1886
Reluctant to involve the gendarmes, the Marchesa arranged for some of her friends at Le Rossignol to fetch and dispose of the bodies. There was a demand for recently deceased humans at the various Universities for study in anatomy and other sciences with no questions asked and at least this prevented grave robbing for a little while. Once they were gone, the three companions worked to scrub the blood from the office before the first of the cast arrived. Trying to keep things as normal as they could for their cast members, Erik and Christine stayed at the theater to oversee rehearsals while the Marchesa returned to the townhouse to see if Tasha had returned.
Without the constant interruptions of their former diva, the company was able to quickly run through the night's show with few adjustments. Erik still took a copious amount of notes during the rehearsals but they were small things that were easily changed with little impact on the show. Christine worked with Collette, teaching her the breathing exercises she'd learned in Moscow, while her mate spoke with the conductor and several members of the orchestra about the few places that still needed some work. By the end of the morning rehearsal, they felt confident in the improvement of the company and gave them the rest of the afternoon to rest before the night's performance. On the way to the office, they were intercepted by the Marchesa who bore a note left at the townhouse by Tasha. A quick scan told Christine all she needed to know and she rushed to the door to flag down a hired carriage. Erik informed the driver that he'd be extremely upset should they take too long on their journey and miss their friend at the rail station. Pale and frightened of the imposing masked man, the driver swore he'd go as fast as possible.
xxxxx
On the other side of Paris, another carriage was speeding towards the rail station. Unlike the hired cab, this one was well-sprung with a matching pair of snow-white horses and a large crest painted on both sides. Inside, the nobleman tried to come to terms with all he had heard from this woman who called herself his "mate". Were there really vampires living amongst them? If so, what else was real? He didn't have any answers but knew where to get them: Tasha. Fidgeting with the top hat in his lap, he hoped he was going to the right place. She'd said she'd leave Paris and France in order to sever the bond between them but he was no longer certain he wanted her to go. Just the thought of never seeing the lovely young woman (vampire?) made his heart jump into his throat. Regardless of what she may, or may not, be, he wanted to pursue the feelings between them.
xxxxx
Inside the rail station, Tasha sat in a secluded corner to await her train to Le Havre. The tickets were secured inside a hidden pocket of her dress and now all she had left to do was wait. And think. She never expected her mate's rejection to have hurt so badly. She knew it took humans some time to accept that there were more sentient beings besides human that walked upon the earth, so she didn't fault him for his surprise and initial disbelief. With a deep sigh, she leaned her head back against the wall and pictured his face one last time before she attempted to bury it deep in her heart forever. Feeling tears welling up in her eyes, she quickly pulled her crimson handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her face. While she was occupied, the inhabitants of both speeding carriages burst through the station doors.
"Tasha!" The years of practicing her projection enabled Christine's voice to carry throughout the busy station. The subject of the soprano's search curled up tighter on the bench and prayed the potted plant was barrier enough for her elder's keen sight. What hid her from her friends, however, couldn't hide her from the gentleman who approached from a different direction.
"Mademoiselle Tatiana! You are a difficult lady to find, did you know that?" Turning at the sound that made her soul sing joyfully, Tasha realized that the mental picture she'd had of him in the harsh glare of the gaslights didn't do him justice. He really was a glorious specimen of man. And he was so far beyond her reach that it made her want to weep anew.
"Monsieur, what are you doing here?"
"I believe we have some unfinished business, mademoiselle. You left before our conversation was completed." Dazed by his nearness, Tasha allowed her mate to help her to her feet which revealed her location to her friends.
Christine practically ran towards the youngling, relieved she wasn't injured in the fire. Erik and the Marchesa followed along at a more sedate pace even though they were also pleased that the girl was unharmed. The Ancient One scolded Tasha gently for giving them all a scare before enveloping her into a tight embrace. There were few the ancient vampire could call friend and she was determined not to lose any more of them. As the three embraced, Erik approached the rather bemused nobleman.
"We should get the ladies somewhere more private for their reunion and there is urgent information for Mademoiselle Alekseyeva that is best not discussed in a busy rail station."
"Do you have a suggestion, monsieur?"
"The Mystère." Erik slowly peeled his mate away from her friend. "Christine, we should take this reunion back to the theater. There is much Mademoiselle Alekseyeva needs to know."
Reluctant to let her friend out of her sight again, Christine agreed. Tasha needed to know Ivan still lived and was coming for her, for them both. Fifteen minutes later and both carriages were heading towards the theater. Inside the nobleman's carriage, the youngling kept her hands tightly clasped in her lap trying to resist reaching for her mate. As the silence between them grew uncomfortable, she searched for something to talk about.
"Monsieur? Why are you here? I promised you I'd leave Paris in order to sever the bond between us; this will only make things more difficult."
"Mademoiselle…Tatiana. I'm not sure what I believe or how much I believe what you told me but I can't deny how drawn I am to you. If you will give me time to adjust and learn, I would like to explore this…bond."
"I'm not sure that would be wise," Tasha whispered, keeping hope from flaring. "The longer we remain close to each other, the harder the bond will be to sever. But, if you wish, I'll speak with the Marchesa and see what options we have."
"She's…like you? A vampire?" It was difficult to say with any kind of seriousness, but he didn't want to risk insulting her again.
"I can't say, Monsieur. Until you have accepted the bond and what I am, I can't share anything further. It's far too dangerous for all of us."
