Monster Lines, continued

E: What on earth had she gotten herself into THIS time? Clopin was always on her case for making rash decisions, but he would be furious about this one. No question about it.

Of course, Clopin was not her only worry. The more potent threat was standing an arm's length away from her at this very minute. His full awareness of the precariousness of the situation was making him distressed, and prone to lash out violently at anyone or anything without warning. If she made the first move, maybe she could disarm him.

"You needn't worry about my loyalty, Claude," she began. "Last night was amazing, you think I won't be back?" She stepped in close to him, hooking an arm around his neck, leaning in for a kiss. As she had hoped, he caved. It's working. Mess with his feelings and he'll forget about his anger long enough for you to get away unhurt. The judge's hands tightened around her waist, so gentle and yet so fierce, as if he wanted to keep her there forever.

Doubtless he did want to keep her there forever, but they both knew that her prolonged absence would be noticed.

Hesitantly and unwillingly, he broke off the kiss. He pushed her back enough that he could stare down into her eyes. Esmerelda grimaced inside. If only she were taller.

"It is in your best interests," he said slowly and forcefully, "that you have a believable explanation to give to your people, should you be asked where you were last night."

And when they don't believe me, you'll make me pay hell and tell me it's all my fault that we got busted. Esmerelda was not stupid. "Well, you're the judge. I'll bet you've heard more than one extravagant lie during your illustrious career. Do you have any suggestions?"

He blinked, then a smile spread across his face. "I believe I do," he replied. "Tell Clopin and all of his little cronies that you have duped me into trusting you and you come here to spy. Then feed him all sorts of false information about the Palace! Explain to him that you'll be spending most of your time here. Oh, I'll also send two of my guards with you, to escort you to your people. To gauge your peoples'…ah…level of excitement upon finding out that you are a double agent."

Esmerelda silently cursed herself. Perhaps she should have come up with her own story after all. Now, she had palace guards trailing after her, watching her every move.

"What an excellent idea," she told the judge in a tone that she hoped would sound enthusiastic.

"They'll be instructed to remain inconspicuous, of course. We mustn't have Clopin thinking that he's being watched. I hope I can trust you to keep him in the dark?"

"Of course," Esmerelda responded, hating herself more with every heartbeat.

F: The judge didn't know how to feel whenever E and the two guards finally disappeared from his sight. Should he be ashamed of being interested in a girl who was more than 30 years his junior? Should he be excited that, for the first time in decades, he might have a chance at human companionship? His soul had not realized how starved it truly was, until it found what it was longing for.

Perhaps his confusion stemmed from the fact that he had not allowed himself to experience any emotions for years. It was bad enough when he lost his parents as a child, but after he couldn't protect Jehan…It was just better not to get attached to anything or anyone.

His musings were interrupted by snickering whispers from the guards down the hall. Frollo caught the words "girl", "fascinating", and "why".

Frollo returned to his usual stone-faced manner. A little lesson needed to be learned here. Gliding silently over the stone floor, he went completely unnoticed by the preoccupied guards until he stood directly over them.

"My gray hair may be working to my advantage." The guards jumped at the voice they had learned to quiver in fear of. "It appears that you two have assumed I am hard of hearing."

"AAAAAHHHHHHH!" One of the guards immediately stood up straight and saluted. "Judge Claude Frollo SIR! Yes SIR! Nothing wrong with your hearing SIR!"

"Then stop shouting." Frollo responded with his well-developed mixture of disdain and disgust that rarely failed to leave people feeling inferior to the dirt on which they stood.

Both guards stood as straight as wooden planks, failing to keep themselves from shaking with fear.

Frollo folded his hands into their customary steeple, fingers barely touching. "Have your tongues suddenly vanished from your mouths?" he asked, slowly pacing back in forth in front of his men.

One of the guards broke down. "W-we were just wondering if that was the same gypsy girl that we saw around here yesterday evening."

A hurried rephrasing of "Didn't that girl just spend the night here?" Frollo was no fool. Yet, he was not perturbed. Years of sifting through the miserable alibis of worthless defendants (ah, how cathartic it was to serve their just desserts to those whining, cringing fools) had taught him the fine art of lying.

"She indeed is the same girl," he responded. "She happens to work for me—as a double agent."

"Oh!" the guard gasped quickly. "Uh, genius idea, Your Honor! A double agent!"

"Y-yeah!" the other guard followed, his head bobbing at an unnatural frequency. "A double agent! Exactly what we were thinking, Your Honor!"

They were quickly silenced by the hardening of their master's countenance. "Has it escaped your miniscule brains," he sneered, "that my job these past twenty-five years has been to expose and punish the deceitful?"

Neither of them spoke, knowing from experience that either a "yes" or "no" answer to the judge's query would merit a severe flogging.

"You have been concocting egregious falsehoods about my character. An unwise source of amusement," the judge continued. "But I am a just man, and I must confess that I am partially to blame for this. It appears I have not worked you hard enough, thus allowing you to become bored and dissatisfied."

"We'll work as hard as you like, Your Honor sir," one of them piped up eagerly.

"We'll wash all of your windows," the other one added quickly with a panicked smile. Both had learned from experience the horrors of allowing Judge Claude Frollo enough time to meticulously construct a fitting method of punishment. Hopefully, he would quickly agree to the window-washing and this hideous exchange would be finished.

"It appears I have erred again with you. Already you assume that you can quickly earn my pardon? I have been much too lenient in my previous dealings with you."

The despair and horror smeared across the guards' faces was almost as pleasurable as the previous night's unexpected turn of events. "Repeat after me," the judge intoned, savoring their terror. "You are worthless idiots."

"We are worthless idiots," the guards echoed obediently.

"You are undeserving of the generosity I show you in allowing you to earn your keep in my holy palace."

"We are under serving the green city of—uh—uh—" Panic flashed in the guards' eyes.

Frollo smiled. Grinding his minions' self esteem into the dirt was a favorite pastime of his, and one at which he excelled.

"Go," he spat. "Perhaps you can prove yourselves competent enough to wash windows."

E: What on earth had she just done? How was she supposed to get out of this mess?

One thing she knew for certain: she must not lead the soldiers to the Court of Miracles. Instead, she headed back for the town square. Within minutes, one of her gypsy friends located her. "Esmerelda," the woman gasped. "We have been so worried. Where have you been? A few of us overheard your conversation with Frollo outside of the Boar's Head yesterday, and we feared the worst!"

"I've been honing my skills as a spy," Esmerelda replied as calmly as she could, hoping that her pounding heart was audible only to herself. "I need to see Clopin. Now. It's extremely important. It has to do with Frollo, ok?"

The woman's eyes widened as she nodded her agreement. E periodically looked back over her shoulder to check if the guards were following them.

The guards were still behind them, keeping their distance, when she saw Clopin. His face brightened like the horizon at sunrise when he recognized her face. "Esmerelda!" he gasped, bolting through the crowd and wrapping her in an embrace that lifted her from her feet. "Where have you been?"

"I've been scouting out the Palace of Justice," she replied. "I'm always eager to serve my people." Thinking quickly, she kicked over a farmer's vegetable stand in what she hoped appeared to be accidental. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Here, let me help you pick those up."

Bending over the ground, hoping to appear to be scooping up tomatoes, E quickly wrote in the dirty streets with her finger. We're being watched.

Clopin noticed what she was doing in an instant. "You disobedient girl!" he hissed, stepping on her writing before it could be seen. "Haven't I told you not to put yourself in harm's way? Come!" Grabbing her wrist, he appeared to hurriedly drag her away. As they threaded through the streets and back alleys of Paris, E hoped that the palace guards would lose her in the crowd.

After several minutes of putting distance between themselves and the guards, Clopin quickly led E through a cramped tunnel to a secret room. The two of them had often hidden there when things in town started to turn ugly.

"Alright now." Clopin looked E squarely in the face, as best as he could in the dim light. "I need to know what happened with you last night. You weren't in your cot. I checked."

E believed him. Although she appreciated her older brother's concern for her, she sometimes resented it when it translated to nosiness and bossiness.

"Why, the judge asked me to come to his place and perform for him! Aren't you proud of my skills?"

Clopin exhaled slowly and loudly. "And you actually went?"

"Obviously," E replied curtly.

"Ohhhhhhhh Esmerelda. Why?"

"To prove to him that I'm not a coward. We both knew that his invitation to come and dance was a veiled threat.

"To learn more about him. Don't you think Frollo is a real paradox? Cold and solitary, but obsessed with me. Seeming to only value people by what they can do for him, yet he adopted a special needs child, Quasimodo. Devoutly religious, at the same time broken and depraved…but I believe that, deep down, he's aware of his depravity. He wouldn't admit it, but I think he wishes…that he could change what he's become. I have to admit, I'm intrigued by him."

Clopin squeezed his face up in frustration. "Don't you realize that this is an incredibly dangerous game you are playing?"

"I realize," E answered calmly. "But don't you realize what an opportunity that this is? You know that he has seen our people as the dregs of society, barely even human—but I suppose that it's not surprising that we appear as such to an outsider. But I think—if I keep seeing him and talking with him—I think he's realizing that he's wrong. He'll stop trying to drive us out! We'll finally have a home in Paris! Oh, Clopin, you know that we've wandered from place to place for generations, always poor, always unwanted, never a real chance to settle down, have schools for the children and hospitals for the sick. And I'm seeing the one man in Paris who has the ability to change that."

"You are seeing the one man in Paris who is as unfeeling as a brick wall, and who enjoys playing with his food before he kills it. E, I will not allow you to do this." Clopin sighed loudly. "You said that he invited you to the palace under a pretense of having you dance for him. I highly doubt that you danced in that bathrobe. What happened?"

"I danced," E responded laconically. "And no, I didn't dance in this bathrobe." E slipped off her robe to reveal the red silk dress, hoping that the room was dim enough Clopin wouldn't notice the red marks scattered liberally over her chest and neck.

Even in the dim light, Clopin recognized the dress. "You had to wear THAT flashy thing?"

"I was dancing for the most influential man in Paris. What did you expect me to wear?"

"E," Clopin sighed, "let me put it this way. Judging from your attire, and the fact that you spent the night in that awful place, I have a funny feeling that the most influential man in Paris had you do more than just dance for him. And that is not ok."

F: Judge Claude Frollo signed his name at the bottom of the legal document. This was the fourth unfortunate wrongdoer he had locked up in the space of one morning, and he still couldn't push the girl from his thoughts.

He waved his hand over the ink to dry it faster. I'm the judge. I have served Paris well by faithfully preserving law and order using whatever means necessary. Why can't I preserve law and order in my own mind?

