Shade: Sorry this post took a little longer. It was difficult to write and I was preoccupied. So anyway, I hope you guys like it! Thanks to Jessica for my 200th review! Enjoy! Oh and if I don't post every other day, I'm sorry. I have a lot of summer stuff to do and up until now the chapters were prewritten, now I have to actually work! (gasp) So if my posting schedule is erratic, that's why. Anyway, read!
"It's in your soul
That the true distortion lies . . ." –Track Down This Murderer
Chapter 21: Farewell, my Little Fire Rose
It was over . . .
Utterly and completely done . . .
The ones who had scoured the Seine for any sign of Nasrin had given up. She was nowhere to be found; it had only been three weeks since the accident. They assumed her body washed out to sea, that it never would be found. The news weighed heavy on my heart; though if they did find a body, I don't think I would have been able to cope with the view of it. I couldn't bear seeing what my tactless assault did to one I cared for so deeply.
And now, today was the funeral. She was to be buried in a sepulcher in a cemetery a few miles away; however it would house an empty casket. I slung on my cape, my mask concealing half of my tears and my hat overshadowing the rest. With a bouquet of black roses clutched in my fist, I vowed that I would place them on her casket, no matter what that meant afterwards. Perhaps that action would rid me of the black guilt that laughed at me unceasingly.
I left my lair in a state of discord; I would deal with the mess when I returned. The funeral was to be held in Notre Dame, which I found utterly insulting, for Nasrin was a Muslim. However, I could see why; the church was built to accommodate a large crowd, which would undoubtedly arrive to say their final farewells.
I didn't want to say good-bye . . .
I took a carriage over to the church, wondering why it was that tears bloomed without hesitation from my already bloodshot eyes. This death was too much for me to bear; I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, by God could any man suffer as I did?
I walked up to Notre Dame, hiding my face from any who craned their necks to look at the cloaked stranger. None wept, however there was a crowd far beyond my comprehension gathering by the church. I hurried inside, irate that there were no more seats, and only places against the wall provided for a viewing. Nadir stood against the far wall, shaking in a rage I had previously noted.
"Erik? You are above ground?" Nadir asked, aghast. I covered his mouth and raised my hat slightly, allowing him the sight of a broken man's face.
"I, like so many others, came to say good-bye," I whispered, my voice choking as I uttered it. The roses began to crumble under my grip, and I hadn't dreamed a farewell could be so exhausting on the heart and mind. I heaved a sigh and the priest stepped up beside the coffin, blessing it with the sign of the cross; a sign which meant nothing to Nasrin's god. How utterly insulting and degrading; I bubbled with rage.
"Erik, be still," Nadir hissed at me. "You don't want attention drawn to yourself, do you?"
"Not until I say good-bye to her," I hissed back, wary of the glares people gave me.
In the final insult that set me in a boiling frenzy, Jean stepped up and began to speak, tears streaming down his face.
The final blow . . .
How DARE he! How . . . DARE . . . that . . . FOP . . . speak of what he knew NOTHING of!
Jean's voice was a cacophony against my ear and I began to slowly walk up the aisle, ignoring Nadir's grabs at my arm. I bowed my head and trudged up, the bouquet clenched tightly in my shaking fist. I heard a snarl echo through the place and I knew I wasn't the only one shaking with bridled wrath.
"Monsieur, please, sit down until the service is over before you place flowers on the casket," Jean said quietly, his voice as empty as I knew mine to be.
"No," I growled. "I have a question for you, Monsieur le Comte." I reached the casket and I backed away from it; I didn't want to touch that which would have been my goddess's final resting place.
"Yes, Monsieur. What is your question? Ask it whilst I am in the middle of a eulogy." Jean's face was set in stark rage.
"Thank you for your invitation, Monsieur. Did you know Nasrin was a Muslim? She was not a Catholic; she did not speak Latin prayers to your god. I must express my disdain in that you held her funeral in another religion's house of worship. I implore you to move this to a mosque where it would be proper for her." I bowed mockingly to Jean.
