Author's note: Thanks for the reviews, guys. You asked, I'm giving you
more.
Disclaimer: I have eight toes.
~Ch 4~
"Angelo?"
Erik stared at the girl. She stared back, eyes wide with shock. His mouth fell open. It was the child---the strange almost-gypsy child that had freed him from the faire cage. His stunned gaze traveled down her body and back again. She certainly wasn't a child anymore: her simple dress clung to woman's curves, and where her skirt had been burnt away, he could spot a shapely ankle. Her dark hair, a heavy mass of black-brown hair, had worked its way loose from a severe bun and cascaded down her shoulders. In short, she was a beautiful creature. But she was still a gypsy. A flame of anger (laced heavily with fear) ran through him, but he was far too weak to make it last long enough to kill her. The last thing he needed was a gypsy, someone who would drag him back to a loathsome cage and use his monstrous visage to make money off of. Even in his weakened state, he was sure that was what her family had intended when they had set him free: first they would set him on his captors, and then when he was weakened, take him for their own. The bag that he had grabbed off the child must have been intended for someone else. He remembered waking the next day and being brought back to the terrible truth of it---he was a monster, and there was no way that the child could have meant to give the bag to him. Still, sometimes he thought of that bag in a sentimental way, as one of his first gifts. He gave another fleeting look at the girl. Why was she here? How did she get here?
She couldn't have wandered in here unexpectedly; a gypsy she might be, but she was not stupid. Her eyes flickered to the shattered mask on the ground, and back down to his sprawled frame, still dressed in his opera tuxedo. "So you're the ghost," she said, in a thoughtful voice. "It should have clued me in when Mme. Giry called you a 'genius' and an 'angel'. Carlotta's had me looking for you. I'm pretty sure she wants you dead," she added without preamble.
"Is that what you're doing down here?" Erik asked sarcastically, finally finding his voice. He thought back to her 'accident' when lighting the dynamite. Did she intend to kill him now? Again he tried to dredge up some anger, some energy from anywhere, but again it eluded him.
She stiffened, but shook her head. "I was just investigating. My family does not owe Carlotta that much and I think that you would find we owe you more."
"Owe me?" he said. He shook his head weakly. This was too much. He glanced over to the collapsed wall. He had wanted to do it all at once, but now he and this girl would be trapped here, slowly starving to death. Gypsy or not, she certainly didn't deserve that.
~
Diana followed his glance, and a renewed wave of fear washed over her. She was trapped..her heart started beating faster again. The angelo gave her a wary look. "I'm-I don't like closed spaces," she said quickly. "Please tell me there's another exit to this place."
Her heart stopped when he lowered himself back to the ground weakly and shook his head. "I...bricked up the other passageway yesterday," he said, his voice fading. "That was the only exit." His eyes started to shut slowly.
She gripped him by the shoulders and shook him heavily. "What?? No windows? No other doors?" His eyes opened briefly, but they slid close before she could get a sensible answer out of them. Diana slapped him again, trying to get the man to wake up. No reaction. She felt for a pulse quickly, and wasn't surprised to feel it sluggishly under her fingers. Alarmed, yes; surprised, no. He was close to death, this one. She tore her gaze away from him and to the wall. Keeping him alive would stop her from going insane as she tried to move the fallen bricks and mortar.
Her mind flickered to the other rooms that she had searched. Hadn't there been a bed in one? Casting a wary glance back at the angelo lying on the floor, she rose and peered in them again. They were both bedrooms, apparently, but only one had a bed. The other had a strange padded coffin, with a sheet of black silk. Diana frowned. No way was she putting him in a coffin---it might turn out to be a prophecy of things to come. The room with the bed was a woman's room. There was a vanity, complete with perfume and hairbrushes, as well as a small bathroom attached. The décor was nauseatingly pink. Whatever woman who lived here must have been a ninny, she thought. Still, the bed was large, and the room was warm.
After a lifetime of road-travel, the angelo was surprisingly easy to lift, just awkward to move around. He was incredibly thin, and even his height didn't make up for the lack of breadth. Diana staggered to the room with his arm around her shoulder, half-carrying and half-pulling him along. Putting him on the bed as gently as she could, she pulled off his shoes and opera coat and slid him fully under the covers. Then she went to go investigate the kitchen. This was going to be interesting.
