Warning - attempted rape/violence

Chapter Fourteen – Masked Faces

Persia 1875

Erik

The fierce wind bites at my unmasked cheek as I trek on towards Sardes. I know that I'm only a few hours out of the city, so I think, but it is mid-night and much too chilly. Glad I brought my cape with me, I wrap it around myself, trying hard to secure some scrap of warmth for myself.

Through the bitter winds and gusts of sand I can see lights glimmering in the distance, almost like a divine apparition. It is merely a glow, but I can make out the outlines of a palace in the shadows. The sight is welcome to my tired, sore body and I do not think twice about it possibly being a mirage.

My pace hastens. It is a mere five miles from where I stand, and I could reach this place by two hours hence if I go swiftly. My muscles say otherwise, aching for rest. You are her Angel of Music. Only you can bring her back. Gaston's words echo in my mind and spread throughout my body like a wildfire. The Lady Fate awaits me. Who am I to deny her?

Later…

As I walk through the gates of the city, I see that it is bursting with nightlife. Street urchins scuttle along the walls of buildings; couples make love in the side-streets, screaming for release. Beggars pull at the pants of men walking home, pleading with them for a single coin, a glimmer of hope. This is where my Angel is?

I make my way slowly down the main street and feel many pairs of eyes on me as I go. Who is that face in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask? Up ahead I catch sight of what looks to be a tavern or bar, at least the Persian equivalent, and I hurry. God, if I've ever needed a good hard drink, it's now.

Upon stepping into the bar, I feel my heart seize. Christine spends her days in this city…with these men? "Sir?" A little Persian lad, maybe ten or twelve years at most, has come up beside me. I look down upon him and notice that I must be at least twice his height. "Sir, you're blocking the door."

Without uttering a word, I move aside and let the little boy scamper out into the night. What parent would let their child run amuck in a city such as this? Have they no common sense? I am worried for Christine, who is just past twenty years, and she is not even my child. Then again, I've never truly been at ease regarding her safety and wellbeing.

I make my way over to the bar counter and sit down upon a vacant stool. To my left, there are a group of men conversing, all of whom look to be of a higher class. Their speech is muffled, but I can make out a few words. "You say that was only her second day? Her first? But she was just as good…"

"Sir? Sir?" I look up and see a man across the counter staring me down. "Sir, what drink can I get for you?"

There is no need to ponder. "A glass of the hardest liquor you have. And make it quick." The man goes to fetch my drink and I focus my attentions once again on the group of men.

"What was her name again?" One of the men asks, his voice slurred and thick.

"Rhea?" One drunken voice.

"Rosie?" Another.

"Risa!" one man shouts and they all drink in agreement. Their actions, however inhumane and disgusting they may seem, draw me in and remind me that I have not had a woman since…well, I have not had a woman. And that name…didn't Reza mention it to me?

"Excuse me," I say to the drunks as my own drink arrives. It takes them a moment to respond and I use it to down half of my liquor. The men turn around to face me and I continue, "What is it you're speaking of?"

"Take it you're new in town?" one of the men, the one with the most regal-looking clothes on, says to me. I nod and he extends his hand. "I'm Hamir, the Grand Vizier to the Shah. And you are?"

"Nobody of consequence," I reply curtly, shaking the man's hand.

"Well, we were discussing the new girl the Khanum's brought to work in her harem. A damn pretty little thing, too." Hamir pauses. "Out of curiosity, what brought you into our conversation?" he takes another swig of his drink.

"I heard you discussing women and, as I'm from out of town…" Hamir cuts me off.

"Say no more, Sir!" Hamir stands up and walks over to me. "You know where the palace is?"

"Well, enough," I respond, intent on hearing what he has to say.

"All right then, go to the palace but go to the right and you'll find a different doorway. Go through it and you'll be in the harem. Make sure you request Miss Risa to be your…" But I am already off.

Christine

"Christine!" Lalitha runs into my room, breathing heavily. I am thoroughly surprised that she recognizes me through my layers of makeup and with my provocative garments. "Christine, there's a man here to see you."

"Lalitha," I reply in a near-whine, "I was finished for the day half to an hour ago!" It being my first day of officially serving in the harem I am not yet accustomed to after-hours visitors. They are not common but they are not at all unlikely.

"Christine, this is different! The man is fully and wholly desperate!" She runs over to me and kneels beside my chair, her hand on my knee. "He's offering to pay you all he has."

Disgust courses through my veins. "Lalitha, men should know better than to come to me for this! That's more of a job for Indira! I am not giving up…"

"You don't have to give anything up, don't you see?" Her excitement threatens to boil over and explode into the air. "He'll give you anything for just a simple service, nothing special. Milk it for all it's worth, Christine." I look at her skeptically. "Please, Christine. This one night, don't be Christine who always does right even if she's serving men. Be Risa of the harem who knows how to seduce a man into anything." I gulp and stare at Lalitha. It's one night, Christine. What's it going to do to you? Nothing, so long as you call the shots.

