A/N: Thanks for your lovely comments! And special shout-out to fopoftheoperahouse for following!
Chapter 24: Erik, 1883
The first signs of autumn are visible when I make my way back to Giovanni's house and the fresher air makes breathing easier. I have not once been seduced by my opiates and consequently feel almost too alert, too sharp, too aware of the slight aches and pains in my body that I've come to associate with old age.
It may have only been a week but somehow it feels as if an entire lifetime has passed in the meantime and I fear that my encounters with Anne may have been nothing more than a beautiful dream that I shall be shaken out of much too soon. That strange feeling lingers forebodingly and it is with great restraint that I stay within the shadow of the wall, instead of allowing my feet to carry me to the doorstep. Inside, the lights of the house shine warm and invitingly but without a sign from Anne I daren't step closer.
After a while, it begins to drizzle and I draw my hat over my eyes while the rain coats the rooftops and slickens the streets. When I next glance up, Anne has stepped out onto the balcony and is gesturing me forward.
"Forgive me," she calls, "I still haven't developed a grasp of what precise time "nightfall" is."
My heart grows light at the sight of her and within a few strides I am level with the balcony.
"I presume your family is occupied otherwise?" I ask and she nods.
"Supper with the future family in-law."
My lips curl into a smirk in amusement when I realise that she has managed to weasel out of yet another formal affair.
"I don't know about you," she interrupts me suddenly, "but I'm catching quite a chill out here."
I forego explaining that my body is usually cold and walk away from beneath the balcony and into the house. I wait for her in the foyer, my cloak and hat dripping onto the marble floor.
"How very inconspicuous of you, Erik." She remarks dryly when she sees me.
"What would you have me do? Go back outside, wring out my garments and hang them up?"
"Let's just move on down to the cellar." She laughs and gestures. "I was afraid you might start reciting Romeo and Juliet had I given you another moment."
The implications of her insinuation bring a flush to my face that remains fortunately hidden from view thanks to my mask.
"After I had called Othello "less refined", you truly expect me to favour Romeo and Juliet?" I ask teasingly and, once in the cellar, remove my cloak and hat and place both items on the door handle.
"No," she laughs light-heartedly, "truth be told, I'd be amazed if there was one play that you had nothing to quibble about."
"Are you saying I'm finicky?" I challenge, sweep the sheet off the press and collect a number of candles from the nearby crate.
As I glance over my shoulder I can see her desperate struggle to hide the grin that is threatening to spread across her face.
"Are you saying you're not?" she finally asks in return and helps me light the candles.
I hum and feign pondering my answer for some time. "I would certainly admit to being particular but as far as I can tell there is nothing wrong with that. Easy satisfaction can lead to complacency and complacency is the death of the artist."
"Oh very well," she waves with a playful roll of the eye, "tell me at least one of his plays that you thoroughly enjoyed."
I shift towards the press now and within an instant she is by my side and helps me lower it onto the floor. Before starting my work or answering her, I move back to the corner to examine the new tools and materials she has managed to purchase.
"King Lear," I reply after some consideration.
She gasps in surprise and looks very nearly offended. "You can't be serious."
"Whyever not?" I ask confused.
"He is nothing but a tyrannical old man who got what was coming to him."
"Now that is utterly simplistic. Lear was never tyrannical…if anything he was foolish." I sigh. "He required flattery to make a hard decision and overlooked that true love at times does not require either a great declaration or a grand gesture. The moment he realised the truth about his oldest daughters he went mad with grief and in the end, he lost what was most precious to him. I am surprised you chose to overlook the strength of Cordelia or the redemption Lear undergoes."
She shrugs simply and smiles.
"I've only ever liked Kent. His loyalty and dedication are remarkable."
"May I advise you to re-read it then?" I tease her and she narrows her eyes at me.
"If I do so it will be at my own leisure and not because you have decided I ought to change my mind."
"Perhaps we should avoid further discussions of Shakespeare's works?" I offer while settling down on the ground with the tools.
"Not at all," she hurries to say, "I take great pleasure in a good debate."
"That's just as well. I doubt we'd go very far without disagreeing on something."
"That's something I find rather refreshing about you, Erik," she confesses after a while, "you don't feel the need to change yourself to win my favour. You feel…real…" She pauses and exhales deeply, "including all the smooth details and rough edges."
I begin telling her that I no longer wish to twist myself for any man but suddenly notice the change that has overcome her. The embers of mirth have died in her eyes and are replaced with a look of utter sadness. Her shoulders seem hunched and heavy and her teeth keep tugging away at her bottom lip in a nervous gesture I had not noticed before.