What had gone wrong? He'd had a plan in place for the previous evening. Get the little troublemaker locked inside of his stone walls, erode her spirit as he had done to so many other bothersome people, then release her to her people as an ominous reminder of what happened to those who dared to defy the iron fist of Judge Claude Frollo.

He knew how to break spirits. That beautiful dancer who dared torment him would pay for her insolence with compound interest. Some cuts across her face, chest, and stomach would leave ugly scars and make it nearly impossible to make money dancing. She'd used to be a ravishing beauty; now she was but another walking testimony to the horrible fate of those townsfolk who dared to put a toe out of line.

The judge dropped his clenched fist on the table. What sort of monster would deface an impoverished girl who had done little worse than shoplift to keep herself warm and fed? Her older brother, Clopin, the gypsies' ringleader, was more culpable than she in stirring up riots. Frollo was the city's stern, faithful deliverer of justice. And torturing a girl to prove a point to her older brother was not justice. That was cruelty.

He glanced down at his hand, veins slowly becoming more prominent as the years went by. Though the harsh truth brought him no joy, he could not deny that he was a mortal man. One day, he would leave this world, and his immortal soul would be standing before the Judge of all judges, answering for everything he had done.

I served you faithfully for years, my Lord. I maintained order in Paris; I guided people along the paths of righteousness; I never put a toe out of line.

Except he had put a toe out of line the previous night. Well, he'd put more than just a toe where it shouldn't have been. And the innocent until proven guilty schtick wouldn't work with an omnipotent ruler.

Guilty, the heavenly courts would resound. Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!

No, it couldn't be. Wasn't it written in the book of Genesis that man was not supposed to be alone? How could it be wrong to desire a companion?

Nonetheless, he couldn't deny that he had deviated from his original plan yesterday, and that was not ok. What sort of Minister of Justice would me make, when he couldn't even stick to his own carefully laid plans?

A knock at the door interrupted his troubled musings. "Your Honor," the man said as the door opened, "I'm here to collect the—" The man went silent as he gazed upon the pile of unfinished paperwork on the judge's desk.

"Get out, you idiot," the judge spat. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

The door hurriedly slammed shut. "Don't go in there," the man's voice came through the door, slightly muffled. "He's in an ugly mood."

"What's new?" one of the palace guards responded dryly.

E: "You will not go back to the Palace of Justice," Clopin hissed. "Understand?"

"I have to. It's the safest option," E replied, equally as firm. "The judge is expecting me. He said as much. I will add that he has sent those two guards to monitor me, and to make sure I'm not blabbing about last night to the whole town. He knows fully well what he's done. If I don't show up tonight, he will make the logical assumption that I've betrayed him. He will dismantle every stone of Paris looking for me."

"By the stars, he would. He's a madman!" Clopin shouted. "As if looking for excuses to imprison, execute, and banish our people wasn't enough, now we can add defiling my sister to that list! He's a monster, Esmerelda. I'm going to round up our people; we're leaving Paris now. No place within ten thousand miles of Judge Claude Frollo is safe for our people to live! We'll wander until we find someplace else to set up camp." Clopin spun around and began climbing back through the tunnel.

"No." E grabbed his shirt. "He'll just chase us. Let me go back. I think—I hope—that I can change his mind. Besides, I think it's better that I'm over there keeping an eye on him. If my plan fails, and he starts plotting something nasty, at least we'll know. And any time he spends watching me dance is time not spent locking people in prison. Don't you agree?"

"Esmerelda. As your older brother, your only family, and your protector, I am not comfortable with you paying visits to some creepy old man who has taken an interest in you." E attempted to open her mouth, but Clopin kept talking over her. "Now I know that you are grown up. I fully expected you to find love and start a family someday. But don't you realize that the judge is old? And creepy? And untrustworthy? And violent?"

"I think I am in a better position to assess his character than you are," E countered. "I know him better than you do."

Clopin balled his fists in frustration. "He's—he's using you! Can't you see that? You're nothing but a pawn to him. What are you going to do if he asks you where to find the Court of Miracles, Esmerelda? Or something of a similar nature?"

"I can take care of myself. I'll be fine. You know I wouldn't betray us."

"You are muleheaded and you're letting some monster do whatever he wants to you."

"On the contrary, I've invested my virginity in this, and you want me to stop my scheme now?"

Clopin pounded his forehead against the wall in frustration. He slumped in resignation. "Ok, E. I can tell that you're determined to follow this through to the bitter end. And I have to admit that you've made a point about keeping an eye on him to keep our people safe. I will allow you to do this—under one condition."

He took a deep breath before continuing. "You said that you're getting him to trust you. Even to the point of falling asleep with you next to him, even though that makes me sick just thinking about it. Esmerelda, I want you to promise me that you are going to kill him as soon as the opportunity presents itself."

"How? I mean, think about it. What am I going to do, sneak a knife in under my clothes? He's going to expect me to undress, you do realize…"

"You're resourceful, I'm sure you can figure it out," Clopin urged. "And I don't believe this will be as difficult as you think. I expect you two will be alone; I highly doubt that he wants guards patrolling his bedroom door and stopping to listen in and perhaps figuring out that you're in there with him."

There was a brief pause. "Esmerelda, promise me that your only motivation for returning to Judge Claude Frollo is to ultimately rid the world of that menace. Swear it! Swear you'll kill him!"

E took a deep breath. "I will kill Judge Claude Frollo. I swear it."

F: "We are expecting a special guest at the palace tonight," the judge lectured his guards. "She is a faithful employee of mine. A spy. You will treat her with the same dignity and respect as you would any other official who has visited me."

"Yes, Your Honor," came the toneless chorus. He had trained his men well.

"There will be no attempts at foolish impiety during her stay. She is here for business reasons and not for your entertainment. You know how I feel about prostitutes."

"Yes, Your Honor."

"Excellent." Turning on his heel, his robes billowed behind him as he silently walked back to his office.

Sitting back in his cushioned seat, he lifted the remaining pile of papers to his face. He squinted and held them close, attempting to read them more clearly. Ugh, don't tell me that I'm getting so old that my vision is beginning to go! Well, even if his eyesight was fading, glasses existed for a reason. Perhaps they would even make him appear more intelligent and scholarly.

He needed to be about his business. He wanted to have all of this paperwork finished before the girl showed up. Frantically he sifted through the parchment, sorting things into piles, scratching out this and adding in that.

The judge lost track of time. When he glanced out the window, the shadows were already looming long in front of the scarlet horizon. She'll be here soon. He shaved his face, combed his hair, and put on his expensive robe. After all, he was here for a business meeting. He needed to look the part.

He had carefully orchestrated the entire evening. He and Esmerelda were meeting in the dining hall and discussing the whereabouts of the gypsies over a meal. His guards would be there to watch, to see with their very own eyes that Esmerelda was a business contact and nothing more.

The two guards he had sent with E would be left out of the dining hall. He would interrogate them separately from E, to make sure that their stories matched each other's, and hers. If they had failed to do their duty, he must know.

Everything was going to go smoothly tonight. As fun as it had been, he was not going to slip up again. The entire purpose of tonight's meeting was to prove to everyone that he was not sexually interested in Esmerelda. He wouldn't be in a room alone with her, at all—he mustn't give fate a good opportunity to send his train of thought flying from the rails again.

Patiently, forcing his anxiety down, he waited in the dining hall. At last, his aching spirit was freed from the torture of waiting when the great double doors creaked open. "Your Honor," the captain of the guard said, "the gypsy dancer Esmerelda."

E: Esmerelda hoped that her pounding heartbeat was not audible to every ear in the room. She'd prepared carefully for this meeting. The entire evening was going to go smoothly.

She had expected an interrogation. Accordingly, she had caught back up with the guards and carefully instructed them on the cover story they were to give. She fully expected their compliance, as their other option was to admit their failure and face the judge's wrath. Inwardly, the girl smirked. Ruling by fear came with its disadvantages.

She knew full well what she was headed into. The judge's business was to interrogate and to sift through information to discern truth from falsehood. With his years of experience, he would be difficult to fool. But she had planned for this. No man could think properly when distracted, and she knew that his initial intentions last night definitely did not involve a bed. Most likely, they had involved her death. But he'd gotten off track.

If he'd stumbled once, he might do it again. E had taken her bright green dress and deliberately slit the skirt halfway up her thigh. That would give him something to worry about besides his carefully laid plans to trap her. Of course, she'd been sure to put on her cloak before Clopin could take notice of the slit dress. No need for him to know everything. She was an adult, after all.

Carefully she drew dark lines around her green eyes, shaded around them with dark, smoky eyeshadow. Her natural beauty was already stunning, but when skillfully accentuated—why, King Louis himself would have proposed to her on the spot. Critically, she examined her reflection in a mirror. Nothing short of perfection would do. She was visiting the most influential man in Paris tonight; she needed to look the part. A gauzy scarf around her neck allowed her silhouette to be seen, but disguised all of the bite marks. Neither she—nor the judge, she expected—had any desire for those to be noticed.

When she arrived at the palace gates that evening, flanked by the two guards, the soldiers at the door had given her strange looks. "Is this His Honor's secret agent?" one wondered.

"She's a gypsy! Look at the color of her skin! The judge hired her?" another wondered.

E stood up a little straighter. "I look forward to explaining to His Honor the warmth of welcome I received," she stated, more confidently than she felt.

The guard cleared his throat. "Right. This way, ma'am."

As they walked through the unwelcoming stone corridors, E overheads the soldiers whispering to one another. "The judge made really clear that she wasn't here as an entertainer. It makes me wonder…she must be really pretty."

"We'll soon see, won't we," another added. "She isn't going to eat dinner with him in that cloak, surely."

Dinner? That interested her. Sometimes, a good meal was hard to come by when you were a poor gypsy girl.

"I'm excited to see how she's dressed," a third guard remarked.

The judge's captain of the guard, Phoebus himself, was waiting outside the doors to the dining hall. He grinned at her. "Esmerelda?" he asked in surprise. "Is that you?"

"Yes," E replied.

"And to think that all this time, you were a spy. Who'd have guessed?" Phoebus opened the doors wide for her.

"Your Honor," Phoebus intoned, "the gypsy dancer Esmerelda."

F: At long last, she had come. The day had felt like an eternity to his restless spirit. Her cloak swirled around her as she walked, a new confidence blazing in her eyes. It made Frollo uncomfortable. She may be an honored guest, but he was still her master! Couldn't she learn that?

