Chapter XX
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Celeste remained in shadow, sitting perched on her heels at the outskirts of the pond, ready to take off like the wind if need be. She tried to resist the fear that sought to strangle her and wished she could still her raspy breathing, a dead giveaway to her location.
Clapping a hand over her mouth, attempting to blend into the scenery, she held onto the trunk of one of many tall trees surrounding the area and looked back the way she'd come.
How could she have been so stupid? Days ago, long before she located a job at the manor, she'd felt the strong urge to remove the token from within the money pouch she'd hidden beneath a loose floor plank. Maybe it hadn't given her the protection she sought, but she felt an uneasy fascination for the strange crystal ring, its facets dim and no longer blinding to her eyes. Nor had it burned her hand. She felt it had … drawn her. As though a voice inside her head whispered to put it on. She'd found a piece of worn leather cording and hung the ring around her neck beneath her shirt. But those men had seen and now knew of her treasure. Worse, the nobleman seemed to recognize it. Surely he would now contact the gendarmes, who then would insist upon her identity and find her aunt.
She shivered as another link of fear chained around her mind. It would almost be better to pretend idiocy and be thrown into prison than be forced to tell all, though Celeste cringed from the thought of either punishment. And what if that lecher who attacked her had died? If she killed him, she could be executed.
She must leave Whiterose, leave Rouen – neither place held safety any longer. Closing her eyes, she bowed her forehead to the rough bark of a tree.
"Caught you!" A man's triumphant words shattered her peace at the same time a strong hand grabbed the back of her collar and hoisted her to her feet. In panicked defense, she reached for her filched dagger and with one swift motion sliced his hand.
"Agh! You damned little wretch!" The nobleman released her, but in one skillful move, he knocked the knife from her fist and grabbed her arm with his other hand before she could escape.
"Let me go!" she yelled. "Don't touch me!"
"Not until you answer my questions." The man's angry eyes bored into hers. "Where did you get that ring?"
"I-I told you. Someone gave it to me."
"Who?"
"My aunt."
"In the stable you said it was a lady."
"My aunt was a lady."
He shot a scornful look at her ratty top and woolen knickers. Dirty hanks of shorn hair lay in ragged clumps over her head and her feet and calves were dirty and bare.
"She was poor," Celeste added another layer to her lie. "Her husband died from consumption, and she lost everything because of his debts."
"Very well. Let us go and speak with her." He pulled her along.
"She doesn't live in town," Celeste said quickly. "She's dead."
"How opportune for you," he sneered. "Pardon me if I disbelieve your story." He shifted her so that her back slammed against his chest. His other arm shot like a band of steel around her middle, preventing her escape, and he forced her to walk.
"Where are you taking me?"
"To the only place for a boy who relies on deceit and thievery. To the gendarmes."
"Wait!" Celeste dug her heels into the moist earth. "If I promise to tell you where I got the ring, will you let me go?"
"I make no promises to thieves." He tried to push her along but she raked her jagged fingernails along his arm, struggling. She clawed at the hand she'd cut. With a rough curse of pain he loosened his hold. She twisted around and broke free. He darted a look to her neck.
"Give me that ring!"
She clapped her hand over it, realizing it had again flown loose from within her blouse.
"Is it yours?" she asked, taking a step back.
"That's not your concern."
She didn't run. As close as he stood, he would catch her. She took her first good look at her captor and knew he must be the mistress's nephew, recently arrived at Whiterose. The Vicomte de Chagny. Before today, she had only seen him from afar. Though handsome and slender, the nobleman was also formidable and strong. Blood dripped past his fingertips. His mouth thinned in impatience.
"If it's not yours, why do you want it?" Celeste stubbornly countered. "Maybe you're the thief and only want the ring for yourself!"
She cringed, knowing he could beat her for her insolence. That he wore the fine clothes of a wealthy nobleman made her accusation of thievery absurd. A man of his rank could buy a hundred rings of this nature. Yet not all nobles she had met were noble.
Her words, instead of maddening him further, seemed to baffle him and he stared at her.
"What is your name?" he demanded.
"Ce ... Cedric." She almost gave her true name before remembering her disguise.