"I'll do it."

Later…

I am pinning a last curl up into my hair when there is a sharp rap on the door. As I open it, I see Lalitha once again. "Miss Risa, I present to you Sir…"

"Sir Garnier will do just fine, thank you," a dark figure from behind Lalitha responds in an overpowering but not exceptionally deep voice. Lalitha nods to me, then to Garnier, and departs. We stand in awkward silence, the shadow man and me, for a few long moments.

"Would you...like to come in?" I question him and he obliges, walking right past me into the room, his head bowed. Gently I shut the door and turn around to face the large, masculine presence in my room. I nearly fall dead in a faint.

The shadow man, this Sir Garnier, has divested himself of his had and cape giving me an all-too-perfect view of a familiar body and a starkly white mask. He does not exist, Christine. You do not know this man. I cannot tell if he recognizes me or not, though I doubt he does; who would recognize me in my current state?

"Sir Garnier, I hope you've been informed that…" In one swift motion, the shadow man has stepped across the floor, taken my wrists and pinned me to one of the cold stone walls.

Erik

As the harem girl departs I can see the outline of my Angel in the shadowy doorway, her filmy garment hanging loosely but provocatively on her dancer's body. Just as I remember her. "Would you…like to come in?" she asks me, and I sweep past her into the room, never once moving my head to reveal my face. That can wait.

She stands timidly by the door, taking her time in closing it, and I remove my hat and cape at last. If she will see me it might as well be sooner. As Christine turns around I see her face go violently red even through the layers of horrendous makeup she is wearing. My Angel! I cannot bring myself to believe that this is, in fact, Christine, dressed as scantily as she is, hiding her true beauty with makeup and fabric. Who has done this to you? What have you done? My anger builds within me as her face contorts in fright at the sight of me standing before her. Maybe she thinks I do not recognize her, and it would not surprise me if I did not. My Angel must be disciplined. "Sir Garnier, I hope you've been informed that…"

My rage boils over. I grab her thin wrists and throw her against a wall, pinning her down by her arms. Her eyes go wide in terror, and she has every right to feel that way if I go through with what I wish to do to her, give to her what she deserves for becoming such a tramp. I do not kiss her lips, for that is a sign of passion. Rather, I press hot, rough kisses along the exposed skin of her neck. Christine squirms against the wall and I press harder with my arms. "Believe me, Miss Risa, you will be paid well for your services this night."

"Stop," she whimpers as I force her arms above her head and hold her wrists against the wall with one of my hands. "Please!" I do not heed her pleas as I use my free hand to rip away her skirts. There is no need to lavish her, only to ravage. Throwing the ruined fabric away I move my hand down to her womanhood.

"For one night, Risa, let a man give you pleasure," I say, trying to sound like I am not intent on punishing her, that I am just a sex monger off of the street.

"No!" she shrieks, nearly deafening me. "'One night' nothing! I am not going to change who I am for…" I slap her harshly across the face.

"Where I am from, Miss Risa, women do not speak out of turn." Her eyes widen and her mouth falls open in shock and horror. It serves her right. My fingers play around and find her most womanly place…dry. Dry as ever I'm sure it was.

I do not consider myself to be an expert in women or sexual relationships, but I do know some things, and one of them is a woman's reaction to a man. They are most certainly not as dry as Christine is now, crying and shaking beneath my iron grip. Her eyes are shut tight and her body is rigid but quaking. "Just do it," she cries. "If you're going to have me, just get it over with."

Her pleas bring fresh thoughts to me, thoughts having nothing to do with punishment or revenge. These thoughts are…pity. God, to think I've never felt this before! I was always its target! Now, as I stare down at Christine, a shriveled shadow of the rose she used to be, I cannot bring myself to touch her, let alone deflower her.

In my fright to go through with my actions, I step away abruptly and Christine collapses in a pile on the floor of the room. As I go to get my cape and hat, I fish around in my cape for some money. Throwing it on the floor at her feet I stammer to her, "Take it. Buy yourself something nice." I stride towards the door, then find my fingers, still in my cape's inner pocket, are touching something soft. I draw the material out of the folds of fabric and find it is a rose, a little limp, but beautiful. Tossing it on the floor before Christine, I take my leave.

I shut the door behind me and run, run as I've never run before. What was I about to do to her? This is no way to discipline her! The poor thing, not knowing right from wrong any more! Out on the streets again, I find myself another bar and I walk into it, mumbling something to the bartender about hard liquor. When he brings it to me, I catch my reflection in the liquid. The mask…am I really still the Opera Ghost, the Phantom of the Opera? Maybe I am, even with my newfound sense of pity for others. Then again, I am certainly no angel.