A/N: Ok, cliffhanger over. This chapter was another one I had difficulty writing. I thought that people would think I was a sicko with the violence. That is your warning, this chapter does have some graphic violence. But some of you seem to be looking for it, so here it is.

Ch. 12 – The Phantom's Fury

The fire was almost under control as Erik pulled another of his crewman away from the smoke-filled room. They were dropping like flies from the heat and smoke inhalation. They were lucky that the fire had begun near the pantry and not near the stove or else this could have been the final voyage of the Fereshteh. He was suspicious as to the cause of the fire and was beginning to think that it had been started deliberately. His fears were confirmed as Stone pulled the cook out from inside the pantry, which had been locked. The man had been stabbed, proving that this was no accident.

The cook had been fortunate that his injuries were not fatal and he was conscious when Stone laid him at the Captain's feet. "Who did this to you?" Erik asked.

Coughing the man managed to utter, "It was Jules and Alexander."

Erik looked at Stone who had gone sheet white. "Captain, those are Harcourt's men!" Realizing that the fire was meant as a distraction, he said, "Christine."

Before Stone could say another word, Erik was gone. He flew right past her cabin door and into his own. As if in a trance, he equipped himself with the items that he would need to exact vengeance tonight. He was eerily calm, white hot fury always had done that to him. He considered that he might be too late, fueling his need for blood even further.

When he approached her door, he found the knob would not turn. He broke through the barrier with ease and took in the sight that met his eyes. Christine was tied to the bedposts, arms akimbo. Her head lolled below her shoulders, hair hanging around her face so that he couldn't see whether she was conscious or not. Harcourt stood behind her, pulling up her skirts. The other two men were apparently enjoying the show, waiting for their turn. The men froze the moment Erik burst in. He withdrew a long knife from his belt and plunged it into Jules' heart with lightning speed. Before the man hit the floor, Erik had removed the blade and slashed Alexander's throat.

Harcourt knew he was looking at the Angel of Death himself. There was no emotion behind the double murder that he had just witnessed. The Captain's eyes were boring into his own and seemed to be daring the man to make a move. In desperation the red haired man had backed himself into a corner. Erik was relieved to see that the man's trousers were half-buttoned, he hadn't been too late to stop the rape. But this man had crossed him twice now, trying to take something that was precious to him. His fate was sealed and his death would be merciless.

Erik slowly approached the other man like a predator stalking his prey. He ducked as Harcourt threw everything that was within his reach at him. Reaching into his coat, he produced his trademark Punjab lasso. The other man's eyes grew wide at the appearance of the noose. He tried to run past Erik in a last ditch attempt to get away, but as he did, the lasso was thrown around his neck and began to tighten.

Erik jerked on the rope just enough to cut off the man's airflow. He wanted him to die slowly and painfully. Harcourt was clutching at the rope around his neck, his face turning blue. He hit his knees and Erik pushed him to the floor with a boot placed to his back. He applied more force to the rope, pulling the man's head back. Despite what was believed in Paris, killing had never brought him pleasure. In the times that he had committed murder, he had felt disconnected from the act as though someone else had done the deed. Not this time though. As he continued to deprive the man of oxygen, he dropped to one knee and hissed in Harcourt's ear, "I should have killed you before when you tried to take what was mine! When we meet again in hell, even the devil himself will not keep me from spending eternity torturing your soul." He gave a last vicious jerk and broke the man's neck.

Still in a haze of hatred and rage, Erik heard a small cry issue from somewhere next to him. He turned his face to find a pair of blue eyes regarding him with terror, peeking out from under the bed. Instantly his head cleared and somehow he managed to tenderly call the boy's name. Charles cowered away from Erik as he reached for him. He had behaved as an inhuman madman and Charles had bore witness to the entire display. Erik was torn apart by what he saw on the boy's face. He wanted to roar and wail to rid himself of this feeling, but he was powerless to do anything.

He rose to his feet and moved to Christine. Standing behind her, he saw for the first time what vile act that Harcourt had performed on her. The back of her dress was ripped in a horizontal pattern with blood soaked through the garment. Harcourt had felt it justice to exact revenge for the punishment that he had received because of Christine. She had been whipped with a lash just as Harcourt had. Erik looked at the dead man at his feet and realized that he wished the man were still alive so he could kill him again.

He knelt upon the mattress of the bed and placed his crooked index finger under Christine's chin, raising her face. Her eyes opened slightly and she regarded him with pain marring her features. A second later, her lids closed and she succumbed once again to the darkness. Gently as a mother caring for a newborn, Erik untied her wrists and pulled her to him, careful not to touch the wounds on her back. He wept then, for the pain that she had suffered and for the boy who had witnessed not only his savagery, but also the brutal attack on his mother.

Stone entered the room a few moments later and looked from Christine's ravaged form, to the corpses on the floor, to Erik's wretched face. "Stone, go to my cupboard and retrieve the brown paste in the jar." Erik's voice was raw, reflecting his mood. As he waited for Stone to return, he began to sing. It was a lullaby that he had heard the gypsy women sing to their babies to comfort them. He hoped that it would reach Charles and help sooth him. He stroked Christine's hair as he sang and deposited kisses along her brow.

When Stone returned with the paste, he helped Erik spread the medicine onto Christine's back and dress her wounds. Erik found her nightgown and dressed her in it quickly. His lust would not be an issue tonight. Upon further inspection, other than raw wrists, she had a bruise starting to show on her right cheek. Apparently the brute had also struck her. Erik had spent his whole life being referred to as a monstrosity, but in truth, the dead men in the room were so much more the loathsome fiends than he had ever been. He would never have harmed an innocent to quench his lust for blood or flesh. These men had been deserving of their fate and he was content to have been the one to mete it out.

Stone had been able to coax Charles out from under the bed and now held the child in his arms. Erik knew better than to try to console him, the boy was terrified of him now. The thought broke his heart once again. They could not sleep in here tonight so he instructed Stone to set up Charles's cot in the mate's own cabin. He didn't think that Charles would be comfortable sleeping in his quarters right now.

Gently he lifted Christine into his arms, shifting her when she winced in pain. He carried her to his own cabin and laid her in his bed on her stomach. Pulling the covers to her waist he left her and found some men to clean up her cabin and dispose of the bodies that lay within it.

He wanted to go to Stone's room and check on Charles, but he resisted and returned to his own quarters. He changed out of the blood-stained clothing and pulled on fresh trousers. Pulling out a chair, he sat himself next to the bed, and looking over at Christine, he was shocked to find her pain filled eyes on him. "What happened?" she whispered weakly.

"You were attacked."

"Where's Charles?"

"He is with Stone. He is not harmed. I will give you some laudanum to help you rest and ease the pain." He rose and moved to retrieve the liquid. Bringing it back to her, he pressed a small spoonful between her lips. Most of the potion dribbled onto his pillow, but he knew that she would not need much to put her out.

He placed the bottle on the table next to the bed and turned back to her. She was still watching him. He leaned down and brushed his lips against her cheek slowly. Teardrops fell onto her ear and her hair. "I am so sorry my love," his whispered through his tears as he kissed her temple.

"Erik." She breathed.

"Forgive me?"

"Yes."

She fell into a deep sleep and he lay down next to her in the large bed. He would be there when she woke. He would tell her about Charles and what he had seen. He hoped that she would still forgive him then.

A/N: I hope you have all forgiven me as well. And the first real tender moment, Yay! Leave a review and let me know what you think, even if you think I AM a sicko.