Thanks for continuing to read my story!

Thank you to Aphaea21, MaFerviolon, phanrose, Mominator124, FleshofMidnight, Batty Dings, Badpixie06, Phantasma'sRose, Pensez-a-Erik, WolfShadow1, peanutpup, Phantomgirl24, EvaLark, PhantomBove, and the guest for reviewing! Even though they aren't showing up, I still see them in my email notifications :)

To answer Phanrose's question, I am not 100% sure how many chapters this will be, per se, but I currently have the entire plot filled out and there is quite a lot more to cover before it ends. We haven't even met the Khanum yet, or Giovanni, both characters I am so excited to introduce once we get there. This story spans over the course of a six-month time period (in Christine's POV timeline) and the last chapter was at around...week 2? Honestly, I'd say that we are just getting started :)

Also! My birthday is in 2 days, and I am out of town, so expect the next chapter sometime next week.

Erik

Chapter 25

The Showman

When I awoke, my eyes didn't open immediately. They were heavy-lidded, and sleep was still calling me, caressing me, pulling me back into its arms and away from the fast-approaching world of reality.

But when I shifted - when I moved my arm and my fingers trailed past the blanket beneath me to something cold and hard, I forced myself to look.

I wasn't home. I wasn't even in a bed.

I was on a brown quilt spread on the floor of a cage. A cage.

The bars were thin and very close together, and it was just wide and tall enough for me to lay down and sit up with relative comfort. The roof of the cage was a flat metal surface

And sit up I did, my situation causing alarm to shoot through me like an arrow to the stomach. I felt sore there suddenly, not quite sick but deeply, deeply troubled and unnerved. The claustrophobic atmosphere didn't help, either. The space around the cage was small, cramped. It was decorated like a house, with a table and chairs and what appeared to be a kitchen, a bed in the far corner of the room and a door at the other, but it seemed far too small to be a house. This space was smaller than my mother's bedroom.

Where was I?

And how on Earth did I get here?

My every muscle sluggish, I went to my knees and searched for a door to the cage. Through a window in the room, I could see that it was dark, but there was an oil lamp lit on the small table. I found a minuscule crack in the bars and identified it as a possible way out.

I pushed on the door, but it wouldn't budge.

I tried again, but it was locked.

My eyes widened. "Hello?" I called, voice small. "Is anyone there?"

A thump sounded above me, making me start, and then what sounded like an animal licking its chops and yawning. It was then that I realized that the flat metal surface above me wasn't a roof, but the floor of an entirely different cage. I was being held, stacked, underneath something living, both of us imprisoned in this strange room.

My head whipped to the front door of the room as it opened with a creak, and a man walked in. His clothes were very clean, but his blonde hair appeared oily. His receding hairline showed off a shiny, large forehead, and the rest of his hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. He wasn't tall or short, nor thin or fat - he was entirely average in that regard.

And when he saw me there, he smiled - and though it was pleasant, it didn't match his cold blue eyes.

"So he awakens," said the man, "finally." He went to the table and sat, putting his feet out in front of him, crossing one ankle over the other. "I hope you'll excuse me. I was only out for a moment to smoke a cigar. They always taste better at night."

"Who are you?" I asked.

His smile widened. "Ah. Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself." He put a ringed hand to his chest. "My name is Javert Benoit. But you, my little money-maker, will call me Master."

A chill went through me. "Master?"

"Yes, but don't worry. You'll get used to it quickly." He raised an eyebrow in amusement. "When you think about it, really, what are names? Nothing but a movement of the tongue against the teeth, a shape of the lips, that signals we are talking to or about another person. But they hold so much weight. A woman changes her name when married to show her devotion and willingness to join into her husband's family. Entire wars are fought over the naming of a country."

I went into a ball, my arms around my knees. "Why am I calling you Master?" I asked.

"Because you are my property," he said simply, "and it's the respectful thing to do - calling one's owner by that name. That's why." Again, he gave that charming smile - a smile that didn't quite sit right with me. "Are you hungry, by the way? Thirsty? You have been sleeping for upward of twelve hours. Whatever that doctor gave you must have been extremely strong."

The doctor.

"How did I get here?" I demanded suddenly. A horrible foreboding had started in my gut.

Javert's smile faded. "Rule one." He tapped a single finger against the table. "When I ask you a question, you answer it before changing the topic. Are we clear?"

I didn't like the edge his voice was now cut with, so I nodded.

"I'm sure we will find and establish more rules as time goes on, but that's a good start. Now answer my question, boy."

"I..." I said softly, "I'm not hungry or thirsty."

"Good. Your thinness goes well with your face - wouldn't want to ruin the effect by fattening you up."

At the mention of my face, my hand flew to my cheek - only to find the familiar piece of leather missing entirely. My eyes widened. "Where is my mask?"

"You don't need it for now. I might add it to the show down the road, but for now there's no point to it."

I stared at him. He'd been looking at my bare face this entire time and hadn't flinched. Not once.

I straightened suddenly.

Did he say show?

"Please," I said, "why am I...how did I get here?"

"That doctor sold you to me," he said, "for fifteen francs. Quite a deal."

Fifteen francs.

To Monsieur Gamache and my mother, I was worth fifteen francs.

I felt as though I might be sick.

"He approached me a week ago, telling me he had something that I could add to my exhibition." He examined me. "When he told me what it was, I bought another cage straight away."

Was he talking about me? Calling me it? Calling me something? And...exhibition? Before I could think too much longer on it, realization dawned on me. "You're...you're the person who was happy to take me."

"Oh, I am very happy to take you. You, my little friend, are going to earn me a fortune with that face."

I froze. "What do you mean?"

Javert paused, and then trailed his eyes upward to whatever creature was existing above me. He stood from his chair, took a key from his pocket, and unlocked the upper cage. At the sound of the lock, the creature became restless, panting and scratching at the cage floor.

The moment the door was open, it hopped down from its small prison.

A dog, large and black, with pointed ears and a long snout, stood next to Javert.

No.

Three sets of pointed ears.

Three snouts.

But one body.

This was, I saw with utter shock, a three-headed dog.

"Boy," he said, and gripped the dog by its three chain collars which met in a triangular leash, "meet Cerberus. The tricephalic beast, guardian of the Underworld."

The dog's three heads watched me carefully. The head in the middle extended its neck as much as it could to sniff at the cage. At me.

"I found him about three years ago, when he was a puppy," Javert explained. He tightened his hold on the chain forcefully, yanking it up, and Cerberus's middle head retreated with a whimper. The other two heads lowered in fear. "Ever since, I have been travelling the country, showing him off - people love it. People adore the truly rare. They have seen bearded women. They've seen tattooed men and dwarfs. Those are standard at any freak show. But Cerberus - how often is it that you meet an animal with many heads? Displaying him alone is enough to give me a decent income."

Cerberus was still staring at me. All six eyes. I think the dog had no idea what to make of me.

"Lucky for you," said Javert, eyes glinting, "the famous Cerberus is now your coworker." He slapped the area above the dog's tail roughly, and Cerberus immediately jumped up, back into his cage, as though the mean gesture were a learned command. "The doctor told me that no one in this little village has ever seen your face. Is that true?"

"That's true," I whispered. Mostly true. The foreboding intensified, making the darkness outside the window appear even blacker.

Javert grinned his white-toothed grin. "Perfect."