Chapter 36

Christine's POV

Erik didn't waste any time in ushering us out of the building. As he swept me deftly through the barrage of people outside of the theatre, my mind raced with a thousand questions, but I knew now was not the time to ask. I didn't know where we were going, but I knew for Anya, and for Erik, I would walk through Hell barefoot.

"Christine, I need you to sit in the back and change quickly," Erik ordered. I was confused at first, until a black SUV pulled up and the passenger side door was opened by Amir. Erik sighed, whether in relief or in resignation I wasn't sure. "Right on time, old friend."

"Of course," Amir scoffed. "Get in. Christine, I'm glad you are safe."

Erik practically carried me into the backseat, not allowing me to lift a finger as he buckled me in and shuffled several articles in the seat opposite mine for a green duffle bag. Handing it to me, he commented, "Save the pleasantries until later Amir. Get us to 59th Street and let me know when that ambulance arrives at the house."

"Darrin is on it, Erik," Amir replied too calmly. Erik ripped off his scarecrow mask, the tactless removal forcing out a painful hiss between his teeth. Amir turned his attention from the road to Erik for a brief moment, watching him intently as he donned his usual white porcelain half-mask. Flexing his fingers on the wheel, Amir reiterated, "Everything will be alright."

The car suddenly lurched forward around a corner through traffic, causing the bag in my lap to nearly scatter its contents onto the floor. There was a pregnant pause, allowing me to focus on finding the make-up remover that would get this green goo off of me. Only after I started wiping my cheeks did I think to ask, "Why are you sending an ambulance to the house?"

Silence.

Craning my neck to view Erik's profile, I saw the tightening of his jaw and immediately knew why an ambulance was being sent to the house. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. My mouth was dry, and it suddenly hurt to swallow. Clearing my throat, I found some semblance of my voice, "Is she… what happened?"

"Antoinette was shot," Erik replied empathetically. Another pause, "She was conscious and speaking calmly during her call, so I don't believe it will be fatal. As awful as it sounds, we do not have the time, nor the energy to waste right now on worrying about her. We need to stay focused."

"I know," I admitted, scrubbing harder at my make-up. The majority was off, but some spots were stuck there no matter what I did. Shrugging it off I pulled out a pair of jeans from the bag and slipped them on under the skirt of my dress. Once they were on I rummaged around for the shirt I knew would be in there.

Erik snuck a quick glance over his shoulder, turning back to face the road before warning, "Keep your eyes trained on the road, Persian."

"Of course, why would I…" Amir paused as he heard the rustling of fabric from the dress. He released an aggravated noise, something between a defeated sigh and a growl, before shouting, "Dammit Erik, I am a happily married man!"

"I am quite aware of that." Erik replied nonchalantly.

"Then why are you treating me like some-some teenager?" Amir huffed.

I bit my lip as I slipped the black cotton t-shirt over my head, suppressing an involuntary laugh from escaping. Erik glanced back once again, knowing I was dressed before replying, "Just checking, I never know with you."

Erik laughed and that finally broke my resolve, forcing a few giggles out of me. Amir was left flabbergasted, fumbling for words before he began to scold us. "This is a fine time for you two to be laughing! Buquet has Anya, and we're about to waltz right up to his doorstep to-to what? Hand him Christine?"

Erik sobered quickly at that, leaning back further into his seat. He replied with that same rigidness that I knew meant he was planning, "Of course not. We are handing him me."

"Erik, I don't believe that is wise." Amir warned, "If you turn yourself over to him then Christine and Anya are as good as dead."

Erik steepled his fingers together as he focused on the road ahead, "Not necessarily. We know he wants Christine for two reasons; the first is to get to me, and the second is to settle an old score. He decided to go after Anya instead of Christine tonight, which means that Madeline fed him correct information and incorrect information. I don't think Buquet knows who Anya is."

"She's incentive!" I blurted as I realized what Madeline must have told him. "Right now, he thinks he has my daughter."

"Exactly." Erik clarified, "And no matter what happens we are going to keep it that way."

"Agreed, but… besides that, what is the plan here?" I asked.

Erik shared a look with Amir before he confessed, "There is going to be a moment where Buquet will not be focused on you, and in that moment, I need you to get Anya and run. No matter what, do not stop and do not hide, just run."

"Right," I scoffed. "Just run and let you get killed?"

"Buquet is no match for me." Erik replied confidently.

"So you think." I gritted my teeth, "I'm not letting you go in this alone, Erik. You've done everything you can to help me, let me help you."

"Christine," Erik warned in that commanding tone. "I can't stop him if I'm worried about you and Anya. You know this, I know this, and I have no doubt that Buquet knows this. For once, please, do as I say and get yourself out."

Reluctantly I agreed, "I will get Anya out Erik, I promise."

"Thank you, Christine." Erik replied, an underlying forlorn acceptance deepening his voice.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, the fifteen-minute drive flying by in seconds. When we arrived, I was surprised to find that the part of 59th Street we were stopping on, was Fletcher Cemetery! I felt my jaw loosen slightly, wondering why on Earth we were meeting in a cemetery and feeling a chill run down my spine as I remembered how I had been traipsing around this very cemetery two nights ago, alone and unarmed.

Erik was speaking to Amir, but the words were lost to me as my eyes focused on a mausoleum further back from the entrance. Two cars were parked around it, and if I focused I could see dim lights flickering inside as well. My fixation on the building was broken when Erik opened up my door for me. I climbed out, being pinned by Erik once the door was shut. In his hand was a small pistol, no bigger than the size of my palm.

"No," I shook my head. "I can't, Erik."

Pain was clearly written in his eyes, his jaw tightening as he nodded empathetically, "I know… which is why you have to. I know what I'm asking of you, but…

"Don't make me do this," I pleaded. "It scares me."

