Author's Note: I know, guys. These two are an absolute train wreck. Also, I decided to post this one a little bit ahead of schedule because you lovely people got me squealing me in delight when I read your reviews. I honestly don't know what I would do without you guys ― thank you so, so much!
SourPatchJaz: I've honestly forgotten whether or not I've addressed that question before, but yes! I'll be following the canon timeline in the future, although there might be a few deviations to keep things interesting...
( twenty-nine )
MASQUERADE
"Masquerade!
Run and hide
But a face will still pursue y―"
"I still don't understand why we had to pass through this way," Erik grumbled under his breath as the singing from the Bal Masqué persisted in his head even after trying to block out the words and the tune.
"Because of the possibility that we might pass by Mateo," Jovan answered with a roll of her eyes.
The two were currently making their way through an empty corridor in the upper rings of the ballroom. While Jovan walked in the candlelit part of the hallway, Erik hid himself well in the shadows, his talent in ventriloquy helping him to communicate with Jovan who was left with no choice but to look like she was talking to herself whenever she had to answer. Fortunately though, they had yet to stumble upon another living soul, giving them all the privacy they needed to banter. That didn't mean that Erik didn't remain wary of anyone who might come across them, his senses on high alert seeing what the occasion was.
"And why would you look for him in these parts?" Erik prodded.
"He loves to frequent this spot with the others. They love watching the ball," came Jovan's answer.
"And what, pray tell, is so important that you need to see him now of all times?" Erik didn't even bother to mask the irritation in his voice.
"I have a message from Julien that I need to relay to Mateo."
"Can't he do it himself?" Erik snapped.
"You're one to talk! Why don't you deliver your own letters?"
"Keep walking. That's a poor argument and you know it. Besides, what does Julien have to say? A confession of his love, perhaps?"
"That's none of your business, Erik. Actually, that's none of our business."
"Yet here you are, acting as Julien's messenger."
Jovan halted in her steps once more as she turned to the shadows. While Erik knew that he had hidden himself well from anyone's eyes, Jovan was clearly the exception as her eyes immediately found his despite the darkness.
"Alright, fine!" she hissed. "Stay here while I go look for Mateo."
"Not a chance," Erik scoffed.
"Erik, you are not going back below."
"You forget who you speak to, Jovan." Erik answered darkly though he didn't really mean anything by it. There simply wasn't a chance that he was going to stay and watch the Masquerade on his own when he had no desire to.
"Oh yes. The mighty Opera Ghost." Jovan's tone dripped with sarcasm and Erik arched a brow at her, unimpressed. "Erik, I know damn well―"
But Erik didn't give Jovan the chance to finish as he heard laughter and footsteps coming down the corridor. He swiftly wrapped an arm around Jovan's shoulders while he placed a hand over her mouth, effectively silencing her. He then pulled her with him as he backed into a recess of the unlit part of the hallway.
Erik felt Jovan fall still within his grasp, having realized the situation. In the darkness, they watched as a couple passed by them, oblivious. They were donning masks and costumes, all clear indications that they were attendees of the Masquerade. Their arms were intertwined while a flirtatious laugh rolled off the woman's tongue. Good God, why were they up here and not down there?
Once the couple were out of sight, he felt Jovan pull away his hand from her face. "Well, this looks familiar," she whispered, sounding breathless which confused Erik. Why did she sound short of breath?
"What?"
"Although last time I was against the wall. This time, I'm against ― well..."
Erik then became aware of how tightly he had Jovan pressed against his own body, her back warm against his chest. As his mind processed their position, discomfort pricked at his consciousness while the dark creature inside him argued that the way he had pulled her away from the corridor, so differently than he had during the night they first met, was not accidental but by the design of his own primal impulses. As he felt as flash of heat traverse his body, Erik released her from his grasp. Jovan immediately backed away from him but stopped before she could leave the shadows.
Beneath his cloak, Erik lets his nails bite the skin of his palms to drive away the invasive thoughts in his head.
He heard Jovan inhale deeply. "Look, Erik," she began, obviously trying so hard to forget the situation earlier. "I won't be long. Once I find Mateo, I'll come back as soon as I can."
A smirk tugged at Erik's lips. "You'll come back?"
"Yes. For now, I want you to stay here so I can easily find you when I return."
Apparently, Jovan didn't want to hear him complain or protest further as the moment the words left her lips, she immediately turned on her heel and resumed walking down the corridor. She only glanced back a moment later to shoot Erik a reassuring look before she went behind a bend. Once she had vanished from his line of sight, Erik began to move around in the dark, his hands searching for a panel ― he was sure he had a passageway in here ― intent on not leaving but concealing himself for the time that Jovan was gone. After all, having seen the couple passing by moments ago, Erik had no doubt that they wouldn't be the last people who would think of using the corridor he was currently in.