"Well, there aren't any mosques in Paris, Monsieur," Jean scoffed. "And I am a Catholic; she would have become one, had she married me. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to finish the service concerning my wife."
"She was not your wife! She was your fiancé! How dare you claim that which was never yours!" I was ready to strike him when Nadir grabbed my arm, preventing my advance.
"Don't be insolent again, Erik. What would Nasrin have done?"
She would have laughed . . .
I receded, my lips curling into a snarl fabricated of sorrow and fury. Nadir grabbed my arm and led me to the back of the church; I fought urges to wring the Comte's neck, a Punjab lasso tucked safely under my dress coat for such an occasion.
I watched the rest of the service with clenched fists and gritted teeth; Jean spoke of the moment Nasrin and he met, adding nauseating amounts of drama to accommodate his ill-told love story. He lied about his times with Nasrin, claiming to have spent hours on end talking of philosophy and romantic views. It brought members of the church to tears; whereas I . . . oh I wanted to squeeze his windpipe until blood gushed from his eye sockets, then throw him in the casket meant for Nasrin and drown him in the Seine.
Suddenly, in the middle of his speech, I heard the groan of eroding rock. I pressed myself against the wall, immediately sensing whom it was who would dare disrupt such noble blasphemy. A stone angel crashed to the ground, shattering as if made of glass into thousands of pieces. Most of the people screamed and I heard her; I heard her sickening laughter rumble throughout the church as Jean looked ready for flight, his eyes wide and searching.
In a moment she appeared, landing nimble on the back of a pew and strode slowly, yet confidently across the wooden bench. I saw a woman scoff at her, and Daevas replied with a firm kick to the hat. The length of her leg was completely exposed and I shifted uncomfortably. Was I attracted to such a creature? She stormed up to Jean, fists clenched in an iron rage and grabbed his collar, proclaiming the truth only she and I knew. Nothing that came out of the Comte's mouth held any weight to the truth. She was free enough to express such truths without the risk of being imprisoned and murdered.
Jean, without hesitation, proclaimed that it was I she was married to before. The look on Daevas's face was of pure shock and if this hadn't been a church full of onlookers, I would have hanged him right then and there. Of course, I watched as Daevas leaped on Nasrin's coffin, stringing her rope around the head of another angel, and hoist herself up. Her body tensed as she climbed. Jean tried to take her down by grabbing the rope and pulling; what a fatuous hope, to kill her by dropping a stone angel on her. I already knew she was smarter than to fall prey to something so pitifully easy to avoid.
In an act perfected only by a beautiful woman, she gently pushed the angel, aiming to crush Jean and the black coffin. I was very hopeful for a few moments, finding it ironic that the man who paid so much for the empty casket would find it with a body anyway. Instead, a surly man who sat in the second row pulled him out of harms way. The angel crumbled without blood darkening its wings like I had so fervently hoped. In a fit of maniacal cackles, Daevas vanished from sight.
Jean shakily stood back up and continued with his eulogy, his limbs twitching in fear spasmodically. "And so, Mesdames et Monsieurs . . . I bid a painful farewell to my Nasrin; we were meant for each other and I will miss her terribly. I hereby declare that I will never take a wife. Good-bye, my fair Nasrin." He kissed his hand, ran it over her coffin and took his seat in the pew.
One by one, people began filing up, placing red and white roses on the casket as the priest blessed it one final time. I filed in, not enjoying the feeling of all these bodies pressing up against mine. It made me uneasy. But as I drew closer, I looked down at the roses in my hand, choked in my fist. Where would these roses end up if I placed them upon the coffin? They would be thrown away carelessly after all the mourners left. My Nasrin deserved better than that.
I drew one rose from the bouquet and, once my turn came around, set it gently on the casket, kissing the petals as I did. I turned and found myself facing Jean, his face twisted into a rather amusing impersonation of a scowl.
"Only one rose you spare for her, yet you bring a bouquet?" I raised my head to him and growled. His face paled beyond white and he began to stammer. "Th . . . the . . . Phant . . . the Op . . ."