He gestured to the chair. "Sit." E complied, slipping off her cloak and handing it to a soldier.

Frollo examined her carefully. Oh, those eyes! Flawlessly shaded, matched perfectly with the green dress, smoldering with a fire that rivaled the passion engulfing the judge. He'd thought she was beautiful last night…but this?

And the skirt. Slit halfway up to her navel. Why did she have to egg him on in front of all the guards? Instantly, he regretted their presence. He regretted the entire plan. Why, oh why, had he decided to torment himself by deliberately placing the woman of his desires just out of his reach? This was going to be one of the longest evenings of his life.

"You may begin with your report," Frollo ordered curtly, somewhat relieved that the scandalous skirt was mostly hidden under the table. It made it easier to look at her eyes instead of other places—a necessary gesture, given that the guards were surely monitoring his every move.

Then again, her eyes were driving him just as mad as the skirt had.

"Unrest among the villagers on the south side. They're tired of paying taxes," E began.

"That is hardly news to me. Carry on." If he kept pushing, she would eventually run out of things to tell him that she expected he already knew.

"There's a few homeless men and women panhandling at the street corners," she continued.

"As always. What of Clopin, though? Do not forget that he is your special project."

Esmerelda's hands were in her lap, making her body language more difficult to read. "He is thoroughly unaware, Your Honor. In fact, he believes that I am working for him. He believes that I frequent the palace to spy on you and report back to him, and is completely unaware that I am watching his every move."

Unease gnawed at the judge's weary, broken heart. For all he knew, she could very well be working for Clopin, and playing the judge for a fool. He looked forward to his conversation with the two guards. Absolutely, he must back-check everything Esmerelda told him.

"What did you tell Clopin that you learned from your visit yesterday?" Now for the moment of truth. The guards had been ordered to discreetly observe any conversation she had with the gypsy leader. If she had betrayed him, he would soon know.

"I told him that I learned you are much weaker than you let the public see. You are weary of fighting, aware that you are ageing, and very close to throwing in the towel altogether. I told him that you would never suspect me of spying on you—because you're completely blinded by your emotions—because you fancy me."

It took every last fiber of willpower that Judge Claude Frollo possessed to keep from jumping across the table and strangling that impudent girl with his bare hands. How dare she!

"You are a creative liar," he responded, begging Maria that his voice would not betray his flaming temper. He must not lose face in front of his men.

"Thank you, Your Honor." Her voice was cool and level.

Sancta Maria Mater Dei! By the fires of Hell, the girl would pay for this later!

The judge was relieved when their conversation was interrupted by the maid bringing in the cauldron of hot soup. This interrogation was going very badly. The idea had been for him to dominate her and force some information from her about the gypsies' hideouts. Instead, she had him dangling from a string, jerking his emotions this way and that as he struggled desperately to maintain his footing.

"Hungry?" he asked her.

E: The soup smelled wonderful. E swallowed to keep herself from drooling.

So far, so good. She had the judge right where she wanted him: on the defensive. Inwardly, she smirked at the judge's furious reaction. "You are a creative liar," he forced out, tendons of his neck tightening into cords. She had coolly thanked him, deliberately rubbing it in. This was payback for the way he had toyed with her last night and this morning. His turn to be played with!

He appeared relieved for this break in the conversation. E was disappointed to be interrupted when her scheme was working so well, but still she looked forward to the food.

Despite her hunger, she waited, stirring her soup, for the judge to taste it first. She wasn't sure that the food hadn't been drugged. And she didn't want to think about what might happen to her in this place should her wits become dulled.

"This is delicious," she said. "Thank you."

She thought of her friends back home, occasionally resorting to raiding garbage piles in search of something edible. Even during their better months, they didn't eat as well as she was tonight. The thought encouraged her to continue her dangerous game. Think of all the good that Frollo's wealth could do for her people! If only she could get him to see…

"My pleasure," the judge responded.

That could either have been casual conversation, or veiled statement that he intended to have another go at her tonight. Well, she wouldn't try to dissect his words right now. She still had an interrogation to carefully dodge her way through.

"Has Clopin decided where next to settle his gang? I know that they drift all over the city."

There came the question she had been dreading. The break in conversation that the food had brought about had given Claude a chance to recover his footing.

"Indeed they do. They have many small campouts and they're always moving. It makes them hard to pinpoint," Esmerelda dodged carefully.

"Which is where you come in," the judge continued.

"Exactly, Your Honor," E replied. After losing her initial head start, she decided her best bet was to appear submissive and obedient—especially with more than a dozen soldiers watching them both. Should things turn ugly, she would be very much outnumbered. "A few of them have been hiding out in the hay barns in the D'Arte farm—stealing his vegetables and eggs—but it's likely that they've moved by now." Not a lie, but she only divulged the information because she knew they had moved a few days ago.

"But their headquarters. The Court of Miracles. That is my main concern."

"Of course. I'm familiar with the place. I've been there. You get there through a confusing labyrinth that's teeming with booby traps, and there at the center a band of wild people who will fight like hornets defending their nest. Attacking the place would be an excellent way to drastically reduce the headcount among your soldiers. Of course…I can assure you that it takes great effort on our part to maintain our defenses." E tread carefully on these dangerous waters. The judge was nodding his head in agreement. She deliberately spooned more soup into her mouth to buy herself a few seconds.

"If you wanted to attempt an attack now, the best way would be through the secret tunnel hidden behind the loose stone of the third windmill of the D'Arte farm. It's the route that the people were using who were hiding in his hay barns." E kept herself calm and confident, knowing for a fact that this route would be heavily guarded. She and Clopin had agreed that this tunnel was the one she was going to unveil to Frollo and his men. Clopin would double the security.

"Of course, I fully expect it to be defended," she continued. Frollo nodded. "But as I've told you, I'm planting seeds of doubt in Clopin's mind. I am duping him into thinking that you are an incompetent old lunatic who should have retired years ago. Now, I wanted to make sure Clopin would really hate you, so I lied and said that you fancied me. And he was furious. He'll drop all of the defenses to storm the palace in full force. He wants to personally cut you into a million tiny pieces!"

"And you will make sure they have false information," Frollo continued. "And I will be waiting for them."

"Of course, Your Honor. Though I may have been born a gypsy, I am intelligent enough to throw my lot in with the winning side in this struggle." And thank God that Clopin couldn't hear those words. She'd have to scour her mouth out with soap and water after this!

"A wise decision, my faithful employee," the judge commended.

F: The judge did not allow his face to show the immense relief he felt. He'd barely managed to regain control of the conversation and save the evening. Now to interrogate the two guards he'd sent to monitor E.

"Well done, Esmerelda. You may return to your duties now. I will expect another report from you tomorrow evening."

"I will not disappoint, Your Honor." E got up to leave. "My cloak," she ordered the guard.

She was wrapped up in that overcoat much, much too quickly for Frollo's liking. He needed more time to examine that dress.

"Phoebus, show her out," the judge ordered, wishing that he'd been the one handing E her cloak and wrapping her up in it. And secretly getting his hands under the cloak.

He would just have to plan time for that later. Fact-checking E's story was the next priority.

"…the gypsies were in the D'Arte barn. They got there through the secret tunnel behind the loose stone of the third window," the second guard answered.

The court recorder's hands flew skillfully over the paper, writing down every word in shorthand.

"Her conversation with Clopin," Frollo pressed.

"Oh, yes. She told him that she's pulled the wool over your eyes real good. You think that she's just here to date you."

The judge wished that she'd used a different alibi, but he had to admit that it wasn't a bad one. If nothing else, it gave the two of them a cover story: they were faking a relationship for Clopin's sake. He also fully appreciated the fact that a lie that closely resembled the truth was difficult to ferret out in court. A blatant, poorly constructed lie was easy to expose.

"Clopin hates your guts ten times as much as he used to, now that his sister's involved."

Their stories were matching, despite the fact that he'd deliberately prevented the two guards from listening to E's report. Apparently, the guards had done their job. And E, despite her spunky nature, had realized that it was not wise to lie to a powerful public official.

The interrogation was soon finished, leaving the judge alone with his thoughts. Inside, he was shredded into a million tiny pieces, each one screaming out in the pain of being torn. His beautiful dancer, so close, yet so impossibly out of reach. Fighting down the fire burning inside of him, under the watchful eyes of his men. Esmerelda, aware of the professional demeanor he was required to maintain, flippantly poking fun at him. The evening had been torture.

Esmerelda would be long gone from the palace by now. It should have taken Phoebus mere minutes to show her out.

The soldiers, too, would be mostly settled down at this hour. Those who weren't sleeping would be patrolling the gates.

Silently as a cat, Frollo swept through the stone hallways to his bedroom. The door creaked open with a weary groan. He'd slept in this room for twenty years, yet tonight, it felt incredibly empty despite the furnishings. Chill pervaded the dormitory; the fire flickered low.

As the judge stirred the fire, flames spitting and crackling as he prodded them back to life, his tormented mind formed images in the scarlet blaze. The flames rippled like silk, silk folds of a dress. A red dress. The dress he'd pulled off of Esmerelda last night.

He closed his eyes in frustration. Even the fire looked like her! He must be going mad!

It's my fault. It's my fault. It's all my fault. Hadn't he read the first chapters of Genesis dozens of times? As soon as Adam and Eve tasted that fruit that they weren't allowed to touch, they were thrown from the garden. Never to be allowed to sample that fruit again. Forever to dream of it. Forever to mourn, with no hope of comfort. Forever to live in a cold, barren world.

An unfamiliar texture tangled around his fingers when he smoothed down his bedsheets. He lifted his hand to his face, drew closer to the fire for a better look…

It was a strand of hair. A long, black, curly strand of hair.

Esmerelda's hair.

Chill that had nothing to do with the cold night air bit deep into the judge's bones. For years, he'd enjoyed the challenge of coaxing the truth from a crime scene that had been tampered with. No matter how perfect the perpetrator had thought their crime, there was always some tiny mark left unnoticed. He'd sentenced many men and women to be burned at stake over damning evidence as small as a shirt button left laying in the dirt after a scuffle, a forced window that would never again shut quite perfectly no matter how hard the thief had tried…maybe even a strand of hair.

How many of Esmerelda's hairs, hidden as innocently as a rattlesnake in the underbrush, waited to strike him the moment they were discovered by the wrong set of eyes? How many other incriminating tidbits lurked in the palace, dormant and deadly?

The judge was treading a treacherous web, a web in which he had successfully snared and broken countless men and women. All had begun the walk confidently, all had seized up in horror as the trap closed around them, all had been delivered to their inevitable fate. Now, it was Frollo's turn.

