Julia knows everything. I've come to the conclusion that Christine would replace Lucifer should Satan needa vacation from Hell.

Ch 40

The dog let out another howl. She had picked up my scent, I thought with a smile. Madeline pulled back on the leash but the animal lunged forward. Madeline was dragged along. I heard her mutter something under her breath as she was whipped forward.

Once I heard the back door open I closed the curtain and looked about the room. For a guest room it was a descent size, though I suspected it appeared larger because there was little within it. Until my rendezvous with the vicomte I had never been down this hallway. Really, I had only passed through Julia's kitchen on my way up the stairs to her bedroom. The rest of the house was a mystery.

Julia and Madeline talked for a while. Lisette and Alexandre took the dog back out of the house which irritated me. I could hear the thump of a rubber ball hitting the side of the house every few minutes followed by the hound baying as she charged after it. Naturally the one time I actually wanted to see the dog and be certain that someone was caring for her was the day Alex decided to play with her.

I brought the lamp to the wardrobe and discovered several boxes in storage. One contained men's clothes, which was of no interest to me. The second, however, contained books, and the last one I bothered to take down had what looked like nothing more than broken jewelry and empty jewelry boxes. That box went directly back to the shelf as did the box of clothes.

The books interested me the most. I thumbed through the musty tomes, blowing dust from the spines before flipping through some of the pages. I needed to tell Madeline to bring the false book from my own library over. I still wanted to read the letter Christine had sent to Madeline, the letter in which she swore she hadn't written a message of her own to me.

Eventually my legs began to atrophy and I took the box of books and sat down on the bed again. My confession to Julia had left me exhausted both physically and mentally. The longer I looked through the volumes the less I could see on the pages. I hadn't even realized that I had fallen asleep until Julia knocked on the door.

"Mme Giry is here," she said quietly.

I sat upright and yawned before moving the box of books onto the ground. The lamp was still turned up from my attempt at reading. I turned it down so that the light wasn't as harsh. Madeline would be grateful, I suspected.

"How do you—" she started to ask. She caught sight of me and the last word merely slipped from her tongue, "feel."

Madeline looked horrified. She tip-toed toward me with her hands held over her mouth. Even though I knew the bruises alarmed her, the look on her face elicited a stir of shame up from my gut. I looked away, unable to keep eye contact with her. I had seen that look before, well before I had been led into an alley. Years had passed since she had seen my face.

"I would most certainly feel better if for once you made something for me rather than Alex," I muttered.

"My God what did he do to you?" Madeline asked. She sat down by the bedside and began to cry. "Oh, Erik, I didn't know it was nearly this bad. If you want me to leave—"

"Have you been taking care of the dog?" I asked merely to change the subject. And because out of the three of them still in the house, none of them ever filled a water bowl or slid a beef bone under the table.

Madeline looked stunned by my question. She dried her eyes with a lace handkerchief and nodded. "Well, yes. She's been in the cellar."

"The cellar? Why on earth would she be in the cellar?"

"She—she was scratching at your bedroom door and howling all night. The only way to stop her was to put her downstairs. I would have let her into the room but I know you wouldn't want her on the bed."

There was a twinkle in her eye when she spoke. She changed the linens twice a week and knew I wasn't the one shedding on the coverlet. Still I said nothing. She had caught me talking to the dog on more than once occasion.

"She bit him, did she?" I asked.

Madeline nodded and looked away. "He walked across the threshold with a note and she nipped him. That was why I wanted to see you. Erik, she wants to see him. On Friday for lunch she wants to see Alexandre."

I crossed my arms. "She can go to hell."

"Erik, she's quite insistent."

I reached down into the box for something to distract me and found a book bound in soft leather. "She can be as insistent as she wants. She will not see him."

"You need to read this," Madeline replied.

When I glanced up she was holding a note out to me. I glared at her for a moment and snatched it from her hands. Madeline said nothing. She was still staring at the bruises while I read the letter.

