Julia and I have made it to the Wisteria Hotel. I think Julia may have lost her trust in me.

Ch 51

The night air grew considerably colder once Julia had disappeared into the hotel lobby. My teeth started to chatter. Feeling abandoned my exposed hands. My face had also turned numb. The only consolation I could find was that my forehead had stopped bleeding. I placed the mask over my face and waited.

There was something greater missing, not just Julia, and it was driving me mad. I wanted her to trust me, to have faith in me. She had no idea what I would have done for her to gain her trust again.

Odd how after all of these years of wanting to be feared and finding power in being something else I now no longer wanted that skin. If I were a snake I would have shed my treachery and hoped for shining innocence beneath. Now was not the time for catharsis.

Rain dampened my hair and dripped down my forehead and into my eyes. I sniffled and clenched my jaw to keep from trembling but it didn't keep my teeth from clattering.

Even though it was only raining I had a wicked hope for lightning to strike me dead and end my misery. That, I knew, was too much to ask. It would be easier to be struck by a lightning bolt than face Julia, and eventually I would have to face her.

A carriage jingled up to the half-circle drive in front of the hotel. I sat upright and covered my face again before the driver jumped down to let the guests out. The sound woke the bellman and I had to step back before he hit me with the door. The second he ran out he turned and headed back inside the hotel.

"Umbrella!" he said to himself. "Mustn't forget the lady's umbrella."

I stared at him from beneath my hood as he ran back out again. In the back of my mind I knew that this was going to be Christine and her husband. I just knew it.

But it wasn't. That would have been too merciful of God and the powers of the damned universe to just let me confront them without Julia looming over my shoulder. A man, the oldest man I had ever seen, helped a woman just as old as he from the carriage. They clung to one another as he held the umbrella over their bent forms. When they were near the entrance the bellman held the door for them and told them to have a nice night.

I despised the two of them. They mocked my dismal disposition and my terrible fate. By the way they held one another it was apparent that they were in love. In love! And what was I? Cold, wet and alone I stood waiting for a woman. Not just any woman. A woman I had slept with twice. Pelted by rain I waited for her to come out with her husband and the woman I had slept with a hundred times. The entire situation seemed utterly ridiculous the more I thought about it.

Julia was retrieving Christine and the man who had nearly beat me to death from their hotel room. I could only imagine her telling them that we had come in search of Alex. If there was any doubt in her mind that I was an adequate parent, I suppose I did drop my own guillotine. A cynical chuckle escaped my lips.

This was perfectly tailored to the rest of my hellish life.

My nerves could nary tolerate another moment of waiting. It no longer mattered that Julia had been gone less than five minutes. I have never had any patience. Absolutely none and this night was no different.

Just when I could no longer hold back a scream the double doors opened. The vicomte appeared first though he didn't meet my eye. He stood like a guard before Christine. Julia was the last one out the door. None of them looked at me.

To hell with all of them, then!

"Is he here?" I asked Julia.

"You lost him?" Christine accused.

"Oh, shut up," I snapped.

"How dare you!" Christine shrieked.

The vicomte stepped forward to protect his darling little wife from my venomous tone and I stepped forward to meet him head-on. Julia wedged herself between us and pushed on my chest to keep me back.

"They have kindly agreed to show us inside," Julia said evenly.

"How many others does he have waiting for me? Ten, twenty men waiting upstairs to finish me off?"

Julia leaned into me and pinched my upper arm. "Stop acting like a child or I'll leave you to your fate right now," she threatened in my ear. I glared at her but allowed her to push me back until I was against the wall.

"Where is he?" Christine demanded.

Julia stepped forward. "He was at home the last time Madame Giry saw him," she said. The calm in her voice further irritated me.

What have you done with our son?" Christine asked. Her voice trembled. She had just enough emotion to feign heartache.

"Madame, no one is to blame. He left a note—"

"Let me see it." Christine stepped from behind the boy and held her hand out.

Her hand lingered before me, palm up and long fingers splayed. Her presence paralyzed me, cowed me in the most horrific way possible. My breath caught in my throat. This is what Oliver Cromwell must have felt when he was buried, exhumed and beheaded. Damn it if I didn't dig my own grave by coming to her hotel.