But he had one advantage: he'd woven the web himself. He knew its hooks and snares. If he kept his wits about him, never stepped out of line, he knew how to navigate his way out alive.

And the first step was to inform his entire menagerie that his bedroom was strictly off limits. The room was not frequented, outside of the janitors cleaning periodically, but he must take no chances.

Phoebus should be in the guard's dormitory right now. If Frollo could explain the situation to him—explain that the judge was redecorating for the time being and didn't want anything disturbed—Phoebus would make sure that the message got to the entire guard. Fear lent speed to Frollo's steps as he whisked through the stone walkways.

He flung the doors to the guard's dormitory wide open. "Phoebus!" he shouted.

In response, a few guards stared up at him blankly. "Phoebus ain't here," one drawled idiotically.

"Then where is he, you useless clod?" the judge spat.

"Don't—know—" squeaked the frightened guard.

"Any of you!" the judge thundered, growing angrier by the second. As Captain, Phoebus was expected to be at the right places at the right times. Captains should be reliable, dammit! "Where is Phoebus?"

Wide-eyed and cowering, the guards shook their heads.

"Never mind, you idiots," the judge hissed. "I'll find him myself." He flung the doors closed with such strength that they almost rattled from their hinges. Where was Phoebus? The judge had fired his former captain of the guard and only recently replaced him with Phoebus. Was Phoebus to prove an identical disappointment? Good help was infuriatingly impossible to find.

Fueled by temper, the judge swept through corridors. He had enough problems already; the last thing he needed was the task of finding a replacement for a useless captain!

At last, the familiar voice drifted through the rafters of a little-used room. That no-good captain was goofing off, and trying to hide it. That miserable fool. Nobody could hide anything from Judge Claude Frollo. He held perfectly still, trying to pinpoint the voice.

"I didn't know there was a room up here."

A muscle in Frollo's face twitched. That voice had not belonged to Phoebus.

"There's a lot of secret passageways in this creepy old place." Phoebus' voice this time.

"Good to know. Thanks for the tour. I owe you, sun boy."

Veins in his temple throbbing, Frollo crawled silently up the wooden beams. Phoebus was not the only one aware of the many secret routes through the Palace of Justice.

"You don't have to owe me. You can repay me right now, sweetheart," Phoebus offered. "Did I mention that the outfit looks really great on you?"

"Yes, you did. Five times. But thanks anyway."

"Did I mention that it would look better on the floor?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, sun boy," E retorted. "Not that you aren't cute, but…I'm in enough hot water as it is. I'm already sleeping with one man that I'm not supposed to."

"What!? Who?" Phoebus demanded angrily, his body suddenly stiffening.

"I'm not…supposed…to tell," Esmeralda put up her hands, taking an uncertain step backward. "He and I would both be in deep trouble if anyone knew…" She stepped back again when Phoebus stepped forward.

"Look, babe, you can tell me. I'm the second to most powerful man in Paris! I won't let you get hurt for tattling on him, Esme. Who is it, some dirty swindler at the Boar's Head? One of the guards extorting you in return for protection from Frollo?"

"It's not quite that simple," she fumbled. Frollo looked down from his hiding place in the rafters, surveying the unease on the girl's face.

"Babe, I get that you're anxious, but how complicated can this be? Just give me a name, a description, and where he lives. I'm Frollo's captain of the guard, for heaven's sake! Nobody is going to question me!" His hand gripped the pommel of his sword. "Whoever it is, I'LL MAKE HIM PAY!"

Frollo had heard enough. Nimbly, he leapt from the rafters. The dagger dug in between the captain's ribs like an eagle's talons ripping into its kill, perfectly severing muscle and lungs alike.

"Send me the bill," Frollo said calmly.

Phoebus twisted so suddenly that the dagger's handle was wrenched from Frollo's hands. "You," Phoebus hissed as he turned to face his master, eyes widening in shock before narrowing in anger. "I'll—" Phoebus was interrupted by a rattling cough. Blood from his punctured lung gurgled in his throat, as he spat out a half-formed clot.

In an act of final desperation, Phoebus grabbed Esmerelda with his left hand, dagger in his right. The momentum threw both of them from the rafters into the yawning darkness below.

"No," Frollo choked. "Esmerelda!" His voice was raw. "Esmerelda!" The animalistic howl echoed through the great void that had swallowed his former captain and his one ray of sunshine alike.

The seconds dragged out like eons.

"I'm coming!" her voice echoed back.

"You're alive," Frollo choked.

"Trying—to—climb—" she panted. "Can't—see."

A hand, delicate as a rose petal but skilled as a master swordsman, grabbed the edge of the rafters. The judge's fingers closed around her slender wrist. "I'll pull you up," he whispered around the lump in his throat.

E: She grabbed hold of the judge's wrists with her other free hand, and felt herself dragged up onto the rafters. Heart still hammering, body shaking from the adrenaline crash, she folded willingly into his protecting arms.

Wild, terrified eyes met. Two shaken human beings drew closer to the one entity that could reassure them—each other.

Words failed Esmerelda. In seconds that had felt like hours, she'd wrestled free of Phoebus, caught hold of a wooden beam, and began the climb. She thanked God that adrenaline had taken over. Right now, she could throw up just looking down into the yawning blackness.

Her hands pressed to either side of his face, reassuring herself that he was there and she was still alive and safe. He echoed her movements, cupping her face with one hand, keeping the other firmly around her back.

Closing her eyes, she brushed her lips against his. He responded enthusiastically, sweeping her into the kiss with the gentle fierceness of building, barely-restrained passion.

The outside world no longer existed. E wrapped her arms around Claude's neck and kissed him, hard, willingly fueling his desire, basking in the warmth of the fire that burned within him. She rose to her knees, pressing her torso into those opulent robes, sealing her lips more tightly into his.

He pressed back, gently lifting her from her knees and guiding her to the floor. He lay on top of her, hands kneading at her prone form, hips straddling hers.

At last his lips separated from hers, remaining centimeters away. Esmerelda sucked in the air in huge gulps, still trembling beneath him.

"Smart girl," he whispered huskily. "One scandalous relationship is plenty."

E smiled up at him. "So it is an official relationship, then. I'm glad you've confirmed that."

"Shh." Tingles crawled up her spine when the judge laid a finger to her lips. "You have the right to remain silent and anything you say can be used against you." Even in the dim light, E couldn't miss the faint twinkle in his eyes, the ghost of a genuine smile that played at his lips. There's a shred of humanity left in him. I know it. I can see it.

"Besides, you know I am an honorable man. I simply do not believe in one-night stands. Therefore"—the smile fought its way to the surface—"I think I'm obliged to make this an ongoing affair, agree?"

She returned the smile. "Works for me. Although I'd like to point out, that even if no one ever comes up here, your bed is going to be much more comfortable than the floor."

"But of course." He began the climb down the support beams, E following him.

A gentle breeze of relief stirred E's thoughts. It hadn't been her wistful imagination playing tricks on her the night before; that heart that had been solid ice for twenty years was beginning to melt. She could see the change taking place, even within the past 24 hours.

E wondered, not for the first time, what life experiences could turn a human being into such a hard, bitter, lifeless shell. The judge was more than double her age. Surely, he had seen and done things that E had never even dreamed of.

He was wealthy; had it been inherited, or earned? And how had he grown up? He appeared to have no family whatsoever, outside of Quasimodo. E could not think of a single other human in Paris with the surname of Frollo. Yet, as is true of every human, he obviously had to have come from somewhere.

Once they had both returned safely to the ground, Claude gently scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the palace. E obligingly wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder, relishing the warmth that seeped through his dark robes. For an older man, he was surprisingly fit; his arms were still steady around her several minutes later when they finally reached the bedroom door.

Claude locked the bedroom doors behind them, but E expected it was to keep any snoopers from getting in rather than to keep her from getting out. She slipped off her dress and burrowed down into the silken sheets. Such luxury, such comfort, it almost pricked her with guilt when she thought of her people's bare cots and sleeping bags.

I should not feel guilty about enjoying this, she justified herself. I'm definitely paying a hefty price for these luxuries. I could have lost my life an hour ago when Phoebus threw me from the attic.

Digging her elbow into the soft mattress, resting her chin in her hand, E watched the judge hanging his robes up in the closet. By the light of the fireplace, she could make out something on his back.

Her emotions had been much too much of a blur for her to take notice of it last night, but there was most definitely something there. E squinted into the firelight. Was that a…pentagram? Carved into the flesh of the same man who believed himself to be the most God-fearing being in all Paris?

He turned back to face her, hiding the mark from view as he climbed onto the bed. Undeterred, E slipped an arm under his and ran her hand down his back. The slightly raised edges of the scar could not hide from her attentive fingers.

The plot thickens. E knew better than to continue to palpate the scar. Any indication that she was investigating his unholy mark could easily stir his hair-trigger temper into a violent fury.

Fortunately for her, the judge did not appear to notice. Already he was happily tracing her petite form with his fingers. Again, E's flesh betrayed her. A soft whimper escaped her red lips as she instinctively snuggled closer to him.

"Mine," he purred in her ear, their bodies intertwining. "Mine. Mine. Mine."

F: Miracle of miracles, the judge had not been banished from Eden after all. Well, as the tantalizing fruit had not appeared to be his immediate undoing, would it really be so bad to have another taste?

Unfortunately for him, the respite was not to last. It seemed he had barely fallen asleep, E curled up in his arms, when a harsh, persistent knocking on the door thoughtlessly rattled his peaceful rest.

"If this is not a dire emergency, you are in for the flogging of your LIFE," Frollo growled.

"Welp, it looks like he's alive," came the voice from behind the door.

"I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed," another voice remarked.

"I am very much alive," Frollo said loudly. "Which is more than will be true of you unless you immediately explain yourselves."

"There's a wild fiend loose in the castle! We're all in a panic!" a third voice shrieked.

"And by wild fiend, we mean someone besides you," a fourth voice clarified.

"Thank you for that unnecessary explanation." Frollo's usual condescending disgust came naturally to him, even when partially asleep. Sancta Maria Mater Dei, just how many soldiers were on the other side of that door?! E had awakened, but wisely hadn't made a sound.

"That spy girl, Esmeralda, it turns out that she's been working for Clopin this entire time! She stabbed the captain! Marcus over here saw her do it!" Another guard.

"And I ran away as fast as I could and raised the alarm!" came another voice, probably Marcus. "I was afraid maybe she'd gotten you too! She got done with Phoebus and was climbing the walls, and I could have sworn I heard your voice up in the attic!"