He was about to speak again when the carriage came to a stop outside the theater. Being a patron of the Académie Nationale, he'd never attended an opera in a different theater while in Paris. The building was older than Garnier's masterpiece, but had its own charm and atmosphere. From the posters that advertised the current opera, they were slightly more avant garde than the Académie which sparked his interest. He also hoped they were without a diva who made everyone's lives miserable; no one deserved a Carlotta. He helped Tasha from the carriage and it wounded him far more than he'd expected when she flinched at his touch. Bidding his coachman to return to his estate, he offered his arm to his companion and they walked into the building.
They hadn't even reached the door to Tasha's office when the scent first reached her sensitive nose. Blood. Human blood. And a lot of it. The seductive, forbidden aroma had her wishing she could run far away from the temptation it offered even as she was lured closer. She felt the changes that her mate had scorned so recently as being the result of clever props and make up; her fangs elongated, her nails lengthened into sharp talons, and her eyes shifted to molten pools of crimson fire. She was a young vampire, younger even than Christine, and the predator within was desperate for release. Tasha knew that she had to put some space between her and her mate or risk losing control. Stepping away from him, she held up a hand in warning when he attempted to close the space between them.
"Monsieur, I realize you don't believe that I am what I say, but I must request that, for your own safety, please don't come any closer."
"Tatiana? What's wrong?" Looking around, he neither saw nor heard anything out of the ordinary. Tasha utilized his distraction to close the distance to the office door and increase the distance between them.
Inside the office, everything looked normal but the scent of blood was nearly overpowering to the youngling. Seeing her distress, the Marchesa suggested they take the discussion somewhere less tempting for the younglings. Christine agreed and led them to the room more recently occupied by her current mate, Erik. Slowly, Tasha could feel the bloodlust calming with every step away from the office. Once inside the room, the Marchesa ran through an abbreviated version of the fire at Le Rossignol, their fear that Tasha was within, the discovery of the bodies in the office, and then the letter left as a warning for her and Christine.
"Have the gendarmes been called in, Madame?" Tasha's mate directed his question towards the Marchesa. "Surely this is a matter best suited for their talents."
"And who might you be, Monsieur?" The Ancient One's eyes turned towards the handsome blonde man standing extremely close to Tasha. Her tone was guarded as were her words in telling the events of the night. Revealing themselves to too many humans could prove dangerous to all involved.
"My name is Raoul, Madame, the Vicomte de Chagny." The blonde man bowed elegantly, totally missing Erik's smirk. Tasha, however, didn't and shot a glare towards the masked man.
"Nice. You are a patron of the Académie Nationale, are you not? Then I'm sure you realize that not everything that could be handled by the gendarmes should be. This is one of those things, Monsieur le Vicomte." Handing the letter to Tasha, she continued. "As with humans, sometimes people seek power, strength, fame, riches…the usual temptations and we are forced to police our own. We had thought this particular problem had already been resolved but it seems our information was faulty."
"But…Ivan's dead. We weren't bonded but he was my sire and I felt him die! This cannot be him." As much as she wanted to convince them, Tasha also wanted to convince herself. Her Sire had created then abandoned her and she had no desire to encounter him again.
"Regardless, if this creature is breaking our first rule, then we're going to have to find a way to stop him while protecting those most susceptible. We have to assume someone is watching the theater and reporting back to him. Monsieur St. John will be quite safe in his home for he is not only well-protected there but few know of its existence. The Vicomte will be more difficult unless he is to leave Paris for one of his country homes."
"Nonsense! I am not going to let some ruffian chase me from Paris or make me cower like a scared pup with his tail between his legs."
"Then you will die, monsieur." It was Christine's soft voice that stopped the Vicomte's tirade for it held such certainty. There was no doubt in her mind that his life would end in the same horrific manner as her servants those many years ago. "I've seen this…man's handiwork many years ago. Julien and I offered up our home as a haven to those of our kind; a safe place to rest, drink, or just share in like company. Ivan abused that in the worst possible way. He entered our home, slaughtered our housekeeper in the most violent and violating fashion imaginable then dragged our butler outside, hung him from a tree, and spent many hours torturing the poor man until he, too, succumbed to his injuries. Julien and one other went in search of him to end his murderous unlife and, though my mate never returned, I was certain they had succeeded. He is here now and nothing a mere human, no matter how noble, can do will stop him. Unlike most of our kind, he broke the first rule: he feeds on humans. While that restricts his movements to the nighttime hours, it also enhances his strength, his hearing, his vision, and his speed to supernatural levels."
"Regardless, Madame," the Vicomte interjected coldly. "I will not flee to the safety of the country and allow women to fight my battles for me. Mademoiselle Tatiana tells me we are soul mates. Though I'm still uncertain as to what that entails, I have felt a yearning for her for years. I will not allow her to put herself at risk while I rusticate."
"A noble sentiment, Monsieur le Vicomte, but can you handle yourself in battle? If you are going to be more of a distraction than help, we insist upon you taking yourself away from here." For the first time that night, Erik spoke up and made little effort to hide the disdain from his voice. There was little in a nobleman's life that would prepare the boy for the upcoming battle. The Opera Ghost had spent years perfecting the art of murder in both quick and creative ways as a result of the life he'd been forced into because of the horror of his face. He couldn't imagine the nobleman had done much to sully his hands beyond a horse race or a night of drinking and cards.
"I fought in the war, Monsieur. I'm no stranger to blood or death or filth."
"Very well, Monsieur le Vicomte, but before we go any further, you must understand just what is you will be dealing with. To be caught unawares could be fatal." With that, the Ancient One brought the debate to a close and drew everyone closer to begin working on their plan of action.