I was pleasantly surprised by all of the reviews for last chapter…even if some of them were slightly, uh, wrong. coughTaliacough Thanks, and I'm so sorry for the cliffhanger, folks. I swear I didn't mean it! Love, NSL Jewelles
Chapter Twenty-Four – All the World's a Stage, the People merely Players
Persia 1875
Erik
As I run along the corridors and open halls of the palace, I try to formulate a clever escape for Christine, Lakhi, and myself, not to mention getting out of Sardes altogether after following through with it. And, of course, I am in need of my Punjab lasso, which Antoinette so kindly confiscated. There is an open storeroom on my right, and I duck inside, searching for rope of any kind; I am foolishly lucky to find an approximate eight-foot length of heavy cord; this will have to do. Crude lasso in hand, I continue.
I don't know where to look, what to do, who to ask. I mentally chide myself for my foolish plans and for not taking proper precautions and measures to ensure success. If Christine is hurt because of me…
My thoughts run short as I walk by a doorway guarded by two extremely large men. Inside, I can hear the sobbing of what only can be a young woman. My blood runs cold; what have they done to my Angel?
I realize that I've been staring at the door when one of the guards says to me, "Move on. Nothing to see in there." But just as quick as he says that I have my makeshift lasso around his neck, breaking it. The other guard makes a move at me and he too is dead on the ground before touching me. Grabbing keys from one of their belts, I try many in the door and finally get a match, opening the large wooden door.
Lying on a large bed opposite the door is Lakhi, curled up in a little ball, crying without mercy. "Lakhi!" I say, and she sits up, revealing her sallow, tear-stained face. Her eyes light up and she jumps off the mattress, running to me and throwing her arms around me. For a second I freeze up, not knowing quite what to do, when she ceases her displays of affection.
"You came back!" she says, her voice a little raspy. "I can't believe it! How did you…" I press a finger to her lips to silence her.
"Lakhi, you must do as I say if you want to live. I will have the Shah on my trail in short time and you must be cautious. Do you understand?" I ask her.
"Of course," she replies, "but why is the Shah after you? He doesn't know you're here, does he?"
I swallow hard. "He knows I am in the palace, though he thinks I'm still in the dungeons." Her face contorts into a look of confusion. "I'll explain later, but we have more pressing matters to attend to." I stride towards the door and Lakhi jogs to keep up with me. She knows better, I can see, than to ask what I've still got to do.
As we run down the hall, I hear noise from a room on my left; Christine's room. "Wait here, Lakhi," I mutter, holding the lasso firmly in my hand. I long to throw open the door and be done with whatever I must do, but I am cautions. Come to think of it, I am terrified of what she will think of me; I am back to my old Opera Ghost ways. Swallowing hard, I open the door a crack and then throw it open.
Christine
Erik stands in the doorway, long lasso in hand and I shut my eyes tightly again amidst the blinding pain that nearly petrifies me. The whole world is just a blur of sounds, and among them are the door crashing open, heavy footfalls, rustling of sheets, the cracking of a whip. I shudder, breathing unevenly and quickly, shaking as though going through seizure.
There are hands, familiar hands, on my cheek and in my hair, soothing me, calming me. "Christine, come back. Please, Christine. Try, mon ange, try for me." I inadvertently bite my lip in the pain of moving any of my muscles as I open my eyes a crack and see Erik's eyes staring back at me through his black mask.
"Erik?" I murmur softly, my voice just above a whisper, my eyes opening a little more. "Oh, Erik," I cry, wanting to just curl up in his embrace knowing that somebody cares for me, but my arms are still bound. With great haste, Erik stands and begins untying my wrists from the headboard, and I take a moment to glace around the room.
In the doorway stands a very frightened-looking Lakhi, her body frozen, her eyes wide, staring at me, Erik, and the floor in sequence. My eyes follow her line of vision to the floor where I see Hamir's half-naked body lying lifeless, his neck firmly wrapped in a long length of rope. My breathing picks up again and I feel once again extremely faint.
I feel my hands come loose and I am immediately wrapped in Erik's arms, crying onto his shoulder. "Hush, mon amour, you're safe," he assures me, stroking my hair and back. Lakhi appears beside Erik and she too tries to comfort me with soothing caresses. "Come," Erik says gently, "we must get away from here."
"Why?" I question as he draws me up from the bed and holds me against his chest, carrying me like a groom carries his bride on their wedding night. Not that I am much to carry; I've grown so thin.
As we take leave of the room, leaving Hamir's choked body on the floor, Erik responds, "The Phantom of the Opera never forgets his old ways."
"You wouldn't…you didn't…" I stutter, not really believing. "Besides Hamir, how many people did you hurt?"
"I hurt those who tried to hurt me. It is man's natural instinct to fight back." I decide it's better not to ask any more questions, and I find myself in a comfortable position in his arms once more, clinging to him.
We run down hallways and corridors and finally reach the city outside of the palace, but our pace does not falter. After many more minutes, we find ourselves at the door of Erik's room at the inn. Lakhi opens it and she is almost instantly in the embrace of her sister. Erik walks past the reunited sisters and lays me down on the mattress, positioning the pillow under my head. My vision is still hazy but I can distinctly make out the shape of his mask, the shiny glimmer of his eyes.
"Christine," he says to me, his voice a littler harsher than I expected it to be at a time like this, "tell me who he was." I bite my lip as tears spring to my eyes. It's coming, I just know it is. He's going to ask me what I was doing in the harem besides being drugged. You must tell him, Christine. You owe him your life, you can at least give him this.
I tell him. Lalitha and Lakhi seem to have busied themselves with tidying up the room a little, which is certainly not a task for the faint of heart, and I speak freely, telling of every event since I decided to leave Paris for Persia, since I ran out of the chapel that day last winter. When I finish, Erik is just staring at me blankly, neither of us really knowing what to say. "What I did was wrong, Erik," I continue, choking out every word, "but if you can find it in yourself to forgive me…"
I need not ask twice, for Erik has lifted me off the mattress and into his embrace, holding me as tightly as I had him. Wrapping my arms around him, I savor the closeness, feeling safer and more secure than I have in a long while. All comes to an end, however, when Erik sets me on my feet and says, "We must get going. If we don't leave here soon there will certainly be hell to pay." I run to Lalitha and Lakhi as Erik hurries around the room, grabbing assorted belongings, though there aren't many, and throwing them in a satchel. He motions to the three of us and we follow him, walking out the door of the inn, not knowing what lies ahead.