Helena shook with nerves. She looked toward Erik and he was already sweeping down the hall looking for an alternative exit. Perrault meowed in protest to her tight hold.
"Damn cat," was muttered from the main room. "Must have wondered in. Where is that candle?"
"Here it is," said a second voice and a small light started then grew as the candle in question was lit.
Helena stepped into her mother's room when the candle was lit. Erik had disappeared. The light grew dimmer and Helena peeked her head around the corner to look for Erik. He was gone but the door to her old room was not closed. Helena looked toward the main room. No one was in sight and there were the sounds of shuffling through the junk. Helena slid across the hall and into the room silently.
Helena let Perrault drop to the floor and was faced with Erik's broad back. One wall of her old room was covered in old opera fliers. His face was stony as he looked at them.
"I always wanted to work at the Opera House," Helena whispered. "I knew I would never sing or dance but I wouldn't have minded making the costumes. Just being a part would have been…" He voice trailed off. She knew that would never happen now.
"We need to get out of here," Erik's low voice rumbled and he turned away from the wall. "Stand beside me if you want to come back with me or you can stay here. Don't say anything either way."
He swept from the room and she shuffled behind him. Erik's cloak seemed to billow with each step and he almost seemed to grow larger as he walked down the short hall. They walked through the main room and the two men there were too drunk to hear them. They had almost made it to the door when they heard a shriek from behind, closely followed by "Mary, mother of God!"
Erik turned. The men shrunk back. One's mouth was open in a silent shriek. He was young and dirty. His fellow was old and dirty and seemed to be the more angry of the two. "What are you doing in my house?"
Erik stepped forward and smirked. "Haunting."
The two men's eyes grew wider and the younger one started wimpering.
"What else do you expect from ghosts?" Erik's voice seemed to reverberate off the walls and whisper and shriek all at the same time. Helena couldn't see his face and wondered if he even moved his lips.
"You said I was dead to you," Helena murmured huskily from the folds of her cloak. Perrault hissed in the drunkards' direction. Erik turned and, followed by Helena, left through the still open door of the house. They climbed silently into the still-waiting carriage. Erik tapped the roof and they took off. He handed Helena the vial.
Helena was still looking at the door which had given her the last view of her neighborhood mulling over what she had found. She uncorked the vial and took a small sip from it. Within a minute her head had fallen in a deep slumber and Erik had directed their driver toward the Opera House.