A/N: I appreciate everyone being so patient about waiting for my updates. I've been working very hard to give you all my best work, and that occasionally means longer waits between chapters. I have a feeling this chapter is going to arouse strong emotions in many of you, and I ask that you refrain from flames unless they are well thought out criticism. Otherwise, please enjoy it, and I look forward to your reviews.
It had taken a great deal of Erik's self control not to emerge from his hiding place and throttle Adrienne Leveau on the spot as she threatened to bring the gendarmes against him and Gia. But she had left soon thereafter, and his mind was whirling with possibilities of how to make her suffer. He'd not felt such rage since the night he'd cut down the chandelier at the Populaire, not caring who might be crushed beneath it or what damage it would do to the building. For a moment, his eyes glazed over with red. He wanted blood. He needed it.
He would take care of the situation as he promised Dupoix. Erik took to the corridors, searching for any sign of Adrienne, hoping that she had not left the building yet. He spied her walking through the backstage area, headed for the stables. No doubt she was going to demand a carriage for the trip to station where the gendarmes were headquartered. He had played this game once before, and at the first opportunity he knocked the driver out and took his place at the reins.
Adrienne was none the wiser, despite the fact he was much taller and slimmer than the man she had approached. She was completely oblivious, and only concerned about herself. He could hear her, chattering away to herself as they rode through the streets of Paris about all the things she would do with her reward money. It was not until he crossed the Pont Neuf and entered the Left-Bank that she realized something was wrong.
"Driver, where the hell are you going? This is not the way to the gendarmes station, you idiot! Turn around! I'll drive myself there if you are too stupid to find it."
Erik pointedly ignored her slurs, and continued driving, taking her deep into the quarter. The neighborhood around them was far different than that around the opera house. The signs for shops were worn and the paint was peeling off the clapboard buildings and doors. Instead of open sashes and window boxes filled with spring flowers, the shutters and blinds were drawn, no one anxious to know what was going on in the street below. Few people wandered the streets here, save the occasional drunk or desperate prostitute, and even they were rare sights in the early afternoon.
Every instinct the young mezzo had told her something terrible was about to happen to her. She had been raped before, it would not be the first time she was violated by a man, but the fact he had taken her so far out of the way made her think he would not be satisfied to have her then leave. From the back she could see the driver had strong arms and a broad chest. She would have to hope that if she begged prettily enough, he would not hurt her too badly.
The carriage came to an abrupt halt in front an abandoned shop. There were no signs of life nearby, and the only sound Adrienne was aware of was the sound of the wind whistling down the alleyways. Before the man could turn around and face her, she cried out, "Please sir, do not hurt me! You can take what you want and I promise I won't scream!"
The desperation in her voice had no effect on him. Here she was alone, with a strange man, and still all she could think about was herself! Without looking at her, he said, "Do not worry yourself, my dear. I am not interested in partaking in your dubious charms."
Adrienne was equal parts relieved and offended. How dare he say such a thing about her? The man got down from the driver's seat of the carriage with unconscious grace, and she got a view of his left profile. He was uncommonly handsome, and the mouth had a sensuousness about it that was rare. There was nothing pretty about him, it was just intensely masculine. Perhaps he was one of those men who did not enjoy women. Pity, that. There was something about the way he moved that made her think that fucking him would be a memorable experience.
It was only when he came around to assist her out of the cab that she saw his full face and the mask he was wearing that shielded part of him from view. It was the same man she had seen with Gia, the Phantom of the Opera, her lover! All thoughts of seduction left her. Adrienne was quickly realizing she was drawing her last breaths. Somehow he had heard of her plans, and he had come to dispose of her. She had to admit it was clever of him not to kill her at the Metropolitan where it might raise suspicion. Instead he would kill her in a run down part of town, where her rotting and bloated corpse would be discovered days later, and she would be lucky if her body was even identified. She wound end up nameless and in a pauper's grave.
