II. The Devil's Child

What happened next remained blurred in the Phantom's recollection, however hard he tried to remember later on. As for how he had actually entered the cavern, there was a gaping black hole in his memory. The next thing he could recall was already standing in its middle, between the two lines of braziers, surrounded by many, many eyes, while one single eye was in front of him, and he believed to see the sky outside through it. He recalled a feeling of dizziness, but not much more.

There were voices, too, drifting through his consciousness like through thick fog. Those two tall and overly muscular fellows were with him, growling at those milling around them. Some words he caught, but they made no sense to him anymore. There were only a few which stayed in his mind and remained burned into it, repeated in shouts as well as in whispers, all around him: "The Devil's Child…" Adhemar was at his shoulder – whence had he come so suddenly? – holding him back, although he did not know why. And there was a face in front of him, one single face, round and bearded and ugly, with darting little eyes and a wide, sneering mouth… a short, fat man with a dark complexion, his long black hair, heavily flecked with grey in places, a matted, tangled mass. "Let's see about that one", the man said.

And then there appeared a second face before him, a young woman's. She was red-headed and might have been considered pretty, if not for that look of impertinence on her features, and that grin which exposed a mouthful of bad teeth. The grin widened as her hand came up to snatch his mask away, and he winced as the hot air suddenly touched his at once unprotected right cheek. "Well, well, my beauty", the woman cackled. "How are we doing now?"

"That's him", the dark-skinned man said. "He's too young, but it's him. You don't forget that face too easily."

"This will do, Kalo." The dark, deep voice reverberated in his skull, but he could put no name or face to it as yet. As the name was mentioned, a faint recollection stirred somewhere in the recesses of his mind, but he could not think clearly enough. "You too, Fifi. Hand over his mask."

The woman – Fifi – disappeared from his field of view, simpering about something he did not quite understand, leaving only the fat little man for him to look at. "Remember me, son of an animal?" he sneered. "You killed my uncle to get away from us, but now your past has caught up with you at last."

Kalo… Yes, he remembered now. A fat, stupid boy a few years younger than he had been, a filthy gypsy, always tormenting him, throwing pebbles at him through the bars of his cage, poking him with a stick when he tried to sleep, calling him names… Once, on one of the rare occasions where he had been let out of his cage to do some work, he had at last gotten his hands on this Kalo and given him a severe beating, which had been very satisfying. The lashing he had received later on from Kalo's uncle was a very strong – and very painful – memory, though.

A few years younger. He was quite certain Kalo had been younger than he was, and there the man stood before him with as much grey in his hair as black and with his round face lined, whereas he had merely grown to manhood, and then as good as stopped changing. It was the same with Claire Giry, when he considered it. She had been only a little older than he was, but now it seemed that the interval between their ages had increased. Strange. It had never occurred to him before.

"Get out of my way, Kalo." The voice was like a sharp, deep whip-crack, and the gypsy flinched violently and grovelled his way out of sight.

He was replaced by a tall man in flowing black robes, dark-haired yet light-skinned, with sharp features, as frozen as if hewn from marble, and a broad slash of a scar from his high forehead down to his right cheek, below his temple, right across his right eye. To cover what was probably an empty socket, he had tied a scrap of black silk around his head. The gaze of his left eye, which was bright blue, was very intense, like a drill set to the Phantom's skull. "At last you have come, boy", he said, his voice, cold and deep, making the Phantom's mind vibrate. "I am known as Créon, but you will call me Master."

The Phantom could almost see the threads now, a fiery, flaring spiderweb with a looming dark shape in its centre. So this was the Master. He almost shivered as he realized that the sensation of those threads was all around him, engulfing him, enmeshing him just as a spider's wrapped-up prey. This man was stronger than he was. Much stronger.

"Do you have a name?" Créon demanded.

"I'm just known as the Phantom." He was content at the way his voice remained calm, quite cool. "Or Opera Ghost, if you want. There is no other name."

The man before him chuckled, a rich, dark sound which made a hint of cold gently glide down along his spine. "Oh, is that truly so… Erik?"

