VII. Rich Desire
When he woke again from his oblivion, he was not surprised to find himself tied to the pole once more. Again there were gypsies watching him, but he ignored them. The pain in his head, that strange pain which only hurt in his mind, was stronger than before. There was no hiding now. Everything lay bare. Créon knew everything.
Oh, Christine… The only thing he wished for was to crawl to her and nuzzle his face into her hair and hide, hide from all the world.
He realized there were tears running down his cheeks, and he bit his lips to make them stop, hacked his teeth into his own flesh until he tasted blood, but still the tears kept coming. So this was what defeat felt like, true, utter defeat. He had thought to know the feeling, but only now he understood its true extent. He had lost, and Créon had won, Créon with his madness and his filthy lies. He was in Créon's hands now, at the Master's disposal. And however hard he struggled, he would be bent to that madman's will.
If only Christine were safe! He could still feel her, somewhere out there, and he eagerly drank in what little he was aware of, drawing comfort from it, though the fear to lose her when she stayed near was much greater. What if that Adhemar managed to put his dirty hands on her? What if Créon decided to torment her in order to give him pain?
Soft footsteps made him raise his head, and he found that Aeternus had entered his blurred vision quietly, his pair of fair-haired retainers waiting a little way off. At a wave of his gloved hand, the gypsies shrunk away and scattered, mingling with the rest of the servants around the braziers. Most of them were sitting in lines now, consuming a simple meal, paying their prisoner no notice – or rather, avoiding to look at him.
"Listen", Aeternus whispered urgently, "if you want to do that girl of yours a service, then you must submit. Now. It's your only choice. You're stronger than the Master expected, but you won't last against him. Nobody does, not in the first confrontation. So think of your girl and do what he wants you to. It's better for you and her, believe me."
Was this another trick of Créon's, or rather Aeternus's independence, as Créon had put it? "What does he want with me?" he asked hoarsely, hoping to at last receive an answer.
"The Master's plan are not for us to know", Aeternus replied, clearly hesitantly, "but he believes that he needs you for… something. He needs your strength, and you are even stronger than he at first thought. And he is even more eager to control you. You must submit."
Did he really not know, or did he just refuse to tell him? The Phantom could not answer this question. But if Aeternus truly had no idea what Créon wanted, what made him follow this madman? "What's in it for you?" he asked. "Why do you do this?"
Aeternus smiled. "There is a saying, lad: Better stand beside the devil on his day of victory than be in his way. You would do well to remember that."
"Aeternus?" The voice was a female one, soft and gentle and clear as chimes. "Kindly leave him to me now."
Immediately Aeternus bowed his head. "As my Lady commands."
Again footsteps coming to him. He blinked at the newcomer hard, trying to clear his eyesight. Aeternus was gone from his side, leaving two women with him instead. One he recognized as the red-headed Fifi, whereas the other –
A hand reached out and gently wiped moisture and dirt from his unblemished cheek, then repeated the same on the other side, without hesitation. "Now, now", she crooned. "We do not want to spoil your loveliness." Her hand cupped his chin as she regarded him, and he regarded her in turn.
She was the most beautiful woman he had ever met – apart from Christine, of course, he thought automatically. Tall for a woman, she was slender and graceful and at the same time generously built. Her dark eyes were a pair of smouldering coals in her bronze-skinned face, under thin, elegant eyebrows that were now slightly raised, observing him with a small smile. Clothed she was in a dress of black silk which clung to her body, revealing more than it seemed to be revealing at first glance. Her long dark hair hung about her shoulders in glossy waves. There was only one thing marring her beauty: While on the left side the skin of her neck was smooth, it was rough and lined and somewhat darker on the right, as if often exposed to sea and wind. He did not know how this comparison came to him, yet it seemed to fit.
"So, my pretty one", she said gently, "it is time to discuss your future. Or at least, some aspects of it."
"Who are you?" he demanded, after drawing a ragged breath, or at least he tried to make it sound like a demand, but what came out was more the tone of a defiant child. Curse her, but she was stunning!
"I am known as Niobe", she answered, her fingertips caressing him under the chin.
"Niobe", he repeated. "Like the woman challenging a goddess in her mad pride?" Among other things, Claire had brought him a book on Greek mythology once, a linen-bound volume with many fascinating stories in it. It had been during the summer break, and he had found himself a sunny place on the rooftop, hidden behind a statue, to read. "She paid dearly for her folly."
