Chapter 14
This one is dedicated to Cap'n Meg! Who has mourned the loss of the shirt and pants as deeply as I have (or at least that's what she told me anyway).
Authoresses Note: In this chapter I am combining my two favourite beings ever, The Phantom of the Opera, and Count Dracula, King of Vampires! (Incidentally, Gerry B has played both) Please be warned, if you are anything like me, excessive fainting will occur. (We get to see Erik in black clothes with a cape again! Yay!)
Warning: You will fall in love, you may swear yourself to darkness forever.
Sorry for the long wait, exams, 7 muses, 8 stories, walks in the rain to the cemetery (I did that last night, took me an hour to get there, don't ask me why, I don't even have any family buried there) you know how it goes.
"Erik?" Louise's voice called
"What?" he answered grumpily, since Louise had taken out his stitches, his leg was almost healed, but it itched!
"I'm headed up to the church, would you like to come?" she paused in the doorway, satchel slung loosely over one shoulder.
"Of course," he replied, getting up eagerly, anything to take his mind of that abominable itching in this leg of his, and hadn't she mentioned an organ?
"So what are we visiting the church for?" he asked as they wandered over a long grassy meadow to the small stone building.
"Jason and his troupe are coming this way about a month from now, and I'm already a week behind in costuming for them," she replied, "Look out, there's a patch of nettles there," Erik limped his way around the plants and caught up quickly, his leg was gaining strength day by day. Louise glanced at his long form, silhouetted against the sun as he walked beside her, "Plus, monsieur, you are in dire need of some new clothes." Erik blushed, then turned his bare face up to the sun, smiling at the blessed relief freedom from the mask offered.
The small grey dot blurring the horizon grew as the two neared closer. Erik cast a professional eye over the building, his artisan's side asserting itself. The building was thin and narrow, a short steeple rose up from the sharply angled roof, and three windows graced each side, gleaming with dull painted colours that would no doubt paint the inner walls a rainbow of sacred shades once the sun hit them. Louise paused at the door, a simple but sturdy oak solid construction, halved down the centre and set with a simple lock. She fumbled for a moment in her satchel as Erik leaned against a wall, resting his tender muscles, and produced a large, cast iron key. She fitted it to the lock and twisted until the old tumblers clicked and echoed through the ancient building. She pushed open the door and stood aside for Erik to enter, "Welcome, good sir, to my domain,"
Erik stepped into the threshold and gazed about. Granite stone walls were smoothly cut and polished with professional care, and set within these were arch windows, painted with Bible scenes in rich tones of purple, red, yellow and blue. Six rows of wooden pews sat rigidly on either side of a bare aisle leading up to the broad alter, unashamedly set out with several baskets of blue and brown cloth and measuring ropes, somewhat reminiscent of the gospel story of the fish and loaves. More baskets were stacked on the pews, spilling cloth everywhere. The bizarre sight was like a carnival meeting a graveyard, a raised pulpit stood to the fore left of the alter knave, carved with stone figures and with piles of fabric spread in a dizzying swirl around the base. Arched beams braced the roof down to the knave where the alter sat, and to the right of the alter…
Erik's eyes glowed as he looked on the tall pipes of the organ, and the wooden pedals peeking out like a lady's shoes from beneath the green velvet covering, long dusty with years of ignorance. With a determined step he strode up the centre of the non-church, he lifted the covers, and brushed a loving hand over the ivory keys, yellowing with age, but still playable.
"Is it to your liking?" Louise asked, almost coyly as she made a beeline for the front pew and lifted an amethyst silk gown. She pulled a measuring rope from her pocket and began to record the lengths of rustling fabric, "Helena, Hermia and Titania to start with," she murmured to herself, "And let's hope Arno hasn't put on any more weight, otherwise he'll never fit into Bottom's costume." She glanced up at Erik, still glued to the organ, "There's a sacristy near to the back, through that little side door as well," she said with the air of someone who did not expect to be listened to. Erik looked over and flashed her an almost boyish grin, dropping the dusty cover before he gave into temptation. He walked back down the aisle, looking up at the stained glass windows, a painted image of the Journey to Bethlehem caught his eye and he drew closer to examine the glasswork. Mary's face was serene as she rode the donkey, led by a tall Joseph, one hand laid caressingly over her rounded belly, her half smile was dreamy, as though she could hear a music played silently within her, the growth of new life and salvation. Erik reached out a curious hand to touch the domed stomach of the Mother of Christ, if he could just hear what she heard, his salvation may come to.
"That one's my favourite," Erik jerked his hand back guiltily, Louise smiled, "Go ahead, you wont break it," Gently, the former lord of Parisian terror brushed his fingers over the glass, cupping the womb of Christ in one cold, pale hand. To his surprise, the glass was warm, as though the life of Jesus pulsed within the still capture of Mary's belly. Erik drew his fingers over the glass a second time, and then let his hand drop, and watched the stained glass with the naivety of a child, mixed with the cold knowledge of an adult, and the blessed sense of hope for redemption as sunlight fell through the glass and lay gently on his disfigured face.
