A/N: Thanks for reading and all your lovely reviews. I wish everyone a happy and safe New Year!

Chapter 10

Nadir was momentarily surprised to be greeted only by Erik at the door to the underground house. Normally Émilie came as well, clinging to her father's leg while Erik cried, "Get off, you insolent monkey!"

This time he did not see the little girl until he was settled in his usual seat on the sofa. She was on her stomach on the floor, a number of open books spread around her. So absorbed was she that she did not bother to greet her honorary godfather and demand her customary gift.

"What is she doing over there, old man?"

"Reading."

Erik seemed in a strange, short mood today. He always made Nadir to feel as if he was intruding on some matter of great importance, but today it felt like walking in on something intimate. This was a family, never mind how strange, and Nadir was the outsider.

"Reading?" Nadir exclaimed, doing his best to ignore the cold welcome. "She is not yet three years old. What is she reading?" He got to his feet and went to look over Émilie's shoulder. The open books were filled with colored pictures and tall, childish letters. Written in red. "You made these books for her, my friend? You are truly a craftsman. What stories did you write?"

"Christine's father's."

Suddenly the little girl was before them, clasping a book to her chest.

"Papa," she asked, "will mama be up from her nap soon? I want to read with her."

With a smile, Erik looked over at his daughter. "Very soon, I think, mon cœur."

"Erik!"

The masked gaze fell upon Nadir, curiosity at the outburst evident. "I must apologize for my wife, Daroga. She was very tired this morning. Erik kept her up rather late last night."

"Erik!"

"Why do you keep shouting Erik's name?" he snapped impatiently.

Nadir was speechless. The madness wasn't gone. Not in the least. He had known Erik still spoke to his wife, but he had not imagined that Erik could hear her speaking back. How long had this been going on without his notice? Nadir was sure there had been a time when Erik knew Christine was gone, but when had his fevered, despairing mind had brought her back? This might not be the single minded obsession with the young opera singer or the desperate murderous rage, but this quiet delusion seemed no less dangerous.

"Erik," Nadir whispered gravely, "Christine is dead."

It took a moment to register; Erik had returned to gazing at Émilie and only slowly did his focus come back to the Persian, the golden eyes shining through mere slits.

"Do not insult my wife," he said dangerously.

Sensing conflict, Émilie was before her father in an instant. Erik pushed her aside and commanded she go to her room.

"No, Émilie will stay here!" the little girl shrieked.

"Erik, she's talking to her dead mother! That isn't healthy for a child."

"Stop saying that! Émilie, go to your room!"

"No! I will not!"

"Stop shouting!" Erik screamed. "You'll wake Christine!"

"Christine is gone, Erik!"

The masked man covered his ears and howled.

"Papa!" cried Émilie just as loudly.

At that sound, Erik lifted his daughter off the floor with one hand at her collar and carried her to her room. He pushed her inside and locked the door. The sound of her angry fists on the wood echoed down the hall after them.

"Erik, how could you let her think her mother is alive?"

"Her mother is alive. Christine is Erik's living bride. She would not leave him."

"What will happen when Émilie leaves here and enters the world?"

"So that's it, then? You tell these lies so you can take her away from me? You are wrong. She will never leave. I will keep her here forever. She cannot leave me." He began to pace in the narrow hallway before the door to Christine's bedroom – guarding it, Nadir realized, to keep the Persian from storming in and waking Christine. Or, perhaps, storming in and finding there was no Christine to wake. Nadir couldn't be sure and Erik was rambling on. "Erik can never have Christine fully. He must share her with the world, he knows this now. She is too beautiful for poor, hideous Erik to keep all to himself. But Émilie is his. She is from Erik's darkness. He made her! He alone loves her! Can Erik not have this one joy? Please, he asks humbly, let him have Émilie. He will keep her safe, here, with him forever!"

Suddenly Erik froze and turned to Nadir as if he had just remembered the man was there at all.

"I fear I must ask you to leave now, Daroga," he said mildly. "Christine is never much in the mood for visitors after a nap. But please, do come against next week. I'm sure she will be glad to receive you then."

"Don't think I won't come," said Nadir even as he was physically pushed toward the door. "This will stop, Erik. I will not let you continue like this."

Nadir didn't return for several months. New traps had been set in the passages down to the fifth cellar. Not to kill, merely to deter and wound. Nadir had had quite enough of being caught in Erik's traps for a lifetime though. When he did return again, he did not speak of Christine.