"No," Frollo groaned weakly, sinking back onto the mattress. "Sancta Maria Mater Dei, no."

"She's crazy! We've scoured the palace and we can't find a trace of her! She's disappeared! She has to be a witch!" a panicked voice shrieked. "Hunt her down and burn her!"

"We have no idea where she is!" Good. "What are we supposed to do now!?"

"What you should do now," Frollo growled, "is to guard every entrance and exit, in case she tries to come back. Every last one of you, patrol outside. Not inside, outside. She obviously isn't inside the building, since you've already searched everywhere. Don't waste your energy guarding thin air."

"Well, we've searched everywhere but your room," an unhelpful guard pointed out. "She might be hiding behind a piece of furniture or something."

"She is obviously not in my room, you bumbling buffoon." Disgust dripped from his words. "I've been in here alone, with the doors locked from the inside, for several hours. If your tongue serves no purpose other than to blurt out useless ideas, perhaps it should be cut out." That spiteful put-down would spell doom for any scandalous ideas that the guards may have been entertaining. "Now, get to your posts and let me sleep."

Footsteps upon footsteps pattered across the floor for several minutes as the soldiers headed out. Finally, there was silence. But Claude was no fool. He slipped on a bathrobe and went and opened the doors just enough to see out. As he had anticipated, a few stragglers were still hanging around the stone corridor.

"In case you were wondering," he spoke to no one in particular, "times like these are when I am memorizing faces in preparation for my next 'random' selection of volunteers to be practice dummies during your next intruder drill."

The hallway was emptied before Claude could memorize anyone's face. He slammed the doors closed and locked them with a smug smile. Nobody, nobody got away with spying on Judge Claude Frollo.

"The hallway is clear," he sighed, dropping back onto the bed.

"That was too close," E said. "We're lucky that Marcus ran out of the room as soon as he saw Phoebus in the floor. Of course, he assumed I stabbed him, seeing as how Phoebus threw us both from the roof together, and I kicked him off me and he fell to the ground with a knife in him."

"And now we're accused of murder, as opposed to being accused of murder and licentiousness, because he ran out of the room in time," Claude spat. "Well, I suppose we should count our blessings…right?"

"They hate me now." E's voice trembled. "They'll kill me sooner than look at me. And all because I said 'yes' when Phoebus offered me a tour."

The judge's heart sunk like a rock thrown into the sea. His beloved had done nothing wrong, he'd wielded the knife, and now she was a hated criminal. Why couldn't things ever go according to plan?

"Esmerelda," he said gently, "look at me."

She complied.

The firelight reflected softly in her green eyes, caressed her skin with a gentle glow. Even with her smudged makeup that she'd forgotten to wash off, she was beautiful.

"Yes?" she offered, interrupting his thoughts.

"I'm the Minister of Justice, and it is my duty to not let you be punished because I was required to dispose of yet another idiot." Claude surprised even himself with his words. He'd spent the past twenty years of his job eagerly exposing and punishing the guilty. It was the least he could do, after Jehan's killers got off scot-free and he'd been unable to do anything about it. The world was cruel, the world was wicked. In the beginning, each death warrant he'd signed had been personal: This is for you, Jehan! And this! And this! It eventually dwindled to a cold satisfaction that he was doing his part to scour this world clean of its vermin, vermin that had left hideous scars that he bore on his soul to this day.

But for the first time ever, he'd seen his job in a new light: he was a defender of the innocent.

E: On cue, she'd turned to look at him. When he hadn't spoken immediately, she realized that he was too absorbed looking at her, and smiled a little. "Yes?" she prompted him gently.

"I'm the Minister of Justice, and it is my duty to not let you be punished because I was required to dispose of yet another idiot."

He's real. He's human. My intuition was right all along. And I'm legitimately falling in love with him.

And she'd promised Clopin she'd bring him the judge's head on a plate.

And Clopin, who shared her stubbornness, would do everything in his power to make sure that E made good on that promise.

Her thoughts quickly snapped back to the present. She must give him no indication that she was loyal to him with less than every fiber of her being. "Thank you," she murmured, leaning over to kiss him. Her conscience bit deep into her chest with stabbing, needle-like teeth. How could she have promised Clopin she would kill the very man who had just vowed to protect her?

"I'm just doing my job," Claude replied, unable to hide the soft sparkle in his eyes. He waved a scolding finger at her. "Don't you start thinking for a minute that I'm showing you any favoritism. That would be contrary to my sworn duty."

"Of course." E burrowed back down under the sheets. She crawled closer to the judge, slipping her hands under the bathrobe, pressing her palms to his chest, his heartbeat sending gentle, rhythmic tremors through her fingers.

His lips brushed her forehead as hands tangled in her raven hair. "I know where you can stay. Where you'll be safe," he whispered. "I'll get the guards settled back down."

E closed her eyes. The soft lullaby of his breathing soon had her fast asleep.

F: The judge blinked sleepily in the pale, early morning sunrise. Another day, another list of duties to perform. Out of habit, he rolled over to climb out of bed.

A thorn of shame dug into his heart when he saw the girl. He'd fallen. Again. And what with the soldiers assuming she had murdered Phoebus, it appeared that he'd dragged Esmerelda with him when he fell.

The judge hung his head. That forbidden fruit was so delicious, even after he'd sworn he'd learned his lesson, he'd clawed his way back for another taste. Even worse, he'd stabbed Phoebus for getting between him and Eden's gates.

What in Heaven's name was wrong with him? It made no sense. His youth had come and gone, countless females passing him unnoticed. Several women, many of them very attractive, had tried to flirt their way out of punishments during his many long years in office. Their efforts had only served to increase the judge's sense of smug authority over them and his cold satisfaction from sending them to the gallows despite their doomed pleading.

Long years of nearly-effortless celibacy notwithstanding, he'd suddenly fallen head over heels for Esmerelda, despite her utter contempt for him. The first time they met, she'd smacked his hat down over his face to get a laugh from the crowd. Any other human being would have served much-deserved time in the pillory for that one. Any human, that is, except Esmerelda.

Now, within the past forty-eight hours, he had fallen: from a lofty monument to virtue, to a dirty rat who had killed another man with his own hands all because of a woman. A woman who was young enough to be his daughter, had he married and had children in his 20's like most men did.

To top it all off, he'd lied. The judge reserved a special measure of spite for liars. Years of work had instilled deep contempt in him for those who believed that they could give him, the most powerful man in Paris, false information and be believed. Yet, he himself had lied to the guards when he said that Esmerelda was just a spy who worked for him. He'd lied when he'd told off the guards for being stupid enough to imagine that E could have been in his bedroom. He'd lied to E when he promised that he could keep her safe. The belltower had worked for Quasi, but E had climbed out of there the last time. Granted, his soldiers were technically supposed to leave her alone if she remained inside of Notre Dame, but given the success of her previous stay there… He'd felt inclined to say something, to reassure her, but it only served to torment his soul.

All of these recent transgressions had one common denominator: Esmerelda. The Bible said that if your hand causes you to sin, you should cut it off. And if Esmerelda caused his fall from grace…

Poor thing, she didn't deserve any of this mess that they had both fallen into. Weights hung wearily from the judge's shoulders as the reality of the situation began to materialize. If this scene played to its bitter end, E would be jailed, tried, mocked, and ultimately fed to the fire. True, he could try to fight it, but at the end of the day it would be him standing alone against the institute of the laws of Paris and against a jeering crowd who had learned the real reason behind Esmerelda's palace visits. Was there anything he could do to save her from her fate?

She lay there, sleeping so peacefully, blissfully unaware. Claude realized that he could spare her, spare them both, from public humiliation and a slow, painful, publicized death. His hands inched towards her neck. She was fast asleep; she would never feel a thing.

You're doing her a kindness, he tried to console himself. You know how the justice system works. The world is cruel; the world is wicked.

Tears stung his eyes. Forgive me, Esmerelda.

She stirred and opened her eyes. Claude drew back. He'd been seconds too late.

Maybe it was just as well that fate had spared him the pain of making this agonizing choice.

The girl yawned, stretched, and rolled over. Emerald eyes opened in surprise when she noticed him.

"Esmerelda," he choked. "My love. My darling."

"Claude?" she responded softly. "You haven't been laying awake worrying, have you? …You have, haven't you."

His facial expression must have betrayed him. Surprise stung him as suddenly as a wasp underfoot when he realized that he'd displayed an emotion besides scorn, and another human being had recognized it.

"I've been…trying to determine the best way to handle this," he sighed. A mercy kill was not the answer. He would find a way to rescue Esmerelda. He had to. He owed it to her, after getting her into this mess. "You can't stay in the Palace of Justice, clearly. Do you think you could stay in the belltower of Notre Dame, at least temporarily?"

E: She had been a little confused when she woke up. Where were all the people? Where were the wagons? Where was Djali?

Then Esmerelda saw the judge, and she remembered. Disgust squirmed in her stomach like an overgrown maggot. She was a traitor, a traitor to her people. Despite her best intentions, she'd ended up in bed with him again. What was wrong with her?

"Esmerelda," he whispered thickly. "My love. My darling." His face was heavy and drawn.

He had clearly woken up before she had, and something was obviously troubling him. "You haven't been laying awake worrying, have you?"

"I've been trying to determine the best way to handle this. You can't stay in the Palace of Justice, clearly. Do you think you could stay in the belltower of Notre Dame, at least temporarily?"

Shame, shame at her previous disgust, stabbed her heart. He obviously cared about her; was it so wrong to have feelings for him?

She considered his offer. She'd hidden in Notre Dame before, and then Quasi had helped her sneak out. Of course, Frollo was fully aware that she'd escaped his clutches the previous time. He'd probably triple the guard.

Either way, she couldn't stay where she was. "I'll stay in Notre Dame…temporarily." She insisted on subtly challenging his misconception that she was at his beck and call. "But how do you plan on getting me there? We'll be seen!"

"I think I have an idea, dear," he replied. "And I hope that I need not remind you that I expect your full cooperation."

Grr. He'd clearly noticed her subtle hint, and wasn't pleased.

"You look annoyed," the judge commented.

E decided against provoking a fight. "I am annoyed," she said, "with myself. Because I can't figure out what on earth I'm doing in your bed for the second night in a row. I thought I hated you!"

"Hatred and love are sisters, my dear," Claude commented with an air of experience. "And the opposite of them both is apathy." He slid a hand down her ribcage.

E twitched involuntarily, suppressing a giggle. "Stoppit. I'm ticklish."

