather interesting man," Amelia observed, "he's so dark and mysterious."

"I know, dear," the old man answered.

"I wish I knew more about him," she continued, "I mean, he lives in the house, but we see so little of him, and he wears that mask all the time. I wonder what's under it…what do you think, nonno?"

"I think that you should leave well enough alone," he scolded. The girl was acting like Luciana.

"Well of course!" she gasped, "it would be terribly rude to ask him about it. I would never dream of doing that."

"Good girl," Giovanni murmured, knowing that Amelia had a good head on her shoulder, and certainly a more level one than his youngest daughter. Still, he knew that Erik was quite an attractive figure, as well as a dangerous one. He hadn't seen his temper yet, but he figured that it was just as volatile as it had been so many years ago.

"I have to get the table set for supper, nonno," Amelia said, flitting towards the door, "it should be ready soon. I'll come get you then."

"Thank you, dear," he smiled.


A/N: Wow, I am tired...and shall now go to bed. I'll try to update again at some point...maybe next week. I don't know, I have so much stuff to do right now that I don't have time to breath. Which is fine, because I already tend to not breath for moderate lengths of time (seriously, it is an odd habit). Please leave a review.