XVI: Tremors
"In every man of genius a strange new force is brought into the world." –Havelock Ellis
"The prohibition against solitude is forever… it is not easy to be solitary unless you are also born ruthless." –Jessamyn West
"A man who lives by himself and for himself is apt to be corrupted by the company he keeps." –Charles Parkhurst
Erik took a long last moment to stare into the betraying mirror.
It was actually quite astounding, he decided, how a pane of glass could reflect back the totality of a human soul, beyond and above—or was it below?—the physical appearance. The innate , the cold cynicism, all of it. He pulled the concealing drape back over the mirror with a certain vindictive pleasure.
One thing only I know. Erik could not help smiling at the thought, a genuine smile. Beauty is truth, and truth beauty; that is all he know on earth, and all ye need to know. Keats, "Ode to a Grecian Urn".
Ode to life, more like. Music was the only source of beauty in life, an imperfect mirror that distorted abnormalities until they became perfections, and the human mind stood unblemished. The ultimate mirror of the soul.
And Erik was alone again. His slow smile faded as he resumed his seat at the organ. What glory in loneliness—forever, with death in the hand and in Death's hands.
The labyrinthine corridors seemed dark, cold, and empty as Raian and Jaqueline ran up from the bowels of the Opera House, giving little thought to where they went, minds filled with the specter of the dark shadow that had cast them violently away.
At length their steps slowed as fearful energy fled, and tiredness crept in, wearing muscles and betraying fear with leaden weights, until midway up a curving flight of stairs they slowed, gasping for breath, muscles burning. "Lord," Jaqueline managed to gasp.
Raian tried to steady his breathing. "Just be thankful we're not dead," he said, forcing himself the rest of the way up the stairs and choosing the appropriate corridor. "Though why he let us leave—we know of him—"
"Yes, but who would we tell? And why, after he saved you, spared you?" Jaq pointed out.
"True. But the question is, what now? Times of leaving have been forced in on us prematurely. I have no plan, no idea… I can't stay, that much is obvious. I have to find a way out."
"You will. Don't worry," Jaq said with forced confidence, following him through the trick mirror back into her dressing room. "Before long you'll find a way to…"
"To what, leave?" said a new voice. Gerard casually stood from his position by the other door and walked to the mirror, idly sliding it closed with an interested glance. He turned, his back to the mirror, pinning them still with a raving, knowing gaze. "Looks like the game is up," he continued, obviously enjoying their stunned silence. "I thought your decision to sing was rather abrupt, Jaq. Only Father could get you to sing… and our dear brother." He leered at Raian. "Why, what a surprise, little brother! I distinctly remember sending men to dispose of you. Pity. Before I forget, no thanks for making this more difficult than it might have been." His voice hissed with anger at those last words, and he took a menacing step forward.
"It was quite clever, really, hiding out here; I'm pleasantly surprised at his 'passage' you found. And becoming the Opera Ghost! I must say, the ballet rats are quite taken with the idea, though the screams and giggles have rather gotten on my nerves. Still, the thought of a haunted opera certainly has its… shall we say… audience draw?"
Slowly what Gerard was saying filtered into Raian's mind. He doesn't know. He doesn't know.
"At any rate, dear brother, I'm afraid the joke is wearing thing." Gerard smiled cruelly, running a hand casually through his hair. Slowly the numbness faded from Raian and his eyes darted. That chair… it would slow his brother for a few seconds, enough time to grab Jaq and run. "…I hate to cut the fun short," Gerard was saying. Raian hurled himself forward.
The point of the rapier grated off the wall, skittering slightly on the stone, raising sparks. With a savage smile Gerard jerked the narrow blade free… a blade narrow enough to slip between the ribs and find the heard. He paused to examine the tip of the red-smeared metal for a nick from the stone, pausing to wipe it clean on Raian's shirt.
The younger brother did not protest, merely lay where he had fallen, sprawled on the floor, the fine carpets turning red and wet beneath him. Jaqueline heard a high sound and realized she was screaming. She knew it was irrational, pointless, but even so she couldn't stop. Even when Gerard seized her shoulders and shook her, the high keening wail went on. He shoved her back, and with a cry she stumbled.
Gerard hauled her to her feet. "Silence!" Somehow she managed to close her trembling jaw, choking off her wail. "You'll have no singing voice left, dear sister," Gerard said malevolently, shoving her towards the door. "That would anger me. You don't want me angry, do you?" She shook her head, still trembling. The door slammed shut behind her.
From behind the mirror, Erik leaned against the wall. "Your last mistake, Raian," he said to the motionless corpse. "You cannot trust the goodness of humanity. There is none. They are more like animals than they admit." Erik actually laughed, quietly, at that. "I have always imagined myself as a mathematician. It is a form of art—intricate patterns, each begging to be manipulated into the perfect form. There is a story, you know, about a farmer, a businessman, and a mathematician, each charged to build a fence around a flock of sheep."
He trailed his fingers against the glass surface of the one-way mirror, mind far away in remembrance. "The businessman built a square pen—it was the cheapest, offering the greatest internal area for the last perimeter of fence. The farmer simply herded the sheep together and built the pen around them. But the mathematician—the genius of it! He built the fence around himself, and defined where he was as outside, and the rest of the world as inside."
"Once I thought this opera house and its internal darkness a cage. I was a fool then—like the mathematician, I see differently now, Raian. This, young man, is outside. The rest of the world looks in and thinks me an animal, but it is they who are the animals, trapped inside. And yet it seems my manager is bent on opening the floodgates." Erik tapped the lever, and the mirror slid aside. "That, of course, won't do."
He walked past Raian's body without a second glance.
A/N: the anecdote about the three builders originally took the form of a scientist, an engineer, and a mathematician… it's a family tale, I have no idea where it came from originally.
