Phantom Resurrected Chapter Nine

Desiree put her hands up against the catacomb walls, feeling their cracks, and using her small lantern followed the marking she had made. When Erik had brought Christine and her back to the surface, Desiree had found a white chalk bit of stone in the underground tunnel and had used it to mark her way back to Erik's strange home. She held a hand to her long flowing skirt to keep them from dragging along the wet floor. She could hear mice squeaking around the tunnels, and drops of moisture kept falling from the ceiling onto her hair and face. What kind of man lives down here, she wondered.

The same strange man who compose music late at night in an entirely concealed room in the Midhoff Theater. She was going to find out why.

She found where her marks ended. She was on her own now. The light in her lantern was starting to fade. She ordered herself to think clearly. She had been surprised how adjusted she had become to this turn of the century English lifestyle. Perhaps traveling back in time to your former life did those things to you. That didn't mean she have to like it though, all these girly long clothes and candlelight. She didn't know how much longer she could handle it. But first she had to find Erik, and that was going to be near impossible with no more markings to lead the way and a dying light source.

A loud burst of music suddenly issues from the walls. It sounded very familiar to Dessy as she followed the sound. It sounded like the music Mr. Foster, Erik had played that night she had found him composing alone back in New York. That song he played was so beautiful though, like a lullaby. Another strange thing about the man who was her father, so mysterious and full of angst yet able to compose such gentle music that seemed to reach out and touch the soul. Thankful, Erik's playing was leading her to him. She found an opening in the wall, just big enough for her the squeeze into. Light issued forth and looking in she could tell she had found his lair. She wanted to pull herself in, but decided she would wait until she was sure she could enter undetected.

Dessy watched and saw Erik seated at the large organ. He was still dressed in his all black suit, swaying back and forth with the music as if he where an extension of the instrument. She lowered herself on her knees, the skirt soaking in the wet ground.

He stopped playing and looked around. Dessy ducked lower, holding her breath. He then left his organ and vanished out of her sight. She carefully pulled herself through the tiny opening, leaving her lantern. She was still hidden behind a chair in the shadows. She could look up and see a table full of music, and a rack full of whine bottles. There was a small ripping sound behind her, and turned to see her skirt was tearing at a ragged piece of rock. Ducking down she freed herself but left a large piece of the hemmed garment behind. But now she could move more easily. She dared to raise her head up to see what was going on.

Erik was standing by a coat rack, putting on a long cloak and fedora hat. Then he turned to look around again. "Oh Jesus don't leave." Dessy whispered as softly as possible. But Erik turned and walked out into the darkness if the tunnels outside his lair.

Once he was gone, Dessy ran from her hiding place. She peered down the corridor Erik left by, only able to see the shadow of his fleeting figure. She had to act fast, so she took another long black coat hanging on the rack. It was very elaborate and looked very expensive, but she didn't have time to look for another one or a set of pants for that matter. The coat was long enough to conceal her torn skit, so she threw in over her shoulder and pulled the hood over her head. With that she followed after Erik into the catacombs.

Erik sat in the hard backed wooden chair in a tavern he used to frequent called Lucky's Bar. He had come here many times during those days that his obsession for Christine had haunted his every moment awake or asleep. Only when he turned to his music, to write, could he forget about her if only temporarily. He took another sip of his whiskey and turned to scan the crowd.

Sure enough, the shadow in the corner was still watching him.

That thing had been following him all evening. How amusing it was to be stalked, he thought since most of his lifetime he was usually the stalker. He had seen the shadow follow him into the bar, and was almost convinced that he was being watched in his own lair earlier that night. The shadow leaned against an old, abused piano that was gathering dust. Erik grew tired of this, having his every moved watched and he hated nosy people. Many rude customers of the bar had met their untimely end the moment they had crossed Erik, had invoked his wrath. He did not particularly feel like killing anyone tonight, but if this stranger persisted, he would have no choice. Pity, he thought, killing did take a lot of work, and not something he had the energy for right now. Could it be that this lack of conviction be due that he was getting old? He laughed as he swallowed another shot of whiskey. He supposed being alive for some hundred plus years would do that to you.

He grabbed his hat and got up from his seat. The robust waitress gave him a flirtatious smiled as she would to every other man that night and he left a small gold coin on her tray.

"Thank you sir. Have a good one." She said. Erik nodded and continued walking. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the shadow in the corner watching him leave, and starting to move ever so slightly in his direction. Erik placed a firm grip on his bowie knife under his belt, the one that never left his side and walked out into the street. Even over the roar of the bar patron, he could distinctly pick up the sound of a pair of footsteps walking in the exact same stride as his own.

Hoping to lose his stalker, he made an immediate sharp turn into an abandon alley next to the bar. He drove himself along in the darkness and a fast pace until he could no longer hear any footsteps but his own. That unnerved him and he turned around quickly, his large cloak billowing around him like a dark cloud. The shadow was standing the alley with him. It didn't seem to move any closer, except for in limped slowly to one side of the wall. Erik pulled his knife out in plain sight, the reflection of the blade casting blinding shards of light over the walls.