"Oh, you are?" Claude asked with his characteristic devilish smirk. In a blink, he was on top of her, left arm pinning her to the mattress, right hand stroking her side.

Struggling was useless; he had pinned her well. Unable to get away, she attempted to scream out through her uncontrollable laughter. "That tickles AAAAIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE! Stoppit! STOP!"

"You'll have to speak more clearly," Claude purred. "I can't understand you."

"STHAAAAAAAAP!" Her voice reached a pitch usually reserved for calling dogs.

Mercifully he let up. E sucked in air in huge gasps.

"You're fun," the judge remarked. "Especially when I have every last soldier patrolling outside of the palace, supposedly looking for you."

"You rascal." E smirked and reached up and tweaked his nose.

"Hmm, you must want more." Fingers crept up her ribcage. E jerked and giggled.

"My little bird. My flower. My precious dancer." E squirmed sinuously, drinking in the minister's soft, warm voice. She closed her eyes and sunk deeper into the heated passions that engulfed her.

Seduced. Seduced by her mortal enemy. But right now, this bizarre reality caused her no shame. Flinging all decorum to the winds, her hands subconsciously tugged at the ties of his bathrobe. Why had he fallen asleep in that silly thing?

"Good girl," he whispered, compliantly slipping out of the offending garment and tossing it in the floor.

Her fingers teased at the nape of his neck, slowly working their way down his spine. A soft, satisfied growl told Esmerelda that her gesture was warmly appreciated. Pale hands stroked her bronze skin, hidden under the bedcovers, eliciting a happy sigh.

Soft, damp lips pressed against her neck. "Oh, Claude," she moaned, still marveling that the man she'd once been taught to hate could awaken this spark within her. "Take me, I'm yours."

The judge needed no further coaxing. E happily followed his lead, bodies swaying together in an enraptured dance, moans and sighs intermingling in an ethereal duet. Judge Claude Frollo was the greatest thing that she never knew she needed. If Clopin couldn't see that, well, pox on him.

The tingling warmth persisted in her body even after the judge finally climbed off of her and crawled out of the bed. Her eyes followed him lazily as he stepped over to his wardrobe.

The pentagram was very much still there.

Monster lines. Quasi may not have had any of them, but Frollo definitely did.

He walked back to the bed, bent over her, and kissed her. "I'll be back," he whispered. "Stay here."

The doors closed softly behind him. Esmerelda pulled the sheets up to her neck. The bed was still very warm, and the room was cold, and she had nothing on. She'd lay there for a few more minutes…

E had no idea how much time had passed when she woke up for the second time that morning. She felt wonderful for having had the chance to rest. It dawned on her that she'd been given a golden opportunity to explore the minister's bedroom free from observation.

She headed for the closet first—it would be a good idea to get some clothing on. She filed through the soft fabric, finding a set of robes with a hood. She slipped the clothing on and pulled the hood up over her face. If anyone happened to see her, hopefully they would assume that she was the judge and not be suspicious.

E scurried around like a foraging squirrel. There was a shelf full of books, most of them written in Latin. The gypsy wished, not for the first time, that she'd had a better opportunity to get an education. It was difficult to consistently school the children when you were constantly on the move, trying to remain one step ahead of whatever authority figure was currently attempting to drive you out.

I wonder what he'd think if I said I wanted to learn Latin? She giggled a little at the thought. Most likely, he'd be more than a little surprised. Since when did a gypsy want to learn a skill besides picking pockets?

E stiffened a little. She could think of several faces and names who would most likely give up picking pockets if given an opportunity to learn an honest trade. If only someone would give her people a chance, instead of kicking them from place to place to place!

She glanced around the lavish furnishings in the room. Reverting to her old habits, she began wondering what could be easily stolen. Think of all the things her people needed!

No, she was a fool to even consider that. Rob the Minister of Justice? She'd be hanged in two seconds flat, regardless of how attractive she was. Nobody, nobody stole from the Minister of Justice.

Curiosity piquing her, E slipped one of the books from the shelf. It crackled slightly when she unfolded the browned pages, warning her to handle it carefully. Frollo would be furious if she had carelessly damaged his stuff.

Very gently, she smoothed out the pages. She took in the painted borders and the beautiful calligraphy, all done by hand. How many hours had been devoted to making this work of art?

E froze when the door rattled. She was going to be caught, and then all hell would break loose. Thoughts flashed through her brain. The judge's infamous temper could nearly send the whole of Paris scurrying for cover, and she was wearing his robes, after all. So long as whoever was at the door never saw her face…

"I'M READING. GO AWAY." Esmerelda dropped her voice several tones lower than normal and attempted to sound as grouchy as possible.

"Interesting," came the cool, level reply. "Not only is it a crime to impersonate a public official, but you are also doing an incredibly poor job."

Her face grew hot when she immediately recognized the voice. "Claude? …I—I was too scared to turn around. I thought you were a guard."

"I do not sound like that at all," he continued. (Yes, you do, E responded silently.) "And those robes are much too long for you. It surprises me that you haven't tripped on them."

F: His plan had been straightforward enough: ride to Notre Dame with Esmerelda flanking him, dressed in a soldier's uniform with a helmet that completely shielded her face. The townsfolk would assume that she was a bodyguard, and think nothing of it.

He'd worried over the size of the armor when he'd browsed the armory. E would require a smaller suit than the average man, but a suit that was too small wouldn't fasten up. And he could not afford to make multiple trips to the armory to exchange suits; the soldiers would definitely wonder what was going on. Of course, he dared not bring E down to the armory to try on armor. She would certainly be seen!

Finally forcing himself to make a choice, the judge headed back up to his dormitory. He expected that Esmerelda had fallen back asleep in his absence—good, let her rest. Perhaps she would have awoken by now, perhaps not. He opened the doors.

"I'M READING. GO AWAY." Esmerelda's voice was a pathetic, though amusing, facsimile of his own. Damn trickster was wearing his clothing, too. He questioned the wisdom of leaving her in his bedroom unobserved. No matter how sexy she was, E was still Romani. A people notorious for their trickery, cleverness, and loyalty to only each other.

But the judge was a master at coolly manipulating his minions back into line. An offhand remark that E's deception had been seen right through, followed by a reminder that she was breaking the law—that should do the trick. Not only was she a criminal, but she was bad at committing crimes.

"Interesting," he mused. "Not only is it a crime to impersonate a public official, but you are also doing an incredibly poor job. I do not sound like that."

Turning around, E stammered that she'd guessed he was a guard and had been afraid to show her face. Frollo pushed back the robes' hood, revealing her blushing countenance.

The judge had to admit, she blushed very attractively. Red tinge perfectly highlighting her cheekbones…

Snap out of it, idiot. "This is the plan. We are riding to Notre Dame. You are going to wear a soldier's uniform so that the townsfolk will assume you are a bodyguard."

"Doesn't surprise me that the people are used to seeing you with a bodyguard," E remarked. "I wonder, how many assassination attempts have nearly ended your illustrious career?"

"More than one," Frollo replied coolly. "Despite the fact that every single perpetrator was publicly executed, to set an example for any townsfolk with delusions of heroism. Some people, I fear, cannot be rescued from their own stupidity."

His own words stung him more than a little. Every fiber of logic in his body declared that this relationship with Esmerelda was a terrible idea, yet he persisted in his iniquity. What on earth was wrong with him, that his actions stubbornly indicated that he placed a higher value on the girl's flesh and bone than on his reputation, his authority, and possibly his life?

It appeared that his spirit was attempting to compensate for decades of loneliness by obsessing over the girl—at least, that was the only explanation the minister could think of.

"But before we run out the door…are you hungry?" He pulled a loaf of bread, still warm, from a basket tucked away under his voluminous robes. The minister's own stomach was achingly empty, as he hadn't taken time to eat anything that morning. But instead of grabbing something to eat while he worked, he realized that E was probably hungry, too. She deserved some human consideration, especially after this mess he'd dragged her into.

Her face perked up when she smelled the bread. Putting the book she was holding back on the shelf, the girl hurried over to him, hitching up the long robes so she wouldn't trip over them.

E: When the minister ripped the bread in half, soft steam and delicious scents floated through the room. E's mouth watered, happily taking the piece of bread that was handed to her.

He actually thought about me. Instead of dragging me out the door as quickly as possible. Even as she mused, E knew it would require a herculean effort to get her clan to see Frollo as anything besides a heartless monster who fed off the misery of the condemned.

Of course, he had hardly been friendly towards her people—or towards anyone, for that matter. He had been a fair judge who treated everyone the same way: coldly. Small surprise that they viewed him as undeserving to be called a human being.

But E knew the Minister of Justice to be a much more complex person. He was intelligent, he was introverted, he liked to read, and his heart bore an incredible weight of agony. Only a very cruel past could have turned an ordinary human into someone so withdrawn, so cold, who lashed out in fear at anyone who got too close.

And he was aware of what he'd become. E had grown up hearing countless bedtime stories from Clopin. Different places, different names, but the villains were always the same: selfish, brutal, and completely one-dimensional. Outside of "bad", the villains never had any genuine personality traits.

It aroused her curiosity. She longed to know more about the judge's history, his family of origin, his childhood, how he rose to his current position of authority, why he had such an arcane symbol cut into his back. Being no fool, the girl knew she would need to be careful with her questions, but she believed with patience he would eventually open up.

The bread, albeit delicious, was gone all too soon. The suit of armor rattled hideously when Frollo held it up. It looked much less comfortable than her borrowed finery, but she had little choice.

"I'll help you get it fastened." Frollo's words were more of a command to hurry up and get changed than an offer of assistance. Unenthusiastically, she slipped out of the soft robes and stepped into undergarments that would provide a layer between her skin and the metal.

Then came the chain mail shirt. Already the armor weighed more than she would have liked; she did not look forward to wearing the full suit. She stepped into boots and Claude carefully buckled the metal plates over her legs. Very, very carefully buckled them, hands lingering on her, as if imaging the undergarments weren't there. E somehow doubted that getting armored up involved this much touching, but she saw no need to comment.

The real fun came when the judge tried to strap down the breastplate. The armor had been obviously been designed for a man, not a woman, and Claude struggled to fasten it to the backplate properly. The end result was neither very attractive nor very comfortable.

"I can barely breathe in this," E grumbled.

"Fortunately for you, no physical activity is expected on your part. Just try not to fall off the horse."

"Note to self: do not fall off horse," E repeated grouchily. At least she had ridden horseback a few times before and sort of knew what to do.

