Chapter 21

They had left the copse of trees, one carriage at a time, spacing them a quarter hour apart. One carriage would not be noticed. Three was a different story and for once, Erik and Raoul agreed. It would also allow them, should one carriage have trouble, to reach that carriage in a minimal amount of time. Erik now rode in the Coupe with Christine. The mourning drapes would hide him allowing him to sit rather than crouch in a small area; the DeChagny crest almost insuring their anonymity. The supplies and luggage bags which had been hidden in various areas in the carriage now rode in the Brougham with Claude. Raoul and Antoinette, still in the Victoria, were the last to leave. Claude led the group as he had made the trip to Le Raincy on several occasions, and had always stopped at a farmhouse on the first night of the journey. There he sheltered in the owner's barn. He saw no reason for the owners to protest this time. An afternoon's ride would bring the travelers to a quiet safety for the night.

Christine sat under Erik's arm feeling his warmth soak in to her and taking the chill from her heart. She hoped they were safe now. She had no reason to think otherwise. Everything had gone as planned and in a day, perhaps two, she and Erik would at last be free to share a life neither thought possible at one time.

"Erik? You are very quiet, my love. What troubles you? I thought you said, once out of Paris, we would be safer."

"I did, didn't I? It just seems to me, Christine, that it was almost too easy. I wait now for trouble that may not come, but has a habit of showing when things seem to be at their best. I fear that the safety we seek will always stay one step in front of us and that we will never be truly free."

Christine sighed, placing her hand on Erik's thigh and patting as a mother comforts her young. Erik pulled her closer to him, but she could tell he thought of other matters. She placed her head in the crook of his shoulder and sat, silently praying that all would be well.

In the country, propriety lost some of its virtue, Raoul decided, and draped his arm across Antoinette's shoulders, holding her close. He watched as she took in her surroundings, commenting occasionally on something they passed.

"Have you not been this far from the city before?"

"Oh, oui, I have, but when I was very young. I came with Papa on his trips for supplies that were too dear to buy in Paris. But that was a long time ago and so much has changed."

"What made you stop?"

"Someone had to stay and run the inn after Maman died. I took her place. The tavern in front, someone rents that from us. But Papa could never trust the tenant enough to leave him in charge. Papa doesn't often trust."

"And what of me, Antoinette? Does he trust me?" Her answer for some reason, was very important to him.

"Oui, I'm sure he does. Because you kept your word and that is a very important thing to him. More than a paper contract would be. You returned as you said and have helped us. You've proved to him that he can trust you."

He hesitated a moment before asking his next question afraid that by the asking, he would break the fragile spell he found himself in.

"Your father told me a bit about Erik's entry into your lives. That you had been attacked—"

"That is true, Raoul. When I was ten, I was sent to tend my Grand Maman while my parents returned to the inn. We could not leave it unattended, you see? But, sometime late that night, my Grand Maman died. I wasn't sure she had; I was very young. I needed to get Papa, so I left her room to make my way home. It was so late and I didn't think who, or what, would be on the streets at that time of night." He watched a small shudder pass quickly through her. "I was only an alley or two from the inn when someone grabbed me from behind. His hand clasped over my mouth and suddenly, another man grabbed my ankles, lifting me from the ground. I was so scared…" Her face paled a bit and Raoul was now sorry he had asked.

"You don't have to continue. I wasn't thinking about the way it would affect you to speak of it, it seemed so long ago."

"Oui, it was a long time ago. But some things never leave us. We must find the strength to push those memories behind us and go on, non?" Taking a deep breath, she continued. "They carried me to the end of the alley. I could barely see them, but a third man who was waiting there seemed to be their leader. They dropped me to the ground. I kicked, but the man who had held my ankles now shoved my skirts up over…I fought so hard, kicking and trying to get lose, but I was only ten and it was so easy for him. The one who had grabbed me from behind— he pinned one of my shoulders to the ground with one hand, the other still covered my mouth so I bit it! Hard enough to taste his blood, and he let go. I screamed. One of them, I've no idea which, they all carried the same leer of pure evil, told me it was useless and to lie still, that I would learn to— to enjoy it."

As she spoke, Raoul watched the tears make their way down her cheeks. He pulled her close to him. "Stop, Antoinette, stop. You don't need to tell me more. Don't—"

