IV. Lust for Blood

"Have the prisoners brought in, Adhemar."

"As you command, Master."

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Niobe asked doubtfully, her forehead furrowed into a frown.

"Do not question my authority, or you will live to regret it – if you will live at all."

"I'm the only other dominant around here", Niobe pointed out, then hastened to add, "Master."

"That you may be", Créon conceded, the gaze of his one pale eye directed over the bustling servants' heads, "but young Erik will be a worthy substitute for you. As soon as I have him with me, you may become disposable." The Master's voice was just as cold and impassive as usual.

For a moment Niobe's mouth opened and closed noiselessly, then she cleared her throat. Her bronze-skinned face suddenly looked paler than before. "He is weaker than me. His mind is only sub-dominant."

"He is inexperienced. Very much so. But he is very strong. That boy is a clear dominant, even though he is not aware of it."

From among the servants Aeternus emerged, his thumbs thrust behind his belt, and acknowledged his Master with an inclination of his head, then remained standing at Niobe's other side.

"Have you noticed what he must have done with this girl?" Créon continued. "He has moulded her mind to his will. She is his creature."

"Yet there is an interesting kind of backward-linking", Aeternus put in. "Something which should not be possible. On her side, the connection is very subtly, very intricately interwoven, while on his, the weaving seems less delicate, and much firmer. He must be aware of her at all times."

Very slowly, Créon turned his head to regard his vassal. "And how exactly do you pretend to know?"

"I was close enough to both of them to perceive the nature of their bond, Master."

"The connection is obvious, but the details are delicate", Créon stated. "I wish to have both of them at my disposal. They will make most interesting objects for study."

"What about the other two?" Niobe asked.

"They can be killed. I have no need for them."

Niobe's full lips quirked apart into an eager smile. "Let me kill the foolish boy, Master."

"The boy who thought his ridiculous weapon could harm me? It shall be as you wish."

"Raoul de Chagny", Aeternus provided.

"Why do you bother yourself with such detail, Aeternus?" If there was any emotion in Créon's rich, deep voice now, then it was impatience.

"Because sometimes it can be essential. It might interest you to hear, Master, that de Chagny and our friend are, in fact, mortal enemies."

Créon nodded slowly. "It might be of use to us later on."

"If there ever is a later on!" Niobe exclaimed. "If my pretty Erik has not just bolted!"

"He will come back." Créon's voice was the grating and grinding of a glacier's ice now. "I have seen it. And it is important that he comes of his own accord. This time, Niobe, you will keep my answer in mind, as I do not like repeating myself."

The beautiful woman swallowed. "Yes, Master."

"Master." Adhemar had returned, and the fanatic ardour in his eyes seemed brighter than the braziers' fires. "They are here."

As Créon turned and went to inspect his prisoners, the crowd of servants parted automatically. Adhemar had had them arranged in a line; they were all kneeing with their heads lowered, every one of them with at least two of the servants behind him, holding him down. There were five of them altogether, recently captured in the higher cellars of the Opera Populaire, all strong, healthy men and in their profession for some time. Men who would be missed.

Stopping right before them, Créon demanded, "Do you have names?"

"Gaston", muttered the one to the Master's right, around thirty years of age and with common brown hair cut short.

"Jacques." The name came out as a whimper; the lanky blond man with the freckled face seemed to be ducking under Créon's gaze like under a whiplash.

"Claude", the one in the middle grumbled almost defiantly. He was in his mid-forties and seemed to be the oldest.

"Serge." The man's voice was surprisingly soft for someone of his height. He had dishevelled dark curls framing his features.

There was a moment's hesitation before the last in the line answered, "Hulot." He was a pale, slender fellow whose eyes somehow seemed oddly unfocused, just as if he were constantly lost in a daydream.

For some time the Master studied all of them, then he pointed at Jacques, who cringed. "You." Aeternus nodded slowly to himself, just as if he had expected his choice.

Immediately the man was hauled out of the line by several of the servants, and Kalo, bowing clumsily to Créon as well as Adhemar, who stood supervising them, set a long knife to his throat. Jacques winced, and a wail fought its way through his clenched teeth.

"Kill him", Créon said quietly.

The servants hurried to follow his order, Kalo cutting the man's throat, another catching the blood in a bowl. Créon watched impassively, while Niobe's features bore a tiny smile. Aeternus's expression was stony, utterly unreadable. Only Adhemar, who was directing the men's actions, showed outward signs of displeasure, but of contempt and impatience more than anything else. The other prisoners flinched violently and covered their eyes, and there came muttered curses as well as murmured prayers from them, but nobody paid them any heed.

"Wait a few hours, then place the body where he surely will be found in the morning, and spread the blood nicely", Créon instructed. "Adhemar, you are personally responsible for this." The man with the claw scars bowed his head in acceptance. Then the Master turned and strode away along the line of braziers, motioning both Niobe and Aeternus to follow him. "This is how we can be sure young Erik will return", he said, and this time, there was a triumphant note in his cold, deep voice. "The boy will want to defend his domain, and he will not suffer anyone to kill his men, except himself, of course. His arrogance and pride will be of use to us, as well as his undoing."