"Are you unwell?" I enquire carefully.
Several times she opens and closes her mouth yet doesn't speak a word. She seems desperate to tell me something but in an agonising battle with herself, not even a single sound makes it past her lips.
"You mustn't tell me if it upsets you so." I try to calm her. "But if there is anything I could do to offer assistance, please let me know."
But my words only seem to upset her further and for a dreadful second I fear she might burst into tears. I couldn't tolerate it. Yet somehow the moment passes and she composes herself again. "You are already doing enough." She offers along with a half-smile. "In that case permit me to distract you at least." I say and begin assembling the nickel-cadmium battery that will power my drill. "Perhaps you would like to hear another story?"
She swallows nervously and nods with great reluctance.
"If you prefer keeping to yourself?" I ask puzzled and she reassures me quickly.
"Don't be offended, please. I seem to be in a strange mood. Do tell me more. Perhaps about Persia? I believe I didn't hear the whole tale?"
"I believe I had stopped at the point when I had saved Nadir's life and disposed of several bandits?" I ask, pulling a candle closer to examine my progress on the battery.
"Nadir? The Nadir Khan from the correspondence was the man that came to take you to Persia?" she interrupts incredulously and I chuckle.
"Why of course."
"But you called him "the little man", "the buffoon"?"
"Yes?" I nod, breaking into a grin.
"But he is looking after your money?"
I confirm her words again and she frowns.
"If he's your friend you have a very odd way of showing it."
At this sentiment I laugh heartily. "Perhaps that's true. He is my friend now but I barely knew him then and he was rather a pain with all his grovelling and moral preaching. Come to think of it, he still is a pain."
"I trust you made it to Persia in the end?" she asks and pulls the mattress back down to the floor to make herself comfortable.
"Yes, but instead of taking me directly to the court in Teheran, we first went to Nadir's home. As the chief of police and a descendant of one of the many royal lineages he possessed a fair estate in Ashraf. It was there that I first made acquaintance with his son, Reza."
I pause overwhelmed by emotion that young boy stirs in me even now. Anne swiftly senses the change in me and inches closer to rest her hand on mine.
"Is it a sad story that you have chosen to tell?" she asks with great kindness.
"The boy had already lost his sight when I met him," I continue with great effort and am embarrassed by the hoarseness that taints my voice, "I did not take me long to realise how ill he truly was."
Her eyes fill with compassion and I have no doubt she can guess the outcome of the story. Nonetheless, she listens with quiet intensity.
"Nadir had been told that it was nothing more than a childish malady that would pass in time. So it fell to me to break the truth. Reza was a delightful and gentle soul and I did my best to make him comfortable, knowing very well that sooner rather than later he'd suffer more and more. What a cruel God He can be…to bring children into this world only to make them suffer."
My body shudders under the immensity of my feelings and Anne's grip on my hand strengthens. I close my eyes and breathe in and out, willing myself to relax in the meantime.
"Forgive me, I should not have started there. Nadir had already lost his wife and now he was going to lose his son as well. But as I said, I entertained him, I lit up his world with my voice and my magic and in the end it was me who killed him."
She frowns and seeks out my eyes. "You killed him? How?"
"I gave him a poison that put him to sleep so he would not suffer any longer." I reply in a monotone voice.
"Erik," she seems caught between annoyance and pity, "then you didn't kill him, much like you didn't kill Luciana. She suffered a tragic accident and he…well, you relieved his pain. Thanks to you he could rest easy."
"In the eyes of God it is still murder…" I mutter quietly and ignore her scoff.
"Well, we've already established that neither of us pay particular heed to him."
When I fail to react she nudges me gently and chuckles.
"You must stop thinking that everything is automatically bad just because it happened by your hand."
"Once again, you are demonstrating far too much kindness. Perhaps allow me to enlighten you to my further adventures in Persia. You may change your mind."
"You seem to have convinced yourself of that." She remarks with a lingering air of amusement.
"Ashraf was a special place…it didn't possess enough charm to make it feel like home but Reza, despite the tragedy of his illness, brought an innocence that helped me recover from the horrors of Teheran."
"You mentioned Mirza Taqui Khan before. Was he part of those horrors?"
"He would have liked to think so," I hum, "and perhaps he was if my throat is any indication."
I brush my fingertips over it and feel her eyes burn my flesh. Before I can indulge in further fantasies as to the most satisfying path her lips could take, I continue.