Erik's eyes held mine as he grasped my hands, the pistol held between the two of us. He swallowed hard once then explained, "Christine, please, don't think that I don't care. I do, more than you can possibly imagine. It's only because of that that I ask this of you now. If something goes wrong, then every hope and prayer of getting Anya out safely rests on you."

Reluctantly, I took the pistol, making sure the safety was on before stowing it in the back of my jeans under my shirt like I had seen men on TV do. Erik nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to my forehead before wordlessly gesturing for me to follow him. I did, watching an exchange of looks between him and Amir before we began our trek towards the mausoleum. Erik made sure to stay in front of me, his right-hand straying behind him occasionally, as if to make sure I was still there. Once we approached the two open doors, his hand strayed a final time. In an effort to reassure the both of us, I slipped my hand into his, squeezing tightly once before letting go.

The moment our hands disconnected, two large men flanked us, followed by a third that appeared from around an unseen corner. He faced us, or rather Erik, as he asked, "Anything to declare?"

"Not in front of the lady," Erik grinned.

"Check him for weapons," the man spat. Erik didn't flinch, holding still as the two men patted him down, finding a gun and two knives on his person. The man looked to me before waving the brutes off, "Don't bother with her, the boss already knows about her."

Erik gave no physical tell, but I could feel the relief wash over him as the man escorted us around the corner he appeared from, and down some stairs that I knew shouldn't be there. The man elaborated on this as we descended.

"As far as secret bunker's go, I think this one is the most ideal. I mean, not everyone can have a cushy construction set up of course. However, no one is ever here at night, and when we want to get rid of the trash we just find a recently dug hole."

My stomach roiled at the idea, and I thought I was going to really be sick at the sight that greeted us once we reached the bottom. Anya was chained to a pipe that was sticking out from the ground, forced to kneel in the dirt due to the shortness of it. Buquet was crouched next to her, what looked to be a hangman's noose clasped in his hands. Erik stopped first, halting me and pushing me further behind him as I mouthed to Anya, 'Are you okay?'

She nodded once before Erik boomed, "You were expecting us?"

"Ah, yes." Buquet smiled as he stood fully, "Old friend, how are you? And, Christine. Always a pleasure to see you again, how did the show go? Good I hope, for you to leave this lovely lady home alone. Shame really. If she had been at the show you all would probably be home now drinking tea."

I heard a growl reverberate in Erik's chest as Buquet sauntered towards us. He motioned for his men to stand down, leaving them to guard, what looked to be, the only entrance and exit out of this pit. The third man, who escorted us here, pulled a chair from the corner and sat next to Anya, fingers drumming on his thigh. I noticed the unusual scars on his knuckles and flinched when he smiled back at me. I recognized him.

"I think this will be a nice reunion," Buquet laughed. "As I can tell from Christine's expression, she remembers Gleb here. She actually shattered two of his fingers with that little window stunt all those months ago."

"Three actually," Gleb was all too happy to correct.

"Three!" Buquet shouted in delight. "Erik, my friend, I must confess that I am envious of you. Not for your looks of course, but because you sure do know how to pick the ladies. She's a perfect match for you. A murderer, and his murderess."

Erik's fists clenched, and my stomach dropped at his accusation. Anya called out defiantly from her position on the ground, "You're a liar! She never killed anyone!"

"Shut up, brat!" Buquet roared, storming over and ripping Anya up by the head of her hair, causing me to lurch forward while Erik held me back. "I think you have officially outlived your usefulness. I don't need you as bait anymore."

"Buquet!" Erik warned, "You have me, and that's what you want. Let Christine and her child go, there doesn't need to be any more bloodshed than necessary."

"Oh, but it's necessary," Buquet spat. Dropping Anya, he made his way towards us again. Erik braced himself, fists clenched and ready for a fight, before Buquet pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at his head. "We don't have time for chivalry, not if we want to hear the good parts of the story."

I willingly stepped in front of Erik, allowing Buquet to rip me away from him and drag me towards Anya. Gleb stood from his sitting position and took the noose from Buquet, who placed the loop around my neck and pulled tight. My airway wasn't restricted, but I felt my heart hammer in my chest as Gleb slung the rope over a higher hanging pipe. He pulled hard once, causing me to choke before Buquet cursed, "Dammit, you wait for me to give the signal! Try something like that again and I'll put a bullet between your eyes!"

As if to prove he was serious I heard the click of the gun being cocked. I glanced towards Anya, who was red-faced and crying. I tried to tell her it was okay, but my head was forcibly turned towards Erik in that moment by Buquet. I noticed then, what I hadn't noticed before. Erik was visibly shaking, tears in his eyes as he attempted to keep himself upright.

"Here's how this is going to go," Buquet dictated. "Before I kill her, I want Christine here, to tell everyone what happened all those years ago. If you're going to die they all deserve to know why. If you, or anyone, argues your innocence, then I shoot the kid and then you. If anyone attempts to free you, I shoot the kid, then you. Either way sweetheart, you're dead. But, your actions determine whether the kid lives or dies."

"Buquet," Erik pleaded. "You have me, just-"

"Shut up!" Buquet boomed, giving Gleb the signal to pull, forcing a choked cough from my lungs. "This is for all those years of being forced underground, thanks to the two of you. I told you I would pay you back for everything, and I can't think of better torture than this. Now, Miss Daae, if you please, from the beginning. You and your parents were hiding upstairs when…"

Yes, please don't hate me! I am almost finished with the next chapter, and I promise that it WILL be updated next Friday. I really missed this story and am so sorry for the long hiatus. Good news though, I finished my bachelor's degree a year early, and am currently engaged in the interviewing process with a large News station in my hometown. Anyway, so glad to be back and wrapping this story up! PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! 8D