"The ring you wear around your neck is no ordinary ring, Cedric. It has the power to discern the heart and can be dangerous in the wrong hands."
She wrinkled her brow in confusion.
"You look at me askance." He chuckled but no humor rang through the sound. "But I sense my words also bring with them revelation. Perhaps you, too, have discovered the ring's secret."
He walked a step closer, and she drew back. The strange words he spoke and his intent expression alarmed her. Her heel brushed against a thick tree trunk. Pinned, she darted a frantic glance up to him.
"The ring," he went on with another step, "offers protection to those whose hearts are pure, but for those who bear wicked intent ..." He stopped in front of her, his fingers wrapping around the leather cord before she realized what he was about. " ... it can be the object of their swift destruction." With a vicious tug, he snapped the cord from around her neck.
"Oh!" Celeste clutched her stinging skin, circling her fingers around her naked throat. "Does not your taking the ring from me make your intent just as evil?" She doubted the truth of his claims regarding the ring, certain he'd only spoken such things to frighten her.
He ignored her question, studying the double tier of crystals that composed the ring, a circle of ten around one stone. He scowled and his eyes burned as he looked at her. "I know the woman to whom this belongs. She was not your aunt but my intended!"
"You're wrong." Celeste spoke before she thought. "It belonged to no woman. The man carried it in his money pouch, and the woman was his."
At her blurted response, his eyes again snapped with blue fire. He grabbed her by the shoulders in a merciless grip and shook her. "How do you know the man carried it in his pouch? Did you take that as well?" When she gave no reply, his fingers dug into her flesh then released her with a swift motion that had her falling back against the tree. "By God! You did! You left them in the wilderness with nothing!"
"He has his horse," Celeste argued, finding it useless to try to hide her crime.
"You little fool," he continued his rant, oblivious to her words. "I'm sworn to protect her. Your act of greed has put Miss Daae in grave danger, to a worse degree than she already was." He paced away, pushing a hand through his fair hair in anxious fury. "I must leave for Spain with all haste."
He mumbled the last words to himself but Celeste heard him. "I can take you to them."
"What?" He swiftly turned to look at her, his face a puzzle of confusion from his thoughts.
She didn't trust this nobleman. Yet he'd taken no liberties with her. She had fooled him into thinking she was a boy, despite that his arm had pressed against the slight curves of her budding womanhood when he'd forced her to walk with him. Since he had not noticed then, surely she could maintain this charade. She wished to leave France but knew the dangers of journeying alone, especially if her disguise was uncovered. Though it was ironic, she felt she would be safe in his company.
"I overheard them say where they were going. I'll show you."
"If you mean to Seville I'm well aware of that."
She narrowed her eyes at his dismissive attitude. "They spoke of other things besides Seville. I listened to their conversation, though they had no knowledge of it."
"Tell me all you know!" He made a move toward her.
She backed away. "Only if you take me to Spain."
"What makes you think I would allow you, a thief and a liar, to ride with me?" He gave a sneering laugh. "The only place for a boy like you is the jailhouse. Perhaps a night in a cell will help loosen your tongue."
"Non!" she cried as he again grabbed her and began walking with her. "I can help you! Honest, monsieur! My brother – he was a tracker and taught me. Please, do not turn me over to the police!"
The gendarmes would discover her identity, she knew it, and her aunt would learn of her capture and that filthy lecher would come for her again – if he was still alive. And if he wasn't, it could mean her death. She struggled, kicking at his boots. He swore but didn't release his hold.
"Be still, boy!"
"Non! I won't go there – I won't!" Helpless tears filled her eyes.
After more of her struggling, the nobleman suddenly pushed her from him. She stumbled and fell to the grass.
"Be gone with you then," he commanded, "and never show your face at Whiterose again! The day you do will be the day you commit yourself to a cell in prison."
He turned on his heel so fast, Celeste barely had time to think. Baffled, she watched him storm away in the direction of the stable. Had he really let her go? Though she begged for freedom, she could scarcely believe he'd granted it. But he now had her ring, and she wanted it back. She doubted his claims concerning it. Before he spoke of Spain, she had never thought of going there. Now she would. And she would reclaim her ring.