Her entire body was shaking as her hand met his. There was fear lurking her dark eyes. She knew why he had brought her here. He was almost intoxicated by the power of the situation. She was moving stiffly, but not struggling, knowing it would be a futile gesture on her part. But Erik was impatient, he wanted this over with as soon as possible so he could see Gia again. She would ask questions about Mademoiselle Leveau, and he would have to answer them truthfully. He sighed internally, his face not betraying the fact that this act could cause him to lose the best thing that had happened to him in years. If he was honest with himself, ever.
In his haste, he had begun to drag Adrienne, and now she was fighting against him beating her hands against his chest, her instinct for survival kicking in. He took her down an alley, littered with the discarded trash of the unfortunates who populated the district. To his consternation, they came upon a prostitute and her john, the woman kneeling down, preparing to undo his trousers and service him. At the sound of their entry, both looked up at him, startled by his presence. Without missing a beat, he drew out two hundred franc notes and gave them to each party who dashed away in silence. They would not talk.
Alone, Erik felt oddly seized by pity for his victim. He did not particularly relish this kill as he had some of the others. Buquet and Piangi had at least brought a measure of satisfaction. Now that he thought on it, he had never killed a woman face to face. She opened her mouth to scream, and he placed a gloved hand over her mouth and backed her up against rough wall. "No, my dear. No screaming. I promise you, this will all be over soon. I suggest you ask whatever higher power you believe in, if you believe in one at all to forgive you your sins. He may, but I cannot," he said with devastating frankness as he brought the rope noose around her neck, and tightened it quickly.
Adrienne's small white hands began to clutch and grip at the rope and the man's hands, trying desperately to free herself. There was no air! Frantically she fought him, but the harder she tried, the quicker she felt herself slipping into eternal unconsciousness. It was too much to fight him, and she stopped struggling, and let her hands droop to her sides.
Erik watched as resignation took over her, she knew death had finally come for her, but her eyes were still entreating him to free her. They were bulging and glazing over, but he found he could not squeeze harder and take her life. He released her, and after she took a few quick breaths to get her bearings, she ran off. A few seconds later, he heard a strange scream, and Erik found himself going towards it. The alley made a sharp turn, and as he rounded the corner, he saw in front of him a steep staircase. In this section of the city they were surprisingly common. Lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs, blood oozing from her head was Adrienne Leveau. In her rush to escape, she must not have looked where she was going and fallen to her death.
He was going to leave her there, but he thought he saw her chest move slightly. He watched her closely and discovered his eyes had not been deceiving him. The girl was injured, but alive. He marched down the stairs, and carefully picked up her up, trying to move her as little as possible. The only sound she made was a strangled moan that sounded unearthly. Erik carried the woman back to carriage and lay her out flat and covered her with a blanket, then drove back to the safer section of Paris slowly, choosing routes that were the best maintained so she would be jostled as little as possible.
As he drove, he considered what he should do with her. He should have left her there to die, but even Adrienne did not deserve to die that slowly and painfully. He cursed himself for not being the unfeeling man he had been two years ago. That man wouldn't have given a damn about some stupid chorus girl. But that man also would not have batted an eyelash while murdering her. He hadn't even been able to do that.
As he neared the opera house, an almost mad thought came to him. Within mere moments he arrived at his destination, St. Etienne's. He suspected that the church would be open, and it was. Silently, he carried Adrienne, who had mercifully become unconscious, and left her laying down in one of the last pews along the nave of the nearly deserted church. In the front, Erik could make out the form of a man clothed in a long dark cassock. To get his attention, on his way out of the church, he deliberately knocked over a large candelabra. As he suspected, the young man came running to see what caused the commotion. While Erik stole out of the building unobserved, he could hear the man's voice calling for assistance.
Among the few parishioners in St. Etienne's had been one of the under seamstresses employed by the Metropolitan. She came running when she heard young Father Ferrier calling for help. When she had gasped at the gruesome sight in the pew he asked her if she knew who the unfortunate woman was. She explained that it appeared to be Adrienne Leveau who was one of the principle members of the company, and he requested that she remain with the woman until he could send someone to fetch a doctor. The priest returned in short order having sent one of the boys who worked at the rectory to go for the doctor. He then released the seamstress so she could return to her duties at the opera house. She, in turn, had been spreading the shocking news about Mademoiselle Leveau to all would hear her.