"In a rather whimsical turn we began loathing each other upon our first encounter. He referred to me in some derogatory, some might even say vulgar terms and I at once recognised a man frightened that a loss of power may be imminent."
"But surely that was nothing more than paranoia. Had you not only been hired as a magician?"
"You underestimate me if you believe so," I laugh amused and work on settling the battery in the drill I've devised, "the Grand Vizier might have been a boor but foolish he was not. As the days passed in Teheran I began to grow more influential which meant that the Shah favoured my input over that of his Grand Vizier. I knew that my good fortune was not to last long yet I was prepared to savour it…I must admit that it entailed playing one side against the other to maximise profit for myself."
"A dangerous game…" Anne comments quietly, "and one that seems quite beneath you."
"Perhaps," I sigh and spread my hands, "but do not forget that I was a much younger man and took pleasure in simple things."
"Such as drugs?" she challenges and I laugh in amusement.
"Material goods, Signorina, jewels and coin, exquisite fabrics, perhaps. But if you must know, I did develop a taste for opiates in Persia. Nadir suggested them to me in hopes of calming my troubled soul. He couldn't have known that no amount would be sufficient to sedate me appropriately."
"How did Mirza Taqui Khan come to place glass in your drink though?" she asks curiously.
"The climax to a long series of events…" I hum and position myself over the shell of the press to achieve the best leverage for drilling, "you see, the Shah was a young man much as myself and behind him was his mother, the Khanum, a ruthless woman, truly in charge of the court. She ruled over the concubines and often required my attention. When her son hired me to build a palace for him she grew jealous and…demanded I'd help her in building some rather unsavoury things for her."
"Such as?" she frowns.
"Torture chambers…torture devices mostly. She possessed an astounding knack of seeing right through me…right to the heart of my perverted, twisted existence. And she knew just the right tricks to ensure I didn't leave her side. But be that as it may, in a strange turn of events I was one night offered a slave girl. You see, she was to share my bed that night."
I start the mechanism that lets the drill come to life and work on creating the first hole. When I glance at her, Anne seems to have grown pale.
"Naturally a great honour but in my case it was solely done to ridicule. The Khanum knew very well what I looked like, had forced me to remove my mask at our first encounter and I have no doubt that word had spread all across the harem."
I pause and focus solely on the work for a moment, trying to swallow down the bile that has risen up from my stomach.
"In a moment of weakness I begged that slave girl to lie with me. I promised that no harm would befall her but she screamed and screamed…"I can feel myself shiver. "I had her taken away and she was publicly executed the following day in a chamber of mirrors I had designed. Despite the shame she had caused me, I was furious. What a despicable culture! What terrible folk! And so I gave a rather…blunt show of my disdain."
Anne's eyes are still firmly resting on me though she seems unable to ask any questions.
"I gave a performance that revealed the shah for the puppet he truly was and portrayed the Grand Vizier as a skeleton. I suppose the crushed glass and poison was the just reciprocation."
"In a world of barbarians perhaps." She says quietly. "But it saddens me that you allowed yourself to be corrupted like that."
I put the drill aside and inspect the hole before fitting the first set of cogs, wheels and rollers. Her disapproval is harder to shrug off, however.
"Perhaps you are at last getting a taste of who I truly am?" I suggest but in response her face clouds and her brows furrow.
"I wish you'd stop putting words in my mouth. I do realise what you're capable of, I just wish you wouldn't equal your nature to your face. The appearance of one does not give you the behaviour as well. You have choices but for some reason you've chosen to play the role of monster that's been suggested to you. I thought we'd agreed that roles are limiting."
"I didn't have a choice." I insist stubbornly and drill a second hole before fitting the other set of rollers.
"If that is so then it's a shameful waste of your potential." She decides and at once my body feels hollow as if her disappointment has carved out everything that's kept me alive.
I can't bring myself to respond, fear that every word would be another failure and instead keep working until the press is fully assembled.
"Where do you live now, Erik?" she asks; perhaps she has sensed my subdued mood.
"Near the hills of Monte Mario. There's a field of unused farmland and a cottage with a dark blue door."
My voice sounds empty and lifeless.
"May I come and visit you there from time to time?" she probes and I look up surprised. I do not understand why she'd want to or how she can be so puzzling.
"If you wish." I nod and together we carry the press back to it corner.
"Of course, and you can tell me how to run this machine now that I assume it's finished?"
"It is and I shall," I nod and cast the sheet over it.
"Would Tuesday suit you?" she asks happily.
"You know I am always available." I smile carefully and she nods.
"Tuesday it is."