"We all do, in the end." She was very close to him now. Much too close. He could feel her breath against his throat, and her presence filled him with the same prickling sensation he normally got when Christine touched him. "And currently, it is your turn." Her laughter was clear as a spring, yet as a cold spring. "However, since you have caught my eye, submission might be a very enjoyable game to play for you, if you are a good boy." She briefly sniffed the side of his neck, drawing in his scent, and he seriously doubted that it was so pleasant currently, with all the dust, dirt and sweat covering him. He caught himself wishing that she would sniff him after he was freshly bathed and shaved. "Créon – the Master – might even leave you to me completely once night has fallen. How would you like that, duckling?"
She had called Créon with his name. Until now, she was the only one to do so. She must be powerful, it occurred to him, very powerful.
"Oh, don't be shy. I like men to possess some spirit, and I know you do."
What did she want with him? He felt heat spreading inside him as he realized that there could be only one possible meaning to her comment about Créon leaving him to her for the night. Did she truly want this? No woman ever even thought about that, not with him!
"Do you doubt yourself?" she purred against the side of his neck, one hand on his chest. "Never been told what a pretty thing you are? Or are you just worried because it will be your first time? Do not let it trouble you, my dove; I like the inexperienced boys. They can be taught and formed, whereas the others are more difficult to handle."
Was she a mind-reader, too, he wondered, trying hard to suppress the sensation of the blood boiling in his veins. His mind was too irritated and pain-stricken to tell him for sure if there was someone inside, examining his thoughts. He assumed she was.
If she would only send that red-haired wench away! Dirty offers were something he preferred to receive without listeners – especially since this was the first dirty offer he had got in his life. He would have appreciated it a lot more if it had come from Christine, but this Niobe… It might prove difficult to say no to her, and not because she forced him. Moreover, he would rather spend the night in some quiet corner with her than be near Créon. Anything but Créon! What a stroke of luck that she was around. And submitting to a woman would not be that difficult, he guessed, if it was done somewhere under a blanket.
Now wait a minute. He hardly knew this woman, and already he wanted to allow her to enjoy herself with him? For this one would not just yield and let him do as he pleased with her, this one would rather expect him to yield. If she was truly interested, she should have to try a bit harder, for he would not simply give himself away to act as a woman's toy. Not even for Christine.
Oh well. Perhaps for Christine he would. If she really wanted him to.
"My sweet", Niobe whispered into his ear, while running one hand down along his side, "you will find that I take what I want, and if I want to toy with you, then this is what I will do." And then, without warning, she kissed him. At first he wanted to pull away as her lips met his own, but she had slipped one slender hand behind his head without him noticing and held him there, her other arm going around his waist. Exhausted as he was, he could only struggle feebly, and it was to no avail. Her grip was stronger than he would have thought. And then there was that feeling of heat, that searing, scorching heat inside him, creeping through his mind in burning tendrils, making all his resistance melt. When she at last released him, the only thing he could do was scowl at her.
"Don't pout, my lovely boy", Niobe mocked him. "It doesn't suit you."
"Leave me alone", he grated. "Why do you have to torment me?"
"Because I can't resist a pretty face, my dove."
"Don't call me pretty!" he snarled, his fury burning even hotter than the hateful fire she had kindled inside him.
"But you are", she said, in a tone as if patiently explaining something to a stubborn child. "And as for your scars… They are such a marvellously clear reminder of what you are. Not only the Devil's Touch, but also the touch of fire. It stands for strength and consuming passion, a passion so strong it may easily turn to –"
"Madness", he finished for her. "I know."
"So Créon did tell you something." If she approved of this or not was impossible to tell; her tone and expression did not change. "Not that I expect you to be truly passionate at first, in case you still choose to be stubborn tonight, but it will come. After a few nights, maybe more and maybe less, your mind will have grown so used to obey my will that there will be no more room in it for the girl who broke your heart." Again he felt one of those waves of heat flood him and sweep over him, leaving him breathless. "There are three women in your life altogether, I see. Three women you care about. One is an old friend and one is the girl you love, while the third… the third is difficult to place", she admitted. "You are not quite clear about her." It sounded like a reproach. "A friend, it seems, yet you have seriously considered to settle with second-best. Though you hardly know her." She laughed softly, mockingly. "You seem to be quite desperate to at last get your hands on a woman. That makes you easy prey."
With all the anger boiling in him, as well as this insuppressible desire she had planted in him, he was almost surprised that she did not catch fire as he glared at her. Easy prey? He would never be easy prey! Even though she could overwhelm him and make his body obey her, he would fight, he would struggle until the end.