Only his clenched teeth prevented him from gasping. "How -?" That name had not been uttered for years, and besides, there was only one person apart from him who knew it. It was a very personal thing, linked to some of the fondest among his memories. How could they know?

"It's there in your mind, boy. Written as clearly as in a book."

"Why do you ask, then?" he demanded defiantly, at once feeling as vulnerable as not even Christine's leaving him had made him feel.

"It is so much more delightful to hear it from your own lips." Créon smiled, but his one blue eye stayed the same, cold as the winter sky. "How many years since you left your home, sold to the gypsies? And all the time thinking you were alone? But now, boy, you have truly come home at last."

"I'm not a child", the Phantom growled.

"Is this what you think? Bertrand, will you come over here and tell the boy your age? And show him your face, so he knows his family."

The old man the Phantom had noticed before stepped out of the throng obediently, throwing back the hood of his rough black cloak to reveal a face bashed in on the right side as if from the blow of a giant fist, broken, uneven bone structures stretching his skin tight. "This spring", he said softly, "I will be one hundred and seventy-three years old."

"You see?" Créon asked, still smiling. "And Bertrand is but one of the lesser of our kind."

But all the Phantom could do was stare at the old man. One hundred and seventy-three? Seventy-three he might have believed, although Bertrand moved like he was somewhat younger, yet one hundred and… Nobody could be that old! Except… There was so much he did not know about himself, he realized, about what he truly was. This man, this impossibly old man, was like him, with a distorted face just like his own, of his own kind – although the kind of disfigurement displayed before him, that asymmetric, smashed skull, and even the side of the jaw irregular, made him feel handsome without a mask for the first time in his life.

"Yes, it looks rather bad, doesn't it?" Créon spoke lightly, as if talking about the weather. "Not the worst I have seen, though." With a lazy wave of his hand, he motioned some of the assembled to come forth. "But it is time to introduce you to the rest of your brothers, now.

"I have already introduced you to Bertrand. Now turn your attention to those two beside him." He was nodding at the pair of long-maned, muscular men. "First, I will present you to Atrox." The shorter one, with black hair and almost impossibly wide shoulders, inclined his head briefly. There was a patch of what seemed to be small boils and sores on his right cheek, and another further down over his collarbone, disappearing into his rough linen shirt. "The other is Ferox." The second of the pair towered a head above everybody else, and his straw-coloured hair hung down past the middle of his back, enveloping his shoulders like a very rough veil. His eyes were dark and dull, without any gleam. Unlike his companion, his face was untouched by disfigurement, yet the sleeveless brown leather vest he wore showed that his whole right arm, down from his shoulder, looked raw and red, as if not covered by skin. "And there was Lionel", Créon continued, "but you have already taken care of him. Yet do not believe you have incurred my wrath by your deed, boy. Lionel was useful at times, yet he has served his purpose. I gladly exchange him for you.

"You have already encountered Adhemar, I believe? Good." For a moment the Phantom felt Adhemar's grip tighten on his shoulder, and he seriously considered pushing the man away, yet this was an unwise action if he was surrounded by at least thirty men, with at least one among them who had stronger mental powers than his own. "The acolyte every ruler could wish for, Adhemar", Créon continued in a conversational tone, shooting the man at the Phantom's shoulder the kind of glance one would favour a faithful hound with. "Obedient and reliable. He might well be my second in command, if not for his lack of brains." Créon sneered, and the Phantom felt Adhemar shift slightly beside him. "Still, he has a sub-dominant mind. Not a very strong one, at that, yet definitely strong enough to deserve the name. I am already considering letting you work alongside him for some time; he might set you a fine example when I hammer your stubbornness out of you."

