Chapter 54
Two more nights passed in such a fashion as the first. I sat up each night, waiting for Erik to come for me, to surely come for me, but he did not and I began to feel with a sinking sensation of grief in my belly that he meant to make this severing between us permanent. It was an open wound in my gut, a constant sensation of gnawing pain, accompanied by the desperate wish to see him everywhere I looked. Two performances of Le Baudelaire passed without incident, two nights in which I found myself staring up into the catwalks above, searching for even a glimpse of swirling cloak, a gleam of white mask, any hint of his presence...but there were none.
Three nights had come and gone since the night I had last seen him. Aida would open in three weeks and the Bal Masque would take place the night before, on the eve of the new year. And in three weeks, the shop which had posted that advertisement would need its new modiste. I had yet to apply or to submit any designs to them. I had to wonder if I was a fool for not realizing that the man was truly done with me and make plans for the rest of my future without him.
That evening's performance went well.
For the first night ever, there were no alterations or repairs needed. Apparently everyone had at last settled into their costumes and had learned how to move correctly within them now that there were only two weeks left for the show's run.
Backstage, beneath the rafters overhead, I leaned against one of the pillars watching Meg dance her pas de deux. La Sorelli was once again off her legs due to another foolish injury from galavanting with one of her suitors.
Out of the corner of my eye I caught a flash of blue and I turned my head to see Devre DeLuc coming toward me. His face was set in lines of anger, his blue eyes flashing in their sockets.
Underneath the crisscross of light and shadow across his features, the handsome, debonair facade faded away, allowing the filth within his soul to bubble to the surface as if from a putrid swamp. It was a transformation I had seen upon my former husband's face so often that I knew it immediately. He was in a violent mood, his hands clenched into ugly fists.
And he was looking straight at me, his footsteps carrying him to my side.
My eyes widened, and a familiar knot of fear rose up, and became a lump in my throat. My skin chilled, but yet I felt perspiration break out under my hairline. I barely registered the instinctive need for survival taking hold that made me shrink against the pillar, my hands clutching the solid bulk of the wood behind me.
He came near, and he reached out, his hand wrapping about my arm with iron force, his fingers digging into the flesh with bruising force.
"Was it you who warned Meg Giry away from me!" he hissed, lowering his face to mine.
I opened my mouth, unable to speak in the face of his ugly rage. He crushed my arm even harder and I whimpered in pain, disgusted at the pitiful sound that had just come from me. I looked up at him, my eyes flying to his, and the fury that he would make such a weakling out of me briefly over rode my fear. I attempted to twist my arm out of his grasp, but he only pulled me by it harder, yanking upward till my face was nearly against his own. His breath stank of cheap spirits and my stomach rolled.
"Let me go at once, Monsieur," I ordered, my voice low and fierce.
"You interfering bitch..."
Without thinking, I surged forward and struck him as hard as I could, my fist connecting with his nose with a sickening crunch of bone crushing cartilage. His head snapped back and he released me. He stumbled back from me, his hands pressed to his nose, keening in a high whimper of pain.
"You hit me!" His voice broke in shock. He had the look about him of a school yard bully who had just been defeated for the first time and couldn't quite believe that someone had actually stood up to him.
I stared at him in utter amazement, then down at my hand, then back up at him. Had I just hit him? With my fist? My hand was nearly numb from the force of the blow but I did not notice.
Across from me he was still staring at me in surprised horror, his hands covering his nose, blood dripping between his fingers. He shook his head slowly, then backed away from me.
I was still trembling from the rush of adrenaline, the fear singing through my veins, but I nearly laughed at him. I called to him before he was out of earshot.
"No, it was not I that warned young Giry, Monsieur. However, the idea is a fine one!"
He kept walking and did not look back. I turned back to the pillar and leaned against it once more, sinking into the shadows again, my stomach vibrating with nerves and my head still spinning at my audacity.
Behind me, I heard the slide of fabric against the backside of the pillar. A gloved hand wrapped gently about my wrist and pulled me into the deep shadows. I gasped, but another hand covered my mouth, warm leather muffling my soft cry of surprise.
I was turned and pressed against the back of the pillar gently. The hand on my mouth was removed and ran tenderly down the arm that DeLuc had crushed.
Erik stood before me, only a the hint of his white mask visible in the shadows. The emotions that leaped up inside of me tangled hopelessly: joy, despair, love...I stared at him, drinking in the sight of him, my fingers aching to reach out and touch.
"Are you hurt?" he whispered, cupping my jaw and lowering his forehead to mine. His voice was trembling, the fingers on my jaw unsteady. I dipped my head and took a deepened breath, catching the familiar scent of candle smoke and sandalwood.
I shook my head, and reached up, finding the smooth curve of his unmasked cheek in the dark. I lowered my fingers until they found the warm skin of his mouth.
"I'm fine," I whispered back. "I do not believe he meant to truly hurt me, only frighten me."
I heard him swallow, and he nodded against me. He wrapped one arm about my waist and pulled me to him, sighing against my hair. His other hand stayed upon my face, the backs of his fingers idly caressing my cheek. My heart gave a hard leap in my breast and I shut my eyes. In his embrace I felt the need for me that he was set on denying. I, perhaps foolishly, thought I felt the echoes of the love I so badly wanted him to feel for me.
I kissed his ear gently and murmured against the soft lobe: "Erik...don't shut me out. Please don't leave me in this hell..." I clung to him and felt my heart break all over again when he gently grasped my arms and slowly pushed me from him.
"I am glad you are unharmed, Genevieve," he murmured and before I could speak another word, he was gone in a swirl of cloak, leaving behind only that haunting fragrance. I stood in the dark, my throat closing up on me, grief and misery wrapping themselves around me once more. This time the numbness didn't come to relieve me.
