A Place in This World
To reiterate…I do not own any of the characters that are the creations of GL, ALW, or SK. I would love to stake claim to Erik, but I can't…I would love to stake claim to Gerry Butler…but on well. I do own Michél and any other OC as they appear.
CHAPTER 7
Erik was a little befuddled with the turn of events within the past few hours. He had accepted that his life was at an end; a befitting one at that. Death was an invited friend that had never come to visit him in his misery; leaving him, instead, to wallow in self-loathing and disgust.
He never expected for such a chance in life as was being given him now. He found himself surveying Inspector DuBois from underneath a very guarded look. He seemed trustworthy; and Margarite was enamored with him, something Erik knew was a sign that she thought him a man worth her time.
He sat at a fine table with Albert and Valéry Grévy, the magistrate, who, at this very moment, was trying to convince Erik to take a position on the police force…as a spy. These two men had changed the course of his life in just a few short hours.
Monsieur Grévy's raspy voice invaded Erik's train of thought"Erik, I wish you would reconsider. You would be a great asset to the force. You have uncanny abilities that would allow you to be an incredible tool in fighting crime in this city and the surrounding area." Inspector DuBois nodded his head in agreement, but did not seem to be as convinced as Grévy that Erik was going to agree.
Monsieur Grévy droned on, "You seem to be able to blend into the shadows and not be seen or heard; your presence demands respect and honor. Not to mention, you are exceptional with a sword and a sharp shooter as well. Where did you learn these skills?"Monsieur Grévy leaned into the table anticipating Erik's response. The whole room seemed to hold its breath as Erik contemplated how to answer.
Erik's arresting green eyes were alert and shone with the genius that both men new rested within his mind.
When Erik spoke, it was with a reserved tone that belied the anxious twist of his stomach and the myriad of thoughts coursing through his mind, "I have had many years to hone these skills. I thought it best that I be able to defend myself in any situation that I could fathom and then reenact. I went about training my body to do incredible feats of strength and agility; allowing me to go for days, sometimes weeks, without a great deal of food or sleep. Music was another outlet…my first love…" sadness enveloped his face, causing his eyes to take on a far-away look, "destined to be my only love."
Erik paused; in deep thought. He had never shared this rare information with anyone, it actually felt…exhilarating, to be able to carry on a conversation about himself. No one had ever seemed to want to know, until now.
The two men sitting at the table with Erik found themselves drawn into the vast loneliness that had been this man's existence. Neither one of them could see any reason why a normal life had been denied him.
Albert had clued Monsieur Grévy in on Erik's childhood and the tragic events that had led up to his arrest. Other people with far more evident physical deformities were allowed to walk the streets and live normal lives, why not this man? The mask only seemed to add to the mysterious nature that surrounded Erik; that defined him. If one looked past it, into the soul of the man himself, one saw extreme beauty and intelligence. Just lurking under the surface was an air of danger and mystery, making hearts leap when he entered a room or spoke in that resounding, rich, and passionate voice of his.
Albert was compelled to know more about Erik's musical genius, "Did you teach yourself about music also?"Albert paused, but not long enough for Erik to compose an answer just yet, "Margarite told me that she just suddenly found you making music one day. She had no idea that you even knew how to read or interpret music, let alone play and write it."
It was rather intimidating, being in the presence of such genius. Very few possessed the ability to bring others to tears with the sound of their voice or with the music that flowed from their elegant fingers and virtuoso mind. Erik had done this, even though the recipients of his aptitude had no idea from whence they received such beauty.
Erik couldn't help but smile. He knew that others, who had the misfortune of meeting him, found his abilities bordering on the scary end of extreme; almost like a fairytale character. To him, they were what kept him rational. If he had not had the presence of mind or the desire to teach himself these skills, he would have lost his mind and been completely consumed by the darkness that loomed around him every day.