"So this is what she wants to do, is it?" I muttered as I handed the note back to her. "She's threatening me?"

Madeline put the note back into her coat pocket. "Only if you refuse to let her see him. Erik, he's not only yours. If she wants to see him I will take him with me."

"Absolutely not."

She crossed her arms and leaned forward. "Quit being so bull-headed," she whispered. "Do you want the gendarmes at the door? Do you want to be tried and executed for everything you did, all of those…lives?"

Madeline was never able to bring herself to say I had killed someone. She knew Buquet's death was more of an accident than anything. Had he not insisted on struggling he would have passed out and been found with his flask at his side, not dangling from the catwalk. The chandelier? Well, that was on purpose. But Buquet had been an accident.

"She won't see him. I will not allow it."

"What will happen to Alex? If you're carted away what happens to your son?"

"She has another think coming if she expects that I'll give him up without a thought. We'll leave. I'll take Alexandre out of France."

"Erik, where would you go? Where would you go that no one would recognize you? You can't do this to him."

"I can do whatever the hell I wish to do! He's my son!" I yelled.

She grabbed my hand then and pressed into the bruises, which, I expected, was unintentional. "You don't mean that. I know you don't mean that."

She had no other choice.

Meg's cryptic words came back into my mind as I stared at Madeline. There was no other choice. If I kept him with me she and her vicomte would send the authorities straight to Julia's home. Madeline was correct. Uprooting Alex would do nothing but keep us a step ahead. Running would make it worse for Alex. He wouldn't understand, and I certainly didn't want him to know my past. There were days when not even I wanted to know all that I had done.

My eyes closed. Every ounce of energy had been sapped from my body. The conversation had to have removed five years from my life and the unspoken dread I felt brewing in my gut at least another ten. By all accounts and purposes, Christine had killed me.

"What time are you meeting her?"

"Half past two."

"Where?"

"The hotel."

Eyes still closed, I shook my head. "Our house. At three. She either accepts or does not see him at all."

"Erik—"

My tone grew sterner. "She either accepts or does not see him at all, Madeline. Tell her exactly what I said. I'll write her a damned note if you want."

"What if she refuses?"

I looked at Madeline then. "Do you honestly think it matters to her? If she sees Alex or not they'll come for me by Friday night. Of that I have no doubt."

Madeline began to cry again. I turned away from her and looked down at the book in my hands. There were hand-written notes inside, logs or entries of some sort. Julia's father had owned a grain store and I suspected it was a book he kept for sales.

"The deed is in your name. You should probably bring it over here tomorrow. I should look it over and see if I need to sign anything before Friday. Make sure it stays in your possession. If Alex should ever return, he may have it."

That made her sob even harder. Her emotions bothered me immensely. She had spent enough years either disappointed or in tears because of what I did.

"Is there anything else?" I asked gruffly.

She shook her head and dabbed at her eyes.

"Then send Alex in."

Madeline glanced up at me and met my gaze. She hesitated to speak though I guessed already what she was about to say. Her eyes switched to the bedside table where the mask and my hair had become lost in the foray of books.

"I'll give you a moment," Madeline whispered.

"With all that has happened in the last three days this will be the least of his concerns," I muttered. "Just find him. And tell him to bring the dog."

"The dog is fine, Erik."

A crooked smile touched my lips. "We'll see. You know I don't trust any of you."

Madeline nodded, understanding me as she always did. Her hand brushed against my shoulder and she bent down. I knew what she had intended. She would have kissed the left side of my face, the good side, if there could be one side considered good. I took her hand and held it a moment and she stopped. She sighed, either from relief in not having to show affection or disappointment that I had turned her away.

"You've always been good to me," I said to her hand.

Strange how the prospect of execution prompts one to rectify what can be changed. I was fairly certain that it would be my last chance to show her that I had cared for her. Though she began to cry once more, I pressed my lips to the back of her hand, to the hand of the only mother I had ever really known.