Gia heard the news shortly before practice was set to resume after the lunch break. The reports were varied, some claiming Adrienne was at death's door, and others saying that she had merely been injured. Her first thought was that Erik had to be involved in some way, but she could not think of a reason why he would attack Adrienne. Yes, she had been rather rude during the morning rehearsal, but nothing that warranted anything of great magnitude. Still, she would ask him about it later. She glanced up at the boxes, wondering if he was up there, watching even now.
When Madame Giry arrived, she excused anyone who felt unable to work because of the sad news regarding Mademoiselle Leveau. A few girls in the corps with tear stained faces and red noses slunk off the stage, but the great majority of those present were aware the gala opening would not wait for them. It was too late to recast, so there would simply have to be one less Wili, something that would not cause too much havoc. With Adrienne and her cronies gone, Gia was far more relaxed and found the rehearsal period flying by. Although they worked late into the afternoon, she was largely unaware of the passage of time.
Just as the rehearsal was ending, Monsieur Dupoix shuffled onto the stage looking distraught. All the blood had drained from his face making his skin nearly transparent. He was wringing his hands constantly, and it was almost as if he was uncomfortable facing them. It could only mean one thing: Adrienne was dead. Even though he had not said a word, Gia could feel her eyes becoming moist. She had not liked the girl in the least, but to die so young was always a tragedy.
"I am here to inform you that Mademoiselle Adrienne Leveau has been returned to her rooms in the opera house." The words had an astonishing effect, suddenly everyone was talking at once, overwhelming the poor man with questions. He motioned for everyone to settle down, then continued, "Mlle. Leveau is gravely injured and it will be sometime before she can even speak to anyone. We are not sure exactly what occurred this afternoon, but she was seemingly kidnapped by someone posing as a carriage driver, and assaulted later. At some point, she was brought to St. Etienne's, how or by whom is not known. However, from what the doctor has told me, her voice has been damaged and she cannot move her legs. It is doubtful she will ever perform again," he concluded.
The theater once again erupted with people talking all at once, but Gia could find no words. She felt a somewhat cold hand on her shoulder, and she turned to face the ballet mistress who had a most distressing look on her face. It would seem she shared Gia's concern that somehow Erik was involved in this from the way her brow was tightly drawn and her lips pursed.
Once they were safely backstage and alone, the older woman admitted that her first thought on hearing about Adrienne Leveau was that Erik had hurt her. But she had hoped that perhaps he was no longer willing to use violence to fulfill his desires.
"Is it possible he was not there to see what she did earlier today?" the ballet mistress had inquired, trying to be optimistic, a rare thing indeed for her.
"He was there. He was looking forward to watching practice the entire weekend. I am certain he had to have seen what she did. I did not think he would capable of doing such a thing, even though I know he has killed in the past."
"I would not have thought it either. So my dear, you spent the entire weekend with him? I trust you enjoyed yourself?" she said shifting the conversation to something far more pleasant. Gia blushed scarlet, and that told Madame Giry all she needed to know about how they had spent the weekend.
"I know this is going to sound terrible, but it seems uncharacteristic of Erik from all I have heard of him to leave someone alive like this. I was under the impression his pattern was to cause small 'accidents' that would serve as an object lesson, and if that did not suffice he would simply remove the foolish party."
"You are correct, my dear. There was no in between with the Phantom. You either complied or you died. It was a most effective way of doing business. Perhaps we are jumping to conclusions then. It is possible that someone else was responsible. She was not the most beloved person. She might have angered the wrong person with that nasty disposition of hers." The way Madame Giry spoke, it sounded as though she was trying to convince herself of the truth of those last sentences. It did no good to her or Gia.