Disclaimer: I have eight toes.
~Ch 4~
"Angelo?"
Erik stared at the girl. She stared back, eyes wide with shock. His mouth fell open. It was the child---the strange almost-gypsy child that had freed him from the faire cage. His stunned gaze traveled down her body and back again. She certainly wasn't a child anymore: her simple dress clung to woman's curves, and where her skirt had been burnt away, he could spot a shapely ankle. Her dark hair, a heavy mass of black-brown hair, had worked its way loose from a severe bun and cascaded down her shoulders. In short, she was a beautiful creature. But she was still a gypsy. A flame of anger (laced heavily with fear) ran through him, but he was far too weak to make it last long enough to kill her. The last thing he needed was a gypsy, someone who would drag him back to a loathsome cage and use his monstrous visage to make money off of. Even in his weakened state, he was sure that was what her family had intended when they had set him free: first they would set him on his captors, and then when he was weakened, take him for their own. The bag that he had grabbed off the child must have been intended for someone else. He remembered waking the next day and being brought back to the terrible truth of it---he was a monster, and there was no way that the child could have meant to give the bag to him. Still, sometimes he thought of that bag in a sentimental way, as one of his first gifts. He gave another fleeting look at the girl. Why was she here? How did she get here?
She couldn't have wandered in here unexpectedly; a gypsy she might be, but she was not stupid. Her eyes flickered to the shattered mask on the ground, and back down to his sprawled frame, still dressed in his opera tuxedo. "So you're the ghost," she said, in a thoughtful voice. "It should have clued me in when Mme. Giry called you a 'genius' and an 'angel'. Carlotta's had me looking for you. I'm pretty sure she wants you dead," she added without preamble.
"Is that what you're doing down here?" Erik asked sarcastically, finally finding his voice. He thought back to her 'accident' when lighting the dynamite. Did she intend to kill him now? Again he tried to dredge up some anger, some energy from anywhere, but again it eluded him.
She stiffened, but shook her head. "I was just investigating. My family does not owe Carlotta that much and I think that you would find we owe you more."
"Owe me?" he said. He shook his head weakly. This was too much. He glanced over to the collapsed wall. He had wanted to do it all at once, but now he and this girl would be trapped here, slowly starving to death. Gypsy or not, she certainly didn't deserve that.
~
Diana followed his glance, and a renewed wave of fear washed over her. She was trapped..her heart started beating faster again. The angelo gave her a wary look. "I'm-I don't like closed spaces," she said quickly. "Please tell me there's another exit to this place."
Her heart stopped when he lowered himself back to the ground weakly and shook his head. "I...bricked up the other passageway yesterday," he said, his voice fading. "That was the only exit." His eyes started to shut slowly.
She gripped him by the shoulders and shook him heavily. "What?? No windows? No other doors?" His eyes opened briefly, but they slid close before she could get a sensible answer out of them. Diana slapped him again, trying to get the man to wake up. No reaction. She felt for a pulse quickly, and wasn't surprised to feel it sluggishly under her fingers. Alarmed, yes; surprised, no. He was close to death, this one. She tore her gaze away from him and to the wall. Keeping him alive would stop her from going insane as she tried to move the fallen bricks and mortar.
Her mind flickered to the other rooms that she had searched. Hadn't there been a bed in one? Casting a wary glance back at the angelo lying on the floor, she rose and peered in them again. They were both bedrooms, apparently, but only one had a bed. The other had a strange padded coffin, with a sheet of black silk. Diana frowned. No way was she putting him in a coffin---it might turn out to be a prophecy of things to come. The room with the bed was a woman's room. There was a vanity, complete with perfume and hairbrushes, as well as a small bathroom attached. The décor was nauseatingly pink. Whatever woman who lived here must have been a ninny, she thought. Still, the bed was large, and the room was warm.
After a lifetime of road-travel, the angelo was surprisingly easy to lift, just awkward to move around. He was incredibly thin, and even his height didn't make up for the lack of breadth. Diana staggered to the room with his arm around her shoulder, half-carrying and half-pulling him along. Putting him on the bed as gently as she could, she pulled off his shoes and opera coat and slid him fully under the covers. Then she went to go investigate the kitchen. This was going to be interesting.