He was about to unlock the passageway when the words from the celebration below wandered to his ears once more, as if to taunt him.
"Masquerade!
Hide your face
So the world will never find you!"
"Erik!"
He had been so caught up in his vexation for the Masquerade that when he heard his name being called, Erik feared that his heart might leap from his chest at his surprise. If he hadn't recognized the voice as belonging to Antoinette, he was sure that his hands would have found their way around the intruder's throat. Though Erik had long forsaken mindless killing, controlling his reflexes was another story.
He momentarily wondered how Antoinette could have easily spotted him before he decided that, perhaps, her eyesight was better than he credited her for. Additionally, he mused that no one would be able to find him unless they were actually looking for him. But why would Antoinette be looking for him? It was not to check up on him again, wasn't it?
"Good evening, madame. I trust that you find yourself enjoying the evening?" Erik answered smoothly as he turned around. Antoinette stood before him, dressed in black and her mask in one hand, while urgency flashed across her expression. Erik's unease was piqued when he saw her expression, and the air around them instantly dampened, the music from below fading into white noise.
"Where's Jovan?" Antoinette asked, her query nearly throwing Erik off balance. What was going on?
"How would I know? Why are you asking me?" Erik answered, nearly sounding defensive.
Antoinette's face darkened with fear. "I've been looking for her for the past half hour! I thought she might have been with you."
"Calm down, Antoinette," Erik hissed, the woman's obvious worry getting on his nerves as he found his own distress rising. "She was with me a moment ago, but she left to look for a friend. Did something happen?"
Antoinette shook her head as she stepped closer to Erik, her voice lowering into an urgent whisper. "Erik, you need to find her. Keep her out of sight. Rémi Sauveterre is here."
The name that left Antoinette's lips turned Erik's veins to ice. "What?"
"Jovan's uncle, Erik! The last time he attended the Bal Masqué was nearly five years ago so I hardly know the reason why he's here now."
Erik's mind began to whirl with questions, the loudest of them being why? But he decided that there would be a time for those things later. He sucked in a heavy breath to steady himself; he had yet to know the reason as to why Jovan was hiding, but Erik knew enough to understand that Rémi meant anything but good news. His apprehension left him as one goal permeated his every thought.
He had to find Jovan.
The corridor was quiet.
Jovan knew that she now walked one floor below the one she'd left Erik on. It was similarly empty, but she already had the misfortune of coming across one Masquerade guest moments earlier. The man had been donning the outfit of a harlequin, the bells of his hat alerting Jovan of his nearing presence which had given her enough time to conceal herself in the shadows. While she had yet to encounter somebody else, Jovan prayed that she would no longer do so. If she had to, she wished that it would only be someone from the opera staff or, better yet, Mateo himself. It didn't help that the carpet beneath her feet made it difficult to discern whether someone was coming from behind her ― while her eyes were fine-tuned to see in the dark, her ears were not as sharp.
Brushing a few strands of her hair away from her face, Jovan huffed as she quickened her pace.
Where are you, Mateo?
In the candlelit hallway, Jovan saw no one coming from opposite direction she was coming from. Relief steadily filled her veins until all coherent thought fled Jovan's mind at the sound of her name.
But at the same time, it was not her name that she heard.
"Nathalie?"
Jovan faltered in her steps as she felt herself grow cold. Claws of ice gripped her heart as all air escaped from her lungs. Her green eyes widening in alarm, her feet stopped moving altogether as her own damn curiosity compelled her to turn on her heels. But Jovan didn't have to turn to know who had called her. The voice was undeniably feminine, but also chillingly familiar.
Behind her, Jovan saw the woman dressed in silks of blue, her blonde hair piled atop her head. Laurine Sauveterre stared back at her, shock written in her crystal blue eyes while her mask dangled from one hand.
Jovan's mind screamed at her to run, to duck into the shadowy part of the corridor, but she only found herself caught in the waves of the past, on an afternoon back in the home of her childhood. The raw memory brought back a sore throb on her cheek, where Laurine had slapped her a long time ago. But suddenly, it seemed as if it had only been yesterday―
How dare you! You dirty, cheap―
Before Jovan could move, a gust of wind rushed down the hallway, taking with it all of the flames that the candles burned with.
In the blink of an eye, Jovan was submerged into pitch black darkness.