But she seemed to want to talk, as if that would release the demons once and for all. "I passed through fear into terror and that is where my screams came from. I couldn't stop, Raoul. I just kept screaming until the man whose hand I had bitten raised his arm to strike me, to silence me. But their leader grabbed his arm, informing him that my screams only excited him more and that it was— time. Both men grasped one of my arms, pinning them to the ground. The man at my skirts had pushed them onto my bodice— and ripped off my undergarments, exposing me to their leering eyes. I struggled, but I was no match for him. He pushed my legs apart as he crawled between them, fumbling with the fastening of his breeches— Mon Dieu, Raoul, I was so— then, I heard a snap, then exclamations and the sound of running feet. The next thing I knew, my skirts were smoothed where they belonged, and a face with a mask hovered over me. I knew at once he was an angel, that he wore the disguise to hide who he really was from the world. It was Erik." She paused again as if trying to make up her mind about something. "He was so gentle. He carried me home and helped Papa to tend my scratches and Papa and Maman accepted him without question. A few nights after it happened, Erik came back, to make sure I was healing. I had not slept since the attack except in fits and starts, always waking to the same nightmare. He knelt by the side of my bed and told me something I have never told another person. Until now. The snap I heard was a man's neck breaking. Erik killed him on the spot. He hunted the other two down and killed them as well. And then he brushed the hair from my face, took my hand in his, and told me I could sleep now, that justice had been served and those men would never hurt me again. I wept, Raoul, while Erik held my hand. Wept joyous tears for the retribution meted out, almost hysterical in my happiness at their violent deaths. And then, I slept. You see, Raoul. I owe him my life. As does my Papa, because Erik saved me. Papa vowed to watch over him always. Which he has done. And that's what happened."

Raoul had held her tightly as she wept, recounting the last of her story. He handed her his handkerchief as she tried in vain to stem the flood of tears. As she told her tale, Raoul's heart had reached for her, for the pain that had been inflicted on her. While listening to Antoinette's heartbreaking tale, he came to a startling revelation. The men who had attacked Antoinette were the real monsters. Not Erik.

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Claude arrived at the farm first and made arrangements with the owners. The travelers could hide the carriages behind the barn and sleep there. Though the day had been balmy, dusk brought a chill to the air, but they felt sheltered enough in the drafty structure to be comfortable. The men slept surrounding the girls, Raoul on one side by Antoinette, Erik on the other next to Christine. Claude at their heads, Jacques at their feet while Phillipe took first watch. When three hours had passed, Phillip came back to wake Erik. But sometime during the night, Christine had crawled to Erik inserting herself under his arm, and now slept with her head in the hollow of his shoulder and her arm across his chest. Phillipe hadn't the heart to wake him and turned back to the door when he heard Erik whisper his name. He watched as Erik extricated himself from Christine's grasp. Once free of her, he rose and watched as she rolled to her other side moving close to Antoinette in her search for warmth, never waking.

"Phillipe, it is my turn on watch. You need sleep as well as the rest of us. Go, sleep the rest of the night. I will alert you if anything happens."

Phillipe stood in front of Erik, still somewhat awed by the man who had struck such fear in all who heard mention of the Opera Ghost. What he saw was not a ghost, but a man who had taken on the responsibility for six lives beside his own, and who was doing his best to protect them all. He nodded at Erik, handed him the rifle and took his blanket to where Erik had been, though at a more discreet distance. Erik gave him a slight smile, then went to the door taking the stool.

Though it was supposed to be a three hour watch, Erik sat the night, watching and thinking. It had been several days since he'd been alone, and he drew the night around himself, like a cloak and asked himself how he had come to be in charge of so many when it seemed over the past several days, he was barely in charge of himself. This was not what he had planned. Christine, yes. He wanted her to be his responsibility. In a way, she always had been. But the rest of them. He hadn't planned on the rest of them at all. Especially that boy. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Raoul, was also his responsibility, Christine may have asked for Raoul's help, but he had accepted it and now, like it or not, Raoul was a part of their flight.

So lost was he in his thoughts, he didn't hear the footstep behind him until Christine was close enough to put her hand on his shoulder. He stood and turned in one smooth movement, rifle coming up to the ready before he realized who stood behind him. Christine's eyes grew wide with fear and surprise as Erik's blazing glare caught her face and softened almost immediately.

"Erik? I'm…I startled you."

"Only you, Christine, could catch me unawares. But you must not come upon me like that again."

"I'm sorry. I saw you sitting here and— it's past the end of your watch. I wanted you to come and sleep. You are pushing yourself too hard and will make yourself sick if you are past tired all the time. Come, it's time for rest." She gently pushed the rifle down and took his arm to lead him from the doorway. Instead, he leaned the rifle against the jamb and returned to his seat. He pulled her to his lap, nestling her against his chest, arms wrapped tightly around her. They sat for some time in silence, enjoying the warmth of each other and the sounds of the night. Finally, Christine shifted to look into his face.

"Erik, you are more troubled than I have ever seen you. What is it? So far, the plan has worked just as you thought."

With a sigh, he pushed his cheek against her hair, taking in the slight scent of roses and freshness. "I am troubled, as I am in a position I never in my life expected to experience. Holding six lives in my hands to— depending on me, Christine! You, yes, I expected, had things gone as planned the night of Don Juan, that you would be my responsibility forever, but this— nothing like this ever entered my mind."

He knew the night of Don Juan was better left in the past, but Erik had vowed that he would be honest with her in everything and this was a part of it all. He watched as her hand came up to caress the perfect side of his face.

