The dark night enveloped the two fleeing shadows as their footsteps echoed
carelessly against the alleyway walls. The larger of the two was guiding
the smaller one protectively, constantly gazing over the black shoulder.
Suddenly the smaller figure stopped, and leaned against the wall in sheer
exhaustion.
"Erik... " She whispered, pain seething in her voice.
"I know.... not much longer, I promise. I could carry you?"
"No. no... I think I can make it." She smiled softly up at him, trying to give a sense of bravery.
Erik nodded his response as he looked around. He was thankful the streets were desolate, save for the occasional drunk. In their haste to flee, he had left his mask, hat and cloak behind. He caught the gaze of a man milking a bottle of Absinthe. He saw the young mans eyes grow wide at his passing visage. Perhaps the experience would make him leave the hallucinogenic drink behind. Christine saw the reaction, and reached for Erik's hand, squeezing it gently, assuring him she was there... and would always be there. But this was not the time to contemplate their feelings for one another. That just seemed to be the tip of the iceberg in an unprecedented, uncanny evening.
"Where are we going?" Christine questioned as she gazed over her shoulder to see if she could spy anyone familiar coming after them. To her relief, there was no one.
"A friends..." His footsteps slowed as he approached a tree lined street. He passed a few buildings then came upon a small cast iron gate. He undid the latch and led Christine through. "Although, he will be quite surprised." He approached to the door, and his fingers closed over the ornamental python head knocker. He rapped it three times against the heavy oak door. After what seemed like an eternity, candlelight flickered in the crack beneath the door.
"Who's there?" Came a raspy voice, deep with accent.
"Nadir, please. let us in. It's important"
The door opened to reveal the dark skinned Middle Eastern man, standing there with an uncharacteristic look of shock... and a nightgown.
"Erik!?" He gazed in horror at the young mademoiselle. "What on earth have you done?" He stepped aside as the disheveled and unmasked Phantom guided an equally disheveled and blood stained Christine into the hallway of Nadir's home.
"There's no time to explain... she's hurt, I need hot water. and towels... a needle and thread." He saw Christine pale. ".and liquor."
Despite his undying desire to ask questions, the former daroga did as he was told with haste after he showed Erik to a spare bedroom where he could take Christine.
After gathering the items, he stepped into the doorway of the room. He could scarcely believe the tender scene before him: Christine, lying on the bed, as Erik sat next to her, holding her hand, assuring her she would be fine. Nadir heard her whisper. "I know your hands.. I know the kindness they can do... how gentle they can be.. I trust you."
Erik looked up as the floorboard creaked. As he got up from the bed, Christine winced from the pain the movement caused. He walked over to Nadir and took the basin of water from him as they both moved back towards the bed. Nadir turned the knob on the gas lamp on a nearby table, illuminating the room instead of the lazy glow it had been in when he entered. As Erik prepared a few things, Nadir handed Christine a glass of brandy. He was about to reassure her, but could tell she didn't need it, Erik seemed to have her full trust and confidence. What on earth was going on?
As Christine sipped the heavy drink, Nadir walked over to Erik.
"I'll ask you again. what have you done?" He heard Erik heave a heavy sigh and his eyes met his after he finished threading a needle. "Tonight was the gala performance of my Opera. A shame you couldn't attend." He mocked. "It was quite the event." "I'm serious Erik." "So am I. Well... things didn't go exactly to plan." He gazed at Christine. "Not at all in fact. There was a trap to catch me this evening. It obviously failed. I took Christine back down below. Obviously the boy followed." "What did you." She loves me." He didn't look at Nadir, but could feel the shock and disbelief in his eyes. But, for his sake, he figured, Nadir stayed quiet. "The boy didn't take the news to well. He was armed."
"You're saying the Viscount did this?" "I am." "Is he." "No... there was a small skirmish, but I left the boy relatively unhurt. But the mob that was approaching my home will no doubt guess wrongly at what went on down there." He turned to Christine, whose lids had grown heavy from the alcohol. He approached her, discarding of his torn tailcoat, and rolling up his sleeves. His fingers hesitated over the fabric of the gown, but he soon ignored the nagging feeling in his mind and tore at the fabric covering her shoulder with a knife Nadir had provided.