I smiled and brushed past him angrily as he gathered his bearings. Nadir met me in the middle of the aisle and I stormed past him, intent on making a more spiritual and loving tribute to her; one that she would find touching if she were here. On my way out, I caught a glimpse of a figure in the shadows, cloaked in darkness with only dark blue eyes boring into me. Was the emotion pity I saw? I didn't stay around long enough to confirm; I didn't want to show Daevas the gaping hole with which Nasrin's death had left me.
I leaped into the nearest carriage I saw and spat, "The bank of the Seine closest to the Opera Populaire."
"What?" the driver asked.
"NOW!" I barked; and the carriage thundered off just as Nadir burst out of the church. I didn't look back; I would never go in that place of worship again. I loosened my grip on the roses and I saw that the thorns cut deep into my palm and blood oozed over them.
I watched as Paris flew by me; the beauty of it was far from what I expected. I had always drawn it out to be a desolate, scornful place. But when one applies the proper masks, it becomes a very welcoming city. I yearned to be normal, without this grotesque distortion that plagued my very existence. I knew what it felt like . . . to feel as though nothing is awry with me. That I didn't need to change or hide who I was. It's how I felt every moment I spent with Nasrin.
Nasrin . . .
"Monsieur, the Seine," the driver spat.
"Thank you," I spat back, dropping coins into his filthy hand. I slid from the carriage and looked at the large body of water that stole my happiness from me. It was a beautiful river, but not as a resting place for one so needed. I walked up to its bank, smelling the rank smell of the water as it lapped up against the stone walls. I sighed despondently and kneeled down at the base of the river, roses hanging loosely out of my fist.
"Nasrin . . . you deserved better than what that Comte could give you; what I could give you . . . you deserved better. I . . . I was . . ."
SAY IT!
"I was wrong to do what I did. I never wanted you dead; I never expected you to die by my hand . . . I never realized how much death could hurt. I'm sorry, my darling . . . to have done that to you. I know you cannot hear me . . . but please try . . . from whatever waters you may drift to . . . know that I care for you . . . I would have done anything to have you for my own . . . for my greed . . . I'm sorry, my little Fire Rose. Can you forgive me this one . . . last . . . time?"
The tears came; I fought against them with all my being, but they emerged regardless. They tumbled from my eyes and onto the dark petals of the roses, which shook in my arms as I wept. I wept for Nasrin, for the fact that I killed her, for the fact that I had cared for her so deeply and was now left a wreck since she was gone.
I let the roses go from my fist, watching them cascade down into the water and create hundreds of tiny ripples that spread out in beautiful circles upon impact. They were drawn in by the current immediately and floated away from my view, sparks of black in clear blue water.
Sighing, I hung my head and wiped my eyes; no one could see that I had been struck this vulnerable. Suddenly, hands grabbed my shoulders and spun me around. I looked up in rage, ready to spill blood, when I was met with the sight of Daevas.
Although I planned to hang her right there, she was looking at me somberly and motioned to the roses in the river.
"You brought those for her?"
"Yes," I answered. I motioned beside me. "Come and sit down." I needed someone, anyone, even if Daevas and I were mortal enemies from here on, to keep me company for a few moments.
"Why?" she asked, cocking her head suspiciously.
"Because, you mourn as I do. Would you like to pay tribute to her as well?" I motioned to the water. "It was here, after all, that she was thrown."
Daevas sat down beside me, covered by her black cloak and looked blankly out at the water. She turned to me and I swore I caught a flicker of green in her eyes.
"I heard everything you said. You really didn't want her to die, did you?" Her stare was piercing, critical of my every movement.
"Of course not. I wanted to hurt her yes, but never kill her." I watched as the roses faded into the distance. "I wish I had one more chance to see her, to tell her everything that was left unsaid."
She picked some grass at her feet and twirled it in her fingers. "What was left unsaid?"
I glared up at her. "It doesn't concern the likes of you."
Her expression hardened. "Fine, I was just wondering. Did you love her?"
Again with love . . . such a complicated word!
"What I did at the Masquerade was an act of love."
The green faded from her eyes and she stood on her feet, kicking me in the chest and slapping me hard across the face. Her blows stung and I gasped for air.
