I've been updating Into the Darkness almost every day, so if you're looking for something to check out, there are currently 24 chapters up and the 25th will up tomorrow 5.28.18.

As always, I appreciate you reading and reviewing.

Chapter 61

Holidays held no special importance to me, at least not in the way I assumed other people looked forward to gathering around a table overflowing with food or gifts given to children and loved ones. I did not have the pleasure of spending a holiday with my uncle, and while Madeline was kind enough to bring me small gifts, she did not need a holiday to bring me charcoals for drawing or strings for my violin.

Her charity, however, had lasted several years and then abruptly stopped. She still brought me a cake on what she considered my birthday, but there was nothing else. I could not recall how old I was when she ceased bringing strings, blank paper, and ink, but it was before I left the Opera House on my own accord and spent years away-both traveling on my free will and kept like an animal in Persia.

My hope had been that for Alex at least there would be a sense of wonder and enjoyment, but as I dressed for supper, that seemed to be impossible. I could not help but think of what his mother would have offered him. Wonder and enjoyment, I suspected.

Madeline and Meg continued to bicker through the house with either mother following daughter from room to room or daughter chasing after mother in retaliation of whatever was said. Their arguing bored me and I had no inclination to listen to them.

Thirty minutes turned into an hour, and soon supper was an hour and a half late. I dressed and sat at my desk where I looked out the window and saw a very large and angry silhouette wildly gesturing at a more slender and cowering silhouette. With the windows closed, I could not hear a word Monsieur Seuratti said to his wife, but by the looks of it, he was not pleased.

I wiped my hand against the glass window pane to clear the condensation and saw the man shove the woman clear across what I thought was their dining room.

My breath stilled, my hands loosely resting on the desk as I watched him quickly stand over where his wife had fallen. I winced each time he struck her, three unforgiving blows, and in the back of my mind I could hear the crack of an open hand against my own cheek. My hands turned to fists, my shoulders bunched up. Part of me-a very large part of me-wanted to raise my arms in defense despite sitting safely in my own room.

Many years had passed since anyone had physically dominated me, but I could recall the stinging sensation left by a slap to the face, the resonating heat that was slow to dull. More than the feel of it, I could recall every slurred insult my father spoke and the utter humiliation of being dragged around by my hair. The very thought made my skin prickle.

I stood abruptly and nearly knocked my chair over. Cold sweat damped my forehead and the back of my neck. I lifted my mask, wiped my face with the back of my hand and descended the stairs to the kitchen where I found Meg still carrying on about something as she waved a wooden spoon at her mother.

"Ask the Seurattis for tea," I ordered.

They both stopped in mid-sentence and stared at me as I interrupted Meg's tirade.

"Did you hear what I said?" I asked, this time raising my voice as my patience waned.

"Tea?" Madeline asked incredulously. She narrowed her eyes and looked from me to her daughter and back again.

"Yes, ask them at once," I said.

"We have plenty of tea," Madeline replied.

"I said ask them," I said through my teeth. I glared at her, then focused my attention on Meg, who was now pointing the spoon at me. She looked ready to protest, but slowly lowered the utensil. "Now."

My voice resonated through the room. Meg took a step back and reached for the wall behind her while Madeline's expression faltered. Without a word, Meg placed the spoon on the stove and ran out the back door, not bothering with a cloak or any other means of protecting herself from the winter weather.

"Why do you want their tea?" Madeline asked me.

Through the backdoor, which Meg had left open, I could clearly hear a woman's terrified voice begging, "No, Louis please."

Meg knocked on the back door. I remained in the middle of the kitchen and watched, waiting for one of them to answer. Long moments passed before Meg tried again, this time knocking harder than before.

The door was wrenched open, but not by the woman who appeared moments later with both hands across her stomach. Her hair was a tangled mess, her head cast down and chest heaving. I saw her risk a glance toward the door and knew her husband had opened it and forced her to answer.

"Meg," she said with forced brightness to her words. "How are you? I did not know you were home."

"Visiting, really," Meg replied. She was in on the same act, her words nothing more than feigned cheerfulness. "I do hope I am not interrupting."

"No, no, not at all." The woman stumbled, bracing herself on the door frame. "I would invite you in, but my home is in complete disarray."

The woman's husband appeared in my line of sight several steps behind her. I swore he looked past his wife and Meg and stared at me as I watched him through the open doors.

"Do you have any tea?" Meg asked. She was noticeably more nervous with Monsieur Seuratti standing behind his wife. Quite frankly I could not blame her, but to my relief Meg stayed put and valiantly continued with her role.

"I am sure we do." The woman turned from Meg and I caught a glimpse of the right side of her face. Her husband had left a bright red hand print clear across her cheek. "Darling, would you mind if I spared a bit of our tea for Madame… Lowry?"

The man grumbled, his eyes still fixed on me, then he turned away and gave a dismissive wave of his hand before he stormed off.

"Wait here," the woman said. She partially closed the door and Meg looked back over her shoulder, her face white as a sheet and expression quite bewildered.

"My God, it's Christmas eve," Madeline said under her breath. She placed her hand on my shoulder briefly.

I failed to see why a holiday mattered. No matter the day of the week, a slap to the face or a kick to the stomach hurt just as much.

"That is why you wanted tea?" Madeline asked.

I glanced over my shoulder at her but offered no verbal reply. A moment later, the woman limped back to the door, her hair somewhat straightened and a forced smile on her lips. The hand print to her face, however, remained unchanged.

"I hope this is enough," she said apologetically to Meg.

"Yes, yes, thank you," Meg replied as she took a small tin from the neighbor.

"You are most welcome."

