I found myself daydreaming about what was going to happen in Chapter 27 today. Is that a bad thing? It's two and a half weeks away… if I'm thinking about it that long, it had better be good when I get there, right?

Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers… it's what keeps me writing. That, and one of those strange feelings we tend to call 'obsessions'. Seems like a lot of people here have those.

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine yet. My cousin (a different one! Yay!) told me once, "We desire only that which we cannot have." "Thanks, you just ruined my life." "What's to ruin?" Ouch.

Of Knights and Dragons

Chapter IX: Loyalty

"We are more inclined to regret our virtues than our vices; but only the very honest will admit this."

(Holbrook Jackson)

The officer's words reached into Raoul's stomach and turned it to stone. :Only one?" he repeated stupidly, the words flashing through his mind, not a one of them registering, mute and dumb.

"Please, Monsieur le Vicomte, come with me. It would be best for Raphael were he to be met with someone he knows, and besides he has been calling for you since this morning, when his brother was found."

"Pierre… where is he, Captain…?"

"Doione. Captain Christophé Doione, of Station 24, the Opera District." Station 24. The name was faintly familiar, reminding Raoul of a dark night before the premiere of an infamous opera, of Christine kneeling in the chapel.

"Captain Doione, where is Pierre?" Raoul stopped, and the officer turned to look at him, shaking his head.

"If we knew that, there would be no need for philosophers and priests, Vicomte," Christophé responded softly. "Monsieur d'Halier, the elder, would be the one to ask, but I am afraid he will no longer be able to hear you. He stayed up late in his study last night, according to the servants, settling accounts—not unusual for him. Apparently he never had the opportunity to leave. He… or rather, his body… was found this morning. It was a one-stroke kill, Chagny, and I doubt he even knew it was coming."

Raoul allowed himself to start walking again. "Do you have any idea who it was?" He was already suppressing his instinctive emotional reaction, steeling himself; they couldn't afford tears now, though the thought twisted bitterly into him.

"There's been only one man who could do this, Vicomte, as I have no doubt you are aware. It has not been the first time in the last three years, not nearly the first," Christophé said, returning the salute of one of the officers who pulled open the door to the Manor. "Not that it is likely to do us any good in knowing. Uriel has always been… thorough."

"Surely you will at least look?" Raoul said angrily, rounding on his companion.

"Look, yes, but it guarantees nothing. We've looked two dozen times or more, Vicomte, for all the good it has done. The Angel of Death is well-named, and very much at large.

"It is enough to make one wonder how thoroughly the Parisian police are truly committed to this search," said a strident voice as the two of them walked into the Halier library. Raphael strode to meet them, a raw confidence in his step that had not been there only yesterday. Raoul found himself remembering the words Erik had told the Daroga—death giving life to those who remain.

"Can I offer you something?" Raphael said, thumping a hand down on the rich dark wood of the cherry table that dominated the center of the floor. Innocuously placed was a tray with… tea. The room seemed cold. Raoul imagined Pierre drinking from that very pot of tea, last night. There was something harsh and wild in Raphael's eyes as he looked down at the tray, something that found savage pleasure in that his brother—dead—had used it.

When Raoul shook his head slightly to decline, the young d'Halier walked over to him and draped an arm over his shoulders. "I am glad you came, Chagny. Have you reconsidered my offer? Your help would be invaluable to me."

"I have," Raoul admitted, trying to ignore Christophé's curious stare. There was something all too familiar about it. He was certain he had never met the Captain before. There had been a different officer in command of Station 24 three years ago, he was certain.

"Splendid!" Raphael said, smiling too broadly, with too much enthusiasm. "Your support will be much appreciated. Pierre was rather disappointed at your refusal yesterday." Abruptly his voice dropped into a low harsh whisper. "Pierre's last words, Raoul, before I retired last night and left him awake—'we'll defeat Uriel, brother, you and I' he told me. I promised him…"

"Let me take his place, in that promise," Raoul reassured him, turning to look at Raphael, only just realizing how young the other was. Almost as young as Christine, three years ago. Thankfully that wild light that had been sparking was snuffed out, but now his eyes were merely frameless windows into darkness. Raoul seized his shoulders, shaking him slightly. "We will," he promised again, his grip tightening in fear when he recognized the empty look. It reminded him of Erik.

