The account of Monsieur Erik, concerning the premature death of one Vladimir de La Chance.
Vladimir, she'd said, when I'd reached for my lasso. Save it for Vladimir de La Chance.
I'd made to fetch the weapon to frighten her off. Killing Desrosiers would do nothing for me, bring no satisfaction, and would only make my few allies turn their backs.
But that name. The way she'd screamed when she said it and ran off...
I'd frozen in my seat as she rushed out and sat there for a number of minutes, coming to terms with it.
Why was he here? He must have tracked us down, and if he'd already cornered Nikki, it wouldn't be long before he showed up at the lake.
Of course, I supposed I could simply siren him into the water, rid myself of the problem there and then. But where was the fun in that? Where was the joy in seeing my revenge play out for the years of torment he put me through when I had to make sure I could breathe in the water and he couldn't?
Murder had not been on the agenda tonight, not on my to-do list unless absolutely necessary. But I grabbed the lasso, fetched my cloak and felt hat and left Monkey Nadir and Ayesha to fight over the warmth before the fire.
He will pay. He will pay. I will have my revenge. He will pay.
I pulled my felt hat down a bit as I made my way up through the cellars, testing the lasso between my hands.
He will pay. And what a debt he owes!
I carried on, up and up towards the surface, checking to see if my black Volto mask was sitting correctly; one must not look slapdash when committing murder, after all.
I found the man - if one could call him such - wandering the halls near the servants' quarters with a lit lantern to hand. He was testing each door, peering in the ones that would open and then carrying on. Looking for one of us, no doubt. To find Nikki is to find Erik, after all, and to find Erik is to find Nikki. Though as far as I was concerned, she was in the Bois with the bastard child of Luc Desrosiers, and perhaps dead, although I didn't find that entirely likely; Nikki was no stranger to ferrying people to their graves.
I pulled the lasso through my hands and followed, keeping to the shadows, waiting until he'd turned each corner to catch up. I watched and followed like that for a few minutes, just observing, noting things about his character and pace. Quick and tense. I knew the walk all too well; I'd done the exact same thing in my younger days. Clearly, he was untrained. Whoever he was searching for, he wanted to find them as soon as possible but had no experience of hunting.
Five minutes in, I grew bored of my little game and drew the lasso through my hands with a soft crack. Vladimir's head snapped up and he froze. I pressed myself back against the wall.
"Who's there?" His voice cracked as it echoed through the corridors. The light of his lantern swept towards me, gliding along the floor like an Arabian sunrise. I pulled my cloak around myself and chuckled. "Show yourself, man! Why are you hiding back there?"
I heard him take a cautious step in my direction, followed by another, then another, the floorboards creaking as he made his slow advancements. I pulled my felt hat over my face a little more and stepped out into the candlelight.
The lantern lowered as he breathed a sigh. "Monsieur! You gave me quite the fright! Why, I was almost tempted to believe in the Opera G-"
I lifted my head, inches at a time, and caught his eye. He sucked in a breath, eyes wide. The lantern fell to the ground. The glass cracked.
"No..."
"Bonsoir, Vladimir," I said in a low voice, muffled slightly by the mask covering my lips. He backed away, finding the wall behind him with his hands. His eyes never left my mask.
"Pierre-"
He didn't have time to yelp as I lunged, catching him by the neck. It came out as a strangled gurgle. I lifted him from the floor, pinning him back against the wall, knocking whatever breath he had left from his lungs. He kicked against me, gripping my leather glove with both hands, staring into my eyes in blind terror. I chuckled and felt a shiver run through his spine.
"How the tides have turned, Vladimir!"
"Let me go," he spluttered, turning a slightly lilac colour. The sight sent a surge of adrenaline through my veins. With a grin, I squeezed a little tighter.
"Whenever did you let me go?"
"Pierre-"
Another squeeze. He choked, gripping my hand tighter and turning a deep purple quite rapidly. His eyes rolled slightly. I hushed him.
"Now, now. We mustn't wake the servants, must we, Vlad? Busy day tomorrow, all that cleaning and whatnot. I'm sure Nikita will be very disappointed in you if she can't stay awake at work because you made a commotion."
"What... what do you..." He tried to swallow, but choked again and kicked the wall. My other fingers twitched, aching to wrap around his throat, to squeeze the life from him and see those light grey eyes go out like a candle.
But not yet. I'd waited twenty-five years for this night. I'd enjoy every minute of it.
"What do you want?"
A sly smile crept across my lips, the effect somewhat numbed by the mask. But still, he saw my eyes as they narrowed and his own went alarmingly wide again. In one, quick movement, I let him drop to the ground. He clutched his throat and gasped for air.
"Go on," I purred, winding the catgut around my hands. "Erik will give you a headstart. Just like you always gave him before you chased after him in the woods with the other boys."
He froze on the floor. I imagined he'd cry out and beg forgiveness as the hunter became the hunted. But, to my glee, he scrambled to his feet and sprinted into the dim hallways without his lantern.
Another rush of adrenaline; it was the rosy hours of Mazenderan all over again. I would relish in every moment.
As Vladimir disappeared into the shadows, I took a different path, out through a secret exit rather near the Rue Scribe gate, keeping the swishing of my cape to a minimum. The cold, January night kept prying eyes averted as I slipped through the darkness and hid in the shadows by the front doors. Any moment now...
The doors flew open. Vladimir stumbled out, panting like a foxhound. He doubled over, trying to catch his breath.
My heart beat like a hundred drums. Adrenaline, ecstasy and a sharp need, a stab of anticipation, coursed through my blood. I took a deep breath to steady myself; I hadn't felt this alive since I'd killed Buquet. How I'd missed the rush that murder brings!
Vladimir straightened. I seized my chance. Three long strides were all it took.
He spotted me a fraction of a second too late. The lasso whistled through the air. Vladimir screamed. I tugged, giving a cry of delight when he hit the ground like a brick, kicking and writhing for his life at last. My smile only grew. I knelt by his side, turning his face to mine. With one hand keeping the lasso tight and turning him purple once more, I raised the other to my mask slipping it off and simply watching.
With a face like a grape, Vladimir spluttered at the sight before his eyes.
"What's wrong?" I purred, forcing his gaze back to my face when he tried to turn away to gag. "You used to love pulling Erik's mask off and laughing. Why so silent now? Have I not become more handsome with age?"
An irony struck me and I couldn't help but throw my head back and laugh. "I am Don Juan! You hear that, Vlad? I am Don Juan Triumphant, aren't I? Erik is very handsome, you know! The Sultana of Persia once remarked that he had the face of a celestial being, you hear? Ah yes! Erik is a sort of Don Juan of the Underworld! Ah, Vladimir! How can you know my good looks if you keep turning away? You never used to do that."
All the while, I'd been tightening the noose, and all the while, he'd been growing quieter and quieter.
"Pierre-" he mumbled, his hand falling from the lasso and resting on the frosty stone.
"Game," I snarled, lowering my face to his. His everyday joke from twenty years ago would be the last thing he'd see, I'd sworn that. "Set."
I yanked the lasso. Snap! His eyes stared into the street, frozen in terror forever. I stood, uncoiling the catgut and tucking it back into my cloak.
"Match."
Alive.
Free.
Power.
I was invincible.
The managers got quite the shock early the next morning to find one of their guests slumped at their table in the office.
