Thanks for the reviews!
For those of you who aren't getting the "dancing girl" thing...back in the day, a "dancing girl" was a euphamism for "prostitute." Think Moulin Rouge. It was basically a nice way of saying "whore." The joke actually stems from something my little sister said as a child. (I'm 10 yrs older than her.) When she was about 5, she used to call fishermen "hookers." When we came to America, we learned quickly that a hooker is an entirely different profession around here.
Ok...here we go...
-Nico
A chill rolled down Erik's spine as the carriage carrying himself and Madame Giry came to a halt outside the impressive cemetery gates.
He hadn't been here since before Madeline was born.
Madame Giry looked over to the cloaked man sitting next to her. His eyes were smudged with dark circles. His hands were tense on his knees.
He was a man at his wit's end.
Mme Giry patted one of Erik's hands reassuringly.
The carriage door opened, allowing Erik and Madame Giry to exit into the darkness of the night, moving silently through the gates, their footsteps muted against the soft ground.
Erik's sword was drawn.
"Patience," Madame Giry murmured. "We mustn't run blindly into the lion pit, Monsieur."
Erik ignored her, prepared to kill anyone that came between him and Christine.
They walked until they reached a crossroads of sorts. They stood in the middle of the cemetery, at the intersection of two thick paths.
From here, Erik had the advantage of being able to see anyone approaching within 100 feet.
They stood in anticipatory silence for what seemed like an eternity.
Alarm began to flare within Erik's mind.
Something was wrong.
Terribly wrong.
He was beginning to feel as if….
"It's a trap!"
Erik and Madame Giry turned to the sound of the voice.
Christine was running towards them.
Her hair was messed.
She was wearing only the thin white shift from underneath her traveling gown.
Bruises speckled her face, arms, and neck.
Erik ran to meet her, enveloping her in his arms, holding her tightly, unable to prevent the tears that began to flow onto the crown of her soft brown curls.
"I thought I had lost you…my angel…my love…my only…" Erik said mid
"Erik," Christine was saying, pulling from his grasp to better look at him. "Erik…where's Madeline?"
"She is with Meg," Madame Giry said quickly, her eyes growing wide as she realized the implication of Christine's question.
Christine collapsed against Erik once more, her body heaving sobs.
"Christine…Christine…speak to me…what happened….what about Madeline?"
Christine lifted her head slowly. "They lured you here," she wailed. "He plans to take Madeline," she managed, her heart breaking.
"Who?" Erik demanded. "Tell me who and I swear I will kill them…"
"It's Raoul; I know it is," Christine sobbed as Erik wrapped his cloak about her shoulders.
"Did you see him, child?" Madame Giry asked. Christine shook her head.
"He sent men he hired after me; they were the ones who detained me long enough to get you away from Maddy," she explained.
"Then they must be nearby," Erik said, drawing his sword again.
Christine stopped him with a weak hand. "They were on horseback…they threw me to the ground some time ago, telling me to wait here for you…" she inhaled deeply, trying to control the sobs that were disrupting her breathing. "They were laughing Erik, laughing at me, at you…just as they left, they called to me, telling me that Madeline was right where they wanted her…right where they could get to her…oh God Erik! Raoul will take her…he will take her to punish us!"
Erik pulled his wife back into his arms, lifting her easily off her feet, holding her close to his chest.
He looked to Madame Giry whose face was white. "I should have known, Monsieur, I acted rashly…we shouldn't have come…"
"We haven't the time for blame," Erik said tersely, making his way back to the waiting carriage. "We must return."
Meg Giry held Madeline close to her chest, soothing the little girl's sobs with comforting words, even though Meg herself was close to hysteria.
"What do you want with us," She asked Raoul, who was sitting across from them, his mouth curved into a sickening smile.
"Have you ever played chess, Meg?" He asked, his eyes frighteningly stoic.
Meg did not reply, but continued to smooth Madeline's hair.
"The pawn is an interesting game piece," Raoul continued. "When you have confronted and captured the pawn, victory is that much closer…and sweeter."
Meg furrowed her brow. "Where is Christine?"
"Did I not tell you?" Raoul asked, knowing very well that he had not said anything since abducting Meg and Madeline. "I have let her go…I have decided that the grief of missing her child should be something she should live with for a while before we end this little play."
Madeline turned to face Raoul for the first time since he had burst into Madame Giry's living quarters, roughly pulling the child from Meg's grasp.
Her eyes went wide as she recognized him.
"You're the sad man with no name," she identified him. Raoul smiled.
"Such a clever thing," he remarked. "It's almost unbelievable that you are half freak," he commented.
Madeline's eyes darkened. "I am not a freak," she informed him. "And you are a very bad man."
Raoul scoffed. "Children have no idea of where true evil lies," he commented.
"My papa is going to kill you," she said slowly, meaning every word.
The tone of the small child's voice sent a tinge of fear down Raoul's spine.
The fear immediately ebbed and turned into anger.
He leaned into Madeline, grasping her chin roughly. "Shut your mouth," he told her roughly. "You see, what your parents may not have told you is that I have bested your father before. He is a weak, insignificant man…and your mother is the whore that chose him over me."
Meg pulled Madeline from Raoul's grasp. "God in heaven," she breathed, covering Madeline's ears. "She is a child, Raoul!"
Raoul leaned back against the cushioned carriage. "She is not too young to learn the truth," he replied.
Madeline pulled her head from Meg's grasp. "My mama will never choose you for anything," she told him. "And I know why."
Raoul's eyes narrowed.
Madeline smiled, knowing…even at her young age…that the man before her was weaker than anyone she knew.
She had lived with her father long enough to know what to say to people to manipulate them.
"Do you want to know why?" She pressed.
"Shut up," Raoul commanded lowly.
"It's because you are an ugly, selfish, stupid man!" She finished triumphantly.
Raoul balled his fists.
"I hope you enjoyed that, Madeline," he said, his voice a near growl. "For it very may well be the last insults you are alive to speak."
