Thank you everyone for reading!

Enjoy!

Franklin

Chapter 39

The Killer

Good God.

Good God above.

God in Heaven.

Who...who was Erik connected to? What had he dragged me into? Dragged Grace into.

Grace. Oh...Grace. Oh, my girl - I hoped she was all right. I hoped I really would see her...

I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. I was utterly frozen, staring at Vaillancourt bleeding out, still as the corpse he was, lying on the floor. The man had tormented me for months, but I certainly didn't wish him dead.

Well...

No. No, I didn't wish him dead.

Erik had involved me with a murderer. Possibly more. At the very least, these people seemed to be criminals. That, at least, was obvious. Was Erik himself a criminal? He'd told me that he'd been a thief when he was young. It that what they were? Based on the conversation I'd heard, it was certainly possible.

The murderer - Erik's friend - stepped over Vaillancourt's leg and sheathed the knife he'd been twirling into a pouch made of leather attached to his belt. I'd watched him clean M. Leroy's blood off of it gingerly, like it was a prized possession, like a thing he loved and cherished. He stood before Erik and me.

"Time to see your daughter, M. Knight?" he said.

I looked at Erik, whose eyes had glazed over. He seemed to be somewhere very far away. A look at his black-gloved hands, and I found them quivering.

The killer noticed this, too. He frowned. "Erik-"

Erik bulleted out of the tavern. My feet flew automatically as well - not wanting to be alone with these people. But the Romani man followed. Very close behind. I, for one, quickened my step.

Lord, I was awfully calm after witnessing a murder. I was sure that it would catch up to me later. But it almost didn't seem real. I felt as though I was in some strange, life-like dream. Some liminal space of chaos.

I caught the door as Erik swung it open, and the Romani man caught it after me. Out in the darkened night, I watched Erik take a few steps, stop, breath in and out sharply once, twice, three and four times, then double over as he did after that first performance. No potted plant to catch his sick this time.

I jumped back, while the killer gave a shout and dropped to his knees beside him.

"Erik!" he exclaimed in that thick Italian accent. "Che cosa-"

"Vincenzo," he said hoarsely - that must have been the man's name. "Vincenzo, you-" He was ill again. "You killed...you killed..."

"I had to," he said in French, possibly because the words were for me too, as Vincenzo looked between us. "He was a liability." A pause. "And he deserved it."

Erik didn't argue against the last fact. "Are you an executioner now?"

At the sudden rage in Erik's tone, Vincenzo blinked. He reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. Erik flinched away. He dry heaved and growled at the pain.

I felt sick now, too. At seeing his reaction and at the disgust, the horror, now catching up to me. I grimaced and brought my hands behind my head in distress.

Erik inhaled and exhaled hard. He brought his hand up as though to wipe away sweat, but found his mask. So he removed it and dropped it to the ground.

And I could see, from this angle, the profile of his face. Discolored skin, misshapen lips, sunken eyes. No nose.

I gasped, stepping back, nearly tripping over my own feet.

Erik spun his head to me, sweat gleaming on his forehead and where his black hair met his skin. His face was even more horrible at this angle. I swallowed thickly.

"Sorry to add to the horror of the night, Franklin," he rasped, acerbic. "Now you know why I wear that blasted thing. If I am fired, do let me know by tomorrow evening."

I wet my lips. No, not fired, I thought. Not fired. But...I think a discussion was in order. I think that was fair.

He turned away and grunted, clutching his stomach. Vincenzo tried reaching out a hand again, and Erik pushed it away, standing on wobbly legs. Vincenzo stood too.

"Don't," said Erik lowly, baring his teeth. "This wasn't part of the plan. You didn't tell me this was part of the plan."

"I didn't decide on it until an hour ago, and you were onstage. I only decided when I learned-"

Erik cut him off. "It's not your choice to decide who lives and dies. You shouldn't have that power. No one should have the power to end a life!"

Hear, hear.

Vincenzo stuck out his chin. "He was a monster-"

"So am I!" said Erik. "Will you kill me too, brother?"

Vincenzo looked dumbfounded. "What? You are not-" He shook his head. "That man caused the suffering and death of an innocent woman...pain to an innocent family."

"I've caused death and suffering as well. So what are you waiting for, Signor Santi? What are you waiting for?"

Vincenzo's back straightened. His lips became thin. "The death. Of our family. Is not. Your. Fault."

Erik let out a yell of pain to the black sky - a cross between a cry and a growl. "You don't know! You don't understand!"

"What don't I understand?"

Erik made a face, a battle taking place inside of him. There was something he was too afraid to say. "How can you kill - and not let it bother you?"

"Killing Cardacci changed something in me. If someone deserves to die, then so be it. Some people should not be alive. Some people make the world objectively worse.

"Well, don't kill around me!" Erik's voice took on a shaky edge, his eyes flinty. "Kill if you must, but don't let me know about it. I can't handle it."

I looked around then, realizing how loud these two men were. Anyone in the vicinity could be listening, could take note that Vincenzo was a killer - but perhaps everyone in the vicinity already knew. And didn't care.

Vincenzo stared, then closed his eyes. He blew out a breath, and when he opened his eyes again, his face was soft. "It has affected you this much. Our family's deaths. I should not have been so careless with my actions around you." A step forward. "Brother, I will shield your eyes and ears from death." He tried for a third time to reach out. This time, he was successful. "I will send you home. Rest with your wife." He turned to me. "Reunite with your daughter. Sleep. And let tonight fly away on the wind, never to be thought of again."

And he did send us away. He had one of his men fetch the carriage that had brought us here from around the corner, ushered us inside.

Before he could shut the door on us, Erik held out a hand to stop it. He stared hard at him, now with his mask on. "I care for you deeply."

The other man nodded, eyes gentle. "And I you."

"But there are things that have happened after we were last together years ago." A trembling breath. "Things that will take...time to explain."

Vincenzo gave a sage dip of the head. "And I'm sure I will learn when the time is right."

He closed the door.

The horses moved.

And now I was the one with a well of emotion. Bewilderment. Anger. Shock. I clutched my stomach and groaned.

"Franklin?" Erik said softly.

"Erik," I responded, voice clipped. "Quick question for you, lad." I found his eyes in the darkened coach. "What the fuck?"