The Phantom felt his hands clench into fists, and it took all his concentration to make them unknot again. So sure of himself this Créon was, so exceedingly arrogant! And there was nothing he could do about it; he felt helpless as a child, his mind ripped open and laid bare to a stronger one he could not fight. How foolish he had been, believing firmly he could overcome all those intruders on his own! But Créon could teach him humility, and he knew he would. And placing him just with Adhemar, with a man who seemed to direly hate him…

"Indeed he does, young Erik", Créon said, with apparent amusement, though his voice remained as cold as it had always been. "The two of you are contenders for the same woman's affection."

It was as if an icy hand had grasped the Phantom's heart. Adhemar was after Christine? And he was unable to protect her! If anything happened to her, it would be all his own fault, caused by his foolish pride. Oh, he deserved death ten times over!

Créon laughed, a derisive, unpleasant sound. "Truly you are a fool, boy! Wasting away in misery because some petty human girl refused you her hand! A hopeless romantic you are, and gone soft at heart! Love is but an illusion, young Erik, and you should be above such things."

"Especially tragic love", Adhemar hissed into his ear. "I bet you don't know the right way to behave towards a woman if you need one. I bet you didn't ever have one in your bed."

"Oh, but he did", said Créon remorselessly. What the Phantom would have given to have him keep quiet just this one time! "He let the queen of his heart rest in his own bed, but chose to watch her sleep and stay awake, and out of bed."

There was laughter, and not only from Adhemar. Several of the assembled servants chuckled, and Ferox and Atrox exchanged a smirk. "The innocent boy, our little Erik!" Adhemar sneered. "Maybe I should take this girl and show him what he is supposed to do under such circumstances?"

Forcing himself, with all the willpower remaining to him, to ignore the vile remark, the Phantom still felt his features twist into a grimace of fury. How could this ignorant brute dare to utter such a thing, to sully Christine's purity with his foul thoughts? The day would come when Adhemar would suffer for this. And however long he would have to wait, he still would see it done. Only with his blood Adhemar could wash away his debt.

"Hold your tongue, Adhemar", a soft voice suddenly spoke up, and the Phantom looked into the serious, plain face which he now knew to be Aeternus's. "What do you know? Foolish the lad may be, yet it was noble of him. He had the girl practically at his disposal, and still he did not use her as he chose. With a man like that, I can work together, because I know that he is able to accept, and not only to grab all the things he can get, as you do it, with your petty mind so hungry for the only power you can get, which is nothing but illusion."

Again Créon smiled, and immediately Adhemar, who had been on the verge of launching himself at Aeternus, relaxed and stood still once more. "Well spoken, my eccentric friend", he said. "Though too noble an attitude will bring you nothing but your downfall. Maybe I should turn young Erik over to you, once I am done with him, so you can teach him how to cooperate, and he can teach Adhemar in turn." At the Phantom's shoulder, Adhemar winced at this prospect. "Boy, this is Aeternus, my other sub-dominant. His mind is a bit too independent for my taste, yet he possesses the intelligence Adhemar here misses."

Aeternus nodded, his calm blue eyes for a moment meeting the Phantom's. It was like gazing into a field of mist, a cloud hiding what lay behind it. "If you allow me, Master", he said, "I will take the Phantom aside to tell him about the rest he needs to know." He still called him Phantom. Could it be that Aeternus honoured in other men a quality that he himself possessed?

"The rest can wait", Créon decided coldly. "You can have some time with him later on. At the moment, I prefer to leave the boy in Ferox and Atrox's and the gypsies' care. That is to say, except one." Here he paused, and the one eyebrow not covered by the piece of silk cloth lowered considerably, making his high brow furrow. "Febis, I want a word."

From the mass of bodies closing in around them one dispatched itself, a tall, narrow-faced old man who held his white-haired head up proudly and walked with grace. "Master?" he asked, his voice full and deep.

"Kalo called young Erik here the son of an animal. Teach him about what it means to bear the Devil's Touch. And make sure he never again speaks the term Devil's Child with disdain. Make sure he remembers the next time who it is he swore to serve." Without another glance at the Phantom, he turned on his heel and strode away, the servants parting respectfully to make way for him.

The Phantom stared after him, his thoughts swirling madly, and not only with dizziness. What am I, what the flaming hell am I?