Thanks to everyone for all the reviews and encouragement. Sorry it has taken so long to update, but my PC at home died and I haven't had the time at work to type up the new chapter until now. I've been doing everything longhand and, of course, that takes more time. Well, enough of that; on with the story. Sorry this is rather short, but it's better than nothing! LOL.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The black SUV drove up a horseshoe shaped driveway, stopping in front of a flight of steps that led up to the large, ornate front door of a white mansion. The estate was at least a hundred years old and was kept in immaculate condition. The grounds were lovely, the landscaper being an artist with anything that could be planted. Two large maple trees stood sentinal; one on either side of the house on the front lawn. They were in brilliant fall color with their gold and rust leaves drawing the eye of those who cared to look.
Normally, Erik would have chosen to look at such beauty. He would have taken in the majestic lines of the mansion; noted the graceful sweep of the veranda that wrapped around the entire first floor. Normally, he would have, but right that minute Erik was concentrating on bringing his pulse under control. He was trying to get his limbs to stop shaking. He sat in the passenger seat of Bradley's car-evil car-, collecting himself sufficiently so that when he did get out of the vehicle his legs would hold him.
Brad watched Erik with concern knotting his brow. "Erik, I know this was a totally knew experience and that it was probably frightening, but I drove as slowly as I could and not get pushed off the road by other cars."
"Yes, so you keep telling me, but mon dieu! Such speed! I don't understand how you can control it and still go so fast." Now that they were sitting still, safe outside Bradley's home, Erik started reliving the ride. Initially, he'd been fascinated with the workings of the machine, asking Bradley how it worked and what all the gauges and so forth were. Though he now had a rudimentary understanding of how it worked, he was still having trouble fathoming it all. His analytical mind began trying to unravel the mystery of this modern mode of transportation. Bradley cut short his musings.
"Well, I do control it. We're here. C'mon; let's go inside and get you settled," Brad urged and opened his door. Erik followed suit, grateful to place his feet on solid ground again. He was finding it hard to adjust to being out in the daylight. It made him feel vulnerable; something he was unaccustomed to being. He was used to moving about after dark because it had been easier to hide his face. It was going to take him a while to get used to the fact that he no longer had to hide in the shadows and that he could face people without fear of persecution.
Taking a deep breath, Erik squared his shoulders, trying to prepare himself for meeting Bradley's family. Along the way, Bradley had told him that he lived at home with his mother and sister. His father had died two years previously. Brad had also told him that there was a nice third floor apartment in the house they lived in that he thought would give Erik the privacy he needed and yet he would be close to them as well. What he had failed to inform Erik of, was the fact that they obviously came from money and lived in a mansion. Erik asked Brad about it now.
"Bradley, why did you not tell me that you are a man of considerable means?"
Brad cracked a half smile as he grabbed some shopping bags from the back seat. "It's not really all that important to me, that's why. It doesn't really have anything to do with who I am."
"Hmm. I'm finding that there's more to you than meets the eye." Erik said in speculation.
Brad handed Erik some of the bags. "Yeah, well, it's that way with most people, isn't it?" he countered.
Erik made a noncommital sound and followed Bradley into the foyer of the house. By now his heart rate had returned to normal and his fear had abated. He was able to appreciate the elegance of the small chandelier that hung in the foyer. It was fine crystal and brought back memories of another chandelier from another time.
Closing his eyes, Erik could see the huge chandelier of the Paris Opera House clearly in his mind's eye. He heard again the screams of the opera goers as it fell and he could feel their fear again. Fear that he had caused and reveled in.
A hand on his arm brought him back to the present. He found Bradley staring at him.
"You Ok?"
"Yes. Fine."
"Brad! You're home!" a young female voice drew their attention. Coming rapidly down the stairs was a young woman the likes of which Erik had never laid eyes on. Her short, jet black hair stood out from her head in spikes. Huge, dark eyes were rimmed in black eyeliner making them appear even larger. Her lips were done in a deep, blood red, full and pouting.
Her choice of dress also puzzled Erik. She wore a black tank top that exposed well-developed muscles in her arms and some kind of baggy pants with splotches of varying shades of green covering them. Her feet were encased in clunky black boots that laced halfway up her calves.
She bounded down the stairs and launched herself at Bradley, who had no choice but to catch her. He laughed and swung her around, earning a squeal of delight from her. He put her down after a moment and brought her over to Erik.
"Erik, this is my sister, Annie. Annie, this is Erik Giry. He's the guy I told you about that's going to be staying with us a while."
"Oh yeah, cool. Nice to meet you, Erik. You can call me Spike," Annie told him and held out her hand.
"Why would I call you 'Spike'?" Erik quieried.
Annie picked up on his French accent. "Because all my friends do and since you're a friend of Brad's that makes you a friend of mine," she replied in flawless French.
Erik's eyebrows rose in surprise. "How do you know French? You speak it wonderfully," he complimented this strangely dressed young woman.
Annie laughed, enjoying his astonishment. "I've studied French since high school and I've been to France several times."
Erik's excitement grew with as he listened to her reply. "Have you been to the Paris Opera House?"
"Oh, yes; it's beautiful! And the operas are wonderful!"
Brad was starting to feel left out as they rattled on together in French. He had never mastered the language and could only pick out a word here or there.
"Uh, guys. How about we show Erik up to his apartment and get his stuff put away?" he said.
Annie smiled and switched back to English. "Sorry, bro. I forgot you don't speak French. I just got carried away 'cause I don't have anyone to speak it with very much. We'll have to continue this conversation, Erik."
"Yes, we will. It's been a while since I've had anyone to speak in my native tongue with as well," he cast Bradley a frown when he noticed his agitation. "Perhaps we should do as Bradley has directed us."
"Yeah, before he blows a gasket or something," Annie said and grabbed a few of the bags that Erik was holding. "Allow me to help, monsieur."
"Ok, you two. Quit ganging up on me," Brad groused and headed up the stairs.
The other two followed him, exchanging smiles as they went.