"I warn you." He growled into the night. "Leave me alone, or this will be your last night walking these street." The shadow took a step back, and Erik could see two other figures enter the alley behind his stalker. They were burly men, both of them more than likely dead drunk. They stumbled up upon the stranger, and one immediately took a fist to his gut. The shadow fell to the ground in a moan, holding his side. Erik smiled, perhaps there was some to do his work for him. Wanting to vanish so he wouldn't be the drunks next prey he started to walk off.

That was until he heard a shriek and turned around again. He thought it was the poor fool who had been following him, but was surprised to see that he had taken hold of one of his attackers and flung him against the brick wall. Erik watched in amazement as the shadow repeatedly bashed the man's head, until he slumped to the ground dead or unconscious, Erik couldn't tell. The other man came from behind and leaped on the stalker's back. The two struggled as the shadow made desperate attempt to shake off the man. Erik saw the flash of a knife, the eyes underneath the shadow's hood became visible and seemed like they were on fire. The glow from them was unholy, almost like-himself when he was in a fit of rage.
The shadow released the knife from the drunk and tackled him to the ground. He held the knife against the desperate man's throat. He hissed threats of fury that Erik could not make out from the distant, than he slapped the drunk upside the head, knocking him out with one blow.

For once, Erik started to feel a bit nervous. If the man would have been stalking him, could disable these men unarmed and so effectively, they was reason to suspect that Erik could have met his match if it were he in the unfortunate men's shoes. And then there were though eyes. The shadow stood over the two men the way a hunter stands over his fallen prey. Then he shifted to the side, stumbled and fell against the wall.

Not knowing what possessed him, Erik ran over to his side. Immediate he pulled back the hood to reveal this mysterious person. It was Desiree. Her hair was frazzled and she kept her eyes shut. One of them was starting to swell. What the devil was she doing out her, at this time at night no lest. And how did she learn to fight like that? There would be time for questions later.

She looked up at him and a lopsided grin stretched across her face. "Well hello Mr. Deslter. So good to see you about at this hour." She stated sarcastically. Then she let out a moan and pulled an arm to her shoulder. Erik could she a stream of blood following in a line down her shoulder and her breast.

"I have to get you home Desiree. You're hurt pretty badly." He said. "Where is your mother staying?"

"Beats the shit out of me. I don't know." She grunted

Erik sighed. "Then I guess I have to take you back home with me."

Erik dipped his hands in the basin of water washing them free of blood. Strange, he mused, that this was the first time he washed off another's blood that was not shed by his own hands. He had sat Desiree in his own bed, and put a temporary bandage on her. Grabbing a set of needles and thread, as well as some brandy as she requested, he went to her. Dessy sat upright, still clutching her shoulder.

Erik had to strip her of blouse, throwing one of his own shirts on her. He couldn't believe that she had taken out the men in the alley with such ease, and was even more shocked to discover she had done so, still wearing a skirt. He also was surprised to see her previous wounds from the fall in the mirror had closed up so quickly. What had been ragged cuts before that morning where now nothing more than faint pink scars, barely visible. He sat down on the bed, handed Dessy the glass of brandy and started to thread his needle.

"Desiree, what in God's name where you doing out there tonight?" he demeaned

"Following you."

He shook his head. "I noticed. You certainly didn't do a very good job of it, now did you." He moved towards the gash in her arm.

She smiled "Maybe, but you would have never guessed that it was me." She pronounced. "I fooled you."

"But you could have been killed." He grabbed her arms and stuck the needle in. She yelped and threw her head back.

"Jesus! That hurts! Not to be rude, back can't you just take me to the hospital instead of stitching me up like Frankenstein here!" she whined. He shot her a quizzical look. "Oh right, this is Victorian London and proper young ladies aren't sent for treatment because there where hurt in a street fight." She corrected herself. "Well at least let me have a drink of my brandy, that's way I asked for it."

He let her have a long drink, then when back to work. She twitched slightly and Erik put a firm grasp on her shoulder. "That bring me to another question." He said. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Dessy allowed herself another smile despite her pain. "Don't tell mom this, she would freak. But I use to run with a gang when I was still in high school. Not much just went out to fight in a rumble when I was needed. If I fought well, the gangs would leave me and friends alone."

"I see." Erik said

"Of course, I've been picking up a couple of new things quite naturally since I came back through time. Who know maybe it's a trait I had in my former life. Maybe I even picked it up from you. Where you really going to try and kill me in the alley?"

He started at her "Truthfully, yes I would have tried."

"Tried" Dessy raised an eyebrow "You mean you don't think you would win. I thought for sure you shred me up, like Jack the Ripper or something?"

Erik finished his work and began to wrap the bandage around her shoulder. "No I'm nothing like that." He lied. "I'm just a composer."

"Sure, and Hannibal Lecter was just a psychiatrist." She muttered.

His back turned to her, he smiled at her pun. If she only knew, he thought. "You need to get some sleep." He said

Dessy snuggled against the blankets. "Yes I suppose I do need some shut eye. You're not going to leave again are you?" she asked

"No, I'll stay here with you tonight."

"Good, cause I hate to follow you in a skirt again." She added.