Determined, Celeste kept to the shadows far behind the Vicomte and returned to the stables to hide and wait.
xXx
Erik heard Christine's shout and whipped his startled attention from the top of the funnel toward her. Doubly amazed to see her galloping toward him on his stallion, her expression as resolute as a warrior goddess, he scrambled up from where he'd been knocked to the ground by the force of the wind and raced her way. She brought Orion alongside him. With the ease born of agility and a lifetime of need for such swift moves, Erik jumped onto the saddle behind Christine, reclaiming the reins. He turned Orion toward the mountain of rock and urged the stallion into a fast gallop.
One hand clutching Orion's mane, one arm along Erik's that encircled her waist, Christine darted a look behind her, past Erik. Alarm made her catch her breath when she saw the windstorm had died down. The lights that shot inside the rapid current of air now flickered dimly.
Erik tightened his hold around Christine as he reined in Orion. The stallion reared up on his hind legs. Christine clutched both horse and Erik in a death grip. They managed to remain seated while he brought Orion under control. She swung her gaze before them to see what would cause Erik to bring their escape to such an abrupt halt. For the second time she sat speechless, her eyes stunned.
"What does it mean?" She twisted her head around to look at Erik.
His expression just as bewildered, his mouth had fallen open in shock. "I don't know."
She looked back to the foot of the mountain, where a white light shone as brightly as the sun from the wall of rock far to her left. It reminded her of the presence they left in the forest days ago, the light that led her from the Phantom's dark realm. Behind, she heard the wind cease. Rain began to pummel the earth.
"Erik! We cannot stay here!"
He nodded tensely and urged Orion into a fast gallop toward the mysterious glowing beacon. As he approached, an aged man in white robes seemed to step from nowhere, out of the rock, a staff in his hand.
Christine gasped in alarm. Erik cursed, again bringing Orion to an abrupt halt. This time when the stallion reared, the stranger held out his hand in authority, palm outward. Orion immediately quieted. Eyes wide, Christine stared at the strange man. His curly white hair and beard hung past his shoulders. Below that, Christine saw the symbol of Light, the same as she wore, hanging from a chain around his neck.
"Come." His wizened face lifted to them. "There is no time for delay." With that he seemed to vanish inside the mountain. As he did, the white light followed him.
Erik hesitated, and Christine shot a glance behind. The windstorm barrier had all but disappeared, but their pursuers had not. Even now, one of the horsemen raced past the dwindling current of air and toward them.
"Erik, we must do as he says – he's a friend, I know this. We cannot stay and risk capture!"
His nod abrupt, he guided Orion to the place where they last saw the man. It was then they noticed the six-foot crevice in the tall rock, only visible as they moved within a few feet of it. The gap stood less than two feet wide, and Erik eyed it with doubt. Orion would not fit through the fissure.
"Leave the horse." The robed stranger appeared at the opening, confirming Erik's concern. "Bring only what is necessary and come quickly."
"Who are you?" Erik demanded.
The old man shook his head. "It is enough that I know who you are, Erik, spirit of Music, King of its realm." Erik's mouth parted in stunned disbelief that he would know him, but the stranger continued, his tone untroubled, "If you do not wish your intended to wind up in the hands of evil men, you must release your horse and come with me at once."
Erik shared a quick look with Christine then removed the saddlebags. With no time for a farewell to his faithful friend, he stroked Orion's neck once, before turning him in the opposite direction of a nearby forest. The rain drove into the earth, blinding in its fury. With their pursuers far enough away, they could be tricked into thinking Erik and Christine still rode the stallion. With a slap to the horse's rump, Erik exclaimed, "Go, mon ami! Lead them on a merry chase. You are free."
The horse nickered, and Erik gave it another swift slap. He told himself the rain brought the moisture to his eyes. "Go!"
Orion charged away, his powerful legs churning up mud as he galloped toward the forest. Erik took hold of Christine's hand and swiftly led her to the cave entrance, the door into the mountain. He moved through the crevasse, and she followed.
The old man had again disappeared.
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