The helmet was heavy and somewhat obstructed her field of vision. Already, the girl was uncomfortably warm. She tried to take a step forward and almost slipped—her bare feet had better traction than the slick soles of the boots.

"Better start praying, holy man," E snapped.

"I'm disappointed," Claude responded. "My guards wear armor all of the time, and I had thought you to be smarter than they are. Was I wrong?"

E stuck out her tongue in response to the veiled taunt. Concealing her face did have its advantages. "Their armor also fits better, but I'll learn as I go."

"Good." He headed out the door and she followed.

Clatter, rattle, crash. For a woman trained in stealth, the noisy metal was a nuisance. She hated the attention that she was surely drawing to herself, but she reassured herself that her face was hidden.

F: The judge once prided himself on his skill at uncovering wrongdoers trying to get away with all sorts of things. He'd thought himself exceptionally intelligent for catching crooks despite their plans.

Now, he felt much less self-satisfaction. Perhaps the criminals always failed because getting away with things was so damn hard. Mentally Frollo cursed himself, wishing that he had figured in the fact that this was the girl's first time in a suit and she would not maneuver easily. She may have been very athletic, but she was unaccustomed to the constraining metal.

This was a rotten idea, he growled inwardly when E tripped and fell going down a flight of stairs. A soldier walking up the stairs laughed. "Clumsy boy!" the soldier shouted.

Fortunately for the judge, years of experience had honed his lightning-fast reflexes. He hooked his heel behind that of the soldier and pulled hard. The man lost his footing and fell to the stairs with a loud crash of metal plates.

"Speak for yourself, oaf," Claude spat. Noticing the grimy streaks left on the armor from scraping against the dirty stairs, he added, "And polish your armor! You're filthy!"

E had regained her footing by this point. The armor would have prevented her from getting hurt when she fell. They continued down the stairs, Claude fervently hoping that he could bully his way through any more incidents that might arise.

They made it to the stables without further incident, until E almost fell getting on a horse. Instinctively, the judge caught her and helped her up. Then, he realized that the other soldiers in the stable had noticed him actually being nice to someone, and would wonder why he was behaving so strangely.

"You are lucky that I am in a good mood," he said to Esmerelda, for the soldiers' benefit.

Inwardly he grimaced when a soldier stepped forward. "Your Honor, since you're feeling good today, I wondered if we could talk about—"

"Stop ruining my good mood," Claude snarled. The man shuffled back. Claude overheard one of the men snickering at the poor fool who had opened his mouth. "The judge is never in a good mood, dummy."

The judge dug his heels into his horse's sides. Sancta Maria Mater Dei, he couldn't get to Notre Dame quickly enough!

The horse's hooves clattered on the cobblestone streets of Paris. The minister checked over his shoulder periodically to ensure that the troublesome girl was still behind him.

She was.

He turned back to watch where he was headed. Fortunately for him, the citizens of Paris knew to stay well out of their minister's way.

A shuddering crash made his heart almost stop. Swinging his horse around, he saw E in the dirt and the horse with rotten tomato juice dripping down its flank.

"WHO THREW A TOMATO AT THE HORSE?!" the judge thundered, glaring at a group of children playing in the street.

The children of Paris were vile, stupid, disgusting, disrespectful creatures, just like their parents. Being a loner, the idea of having children of his own had never even crossed the judge's mind. He'd more or less had his hand forced with Quasi. He'd found the baby abandoned at the church doorstep, almost stepped on it, and picked up to move it. The archdeacon, who always showed up at the most inconvenient of times, happened to pop up and enthuse over how generous it was of Judge Claude Frollo to adopt an orphan, and call everyone else over to come see.

By that point, it was a little too late to explain the real reason he was holding the baby. To this day, Claude had never quite forgiven the archdeacon.

Raising Quasi hadn't been as awful as the judge had initially feared, but that fact did not increase his fondness for the tomato-throwing brats. "It's always a pleasure to hear a juvenile case," the judge continued. "So impressionable and foolish at that age." The children scurried for cover as the judge stalled for time. Esmerelda was trying to get back on the horse.

"The jails will hold you as well as they hold any adult," he threatened.

E got back onto the horse, but Claude didn't dare relax until the both of them were inside the cathedral belltower. The girl immediately pulled off her gauntlets and began tugging at her armor buckles.

"I can help you with that," the judge offered.

"Your attempt at chivalry fooled no one," she responded curtly.

"Was that a 'yes' or a 'no'?" he pressed, undeterred.

"You can help me," she muttered. "I want out of this thing as quickly as possible."

The girl was flushed and sweaty, Claude noticed. Wearing that armor in the heat must have been uncomfortable.

Effort deserved acknowledgement. "You did well for your first time wearing armor," he said. "I know it wasn't easy, but you made it work. Thank you."

Esmerelda exhaled, and smiled faintly at him. "Thanks for keeping me safe. Now, get to work clearing the air so I won't be stuck here forever." She hooked her arms around his neck. "After all, gypsies don't do well inside stone walls."

The nerve of that girl, telling him what to do! "You impudent little—" the judge began, barely managing to look into her beautiful eyes without losing his focus.

Red lips closed over his, effectively cutting off his scolding. Iron-fisted resolve disobediently melted like butter. The judge wrapped his arms tightly around his precious gem, lifting her delicate feet from the wooden floor of the belltower. Her back arched obligingly under his hand as her fingers teased at his hair. Frollo was completely at the mercy of his inhuman obsession.

Fingernails raked down his neck, stirring that familiar aching back to life. Unconsciously, a soft moan rose from his chest as he kissed her harder.

At some point, the minister became aware that his arms were growing tired of supporting the girl's weight. Gently he sank to the floor, pulling her into his lap. She rested her head on his collarbone as he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. He lightly brushed his fingers over her neck, smiling a little when he felt her pulse.

The thumping of feet and creaking of wooden planks caught his attention. Quasimodo. Hurriedly, the minister pushed Esmerelda to the side and stood up. Nobody, not even the boy, must be given any indication that Esmerelda was anything more than an acquaintance. Gossip spread like wildfire.

"Master," Quasi greeted him. The boy suddenly noticed the dancer. "Miss E! You came back!" He dashed forward and grabbed her wrist. "Miss E, let's have a tea party with the gargoyles!"

Ordinary children bonded with stuffed animals. The minister had the great annoyance of a child who chose instead to bond with cold stone blocks. If he'd had it to do over, he'd have removed the statues and given the boy a teddy bear.

E: "I missed you!" Quasi shrieked excitedly, dragging Esmerelda so eagerly that she almost tripped and fell. "You need to see Sarah now that I polished her. She's shiny!"

"I'm guessing Sarah is one of the bells?" E asked.

"Yeah!" Quasi released her wrist and scooped up the gargoyles. "Let's sit over here! Here's our teakettle," he explained, dropping a rock in the floor. "Here's the cookies." The excited boy gathered up a few stray leaves that had blown into the tower and put them with the rock.

E couldn't help but smile. Quasi was unique and absolutely adorable. She wondered, not for the first time, how anyone as silent and stern as the judge could have raised anyone as bubbly as Quasi.

Nature won out over nurture, I suppose. The thought brought her the realization that it was difficult to imagine Frollo nurturing anything, and she swallowed a giggle.

Ever insightful, E saw an opportunity to learn more about the judge from a third party who knew him well. "Quasi, what is your master like?" she asked.

"He is good," Quasi responded. "He feeds me. He gives me clothing. He lets me stay here. He teaches me. He gives me wood blocks to carve."

"Is he ever…harsh to you?" E pressed.

"Oh no no! Not at all!" Quasi assured her wholeheartedly.

"The festival of fools," Esmeralda pressed, finding it impossible to believe that anyone could have seen the wheel incident as anything other than mistreatment.

"Yes. I disobeyed. I am supposed to stay in Notre Dame because bad things happen when I get out. Master told Phoebus not to rescue me. He told me that afternoon that I needed to learn to stop being so careless, that he won't always be around to protect me. That's why he ignored me. So I would learn, now, before I get into trouble and Master isn't there to rescue me." Quasi rested his chin on his hands. "Master cares for me deeply. It bothers me, I wonder how much time he has left. He's sixty-two…" Quasi began thoughtfully counting on his fingers. "He will die of old age, and I will have no protector." The boy began to sob.

Esmeralda leaned forward and touched his shoulder. "Quasi," she said gently, "you don't need—"

She was about to say "a protector", but Quasi interrupted her. "You're right!" he shouted. "After Master is gone, you can take care of me." Smiling jubilantly, he embraced the girl so eagerly that she was lifted from the floor. "You are the only other person who isn't afraid of my face!"

"Quasi, you are so much more than just a face." E sat down, legs crossed.

"Did Master bring you back?" Quasi asked, changing the subject. Talking about his face seemed to have made him uncomfortable.

"Yes," E responded, deliberately careful with how much information she gave.

"I'm glad. I missed you. Master is good, but you smile and he does not." Quasi wrapped her up in a bear hug. "Please don't leave again. Please."

Those huge blue eyes tugged at the dancer's heartstrings. The first time she had escaped the Notre Dame cathedral, Frollo had been her primary focus. Great, I'm stuck under the same roof with some creep who keeps hitting on me. Gotta get out. She had barely given Quasi a thought. Now, she realized how much her presence had meant to the boy. He probably did not have very many visitors.

"You don't have to live inside stone walls," Quasi continued. "I know you do not like stone walls. You can live up here, in wooden beams and open air."

E's heart melted. Quasi remembered her well.

"What happened last time?" Quasi asked. "You said something about you thought Master was horrible. Why are you back?"

"Because I've been framed for something I didn't do. Your master is letting me stay here for my own safety while he fights this legal battle on my behalf."

Quasi grinned triumphantly. "See, I told you. Master is nice. He is helping you."

Was he genuinely helping her, or primarily controlling her? Granted, he'd tried to hide her and promised that he'd clear her name. He also had her in a place where she couldn't talk to her kinfolk and couldn't stir up trouble on the streets.

E thought of Clopin and swallowed hard. She had never, ever, intended to betray her family. She was advocating for them, dammit! But Clopin hadn't seen it that way. He made it very clear that there was only one reason she was allowed to come within 500 feet of the judge: she would have to kill him.

And Clopin would assuredly wonder what was going on when she had not been seen for a few days and the judge was obviously not dead. Clopin would investigate.

Tears stung her emerald eyes. She was trapped in a horrible predicament.

Large, calloused hands took her delicate ones. "Miss E, why are you upset?"

"My family," she said. "My brother and I had a disagreement."

