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Ibrahim

Chapter 26

The Note

The figure in the green mask slipped out the window faster than I could register any discerning features. I saw that he was dark-skinned - darker than me. But that was it. Quick as a whip, he'd made himself scarce.

I pointed behind Erik, who was staring at Christine and me with a look of dumbfounded awe. Like whoever it had been had made him lose his senses entirely. Behind us, the crowd of people were panicking. Chaos - a swirling mass of confusion and fear. "Who was that?" I asked.

He turned, whipping his head around to the opened and dark window, and a gasp escaped him - so miniscule that he may not have realized he did it. Then he froze. His hand went slowly to his pocket, his eyes widening when he brought out two items.

I had no idea what they were, but at the way I could see the whites of his rounded eyes, they must have held great importance it him.

No one was allowed to leave without being searched. And people most certainly did want to leave. Some had lost family heirlooms from their person, some their purses. Most were missing trinkets and pieces of jewelry. How the thieves managed to pluck these items off the partygoers was a mystery to me.

Erik's employer, M. Knight, had been one of the first to go. He'd been cleared from thievery, but he had every reason to fear being stolen from, and wouldn't take any further risks in this ballroom. So he was at the front of the line to leave.

Gustave cleared. Christine cleared - she still held her hand to where that necklace had been. A work of magic, really - as we'd dance, I'd watched it vanish before my very eyes. Obviously, I had cleared as well. And, to my surprise, they had found nothing on Erik, either.

Thank Allah they didn't ask anyone to remove their masks - that was likely reserved for those they did find guilty of theft. Otherwise the de Chagny estate guards would have been in for a rude surprise when they found Erik's face to be...well, anything but what they were expecting.

As we passed through the doors, I overheard one of them say to another, "No use searching these people, really. Didn't you see that group dash off the premises? It was them who did it - it had to have been. But we won't know. They're long gone by now. Unless you spotted anything about them-"

"They're all in masks. Of course I didn't notice anything."

"Why would the Comte invite a band of thieves?"

"He didn't, that's why. I told you that allowing guests to invite their own companions was a bad idea. And he doesn't even impose a limit. Guests can have ten friends follow along if they wish. He only invites the crème de la crème, so he trusts their judgement. So long as they show up looking and acting presentable-

"Perhaps now he'll change his policy..."

Only when we arrived at the coach did their conversation fade from earshot. And only inside the coach did Erik, eyes still faraway, pull items from his pocket. First, a lovely necklace. Silver, holding a glimmering blue stone like the sky made solid.

Christine, next to him, gasped loudly. "Erik!"

He handed it to her wordlessly, frowning.

"How did you get this?" She widened her eyes at him. "Were you...are you one of the-"

"No. I didn't steal anything." His voice was numb. "It was placed in my pocket."

"How did you get it past the guards - surely they would have questioned that," said Gustave, staring with raised brows at the piece of jewelry.

"You forget my occupation."

"In your pocket," I repeated slowly. "Who put it there?"

He paused, eyes finding mine, and he moved a shaking hand to that pocket again and brought out a sheet of paper. He held it in front of him, to me.

I took it and read it.

An address, its location on the other side of Paris.

And words in a language I didn't know.

"It means nothing to me," I admitted. "What is this?"

Christine took it gingerly from my fingers and stared at the words. Gustave craned his neck to see.

"Is this..." She looked at her husband. "Italian?"

"It is."

A beat, and then she sucked in a breath. "Thieves," she breathed. "Was that...the person in the hall...out the window-"

"Vincenzo," Erik finished. "It is him. He's alive." A pause. "I want to go to that address," he added lowly.

"Now, hold on a moment," said Gustave. "This Vincenzo - is that the boy in your band of thieves when you were young?"

I raised an eyebrow.

His band of thieves?

I suppose, knowing his skills, I really shouldn't have been surprised.

"He's my brother," Erik said, looking down at his knees, hands gripping the kneecaps. "And I want to see him."

"It's been years," his father-in-law protested. "And we just witnessed him rob people blind-"

"I will see him," growled Erik. "He's my family."

"So are we! Erik, be reasonable. We don't know what this address is. It could be a trap for all we know. This boy - Vincenzo - could have changed in the years you've been apart."

Erik, still gripping his knees, looked up very gradually to Gustave's eyes. They locked gazes, and to my surprise, the older man didn't back down. Instead, he merely raised his brows as if to say: "Try arguing further, young man; no means no."

I knew I liked him.

Erik, however, didn't falter either. Instead, he snarled - much to Christine's expression of distress. "Then I will remain in this coach while the rest of you depart - and I will go there by myself. Better, perhaps, to do it that way."

"No," said Christine, "no, Erik. My father is right. We don't know-"

"No, you don't know," hissed Erik, making Christine wince. "You don't know what it's like to think someone dead for so long, only to have them reappear out of thin air."

Christine merely looked at him, eyes and voice suddenly cold. "Actually...I do. I know exactly what that's like."

Gustave took in his daughter, leaned forward, and put his hand on hers where it rested in her lap. He looked at her lovingly, but Christine kept her eyes trained on her husband.

Some emotion - perhaps shame - made Erik look down once again. "Then you should also know my utter need to see him."

A long pause. "Yes," she whispered, "I understand." Another silence. "I will go with you."

"No," both men said at once. Even I was about to protest.

"Yes," she said louder. "I will go. That is the only way I will allow it. If you are putting your life in danger, then it is only fair that I do so as well."

"You've put your life in danger enough," said Erik. He didn't have to mention the torture chamber for us all to give a small troubled quirk of the brow.

Except for her. "So have you."

An exhale. "Christine."

"You're the one who seems so convinced that it's not a death-trap. So why should I not come and meet your brother?"

I grinned at that. She had a point.

Erik apparently thought so, too, for he cringed. "Fine. Fine. But if you die-"

"You'll scold me?" she finished.

He smirked.

"I suppose," I said, "I will go as well."

They looked at me.

I shrugged. "I'm jobless. More money than I know what to do with. Boredom is already a burden in my life." Not to mention my curiosity at this piece of Erik's past.

"You poor thing, all that time and wealth," drawled Erik.

I ignored him. "This could be rather exciting." The knowledge that Azizah was waiting for me tugged at me, but I pushed it away. If she wanted to spend time with the damn Daroga and his child, she had her wish. Obviously, I was more useful to my friends at the moment.

Christine smiled at me. She took Erik's hand in hers.

"Oh, good Lord," groaned Gustave. "Well, that's it, isn't it?"

She blinked at her father and frowned. "Sorry, Papa - to be left alone at home, worrying. I know-"

"No," Gustave said, shaking his head. "This means I have to go, too - oh, shut your mouth, Christine; you know I can't have you three off to God-knows-where while I sit at home with the cat like an old woman wringing her hands." He sighed, looking between us with a good amount of distaste. "Well? Is someone going to alert the driver of our change in course, or shall I?"