"Erik, these are people that have considered you their responsibility for a long time. Though the roles are reversed, I don't believe you would ever have left them to the gendarme should your secret be exposed. No matter what you may think of yourself, I know the man inside. He has been given an opportunity to reveal himself."

Erik hmphed at Christine, shaking his head. "I may have done that regardless for Claude and Antoinette, but— Raoul insinuated himself into this mess the moment he refused to turn back. I cannot be held responsible for him, though it weighs heavily upon me to know that I already am."

"If you are, Erik, it is only because you accept the burden for him. He did not place it upon your shoulders. Besides," she stopped for a moment and a smile touched the corners of her lips, "I think he would have found a way to follow, regardless."

"Why is that? And is he so unwilling to see that he has—," Christine put her fingers to his lips, shushing him.

"Shhh, Erik, don't raise your voice like that. You'll wake everyone. I only meant to say, do you not see the way he watches Antoinette?"

"And what does that have to do with anything?" He was getting nowhere with this conversation now other than frustrated.

"I think my love, Raoul's acceptance and healing began when he and Antoinette were in the Victoria earlier today."

"Christine. Stop being so cryptic. If you know something, tell me. I am too tired and too filled with other worries to have a puzzle to unravel, besides."

He watched her smirk and shake her head.

"Erik. For a man whose intellect is beyond genius, you are not very conversant about some things, are you?" She moved to kiss him then, and he forgot for the moment, anything other than her warm lips against his own. He hadn't dared to hold her close for the past day or two, for fear his control would slip. She would have none of his control now however, her arms surrounded his neck, her hands played with his hair. As her tongue gently questioned his mouth, he lost what little reserve he had left, opening himself to her and aching to pull her into himself. As their passion grew, he ran his hands down her sides, resting them on her waist. He broke the kiss, only to rain smaller kisses across her jaw, moving down her neck toward her bodice. Her neck arched and a soft mmmm escaped her lips before a noise behind them caused Erik to jump to his feet, dislodging Christine, who slid to the ground. With rifle in hand, he glared at Claude, who stood before him.

"Well, Claude?" he barked, disturbing the others, though none woke. "What is it?"

"Erik, I only thought perhaps I should take the watch for awhile. I think some…rest is in order for you."

Erik stared at Claude for a moment, until he saw the twinkle appear once again in the man's eyes. Turning to help Christine from the ground, he smiled at her in apology and brushed at her skirts to regain his composure before facing Claude again. He noticed Christine as she looked from him to Claude and back again, with the same gleam in her eyes.

"Yes, Claude, perhaps I have spent too much time here tonight. It could be very bad for my health."

Erik shoved the gun into Claude's outstretched hand before stalking back to the others, still asleep. Smiling at Claude, Christine crept quietly after Erik and waited until he had reposed on his blanket, arms behind his head, before she too lay down, close to his side, with her head on his shoulder.

"Christine, I do not appreciate being made sport of. And why do you speak in riddles?" He whispered fiercely at her. Wrapping her arm across his chest, she snuggled deeper into his shoulder.

"Erik, I think Raoul has found a new focus for his attention. Perhaps, if you are willing to see this, you will think better of the whole situation."

Erik had not paid close attention to the exchanges between Raoul and Antoinette. He had dismissed the boy as a necessary evil, one that he must tolerate and the less he noticed him, the better. Considering Christine's words, he looked back over the day's events and realized that not once had the boy given him the slightest trouble. Raoul had been too caught up in Antoinette to think about anything else.

"Does this upset you, Christine?"

"No, my love, I think it's wonderful."

A smile spread across Erik's face as he put his arm around Christine, drawing her close.

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The commander had been awake for several hours, listening to the men surrounding him as their bodies became musical instruments. The noises they made, the snoring, the grunting and the ground itself kept him awake, full of rocks and bumps though he had made the men sweep it clean. It was enough to drive him mad. And through it all, his pursuit and capture of the Opera Ghost played in the back of his mind. The more he turned the problem over, the more he realized that a favorable outcome, regardless if the man was alive or dead when brought in, could even mean a position of prominence with the monarchy. Oh yes, he thought, this could be the biggest thing to ever happen to him. His glories had grown from a simple promotion to a position of absolute power. And if anyone else had to die in the process, so be it. He would have his triumph.

Dupree lay on the ground at the other side of their campsite. He didn't want to be there and felt apprehensive about it since they rode out of the city. If there had been anything else he could have done to keep from going, he would have. He had tried to stay in the background when they had reached the checkpoint but it proved futile. When the commander gave the order, he followed, though he didn't want to. But to disobey a direct order was tantamount to cutting his own throat and his sense of self preservation was too strong for that. He would follow his commander as far as he could. But, he was a man of honor, unlike most of the gendarme in the corps and wondered if it came down to it, would he be able to remain one.