"Oh." Quasi looked around. "You disagree with your family?"

"Yes."

"Master and I never disagree on anything," Quasi marveled, confused.

"That's because you do everything he says," E grumbled.

"Of course. Master is always right. Always." Quasi nodded his head confidently.

"And who told you that?" E had a feeling that she already knew the answer to that one.

"Master did."

Yep, that was an easy guess.

"You want to play tea party with the gargoyles now? I will make you happy instead of crying," Quasi offered hopefully.

E smiled a little through her tears. "Sure, Quasi."

F: The judge had returned to the Palace of Justice and barely had time to dismount his horse his horse before a guard approached him. "The girl never came back, Your Honor. We watched!"

"She's back out on the streets, then," Frollo said.

"We'll get her for you, Your Honor," the guard offered eagerly, probably trying to curry favor. "She's a traitor! She needs to be burned!"

"Exactly. I tolerate deceit from no one." Claude's expression hardened. "That includes you. You will bring me the girl alive. Do not disobey me."

The minister dispatched the majority of his soldiers to scour the streets of Paris. A firm believer in efficiency, the judge was killing three birds with one stone. He was demonstrating to the gypsies that he did not know where Esmerelda was; he was demonstrating to his men that Esmerelda was as subject to his ruthless justice as everyone else; and he was leading his men off on a false trail to keep Esmerelda safe.

By evening, the entire town was in a stir. As Frollo rode through the streets, he heard their excited banter. "The dancer stabbed the judge's captain of the guard!" "Goodness, I'd hate to be in her sandals when Frollo catches her. He's ruthless." "And he wants her alive, at all costs! I wonder why?"

The crowd chattered across his entire trip to Notre Dame. Frollo was relieved to step inside of the silent cathedral. Silently as a cat, he climbed the familiar staircase to the belltower.

He opened the door at the top of the staircase to see Quasi and E painting and chattering away. Quasi turned around immediately at the sound of the creaking hinges. "Master!"

"Good evening, Quasimodo. It seems you have had an exciting day."

"Yes, Master." The boy's face displayed more eagerness than the minister had seen in a very long time. "Miss E is very nice. Can she stay? Please? Please? I will be extra good!"

"She is staying here for the time being."

"YESSSSSSSSSSS!" Quasi squealed. "Oh thank you, Master!" The boy flung his arms around the minister's waist. Claude blinked in surprise, then patted the boy on the head. Quasi was exuberant, but he usually wasn't this excited…maybe the boy really didn't get enough visitors. Perhaps E's presence was a good thing in more ways than one.

He heard E giggle from beside Quasi's carving bench. She was smiling at them both. "Claude, you might have more dad skills than I would have originally guessed."

"I try," he responded, feeling slightly and inexplicably uncomfortable at her words.

"Quasi, can I get a hug too?" she asked. The boy eagerly complied.

"Quasi, I am glad that you have enjoyed your day. Now it is your bedtime." Even after getting a surprise hug, the judge was still his practical self.

"Ok. I say my prayers. Our Father, who makes art in Heaven, hollowed out be thy name…"

"You're getting confused again," Frollo interrupted. Quasi deflated a little. "Sorry, Master. Can you help me please?"

E was smiling broadly at them both. She thinks this is cute. Frollo could not explain why his face felt slightly warm, but he did not wish to linger on that thought. "Follow me." He knelt down. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name."

"Hallowed be Thy Name," Quasi echoed.

"Thy Kingdom come…" Frollo thought he heard the girl's footsteps.

"Thy will be done," Quasi continued.

"On Earth as it is in Heaven." E's voice echoed his own. He glanced over and saw her kneeling next to him.

"Give us this day our daily bread." Before the minister could get further, Quasi interrupted him. "Let's all hold hands," the boy said brightly. Hands reached for the ministers' on either side of him. Without comment, he closed one hand around Quasi's thick fingers and the other over Esmerelda's soft, delicate hand. "And forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us." Three voices prayed in unison now.

"And lead us not into temptation"—well, THAT had certainly worked well—"but deliver us from evil." Claude lifted his hands, taking theirs with him. "For Thine is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory."

"Amen!" Quasi shouted, his voice echoing in the tower.

"Amen," Esmerelda added with a soft smile.

"Amen," the judge whispered. He dropped their hands and rose to his feet.

"Master, is Miss E going to sleep up here? Please? I want her to tell me a bedtime story."

"No."

Quasi's disappointment showed, but he silently and obediently headed to his cot. The judge had taken great care to impress upon the boy that negotiating, begging, and repeating the request to Judge Claude Frollo would accomplish absolutely nothing.

"I'll tell you a story tomorrow, Quasi," E offered gently.

"Thanks," Quasi whispered, gazing at the girl with adoring blue eyes.

The judge had not realized the full extent to which Quasi had bonded with the girl. It was little surprise that he had helped sneak Esmerelda out of Notre Dame.

There was no forcing that girl to comply with anything or anyone. The only way to keep her in Notre Dame was to help her decide that she wanted to stay there.

"Come with me." The minister gently tugged at Esmerelda's sleeve. She followed him out of the door, Quasi's huge eyes lingering on them both.

Claude locked the belltower door behind them. "I'm a little surprised that you're back so soon," E commented as they descended the stairs. "I had expected you would be too worried about giving us away to spend much time around Notre Dame."

"Everyone knows that I spend a substantial amount of time in the cathedral," he responded.

"It's so quiet and peaceful in here. And beautiful," E added. Emerald eyes looked deep into his gray ones. "You must find it very comforting."

"I do." The judge kept his response terse; the girl was too bold with her comments for his liking.

She looked at him thoughtfully. "Do you have a scar on your back?"

Sancta Maria Mater Dei! The judge had deliberately tried to forget about the damn thing. This produced the unfortunate result that he'd never thought about Esmerelda seeing it when he undressed.

Covering up those skeletons in the closet was damn near impossible. The judge had always derived great pleasure from the looks of horror on defendants' faces when he pointed out to them all of the little pieces of incriminating evidence that they had never thought about. It sickened him to realize that now he sat helpless in the defendant's chair, cursing himself for the things he'd overlooked that now seemed glaringly obvious.

"It's very possible that I have scars on my back. I had smallpox as a child."

Esmerelda took the hint that further questions were not welcome, but the cat was already out of the bag. She had seen the pentagram and wasn't about to forget it.

"Quasi seemed very excited to see you," the judge changed the subject.

"He did," E agreed. "He didn't want me to leave the first time I stayed here."

"Truthfully," Frollo added, "neither did I. I hadn't even had a chance to talk with you. I tried, but you hit me."

"I hit you," Esmerelda clarified, "because you were totally invading my personal space."

"Yeah…I was." Frollo grinned sheepishly. "I was getting too excited." Wait, why am I displaying emotion? What's wrong with me?!

"I have that effect on people," E responded with a teasing grin.

"That does not change the fact that it is a crime to hit a public official." Frollo's voice was cool, but something warm sparked inside of him. "But I am a generous man. My duty is to instruct, not to punish. Let us try that again, this time without you hitting the public official." Grinning, he wrapped a hand around her neck, pressing his face into her hair.

Esmerelda didn't struggle against his touch. Now this was more like it, his precious little doll lying complacent in his arms as he toyed with her. Who knew, Esmerelda could be taught.

Her arm wrapped around his waist, gripping his robes, as she pushed back into him. The monster in the judge's chest purred happily as his fingers caressed her cheek, her neck, her shoulder.

With a sudden movement, the girl bent forward, flipping him over her back and flinging him to the stone floor of the cathedral. Claude blinked, momentarily stunned. Gorgeous emerald eyes smiled down on him, falsely apologetic. "I suppose I should have warned you, Clopin coached me in the martial arts for several years. He wanted me to able to protect myself, you know."

The judge's incredulous brain struggled to process what had just happened to him. "Why you little—"

"I didn't hit you," E pointed out. "Did I behave correctly this time, O Exalted One?"

E wasn't the only one who had self-defense training. Regaining his bearings, he grabbed her by the ankle (she had such perfect, slender, delicate ankles, but that was beside the point) and pushed his elbow into the bend of her knee. She crumpled to the floor.

Claude pounced, brushing his lips to her ear. "Careful what you wish for," he purred.

She turned to face him, eyes sparkling. "Good. I love a challenge." Her body twisted rapidly, rolling away from him and back onto her feet in a practiced maneuver. She had the advantage of youth, for sure, but Claude was experienced. He grabbed her ankle again, flinging her to the floor. Wrapping his legs over her torso to pin her, he pulled one arm over her kneecap and flexed her foot back towards her body with his other hand.

Esmerelda twitched and whimpered with every teasing push of her knee and foot in the opposite direction from which they were designed to move. "For such a proper man, you fight dirty."

"This is just a…a submission hold, dear. This isn't dirty."

He should have left it at that, but her derisive snort goaded him on. "This is what dirty looks like," he added, yanking her in close so he could inch his fingers up her skirt.

She kicked him in the head with her other foot, her giggling almost disguising the footsteps from the other side of the room. Immediately on the alert, the judge released her and sat up.

It was the Archdeacon. Bother that old fool, he was always showing up at the most inconvenient of times. "What on earth is going on here?" the archdeacon asked.

"We are merely practicing self-defense maneuvers," Frollo replied coolly, grateful for his many years of experience at forcing down his emotions. "This young lady, knowing my years of experience in defending myself from assassination attempts, asked if I could teach her how to protect herself."

Esmerelda, who had also sat up, whacked her elbow into his jaw. "That was not necessary," he commented calmly.

"I would not have expected such a deceitful response from the man whose civil duty is to uphold the law." The archdeacon's voice cut Frollo to the bone. To his horror, monks began filing solemnly through the door. "I saw what happened last time you thought you were alone in the cathedral with Esmerelda. I was afraid to say anything, but when I saw it happening again, I went and found all of the monks and brought them here so they could see the two-faced monster you are."

Frollo swallowed. "What do you mean by 'thought I was alone in the cathedral with Esmerelda'?"

"You never noticed me. You were much too preoccupied. You were trying to cozy up to her, and she punched you. You walked off. Esmerelda came over and spoke with me after that."

Frollo made no response.

"Am I right?"

Frollo wasn't stupid. "I will not answer any questions," he replied calmly. "I want to speak to a lawyer."

The archdeacon scowled. "And speak to a lawyer you will." More and more people poured in through the cathedral. "Half of the town is here. I told some of the monks to go and spread the word."

"It is your turn to be tried before the court of law, Your…Honor." The archdeacon spat the last word with undisguised contempt.