She flexed her extended hand impatiently. I couldn't look away from her long, delicate fingers, the gentle slope of her palm or her thin, milky white wrist. She stood close enough for me to touch her if I had just lifted my hand to hers.

The thoughts racing through my mind caught me by surprise. I still had feelings for her. After everything that had happened I still had feelings for Christine. That was nothing less than appalling.

"Erik," Julia prompted.

"I thought you were inviting us in," I sneered.

The vicomte and his wife both hesitated but the boy nodded at last and held the door for both Julia and Christine. He let the door fall back into place just before I reached it. My jaw tightened until I felt my head begin to pound. I would have kicked the door open had Julia not peered back to fetch me.

"I know, I know," Julia said quietly.

Her hand wrapped around my wrist and I realized I was so angry I had started to shake. The warmth of her touch made me release a pent-up breath. I looked at her and nodded once.

"For tonight, I will trust you," she whispered. She gently kissed my shoulder.

I was glad she had come with me.

We walked through the lobby and up to the second floor without another word passing between us. The boy walked a step behind Christine which I found rather insulting. As if I would harm her. As if I had ever put her into danger.

The two little girls I had seen several nights before were with their nanny when we walked inside the suite. Christine trotted off scolding them that it was far too late to be up. They both gave soft but useless protests before going off to their room with their nanny directly behind them. The bedroom door closed and Christine returned.

"Well? Where's the note?" Christine asked.

I reached into my waistcoat pocket and handed over the note. Our fingers touched but I made the exchange without looking Christine in the eye. She said nothing as she disappeared behind her precious vicomte.

While she read I stared at the boy nervously twisting the toe of his shoes against the inlaid stone foyer. My face had scraped across the ground with the same sickening drag of his sole against the floor. I could still feel his foot against my ribs, still hear the wind knocked from my lungs as he and two of his friends clubbed me in the back and in the chest. I ran my fingers along the palm of my hand and felt where the skin was still raw with scrapes, where gravel had become imbedded under my skin and beneath my nails.

Christine had disappeared behind the protective wall of her husband just as she had gone back to her room the night they had escorted me from her suite. She had turned her face away knowing full well what would happen in the streets below her hotel room.

She had left me for dead.

My hand rose to my forehead and I touched the stitches again. Pink stained my fingertips. I stared at my hand, at the blood and the bruises, the scrapes and the swelling. She had turned her back to me as she had so many times before. She had given permission, given her blessing for them to kill me if they were so inclined.

My eyes were fixed on my own hand and I felt a sudden tremor of rage rising up. For dead. She had left me for dead. She had abandoned her own son, spent nine years erasing us and left me for dead in an alley. This was the woman I adored, the singer I worshipped.

Julia reached into my overcoat pocket and removed the handkerchief. She blotted my forehead and lightly touched my chest, her fingertips skimming past my heart. She had no idea that she saved my life with a simple touch.

"That's it?" Christine asked. She folded the note and handed it to Julia who handed it back to me. "It says nothing."

"It says he's sorry," I said under my breath.

She sighed. "And it says nothing more. Frankly I think you're wasting time. Is this a ploy to keep me from him?"

"No."

"How ironic that the day before I asked to see him again he disappears from Madeline's home."

"My home," I corrected.

"What does it matter? I knew this would happen. I should have taken him in when he first came to me. Raoul, call the front desk. Tell the commissioner—"

"It's only been a few hours," Julia blurted out.

I stepped in front of Julia and made my way toward Christine. "What do you mean when he first came to you?"

"That is none of your business."

"He's my son. Everything he does is my business."

We stared at one another in the center of the room. The boy started to come forward but Christine waved him back. Julia didn't make a sound.

"He's my son as well."

"You lost that right nine years ago when you left him at my door and walked away," I said between my teeth. My eyes flashed to the boy. He looked away at my words. I took a step forward fully expecting Christine to recoil but she stood her ground. "Tell me why he came here."

"You know why he came here."

"What did he say?"

"That is private."

"Damn it, what did he say?" I shouted.

Julia said my name softly and I glanced at her from over my shoulder. When I turned back Christine had stepped away from me. I looked from her to the bedroom and then the boy.

"Come with me," I said through clenched teeth. Before she could reply I stormed toward her and grabbed her by the wrist. "Don't you even think about lying to me again."