As if this decision gave him new strength, he tried to push at that throbbing, pulsing sensation of heat, trying to force it out of his mind. At first, for a moment, it gave way, allowing him a brief moment of clear thought, which made his mind fill up with more rage, but then there was a sudden flash of searing pain, and she had him again, as firmly as before. Gasping for breath, he realized that she had gone wide-eyed and retreated a step, but she was already pretending that she had never been surprised. "You are very strong, pretty Erik", she crooned, tracing her hands along his arms, yet it was clear that she did not speak of physical strength. "It will only make the night more enjoyable."
Why did they have to use that name? It was a very personal thing, nothing of their business, and it made him feel vulnerable when they used it.
Which was the reason why they did so, of course.
Turning away from him briefly, Niobe addressed the woman who was accompanying her. "What do you think, is he not a lovely thing to decorate a bedchamber with?"
Fifi leered at him, exposing her decaying teeth. "He's a beast."
Niobe smiled. "Yes, there is something feral about him, isn't there? I think I will greatly enjoy his company."
"He has nice legs, too", Fifi stated.
"He is quite perfect. Graceful and at the same time well-muscled, just how I like them." Niobe slowly and deliberately licked her lips. "High time I get another of that sort. Adhemar does not lack the muscles to suit me, yet I would prefer him to possess more grace."
"Oh, but my Lady, Adhemar is a most handsome man. And his scars are so dashing."
"Yet nothing compared to this one here", Niobe said firmly. "This one is greatly to my liking. I will guard him jealously. But if you serve me faithfully, I might let you touch him."
Listening to their conversation while standing as stiff as he could in an effort not to betray how much she affected him, how she made him tremble with longing for her touch, the part of the Phantom's awareness that was still his own was filled with wrath, and with shame. Shame at his own helplessness, at being exposed to those women like this, even to that weak-minded one, shame at being spoken about like this, and at his complete inability to resist. It only increased his dire fury. Yet however much he longed to destroy those two, and Créon, and everybody else, he felt as if in a daze, so strangely distant, and what was much closer and clearer was his desire, that accursed desire he could not fight.
Christine, forgive me. I can't help it.
"Can we not get a closer look?" Fifi inquired of her mistress, eyeing him longingly.
"Let's see." Reaching out, she grabbed him by the front of his shirt. He tried to twist away from her, while she yanked at him to pull him towards her, as far as his arms bound to the pole would allow. The result was a tearing noise, and a merry laugh from Niobe, as well as a wicked cackle from Fifi. "Seems like he is doing part of the work for us." She gave his shirt another tug, and the tearing sound was repeated.
He snarled at her furiously. Did they really have to play around with him where everyone could watch? And another good shirt ruined. Someone, he swore to himself, someone was going to suffer for this!
Pulling his shirt out of his trousers completely, Niobe slid a hand beneath it, onto his stomach, and her fingers on his bare skin made him recoil at the same time as almost purr with pleasure. "Do you like what you see?"
"There is still too much covered", Fifi replied, reaching out for him herself.
Immediately Niobe tried to fend her off, and very briefly they struggled, completely tearing one of his sleeves, but then Fifi yelped and withdrew, and Niobe said dangerously, "Do not forget your place."
"Yes, my Lady", Fifi answered meekly, her head bowed, with something almost like a curtsy.
The matter of her servant settled, Niobe immediately returned her attention to the Phantom. Placing both hands on his stomach, beneath the torn fabric of his shirt, she slowly let them wander upwards. He snarled at her wordlessly, at the same time as leaning into her touch.
And then there came a cold, deep voice only too well known to him, a voice loathed above anybody else's. "This is enough, Niobe. Leave him alone." Créon was towering over her, a grim-faced Adhemar at his shoulder.
Echoing the Phantom's sound from before, Niobe gave what seemed to be a snarl, but she withdrew slowly under Créon's icy gaze.
"He is not yours", Adhemar said, the forced calm in his gruff voice very obvious. And at once the Phantom understood what Créon had meant earlier on when he had called him and Adhemar contenders for the same woman's affections. At once he knew why Adhemar hated him so much. The man was Niobe's lover, and he did not want to be replaced. Adhemar did not pursue Christine, after all. Oh, the Phantom could have laughed with relief!
Créon turned his one-eyed gaze on him, and he felt how his momentary happiness drained away beyond recall. More than ever he was aware of his torn shirt hanging off his left shoulder, somehow making him feel even more helpless than he had felt before. "You will yet have to learn, Niobe", Créon said quietly, "not to interfere with the property of the King of the Catacombs."