Erik is dead wandered through his mind and part of him that had been sedate began screaming in fear, thinking of dear, desperate Christine. "We'll do this, Raphael," he forced through "but I need you. I'll need you to help me for Pierre's sake. Can you do that, Raphael? Can you?" His fingers tightened until the knuckles were white.

Raphael abruptly nodded, snapping away from him by stepping back, something odd coming to his eyes—but it was better than the emptiness. By God, Raoul never wanted to see that again. A part of him squirmed guiltily at the flush of happiness that Erik was dead. "Captain Doione," Raphael said abruptly, in that hard voice. Christophé, who had been studying Raoul and was startled at being addressed, looked up. "What do we know of the murder?"

The Captain spread his hands and shrugged. "Nothing. Save that it is likely Uriel; but that you knew already."

Raphael nodded and strode away, hand tapping his chin in thought as he paced nervously the length of the library, there and back, there and back. "Thank you, Captain, for your concern. If there is nothing else you can determine, can I ask you and your men to leave? I would like to organize and remember my brother…"

Christophé sighed and removed his cap, rolling it over in his hands, refusing to meet the Halier brother's eyes. "I know what you are considering, monsieur, and it is my duty to warn you against it." He held up a hand to forestall any protests. "Let me finish. If you succeed, my salutations indeed to you. But if not… I have been called here once for a death, and I would rather not be again, but I cannot in truth see this ending any other way. I certainly hope you know what you are getting into, for there will be no backing out of it. No backward glances, monsieur."

Raoul started at the last phrase, and glanced at Raphael. But the young man smiled darkly. "I believe I asked you to go, Captain." Christophé nodded, set his hat back on his head, and spun on his heel to go. In truth, he never expected to see either of them again… alive. A pity. He had rather liked the little he had seen of the Vicomte de Chagny. The man could do better. And they call loyalty a virtue…?

To Raoul's astonishment, Raphael actually walked over to the table and poured himself a cup of tea. At least, the Vicomte thought, the water was steaming, so it could not be the same that Pierre had enjoyed. That last thought sickened him.

"I am indebted to you for this," Raphael said, turning from the table. "Pierre was going to be the one who was organizing this mostly, but fate has changed that, it seemed. I know we have talked to several of the others here in Paris… those still alive, that is." His tone was more bitter about this last than it had been about his brother. "Of course, they have heard by now… I expect I will have to reassure them that we are going forward. It will make everything much simpler to have you, the Vicomte de Chagny, there as well!"

"What, exactly, do you plan to do with this little cadre?" Raoul said, folding his hands behind his back.

Raphael hesitated with the mug of tea in one hand, his head cocked to the side a little. "End this all, Raoul. There is only one man behind it, and we are many. We will catch him. There is bound to be a pattern to the killings; once we find it, we will know when he will strike next, and then…" he made a gesture with his left hand, fingers curling into a fist.

"When that happens, do you intend to hand him over to the police?" Raoul pressed, carefully keeping his voice even.

Raphael smiled, but it did nothing to brighten the room. "Of course, Vicomte," he said in a dangerously quiet voice. "After I settle a score with him, you see. Pierre was my brother… and blood debts must be paid."

And when I tell Christine that this Uriel killed Erik, Raphael, you had best pay them quickly, or there won't be anything left of the Angel of Death to give to the police, Raoul added silently in his mind. "I suppose he shall be executed at that time?"

"Of course, Chagny," Raphael said, a bit surprised, as if it were a foregone conclusion. "A pity they can only do it once, and not two dozen times; but at least he will be on the receiving end of what he has given." Raoul nodded in agreement and Raphael turned away towards the rows of books, running a finger idly down the spines.

Abruptly the young d'Halier paused, his finger resting on one worn leather volume. "Dante's Inferno, a favorite of Pierre's," he said. "I suppose Uriel will be able to verify it for us, eh?" But Raoul was only half listening; a broken voice in his mind was singing swear to me never to tell this secret you know, of the Angel in Hell!

"Raphael," he said a bit unsteadily, "could I have pen and parchment? I would like to send a letter to Christine…"