A/N: Still, all will be explained… bear with me.
Individual replies next time but thank you all for the reviews!
Chapter 48- War
Erik knelt on the cold, hard floor of the living room, staring at the wall where Henry's blood resided. His arms were still squeezing Henry in to his chest, he was afraid to let him go, he didn't want to let him go.
Henry.
Erik's little brother.
Erik glanced down at Henry's silent body, clutched to his chest, his skin still so smooth yet so pale, his eyes closed. Unmoving. Erik felt another tear trickle slowly down his cheek and fall from the bump of his chin. He squeezed his eyes shut, fought away the feelings of sorrow, battled against the heart break, wrenching, painful heart break. His composure was crumbling into particles around him, his heart was torn in shreds as he held his brother close to him.
Henry loved Erik and he, for a long time, had been the only one.
Erik sat dumb struck for what seemed like an eternity, he held back the sobs that threatened to form in his chest and he took long deep breaths.
Henry.
Erik's friend.
Erik's brother.
Erik's…
He felt the rage building from the pit of his stomach, chasing venom around his veins as his heart began to thud. He opened his eyes, all of his tears evaporated into the atmosphere to join the tears he had shed for Christine. He looked once more at his brother's lifeless body, cradled in his arms and then he stood and lifted Henry from the floor. Wandering over to the chair he carefully lay Henry on it and found a blanket to cover him. After kissing Henry's forehead softly and brushing his hair back from his face, Erik turned to face the door.
He clenched his fists as the anger pumped from his heart around to every muscle inside him, touching every cell, every tiny hair. They all screamed with fury. He glanced out of the window and then bolted for the stairs, as he ran up he heard voices coming from the back of the house and he knew he had to hurry.
Christine was still alive and Philippe was on his way. He needed to act swiftly and this meant that he had no time to fumble with the door key and find his sword. In stead he worked quickly on the rope which acted a stair rail. He sliced it down with his pocket knife and made his way silently to the rear of his home, where he could only imagine what he was about to find.
As he looked out of the back he realised that the light from the moon was barely visible here and what light it did allow simply set long shadows.
It made it darker.
All the better, he thought.
He slid along, with his back to the wall, until he reached the rear door and could push it open with his toe and peek out. In front of him were five guards, all armed and all crowded around Christine, who was lying on the floor staring up at them. From where he was standing, Erik could see the fear in her eyes and his pulse raced.
He stepped out and edged out towards the closest guard whom he took down in one swift motion, his arm around his neck.
Snap.
The other guards looked over as Erik hit the floor and covered the left side of his face. They looked confused, it was so dark that they couldn't see their friend, let alone Erik, dressed in black and merging with the dark. Two of the guards dragged Christine roughly to her feet and pulled her out of sight, the other two split into opposite directions.
The one who went back towards the house was the one Erik chose to follow. The guard wandered in, his sword in his hand and headed for the living area, in which the fire was still glowing. As he got there Erik, from the side, could just about make out the faint look of horror on the guards face as he realised that the phantom was not there.
But by this point, it was, of course, too late.
Erik had tied the rope into a lasso and flung it with amazing accuracy over the guards head. When he pulled it back he did so with such force that the guards head had fallen backwards and, like his friend, he lay dead on the floor with a broken neck.
As he turned to head back outside he felt a force in his back and he fell to the floor, hitting his head on the wall. Dazed, he managed to roll onto his back and look up at his assailant.
Tomas.
Erik stared at him for a moment before allowing an amused smile to form across his features. Erik felt blood begin to dribble down and along his temple.
Tomas stared at him.
'Stupid boy,' Erik spat and broke into a grin. Tomas' face had altered from triumphant to terrified as he realised that this man, lying on the floor in a mask was not at all frightened.
'Stay where you are,' he said. Erik laughed and then abruptly stopped, his eyes glowed fiercely as he glared at the young man in front of him.
The young man who had just thrown his life away for money.
Erik held his hand out to the side and, foolishly, Tomas' allowed his eyes to follow it. Erik kicked out, taking a swipe at Tomas' legs and hitting them hard, sending the man clattering to the floor in a heap. Erik leapt up and as he reached down to pick up the sword from Tomas' side he felt the tip of something very sharp in his back and with a rueful smile he turned to face Philippe.