"Don't you dare say that to me! Don't lie! It was out of jealousy, rage or spite! I'd rather you say that! But don't you ever . . . EVER tell ME that it was an act of love!" She raised her hand to strike me again before she backed away, realizing that we stood on public property and we both were acquiring a vast amount of hostile stares.
"I'll be waiting for you back at the opera. Don't you ever lie to me like that again. I'll make the death of your angel more painful each time you cross me."
No . . .
"Daevas!" I cried as she vanished into the crowd. I saw her eyes glitter into the most evil of slits before a person walked carelessly in front of her and I lost sight of her. I looked mournfully back at the river.
"Forgive me, my little Fire Rose . . . please find it in you to show compassion for me one last time and let Daevas realize that I cared so deeply for you . . . Please . . . my goddess . . ." I fell into another unwanted fit of tears as I realized that I would never get an answer.
xXxXx
Daevas's POV:
I woke up this morning in my lair . . . yes my lair. It was accessible only by pulling the arm of one of the statues that lined the labyrinth.
It was a large and elaborate hall with stone pillars keeping the enormous structure from collapsing into itself. There were numerous crimson carpets and tapestries that lined the walls and floors. I had suspended a small chandelier above it and it illuminated the lair with golden light. Piles of messy blank pages were strewn everywhere. Some few papers had notes scribbled on them, and a makeshift violin lay in the corner, made of old wood and crooked strings.
I had installed a grate in the ceiling, so that every opera rehearsal and performance was heard perfectly should I wish to stay below ground instead of prowling the rafters.
I looked around at it fondly, smiling. It had taken me three weeks to perfect without any sleep and sparse rests for eating. But now it was my haven: my beautiful, unknown, solitary haven.
I stretched in my bed, yawning widely and groaning as my back cracked. It was time I pay another visit to the phantom; I had left him alone and comfortable for three weeks as I built this lair . . . far too long for such a creature to remain in peace . . .
Growling in eager anticipation, I pressed my mask to my face and slid my stockings up my legs, fastening the clasps and slipping on my shoes. Sucking in my stomach, I tied the corset on my waist, wincing as it forced my shape into a more obedient figure.
I opened the door to my lair and grabbed my only weapon: a thick, long piece of rope. Walking through the entrance, I quickly closed the door and crept closer to the portcullis, my heart thundering in expectancy. When I reached the iron bars, I was in shock to see him pick up a bouquet of roses and walk out, his cape blowing behind him.
Where was he going? Ah yes . . . my funeral. The man actually was braving capture by attending this affair. After he closed the door, I climbed up the portcullis, tying the rope into a lasso. I hastily threw it across the lair, laughing as it closed in on the lever that raised the barricade. I jumped off the iron bars and pulled until the hinges groaned and the barrier was raised.
I walked through the threshold of his doorway, my dress floating aimlessly around my legs. Upon seeing his lair up close for the first time in a long time, I clapped my hands over my mouth and ran over to his working desk.
My face was everywhere, grinning, frozen in beautiful nobility, elegantly smiling as my eyes betrayed a happiness deeper than my lips showed. Me . . . me every which way I turned; or . . . rather . . . who I used to be. I touched an oil painting of me dancing. My hands were above my head as my hips were in the midst of moving to the right. I was looking down and thick locks of hair that could only belong to my wig flew past my face; only my eyes remained untouched by the hair. It was beautiful . . . not in the way that I am vain . . . but how Erik had captured motion, emotion, and how his own passion seemed to inhabit every brushstroke.
I had to get away from all of this; I was getting weak again by his fervent desire. Allah, curse him for having this power over me, even when he himself was not beside me.
I backed away frantically, intent on escaping this shrine of passion that I no longer wanted to be a part of. My bottom slammed into hard stone and I jumped up, hearing it rattle. I turned around, grabbing what I had knocked into and gasped. I held in my hands, my own face, carved perfectly in marble. Stopping, I examined it, touching its features and then my own. It was a perfect replica; and I stood gaping in amazement. How could he possibly remember my face that well?