From the dark penumbra of the hallways, a voice said, "It was me, I am largely responsible for what happened." He emerged slowly, ashamed to face both women who had been trying to hard to convince themselves that it could not have been him. Madame Giry bore the news stoically, her expression barely changing, save for the small downturn of her mouth which she quickly rectified. Gia, on the other hand, had a more profound reaction, her mouth dropped open slightly, and then she turned away from him.
"Why, Erik?" Madame Giry asked, as she comforted Gia by giving her a warm embrace. "She did not deserve to be permanently maimed for merely insulting Gia. You normally act with more finesse," she coldly stated. "But you have been known to overreact in the past."
The remark stung more than it should have. He was well aware that he had gone too far in the past. "I only did what I did to protect Gia. I followed Mlle. Leveau after rehearsal adjourned for lunch and she went to Dupoix. She told him she saw Gia trysting with her lover in a hallway and that she believed he was the Phantom of the Opera. When he attempted to brush her off, she threatened to go the gendarmes. If I had not stopped her, at this moment Gia would most likely be under arrest for suspicion of harboring a wanted man."
Gia removed herself from Madame Giry and turned to face him, guilt etched across her face. "Do not put this at my feet Erik! Would it not have been more merciful to kill her? You have left her with no means to support herself! What is she going to do?" she beseeched him, visibly upset. She turned away once more, unable to even look at him. She wrapped her left arm around herself and the right hand supported her forehead as she shook it.
"I cannot do this right now! Forgive me, I need to be alone!" she cried softly as she excused herself, quitting the scene. Erik watched her leave, knowing it would be better to give her some time alone. His eyes followed her until he could no longer see her. He continued to stare down the hallway until Madame Giry's voice brought him back to reality.
"She has a valid point. Why didn't you kill her outright? You have condemned the woman to a wretched existence. I had not thought you were still capable of such cruelty."
He did not want to defend his actions to anyone. He had hoped his explanation would satisfy them, although part of him had known his reasoning would not be enough. "I had intended to kill her, Antoinette. From the moment she left that office, I was resolved to end her. It was only during the act I found myself unable to do it. I released her, and then she ran off, and fell down a long flight of stairs. When I saw she had not died, I brought her back. I still do not know why."
Giry could think of nothing to say to him in response. His belated act of mercy had only worsened the situation. If the girl did regain her voice, she would undoubtedly condemn Erik and Gia to the authorities. Something would have to be done.
Erik left her, and Madame Giry spent most of that evening in a daze. She was unable to concentrate and her head throbbed. Sleep proved elusive. She struggled for a solid hour, then abandoned the bed so at least Meg could take some much needed rest. Once she was certain her daughter had fallen asleep, she took with her a set of keys and an old feather pillow.
The hall was deserted, save a sleeping man who had been posted in a chair outside Adrienne's room as protection. Giry moved silently in the darkness, the only sound coming when the lock clicked, and the door creaked open. Giry watched to see if the man stirred, but his snoring continued unabated.
Closing the door behind her, she then approached the bed where Adrienne lay. Her breathing was labored and shallow, each one a struggle for her. She looked down at the young woman, knowing what must be done. All those years ago when she had helped Erik by concealing him from the world, she had never once thought those actions would place her in a position such as this one. He had become closer to her than any one in her family save Meg or her husband, and she would not let a woman such as this one be his end. Once again his fate was in her hands and she was determined to save him. For the first time in his life Erik had found love and acceptance. That mattered more to her than murdering a woman whose ability to continue to draw breath threatened all of that. God forgive her!
She brought the down filled pillow down over her face hard and fast, holding it stiffly to cut off the supply of air. Morbidly she noted it did not take much pressure at all. Adrienne barely moved, death coming as a welcome release. She waited until the girl's chest ceased to move, then took the pillow away. To be certain, Giry brought her face close to the girl's mouth to check her breath. There was none.
She exited the room as quietly as she came, taking the pillow, and locking the door behind her. She reminded herself to dispose of the pillow in the coal furnace tomorrow. Calm washed over her, and she closed her eyes. Sleep came rather quickly after that.