Meg shifted her weight and held the tea to her chest as she wrapped her free arm around her body. "Julia," Meg said suddenly. "Would you and Lissy care to come by for a bit?"

The woman glanced over her shoulder before turning back to Meg. "Supper is already late," she explained. "Another time before you leave?"

Meg nodded. "I return to London on the twenty-seventh."

"Then I will be sure to stop by before then," the woman answered. She looked past Meg at our open kitchen door. I thought she glanced at me briefly, but her gaze dropped quickly and she again looked behind her. "If you will excuse me, I must tend to Monsieur Seuratti."

"Are you sure you would not like to stop by tonight?" Meg ventured.

"Thank you," the woman said. "But not tonight, I'm afraid."

I'm afraid.

Her voice trembled with the last two words she spoke. It was more than an expression, I knew. Her rigid posture, the bright red mark to her cheek and the way she continued to glance over her shoulder made her words abundantly clear. She was afraid. She was deeply afraid of the man who had struck her down not five minutes earlier, who had spent the majority of the summer berating his wife and child.

Meg remained at the open door for a moment longer. "If you need anything," she offered.

"Thank you."

The door slammed shut despite the woman having both hands at her sides. Meg stared at the closed door for a long moment before she slowly turned and walked back through the kitchen. She absently stamped her feet to remove snow from her boots, set the tea on the shelf, and looked at me, her complexion several shades lighter despite standing out in the cold.

"Your tea," she said under her breath. She covered her mouth with her hand and turned away. "My God."

I wasn't sure what to do or say now that Meg had returned. Truthfully I wasn't sure if I had made the situation better or worse for Madame Seuratti.

"Would you wake Alex? He will be up all night if he sleeps much longer?" Madeline requested.
It took a moment to realize she spoke to me instead of Meg, who had gone back to reheating sauce in a pan.

I nodded and walked into the hall with Madeline at my heels.

"How did you know?" she asked, whispering loudly.

"What does it matter?" I asked as I stood outside of Alex's closed nursery room door.

"You could see him, couldn't you?" Madeline stood nearly pressed against the door, blocking my path. "From your window? Is that how?"

"Madame," I said without meeting her eye.

Madeline stepped back and I grasped the door handle. Once I pushed the door open, I found Alex bouncing in his crib with a grin on his face upon seeing us. His curls of hair touched well past his eyebrows, and nearly to his shoulders, giving him the appearance of a shaggy-haired elf.

"It does not matter," I replied under my breath before I pulled Alex from his crib.

"How long have you seen him?" Madeline persisted. She walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a clean diaper and a change of clothes.

"Long enough," I answered.

"He saw you," she said quietly.

Alex grabbed hold of his own feet once I laid him out on the table to change him. He was as energetic as ever and clearly had no desire to make the task of changing him simple.

"I doubt he noticed me while he was preoccupied disciplining his wife," I remarked.

"I mean in the kitchen. He could see you through the door."

Half-naked, Alex sat up and attempted to climb down the side of the table, but I lifted him and placed him on his back again. He was terribly amused by his own behavior and kicked wildly.

"Alex," I warned.

"Here." Madeline grabbed his ankles and shooed me aside. Before I had taken a step away, she managed to have Alex changed and nearly dressed once more with impressive efficiency.

"Monsieur Seuratti is of no concern to me," I said firmly.

"He is not a nice man," Madeline commented.

"Neither am I."

Madeline exhaled in disgust. "I will not tolerate you saying such things, especially on Christmas eve."

I raised a brow at her and turned my head to the side as Alex managed to hang off of my hip like an exuberant, wide-awake monkey. His antics made my self deprecating words seem ridiculous, but I stood by my words.

"That was very kind of you, what you did for her," Madeline said.

"She is of no concern," I said as I turned away from Madeline. I pushed Alex's hair back and saw the bump on his head had gone down considerably and his lip no longer looked swollen.

"I know, but-"

"And why should she be? The same dam...darned thing will happen again in a day or two," I muttered. I doubted her husband would wait that long given how he most likely knew I had sent Meg to their home on purpose. Most likely he would do a better job of striking his wife out of sight. I worried that I had put her into more danger rather than offered her a bit of relief.

"Hopefully not," Madeline said.

"Hope is rather useless," I said under my breath.

"Erik, please-"

"Do you know how many years I hoped something would change?" I asked.

"Thirteen," she replied.

Of course she knew the answer. She knew everything about me-at least everything I had allowed.

"And they did change," she pointed out. "Otherwise we would not be standing here." Madeline looked pointedly at me. "I do not care if you think it is useless, but I hope tonight is the very last time Monsieur Seuratti lays a hand on his wife. I know you do as well or you would not have asked Meg to pay a visit."

It would not be the last time, I knew. From what I had witnessed in warmer months, him striking her three times was not even the worst of what he was capable of doing. Without another word, I turned away and Madeline followed me down the hall and into the dining room where Meg had already placed food on the table. She looked up when we entered and held her arms out to Alex, who was more than willing to be passed off to her.

I noticed Meg was still not quite herself and went through the motions of entertaining Alex as she sat him at the table and pushed his hair back from his face. Briefly she looked him over the same way I had done in the nursery before she kissed him all over. He waited, eyes pinched closed, then motioned her forward so he could return all of the affection she bestowed upon him. He left her cheeks damp with wet kisses, which she did not seem to mind.

"Maison," he said very sternly as he pointed at the table.

Meg smiled and took her seat beside him. "Yes, this is your home, and this is your table, and all of this is your food, Alexandre, my little Emperor of France."

"You have made a beautiful meal," Madeline said. "Our last time together on Christmas Eve."

Meg looked sharply in her mother's direction. She ignored Alex reaching for her and took a deep breath. "Then let's make the most of it."