I began to tear and I immediately choked back emotion. The man who wanted to break me, destroy me for leaving him, made this. Was he truly in this much agony over my death? I touched the statue's cheek and moved away quickly. This was too much . . . too much for me to take.
A piece of organ music caught my eye on the ground and I picked it up. There, underneath the dedication, was what used to be my name: "Nasrin Khanum . . . my Dark Aphrodite and little Fire Rose" . . . me . . . I was everywhere. I was now the object of his obsession; Christine couldn't hold a candle to this.
Look how you have tormented your love . . . everywhere is you . . . he loves you . . . you are no better than him . . .
This was true . . . I wanted to hold him and simply love him forever. No . . . I promised myself; not again . . . no more of this . . . so what is it a concern of mine if he mourns my loss? He should; he did kill me. In essence Nasrin the Fire Rose was dead, and only Daevas remained; only my hate survived blow he dealt me.
Your love survived as well . . .
Perhaps I should see him; I wanted to watch him mourn over me with my own eyes. Then . . . perhaps then I could forgive him. I ran back to my lair and grabbed my black cloak, hiding my hair underneath its black hood and stormed out into the light.
I hailed a carriage and climbed into the seat, sitting in agitation and crossing my legs. The driver looked back at me and I saw him stare hungrily at the length of my leg. Placed tauntingly in his view were my black stockings, as well as the clasp that held them in place.
"Are you um . . . new here? I could have sworn I knew every one of you."
"What do you mean?" I asked suspiciously, narrowing my eyes as he mopped his brow.
"Well, you're a prostitute aren't you? I've never seen you around here. Are you new in the Exotic Kitten?" He reached out to grab my leg and I snarled, kicking him the face.
"Drive the carriage, Monsieur, before I come to my senses and throw you under the horses' hooves!" I seethed, raising my fist to strike him again.
"Not before I know your name, Mademoiselle. I want to come to you for future services." He jumped in the back seat with me, grabbing at my breasts. I roared and punched him in the face, my knuckle cracking bone. He staggered back and fell out of the carriage, splashing in the gutter and rolling around.
I leaped in the front and snatched the horses' reigns, slapping them against the hind flanks and urging them in the direction of Notre Dame, where, Madame Giry had informed me, my funeral was being held.
Bastards, didn't anyone realize that I was not of the Catholic faith? Perhaps it was to accommodate a large amount of mourners; that was the thought that would satisfy me.
"Mademoiselle?" a man asked as I stopped the carriage before him. "Can you take me to-"
"I'm not a driver. Take the reigns yourself should you so desire." I thrust the reigns into his hands before storming off, growling. I heard the horses thunder off and the cries of the man follow. I didn't even bother looking back.
I glared at anyone foolish enough to stare at me and I ran behind the church, walking in the back door. I scrambled up the rafters and leaped nimbly until I had reached the main room. I hid behind the statue of an angel holding a lyre and peered down. The crowd was far smaller than I expected it to be and I snarled. Then, at the back of the church, I saw him standing next to the daroga and growling.
He was angry . . . at what?
Then I heard Jean begin to speak a eulogy for me and I snarled, my voice reverberating through the hall.
He paused and looked up in time to see Erik stride up the aisle, personifying my rage. I snickered quietly and watched my two suitors bicker in the midst of my funeral.
Watching them both made me realize who it was who truly was the wiser. Unfortunately, it was Jean, for Erik risked his life simply to place a bouquet of roses on the coffin of a living person, while Jean mourned my loss in a healthier way. However, I found myself drawn to Erik's obsession, his desire for my body . . . and the sorrow he felt now that I was dead. I both wanted to make his pain diminish, and increase it to the breaking point as he did for me.
Then . . . Jean began to lie. He lied about anything we had ever done! That . . . that . . . BASTARD! He defiled any sliver of anything we had! In a fit of rage, I rammed into the stone angel, causing it to groan on its stand. Clenching my teeth and ignoring the hard stone bruising my flesh, I threw myself against the statue again. I suddenly felt a release and the statue plummeted to the aisle floor, breaking into thousands of pieces a few feet from my casket.