"Erik... " She whispered, pain seething in her voice.
"I know.... not much longer, I promise. I could carry you?"
"No. no... I think I can make it." She smiled softly up at him, trying to give a sense of bravery.
Erik nodded his response as he looked around. He was thankful the streets were desolate, save for the occasional drunk. In their haste to flee, he had left his mask, hat and cloak behind. He caught the gaze of a man milking a bottle of Absinthe. He saw the young mans eyes grow wide at his passing visage. Perhaps the experience would make him leave the hallucinogenic drink behind. Christine saw the reaction, and reached for Erik's hand, squeezing it gently, assuring him she was there... and would always be there. But this was not the time to contemplate their feelings for one another. That just seemed to be the tip of the iceberg in an unprecedented, uncanny evening.
"Where are we going?" Christine questioned as she gazed over her shoulder to see if she could spy anyone familiar coming after them. To her relief, there was no one.
"A friends..." His footsteps slowed as he approached a tree lined street. He passed a few buildings then came upon a small cast iron gate. He undid the latch and led Christine through. "Although, he will be quite surprised." He approached to the door, and his fingers closed over the ornamental python head knocker. He rapped it three times against the heavy oak door. After what seemed like an eternity, candlelight flickered in the crack beneath the door.
"Who's there?" Came a raspy voice, deep with accent.
"Nadir, please. let us in. It's important"
The door opened to reveal the dark skinned Middle Eastern man, standing there with an uncharacteristic look of shock... and a nightgown.
"Erik!?" He gazed in horror at the young mademoiselle. "What on earth have you done?" He stepped aside as the disheveled and unmasked Phantom guided an equally disheveled and blood stained Christine into the hallway of Nadir's home.
"There's no time to explain... she's hurt, I need hot water. and towels... a needle and thread." He saw Christine pale. ".and liquor."
Despite his undying desire to ask questions, the former daroga did as he was told with haste after he showed Erik to a spare bedroom where he could take Christine.
After gathering the items, he stepped into the doorway of the room. He could scarcely believe the tender scene before him: Christine, lying on the bed, as Erik sat next to her, holding her hand, assuring her she would be fine. Nadir heard her whisper. "I know your hands.. I know the kindness they can do... how gentle they can be.. I trust you."
Erik looked up as the floorboard creaked. As he got up from the bed, Christine winced from the pain the movement caused. He walked over to Nadir and took the basin of water from him as they both moved back towards the bed. Nadir turned the knob on the gas lamp on a nearby table, illuminating the room instead of the lazy glow it had been in when he entered. As Erik prepared a few things, Nadir handed Christine a glass of brandy. He was about to reassure her, but could tell she didn't need it, Erik seemed to have her full trust and confidence. What on earth was going on?
As Christine sipped the heavy drink, Nadir walked over to Erik.
"I'll ask you again. what have you done?" He heard Erik heave a heavy sigh and his eyes met his after he finished threading a needle. "Tonight was the gala performance of my Opera. A shame you couldn't attend." He mocked. "It was quite the event." "I'm serious Erik." "So am I. Well... things didn't go exactly to plan." He gazed at Christine. "Not at all in fact. There was a trap to catch me this evening. It obviously failed. I took Christine back down below. Obviously the boy followed." "What did you." She loves me." He didn't look at Nadir, but could feel the shock and disbelief in his eyes. But, for his sake, he figured, Nadir stayed quiet. "The boy didn't take the news to well. He was armed."
"You're saying the Viscount did this?" "I am." "Is he." "No... there was a small skirmish, but I left the boy relatively unhurt. But the mob that was approaching my home will no doubt guess wrongly at what went on down there." He turned to Christine, whose lids had grown heavy from the alcohol. He approached her, discarding of his torn tailcoat, and rolling up his sleeves. His fingers hesitated over the fabric of the gown, but he soon ignored the nagging feeling in his mind and tore at the fabric covering her shoulder with a knife Nadir had provided.