The same familiar darkness roused Elizabeth. She groaned audibly. This same dream was becoming quite tiresome. Only this time, it seemed so much more real. The cold was more piercing, and she found herself shuddering against it. They were getting more realistic each time she slept, and more fearful. She wound her way expertly through the tunnels until she hovered by the edge of the lake.
"Master," she called softly, in a tired voice. He knew she would not cross the lake without him. She believed that it was his fault, somehow, that she dreamed of him so continually. Usually she would have had to call him many times. This time, however, a voice responded quickly.
"Who is there?" The tone sounded mocking, and seemed to be coming from behind her. Elizabeth glanced back.
"Elizabeth," she replied quietly, arms crossing over her chest that she might rub them more effectively. "Please Master, it's simply freezing!"
A form suddenly loomed before her, settled easily within the gondola as if it had always been there. His hand snapped out so quickly she could not even recoil, and a single curl was captured in his bony fingers.
"You are real," he hissed. He felt more tangible than he ever had, and Elizabeth suddenly lifted her own hand to touch his own. She had always been able to touch him, yes, but somehow he felt different tonight. His hand was like ice, but the skin was oddly soft. He pulled away from her touch quickly, scowling. He nodded toward the gondola, and she stepped inside obediently. Their ritual had begun again, though both felt somewhat bewildered. Neither was quite certain whether they were sleeping still.
"Please, can I know your name?"
The sprite in his boat queried in such a sweet tone Erik nearly answered her. He bit his reply off quickly, however, and muttered gravely.
"Corpses have no need for names."
"You breathe and speak as a living man, Master." Elizabeth had found some sort of courage it seemed, and he cast a bemused expression her way. Why on earth did she insist on calling him that? It had never been a part of his dreams of her. He did not, however, find it displeasing. It had a rather nice ring to it.
"You seem to have a name for me already, girl." His response was low and seemed to taunt her yet again. Oh the games that he could play with her mind!
Elizabeth changed the subject, as they arrived upon the opposite bank in his lair. "May I have a cloak, please?"
Erik was surprised by the request. He had been left to his own devices for over a decade, scarcely contacting the human race in any way. Weeks before he had started having odd dreams about a young girl, and suddenly she had appeared on his banks - seeming to know him entirely too well. While his mind struggled to piece together the fragments of this puzzle, he heeded her humble request and fetched a cloak. It was too large and quite heavy, as he draped it over her smooth shoulders. He could smell her, a scent of roses and simple femininity. It was enthralling, and he nearly leaned to inhale deeply of it. Realizing himself, he spoke brusqely.
"Why have you come?"
"Are we back to that," Elizabeth countered, accepting the gift of his cloak by wrapping it around her more closely. Their relationship, Erik mused, was obviously one of a precarious balance in her perception. One moment she trembled in fear, and another spoke out brazenly. What an interesting creature!
"What shall we learn tonight?" Elizabeth murmured, hoping to distract this beastly man from the look of interest he had cast toward her.
"Learn?" The ghost was strangely confused, and it made him feel oddly out of control. He reigned the feeling in, deciding that he should perhaps..fake it. "Oh, yes. What was our last lesson?"
The girl before him was all but a child compared to his years, and she blushed furiously at his question. Erik found it appealing. He stepped about her and found his way to the dais, where he settled at his bench.
"You taught me to breathe," she muttered breathlessly, this time gaping openly at him.
It was the first time he had allowed himself to come into full view, and Elizabeth felt overwhelmed with the sight of him. His beauty was timeless. A mask shielded a portion of his face from her, but it only added to the dark allure that his strong and handsome features afforded. He was obviously quite a bit older than her, but it only made him seem more mature. Appealing. Elizabeth unwittingly stepped forward. Had he always been so beautiful?
Erik was uncomfortable under her scrutiny.
"You're staring," he snapped. Elizabeth tensed.
"This is a strange dream, Master." The words escaped unbidden. If it was indeed a dream, what harm could befall her? The child reached for the murderer, touching his lapel. He stiffened, but did not recoil.
"I assure you, it is not a dream." His voice was so close, so real. Just as heavenly as she recalled.
"Oh, but it must be. It always is. I beg of you, please allow me to wake! I do not understand my thoughts." Her tiny fingers were now curled within his clothing, and Erik had to wonder what her ambition was. He reached to curl his own death-like grasp about her own - winning his freedom with a simple tug. A dark smile graced his malformed lips.
"What thoughts are those, little pet?" He played upon the fear she obviously displayed, unwittingly becoming the very creature in her dreams. Had fate prepared them both for this encounter? His grasp tightened at her hesitance, until pain shot through her fingers.
"I.. Please, Master. You're hurting me." Elizabeth's eyes were wide now. The pain was real. She had never felt pain in her dream, not like this! Was this all real? How had she come here? He had found her. He had captured her! But how? How!
The realization was obvious in her eyes, and Erik read it easily. He laughed, a frightening sound to Elizabeth.
"Yes, I am real. You are here." He jerked smoothly upon her arms, and she stumbled. Unable to control her trajectory, she fell into his lap. He parted his legs just before she made contact, allowing her to hit her knees. There she knelt betwixt his own knees, with her hands still captured in his vicious grasp. She looked up, tears filling her eyes. He released her hands and chose instead to capture her hair in his brutal claim. He stroked the locks awkwardly, clumsily. After a moment of this, he leaned forward to inhale deeply of the sweet scent he had denied himself moments before. If fate would deliver such a prize to his very doorstep, who was he to deny it? No, he would deny himself nothing. His entire lifetime he had been denied. Not now, not with this one.
His lips were close to her ear. Elizabeth could hear him breathing. "You are mine."
His voice bounced about in her mind, playing again and again. It made Elizabeth's head spin.
"No," she muttered weakly, forcing her eyes closed at the sight of him. Though he did not speak again, his voice countered the arguments within her mind. Always repeating.
"You are mine."
Elizabeth collapsed with a whimper of defeat.