Vagrant Candy: I see what you mean, and I am glad for your suggestions. You are right, I asked for it! Another reason I wanted people to review truthfully was because I need to learn to accept constructive criticism, for that's something I've always had issues with (who hasn't?). It is rather difficult because the phantom I see in my head is the suave, sexy, Gerry-phantom and he is just so darn hard to resist! lol! But I will try to slow it down, I don't want to give away too much of this chapter, though. ; )

Chapter Four: Back to the Shadows

"Excuse me, excuse me!" The lady bellowed as the couple shoved their way inside, "Jean and I are tired from our travels now let us sit!"
Knowing she didn't have a choice, Michelle ushered them into the living area. Her portrait of Luc was now framed and hanging above the piano.

"Please pardon me for one moment," She said hastily, but her guests did not hear her for they had immediately started squabbling as their bottoms landed on the cushions of the sofa.

Erik was upstairs, looking out of the window at the starry, night sky. He turned as Michelle entered the dark room. Her voice was full of rage as she hissed at him, "Get out of my home, now. I can't believe what a fool I am. Leave at once, you monster! If you are not out by midnight, I will have the whole French army at my door!"

"You underestimate me, woman," Erik shot back with a smirk. "Fine, I promise you I will be gone before midnight." His voice remained low, with a deadly edge to it.

Michelle left to attend to her relatives, but she was not concerned about them at the moment. She felt betrayed, in a way denied. All she'd wanted was a friend, someone to talk to. But Erik was an imposter, only pretending to care so he could be guaranteed a safe place to hide from the authorities. Convincing herself this was for the best proved to be a difficult task.

xXx

Meanwhile, Erik began pacing up and down the room. How dare she do this! He thought. I could choke the life out of her in a heartbeat…After all, he'd been living in her home for several days, and had he caused her any harm? Any distress at all? None. He would be paying for his past the rest of his life, it seemed.

And as his hands drew near the rope he'd kept with him since that fateful night in the labyrinth, he yelled in frustration, banging clenched fists upon the dresser. What was he doing? Resorting to murder. Someone so loving, so talented as Michelle did not deserve to die. He remembered, grimly, Joseph Buquet's final moments. But that wretched man was always causing grief for the chorus girls. Look what I've become. Erik stared into the mirror with disgust. Why was he put on this earth? To suffer? That must be it, to live in endless pain.

Back downstairs, Michelle could hear Erik yelling, hoping that Jean and her step-mother, Raeka, wouldn't hear. Her father had once explained to Michelle that Raeka meant beautiful and unique in Spanish. However, one could clearly see the woman was anything but beautiful and unique. Her face was large and round, with small, piggish eyes. She wore too much make-up most of the time, and her large, sausage fingers were overflowing with expensive jewels that Jean had bought as presents. Raeka insisted that she must always have the latest fashions in Paris, but the garments were always too small for her, so they had to be specially made and fitted, costing many, many francs.

"Would you like some coffee or tea?" Michelle offered.

"I'm fine," Her father replied gruffly. Raeka shook her head in disgust. All the woman ever drank was fine wine.

Michelle decided she needed some wine for herself, but wasn't going to bother getting any for Raeka. The last thing she needed was her father and step-mother getting themselves drunk and staying past their welcome. Her brow furrowing as she poured the liquor, two pairs of eyes watched her every move.

"Why are there two plates on the table, dear?" Came Raeka's snake-like voice from the other room. I cannot stand that dreadful woman! Michelle thought furiously. Always trying to stick her nose into everything!

"Excuse me? I'm, afraid I don't understand…" She replied. Her back was turned to them. Michelle honestly hadn't a clue as to what she was talking about.

"Oh, but I think you do." Was Raeka's response. There was hint of triumph in her words, like she had discovered something of great importance.

Michelle's intense blue eyes caught sight of two china plates, located upon the dark, wood surface of the table. They were from her dinner with Erik (well, not exactly with him, for Erik chose to stay in the sanctuary of the little room), before she had learned of his disturbing past. Her stomach lurched; cold beads of sweat emerged on her forehead. She felt as though she would be sick.

Trying to control herself, the young woman answered, "Those are my luncheon and dinner plates. I have not had the opportunity to clean up yet."

"I see," Raeka said with a sneer, "Then maybe you should hire a maid, my dear. Since you are obviously not capable of cleaning up after yourself."

The plates trembled in Michelle's hands as she carried them to the kitchen. One slipped and fell to the floor, crashing into thousands of tiny blue and white pieces.

Instead of offering to help clean up the mess, her father yelled, "Be careful, child! You are always causing problems!" Raeka tried to stifle a giggle as Michelle wearily grabbed the broom and began sweeping.

"So who is he?" Raeka managed to speak through fits of laughter as the poor girl struggled in cleaning up the floor.

With her back beginning to cramp uncomfortably, Michelle forced out another reply, "What? I haven't a clue about this nonexistent guest you think I have."

Then everything seemed to happen at once. Raeka was through poking and prodding for an answer from her step-daughter. Jean had little effect in trying to assist his large wife. The room was instantly filled with shouts and accusations about this and that. The couple rose from the couch pointing fat fingers at Michelle claiming she had found herself a suitor, and demanded to know who he was. She was sobbing by now, through her tears she cried, "Father! What has become of you? Your heart has turned to stone!"

Jean stood slightly dumbfounded, with a stupid expression plastered all over his face. He wasn't sure what to say, but Michelle's exclamation had hit its mark. Raeka's eyes widened with shock. For a brief moment, there was no sound throughout the villa except a soft swish of a cape.

The young woman's complexion became snow white. Surely they hadn't heard? She hoped to herself. But the silence was broken a second time, as a sickening crack came from the outside, followed by a loud cursing. Jean, Raeka, and Michelle all rushed hurriedly to the site were Erik lay sprawled on the cold ground, his right leg bent grotesquely out of place. Raeka immediately ran back into the house, screaming bloody murder. Michelle got sick at the sight, covering herself in shame, not wanting her father to see her in such a state. Jean remained unnaturally calm. He bent over Erik, who was struggling to pull himself up. With a trembling hand, Michelle's father reached downward and plucked the mask off of Erik's face. Another cry was heard, but this one emerged from Jean's throat. In one quick movement, Erik's hand had shot up and clutched the older man's throat with an awesome might. Jean's eyes bulged unpleasantly as the other man replaced the mask upon his face.

Michelle shouted into the night with great anger and horror. She felt no pity for this beast who'd she'd opened her home to. Erik continued to squeeze Jean's throat, his grip becoming stronger with each passing second. Michelle ran into the house, returning with a pistol in her hand. Pointing it directly in between Erik's eyes, she whispered with a lethal tone, "Let him go, or I shoot."

Without looking at her, Erik released Jean, who immediately ran into the villa to find Raeka. Dragging himself up with great difficulty, Erik quietly said to her, "You hold the pistol that could end my life, but I can see you have no intention of firing." He smirked as Michelle's facial features became indignant. But he was right. She couldn't kill, even though her loathing of Erik had deepened immenselythis past night.

"You are correct, monsieur. I am letting you go. But be warned, I know that my father has already left to call the gendarmes upon you. That is certain." She replied with a grim expression.

And like that, Erik became nothing more but another shadow in the night.

xXx