There was a unanimous scream from the mourners as they shrunk back and I laughed as Jean searched frantically for the source of unrest. I leaped down from the rafters and landed on the back of the pews. I walked slowly, balancing myself with poise and elegance, which contrasted my attire.
"Ugh, Mademoiselle. What gutter did you congeal in?" a stuffy blueblood asked me, her monocle pressed against her eye.
I looked at her, narrowing my eyes and snarling. "I could ask the same question, you pompous old bat." I kicked the hat off her head and continued my trek, realizing that my dress was pushed to the side, leaving my legs completely exposed . . . in a place of worship of all places.
Leaping down I walked up the aisle, looking at Jean and growling, my fists clenched tightly. "Why the sudden silence, Monsieur de Lamarier? You tremble at my presence, yet you do not even know who I am."
"You . . . you look like . . . like a confidant of the Phantom," he mumbled.
"NO!" I roared, grabbing his collar. "I am his bane! I came to pay respects for my confidant and inform you that YOU are a liar!"
"Liar? How so? You weren't around when I courted Nasrin!"
"She wrote to me every week and I assure you if anything you said took place, she would have told me! From what she told me, you were trying to court her while she was still married to a man who shall remain nameless! That is against the law, MONSIEUR LE COMTE!"
His voice emerged from the gaping hole that was his mouth, tremulous and soft, yet rapidly gaining volume. "Did she now? Well she isn't here to vouch for that, and the word of a Comte greatly outweighs that of a whore. But the man she was married to abused her, and that . . . man . . . is . . . THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA!"
I was taken aback for him calling me a whore, and also for announcing to Paris who it was I had been married to. I gaped and shoved him to the ground before leaping on the coffin, watching for anyone to advance. I found it amusing that they were in a stunned silence. Drawing my rope from behind me, I wrapped it around another stone angel and clambered up it, feeling it shake underneath my weight. As I reached the top, I found that Jean had stood on the coffin and pulled on the rope, attempting to disengage me. I snickered as the angel shuddered; I leaped off of it and pushed the angel down, laughing as more screams erupted. I heard Jean bellow and then there was a crash. I peered down; Jean had moved the casket and the angel had struck nothing but the church floor. Growling, I blended with the shadows and faded away as the church scrambled for its bearings.
Leaping from the flies, I walked out of the church and calmly strode to the front door to watch the rest of the ceremony. I put my hood up and watched as the rest of it unfolded without interruption.
Erik joined the crowd of mourners and I watched as he kissed the petals of a rose before placing them on my coffin, which remained unscathed in my assault.
What was he going to do with the rest of the roses?
As he left the church, I saw his face: broken and shattered, devoid of haughty pride and pretenses. Now he was simply Erik, a man with a broken heart. He met eyes with me and for a moment, I pitied him. He left wordlessly and I followed him, leaping on the back of the carriage he took. I waved farewell to Nadir and snickered as his mouth dropped at the sight of me.
Erik got off at the bank of the Seine and suddenly all became clear. He was paying his own tribute to me . . . his emotions ran deep and true, just like the river that flowed before him. I heard him asking me for forgiveness, to spare him from the torment my loss left him with. I grabbed his shoulders and he spun around, his eyes mad with sorrow. Upon seeing me before him, he motioned to the small patch of budding green next to him.
"Come and sit down," he told me.
What? We are enemies! What logic has stirred itself into your brain?
I reluctantly sat and as I spoke with him, I knew that this must end soon. Our hearts separated were nothing compared to what we would be if we were whole. He looked up at me and, in a moment I almost gave into, I wanted so badly to throw myself in his arms, be his once more and assure him that everything would be all right now that we were together again.
"Did you love her?" I asked him. I had to know; if he said yes to me, I would throw down my façade; if he could not admit it to either himself or me, this revenge would continue. I would not be played with again. His retort set me in a right rage.
"What I did at the Masquerade was an act of love."
Of LOVE? Is this some terribly perverse jest of his?
I struck him; I struck him twice and my compassion was snuffed out as quickly as a candle's flame in a rainstorm.