He shrugged his shoulders and answered in a matter-of-fact tone, "My skills; music, architecture, design, even magic and creating illusions – came naturally to me. I taught myself to read, solve mathematical and philosophical problems, anatomy and physiology of the human body, and many other subjects. I have studied so many ways to bring my miserable life to an end; with pain or without it, it really didn't matter. This is one of the few skills I possess that has not been successful for me." Erik's smile returned, but with a sadder quality, "The only skills that I was unable to teach myself were social skills…I am not good with people; most are unable and unwilling to endure my visage. Those who do, barely tolerate my presence; mostly out of pity…I'm certain."
He dropped his eyes, remembering all the harsh words and phrases that people used to describe him, even when he was present. Most people were under the impression that because he lacked a perfect face, he lacked intelligence, or was even mentally challenged; how ironic, he had so much he wished to share with the world, but the world was too blinded by its own prejudices to wish for it. He had gone to extreme measures to prove himself worthy of the world, only to have it come crashing down around him…never again.
Grévy responded, "I think I speak for both of us, Erik, when I say that we find your intelligence and your presence stimulating." Valéry Grévy had developed a great deal of respect for the man that sat opposite him. "You have overcome obstacles that would have crushed lesser men Erik." Grévy held Erik's eyes with certainty and graced him with a slight smile, "I know that you are heartbroken and lonely. I don't know the magnitude of the deformity that prevents you from uncovering your entire face, but I do know that even those of us who wear our masks on the inside have experienced heartache and disappointment at the hands of a woman."
Grévy scooted his chair back and rose, making his away around the table to sit in the chair next to Erik. "If you do not wish to work for me, how may I be of assistance to you?" Erik looked shocked at the suggestion by Monsieur Grévy. No one had ever really offered to do anything for him before. Grévy continued, "Where do you want to go and what do you want to do?"
Erik reacted as though he were going to turn down the offer for help; Monsieur Grévy would not allow him to, "I will assume that Paris holds none of your allegiance any more. I am aware that you have been pursuing your parentage and I would like to offer my help to you, in whatever way you would have me to…I have a cousin who works with Scotland Yard, would his services come in handy?"Erik looked up with interest when Monsieur Grévy mentioned his quest for knowledge, "He is a well-trained detective in that unit and he is also in quite good with the aristocracy in Great Britain...I have already taken the liberty of wiring him to contact me, should you choose to accept my offer of help."
Two hours later…
Erik had never quite experienced this feeling of acceptance before; not from anyone accept Margarite and Michél. He sat in his hotel room; on a soft bed with exquisite furnishings and surrounded by charm and class…he had done his share of traveling, but it was always under the guise of night. He had never attempted nor did he think himself worthy of finery in other settings. He had draped himself with it in his own dwelling, only to disguise his horridness; he could not even stand his own company.
As he readied himself for bed, Erik reflected on the evening's conversation. He had turned down Monsieur Grévy's offer of employment; he had no interest in fighting crime. He had finally consented to the offer for help from his cousin at Scotland Yard; after all, he was 33 years old and starting over from scratch. He had arranged for a carriage to pick him up in the morning, around 7:00 a.m. He would leave tomorrow for London to meet with Grévy's cousin, Monsieur Chevalier.
His thoughts wandered to Margarite. Should he attempt to say good-bye to her, or just leave things as they were?... He would contact her and let her know that he was still among the living and enlighten her about his plans. He owed her at least that. (What she does with the information is her business,) Erik thought to himself. (I can wait a day or two more to head to London. I need to wait on Michél anyway; he is due to be here the day after tomorrow. I need to find out what information he has dug up.)
He gingerly turned down the covers to the bed and crawled in; he was exhausted. The days in the jail had served to extinguish his energy, only because he was anxious to get the events over and pass from this life into the next. This day, on the other hand, had proven to Erik that there was still good people in the world who did not judge a book by the cover. With this in mind, he fell into a dreamless, blissful sleep.
Chapter 8 preview – Late Night Chat