A/N:
Ahomelesspirate: Thank you for your reviews. Yes, Henry is Erik's brother… this will be delved into in the closing chapters. And thank you for the compliments.
Queensarah: I'm glad you liked it and I hope you like 48 and this one too. I'm trying not to let anyone down. I tried to give hints by talking about their eyes without giving it away before the chapter ended.
Modesty: We'll learn a little more about Henry later! I'm glad you're back and are liking the way the story is heading.
Step into my lair said the spider to the fly!
Chapter 49- Le Comte et Le Fantome
Philippe's eyes glowed with a smug satisfaction only well bred people know how to show. The room suddenly felt icy cold, even with the food burning in the oven and the fire glowing behind him. Erik stared at Philippe, no longer smiling or amused in the slightest.
Philippe smiled.
'Hello,' he said. Erik wanted to hit him.
Hard.
Instead he simply stared, made no gesture to move, or to speak, as his eyes fixed on the Comte de Changy. Philippe's eyes were hard and narrow and Erik's met them with resistance.
'I said,' Philippe coughed. 'Hello.'
Erik glared.
'Fine,' said Philippe as he kicked Erik's feet from underneath him. Erik hit the floor with a thud and winced as pain shot through the side of his body. He lay there for a moment, once again fighting to recover his bearings, and glanced around the room.
There was still smoke coming from the over towards his left and the fire was still, somehow, burning behind him, allowing them a little light in this dark and destructive situation. Philippe paced over to the window and glanced out, very little light shone from the moon and the earth was barely visible under the haze it produced. Erik thought about leaping up but instead stayed put, he needed to think about this.
His rope was still around the guards neck on the far side of the room, his knife was outside after he dropped it whilst rolling to the floor to hide himself from the attackers and so he was left with nothing but his wits. He needed to keep Philippe either talking or on edge to give himself time to think of a plan, to think of someway out of this and to Christine.
It was obvious that Philippe and gone into the hallway and then the living room and as yet had not seen Christine. From this Erik deduced that she was still alive and generally unharmed. The guards would not dare disobey the rules they had been given by Philippe. Erik shot Philippe a smile as he turned around from the window to look down at him.
'Now here we were,' Philippe said, his tone trying to mock Erik. 'Thinking that you were dead.'
Erik smiled.
'And now… I see quite clearly that you are not,' he said, stepping closer to where Erik was lying. His back hurt and he could feel the blood still dripping from his head.
'Apparently not,' Erik said, still smiling through the pain. Any other man would have given up and dropped into unconsciousness. Not Erik. In a strange way Erik thrived on pain, it propelled him forward, it made him the man he was. It was the only thing he had to thank his mother for. That and Henry, of course.
'So I was correct about Christine all alone,' he said eying Erik cautiously. Erik gave nothing away. 'She really is a whore.'
Erik didn't move and although his mind was burning with rage his face showed none of this emotion. His face was portraying indifference.
'You don't disagree,' Philippe said and Erik simply stared at him, his blue eyes sharpening, their golden flecks becoming brighter. 'Ahh, so we have something in common.'
'I'm afraid,' Erik said in a low and menacing voice. 'That we have nothing in common.'
Philippe stared at the injured man at his feet for a moment before kicking him in the side and revelling in the pained gasp that he emitted. Then he laughed. Erik clutched his side for only a second until the initial sharpness of the pain subsided and then he let go, to show weakness was to give away knowledge and knowledge was power.
He looked up at Philippe and once again, shot him a smile. It said, is that all you've got?
Philippe returned the smile and stepped back, his sword held tightly in his pale hands.
'We have plenty in common,' he said after a long pause. 'We've both had sex with Christine.'
Erik couldn't help himself, he rolled his eyes.
'What?' Philippe said. 'You haven't? You must be the only one…'
Erik smiled again, this time thinking that Philippe was trying so hard to ruffle his feathers, trying desperately to get some sort of reaction out of him. Philippe was obviously the kind of man who needed this type of acknowledgment.
Shame, thought Erik, because he won't get it from me.
'Now,' said Philippe, hiding his irritation. 'What will your fate be?'
Erik again said nothing, choosing instead to remain silent and gauge Philippe's reaction to his non committal mood. There was anger in the Comte's eyes.
'You've got to go,' he said, almost blasé about the situation. About the man lying at his feet. 'I'm sorry… but I can't have you ruining my plans.'
Still, Erik was quiet.
'You've been a thorn in my side, phantom,' he growled, 'Nothing but a hindrance.'
Erik smiled.
'I'm tired of your games and your superior grin,' he said. 'You nearly ruined everything, people fear you, did you know that?'
Erik simply propped himself up on his elbows, facing Philippe, like a child waiting to be told a story. Philippe fumed.
'They fear you yet I can't see why, I don't understand,' he sputtered. 'Here you are, lying there like… some sort of tramp with your pathetic mask covering your god forsaken face… just… lying there like a chastised child.' He sniggered. 'They always said you were a ghost and we're about to find out just how mortal you are.'
As he raised his sword Erik closed his eyes and prayed that someone, somewhere, was looking out for Christine. He heard the air slice and the sword moved towards his chest and then suddenly there was nothing.
No sound but the crackling of the fire.
And then a booming voice;
'Enough!'