Revenge would be easier now; if he could not admit to loving me, yet make all those portraits of me, things were turning murderous. Someone's blood was bound to spill during this whole affair. As I faded into the crowd only one question from my conscience plagued my mind.
But whose blood, Daevas?
A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers!
XxDallysGirl4Life-x-GerrysLoveTartxX: Thanks for the review and here is your update!
harem98: Well, this chapter was a clue. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
littledarkone: Yes ma'am. She is definitely evil. And GO DELETED SCENES! Anyway, wrath is coming! Thanks for the review and here is your update!
VictorianDream: LOL thank you, yes it was strictly revenge. Mwahaha. E-mail me what you think will happen if you don't want to spoil it in a review. I won't be able to tell you if you're right or wrong, but I'm curious. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Mademoiselle Justicia: XD! You are very amusing when you review. Nasrin isn't schitzophrenic. And the change? Permanent? You'll see; sometimes damage lasts longer than physical appearance. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Jen Lennon: Revenge will be prominent, I promise! Here you be, an update of not so much revengeness, but angst! Revenge soon follows! When will Erik realize the truth? Thou shalt see. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
AngelOfTheNight: Thank you, welcome to my reviewing family. I know, Jean is an ass. And I promise, you will only hate him more as the story goes on. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Jessica: WOHOO! My 200th (and 218th review) came from you! Ergo, until I post the next chapter, Erik is yours. (the next post might be in a little while . . . I have to completely start from scratch.) Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Maidenhair: LOL, glad I entertain you. Yes, I would like to read the book. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
BringMeLife: You shall see, lol. And no, basically Daevas is just conjured up of every violent thought I have ever had. O.o;; That's kind of a creepy personification. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx: Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Dragon-mage16: LOL, I know I promised passion. It will come, I promise. Oh, erik under a waterfall? That is a good vision. Yes, occupy yourself with that. I hope it doesn't occupy me as well. (drools) When you start posting your story, e-mail me, and I will read it. (nods) Thanks for the review and here is your update!
LadyOfLegends: (gives tissues) Thanks Sunbeam, I heart you so much! Thanks for the review and here is your update! From the Shadebean!
DragonheartRAB: Thank you, Madame Giry was hard. O.O;; I found myself watching the movie over and over to see if I could get her right. As for Jean not being shallow? Maybe not, but he certainly is other things. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Ethalas Tuath'an: Don't worry about not reviewing, I'm just flattered you actually remembered my story after a vacation, lol. OMG I wish I had thought about the note thing. -.-;; That would have been so much cooler. Damn . . . anyway, glad you liked what my uncreative brain came up with, lol. Have fun at your um . . . camp? Intense school? I'll look forward to hearing from you when you come back! Thanks for the review and here is your update!
tink8812: I know, well, could you possibly believe that your brother could have done something so terrible if you grew up believing him to be kind and gentle? I don't blame him, although it is rather annoying. And Daevas doesn't need to walk into the slums of Paris to be stopped. But as you can see, she can and does handle herself well. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
GerrysISUChick04: Thank you for the cookies, they are quite yay. (eats them) (grins) YUM! And thanks for the review, wow, I never expected people to think this story was this good! All you guys are incredible! (glomps everyone) Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Videociraptor: (gives ointment for Vi-vi-kins's Daevas acquired injury) Daevas! That was not nice to do to Vi! APOLOGIZE!
Daevas: (grumble)
Shade: SAY IT!
Daevas: o.o Sorry! (cowers)
Shade: Yes, even Nasrin/Daevas knows to cower beneath me! MWHAHAHA! Ahem, Vi you are always protected from Daevas from now on. YAY! Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Norma Jean the Dancing Machine: omg, I never even thought of that! I would never name Jean after anyone. (I actually looked up French boy baby names and picked one at random. O.o;;) Thanks for the review and here is your update!
nelygirl: Hello, welcome to my reviewing family! I'm glad you like it so much. I hope it doesn't disappoint later! Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Corpse x Bride: Chah, Daevas went all seductive, but evil seductive. O.o;;; (joins in dancing) Thanks for the review and here is your update!