I pulled the collar of my black trench coat up to cover the lower
half of my face. The cool breeze played through my hair. I knelt down to
the ground and pulled away the weeds that had started to cover the
headstone at my father's grave. I gently placed a black rose at the bottom
of the stone. I stood up and moved back.
"I wish I had met you father," I said sorrowfully. I studied the headstone. It was made of black marble. A piano was carved into the bottom corner. The writing was simple yet elegant and read:
Erik Destler
1826-1861
Husband
Father
Angel of Music
"You come here a lot don't you Danielle?" I whipped around and pulled out the dagger I always carried. "Whoa! Would you really stab your own brother?"
"Christian!" I yelled furiously. "Sometime I just might if you don't learn not to sneak up on me!" I put the dagger back in its sheath and pushed my hair out of my face. "Why are you here?"
"Nice to see you too Danielle," he muttered. "I come up here too. I've seen you a few times."
"I come two or three times a week," I stated.
"Why do you come so much?" he asked. I put my hands in my pockets and stared at the headstone.
"It's the only way I can feel close to him and the only place I can be alone with him," I said quietly. I looked back at Christian. He was staring at the ground, apparently deep in thought.
"Come on," he said and started walking away.
"Where are we going?" I asked surprised.
"Paris," Christian stated. "I want to show you something. Just to warn you though, people in Paris are a little bit more judgmental than the people around here. No matter what you hear just keep following me alright?"
"Alright," I replied even though I didn't really understand what he was trying to get at. He always had trouble with just being blunt. I, on the other hand, prefer to say exactly what I'm thinking.
We walked back to the chateau and Christian went and talked to mother. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but mother looked concerned about something. I could tell they were arguing. Finally, mother threw her hands up in a sign of defeat. They both walked over to where I was sitting.
"Ready to go Danielle?" Christian asked.
"I guess," I answered. I looked at mother. She looked like she was about to cry. "Goodbye Mother," I said. She hugged me and kissed my forehead.
"Goodbye Danielle. You know I love you right?" She asked. I laughed softly.
"Of course I do mother," I replied. She nodded and walked out of the room.
"Alright, let's go," Christian said.
"What's wrong with mother?" I questioned still staring in the direction she had gone.
"She's just not feeling very well," Christian answered. "Ready?"
"Yes."
"Good, come on." We walked outside and climbed into the carriage that was waiting for us.
"The Paris Opera house please Jean," Christian told the driver.
"Oui Monsieur," Jean replied.
"We're going to the Opera House?!" I asked excitedly.
"Yes we are," Christian answered. The rest of the trip was silent. When we arrived, Christian looked at me before climbing out.
"Remember, no matter what, keep following me," he instructed and then opened the door. We stepped out and I smiled. I had wanted to come to the Opera House since I was five years old. Now my dream was finally coming true. We climbed the steps and went inside. The next performance wasn't until 7:00 that night, so there were few people in the building.
"This way Danielle," Christian said and we turned down a small, dark hallway. At the end of the hall, Christian pushed aside a table and a tapestry and pushed on a small crack in the bricks. The wall swung open into a small door that led to a flight of stairs. After Christian went in, he told me to put the table back as close as I could to where it had been.
We walked for about 20 minutes before we came into a large cavern. It seemed to glow with an eerie blue light. I soon realized this came from a lake that covered a good portion of the cavern floor.
We walked down to the shore and climbed into a little boat. Christian rowed us across the lake and helped me out of the boat when we reached the other side. He went up to the wall and pushed on a brick. I could see a faint, white "X" on it. A hidden door opened when Christian pushed the brick.
"Welcome," he said, "to Erik's lair."
"I wish I had met you father," I said sorrowfully. I studied the headstone. It was made of black marble. A piano was carved into the bottom corner. The writing was simple yet elegant and read:
Erik Destler
1826-1861
Husband
Father
Angel of Music
"You come here a lot don't you Danielle?" I whipped around and pulled out the dagger I always carried. "Whoa! Would you really stab your own brother?"
"Christian!" I yelled furiously. "Sometime I just might if you don't learn not to sneak up on me!" I put the dagger back in its sheath and pushed my hair out of my face. "Why are you here?"
"Nice to see you too Danielle," he muttered. "I come up here too. I've seen you a few times."
"I come two or three times a week," I stated.
"Why do you come so much?" he asked. I put my hands in my pockets and stared at the headstone.
"It's the only way I can feel close to him and the only place I can be alone with him," I said quietly. I looked back at Christian. He was staring at the ground, apparently deep in thought.
"Come on," he said and started walking away.
"Where are we going?" I asked surprised.
"Paris," Christian stated. "I want to show you something. Just to warn you though, people in Paris are a little bit more judgmental than the people around here. No matter what you hear just keep following me alright?"
"Alright," I replied even though I didn't really understand what he was trying to get at. He always had trouble with just being blunt. I, on the other hand, prefer to say exactly what I'm thinking.
We walked back to the chateau and Christian went and talked to mother. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but mother looked concerned about something. I could tell they were arguing. Finally, mother threw her hands up in a sign of defeat. They both walked over to where I was sitting.
"Ready to go Danielle?" Christian asked.
"I guess," I answered. I looked at mother. She looked like she was about to cry. "Goodbye Mother," I said. She hugged me and kissed my forehead.
"Goodbye Danielle. You know I love you right?" She asked. I laughed softly.
"Of course I do mother," I replied. She nodded and walked out of the room.
"Alright, let's go," Christian said.
"What's wrong with mother?" I questioned still staring in the direction she had gone.
"She's just not feeling very well," Christian answered. "Ready?"
"Yes."
"Good, come on." We walked outside and climbed into the carriage that was waiting for us.
"The Paris Opera house please Jean," Christian told the driver.
"Oui Monsieur," Jean replied.
"We're going to the Opera House?!" I asked excitedly.
"Yes we are," Christian answered. The rest of the trip was silent. When we arrived, Christian looked at me before climbing out.
"Remember, no matter what, keep following me," he instructed and then opened the door. We stepped out and I smiled. I had wanted to come to the Opera House since I was five years old. Now my dream was finally coming true. We climbed the steps and went inside. The next performance wasn't until 7:00 that night, so there were few people in the building.
"This way Danielle," Christian said and we turned down a small, dark hallway. At the end of the hall, Christian pushed aside a table and a tapestry and pushed on a small crack in the bricks. The wall swung open into a small door that led to a flight of stairs. After Christian went in, he told me to put the table back as close as I could to where it had been.
We walked for about 20 minutes before we came into a large cavern. It seemed to glow with an eerie blue light. I soon realized this came from a lake that covered a good portion of the cavern floor.
We walked down to the shore and climbed into a little boat. Christian rowed us across the lake and helped me out of the boat when we reached the other side. He went up to the wall and pushed on a brick. I could see a faint, white "X" on it. A hidden door opened when Christian pushed the brick.
"Welcome," he said, "to Erik's lair."