Louise smiled to herself as she looked at him, tall and lost in thought, she dropped her gaze back to her work as he turned away to examine the rest of the old building with the smooth liquid grace of a panther.
Erik spied a black something slyly winking at him from a deep basket hidden beside one of the pews. He reached out one long fingered hand and drew out a lengthy black cloak with red lining. "What's this?" he asked, inspecting the fine velvet. Louise looked up from the amethyst silk dress she was measuring, a frown crossed lines into her forehead, then she smiled in remembrance, "Dracula," she replied, "The play wasn't well received so they gave the costume to me."
"Ah," Erik gave the heavy cloth an experimental twirl, it felt comfortable in his hands, and peered beneath the cloak to find a black shirt and what looked like a dark red dress tunic and black trousers lay neatly folded in the basket. He stole a glance at Louise who was still distracted by the purple gown, and a grin came over his face.
"You said there was a sacristy back there?" he asked, Louise looked up,
"Yes," she replied shortly, he was distracting her with all his questions, he could tell.
"Thankyou," he replied slipping around her, arms full of costume. Louise grunted noncommittally and Erik suppressed a chuckle. (You can guess what's coming next… cant you?)
Louise finished counting out the length of fabric and looked up, Erik was nowhere to be seen, "Erik?" she asked, echoes bouncing off the stone walls of the old church. "Where have you got to now?"
"Foolish child! You dare to disturb the peace of the Phantom of the Opera?"
The rich voice rebounded throughout the stone church, startling birds out of nearby trees. As Louise had claimed, the acoustics were magnificent, and she swore and spun around in shock.
A masked outline stood on the pulpit, dressed in black, and with Dracula's black cloak flowing behind him. The carvings of the pulpit seemed to rise up their arms in ecstasy of that voice and the dark shrouded figure that balanced upon it.
Louise stared up in awe at this dark angel, her grey eyes huge in her head. Erik was quite pleased with the shocked look on her face. With a dramatic swirl of his cloak, he leapt from the pulpit and landed on the stone floor, he advanced on Louise who had stood and was backing towards the wall, one hand clutching her cross at her neck. Abruptly Erik turned and walked towards the organ, he angrily whipped off the covers and seated himself, then, pausing a moment, began to play.
Louise gazed in wonder as the notes spun themselves across the arches of the church. Up until now she had only ever seen Erik dressed in rags, a dressing gown, or a soft shirt and breeches, and apart from that first night, always with his mask off. Yet here was a true vision of mysterious powers and dark imaginings. Obviously he had found the mask covered his eyes and ravaged cheek in one of the baskets. As he stared down at her from the pulpit, Louise realised that the one she had nursed and bandaged was not merely an unfortunate victim of circumstances…he was a man. And such a man! She had bathed him of course, (How else was she to get the dirt off him?) But this figure clad in darkness was something else entirely.
And his music! Lord she had never heard such playing, her heart lifted and she moved to stand beside him. She watched his fingers as they glided across the keys, his genius was evident as she laid one soft hand on his shoulder. Erik finished his song, and let his hands rest, covering her fingers with his own.
"The Phantom of the Opera, Erik?" she asked softly, "Is that who you are?"
"Yes," Erik replied, heavily "I am,"
"Oh Erik!" Louise flung her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder.
Erik stiffened for a moment at her touch, then relaxed and hesitantly placed his arm around her, shifting so that she could sit beside him. She flinched as his fingers brushed her down past her shoulders, reminding him that she still had secrets of her own locked away, he raised his hand to wrap around her arm, tilting her head to lay against his cold neck, her warm breath brushing against his open collar
"So that is why Fron and Jan found you on the side of the road," she stated quietly, Erik nodded his agreement, touching the red blonde locks that cascaded across her neck and onto his shoulders.
"I had nothing left to live for in Paris," his broken voice revealed memories still to painful to bear, "My life there was over when I lost Christine."
"But you have a new one here," Louise hesitated softly, Erik was silent, then he wrapped his other arm around her waist and pulled her close.
"I suppose I have," he said in wonder, realising for the first time, he could be happy staying here for the rest of his life.
"But Erik," Louise said, sitting up to look at him, "The difference between here and Paris is that you don't need that thing around me." She raised one rosemary hand and pulled the mask away from his face. For once, Erik didn't leap back or cover his face with his hand, he simply allowed the dark leather to be removed.
Ye gods it took me a long time to get that finished! I never expected this chapter to become particularly religious, when I first wrote it (the second piece I ever wrote in this phic) Erik was still being newly written by me, but its interesting how a 3 month break can change things.