It had been luck that Jean had decided to look on the rooftop for some peace and quiet. Usually, it was frowned upon going onto the roof – it was more of a health and safety issue than anything, and they were never meant to go up there alone, just in case, but that morning had been far too hectic. His wife was struggling with her pregnancy and Jacques had just started at his new school, and he had been late for work, despite having an impeccable record.
Now he was going to have to stay late to make up for it.
However, an ominous shape took up his vision as he entered the rooftop. Just a few meters away was the shape of a man, stark against the light of day.
With an intake of breath, sharp against his chest, he quieted the panic. A slow exhale.
Right, what next?
Scouting around the man, Jean ascertained that the roof was clear. Kneeling beside the body, hands shaking as he felt for breath on his hand, before his fingertips sought a pulse.
Relief shot through as a steady beat thrummed.
He sniffed, and wrinkled his nose; the man stank of alcohol.
Probably some drunk from last night and wandered too far. Still, I have no idea how he got up here…Unless he's friends with Andre or Richard and they used the keys last night. Maybe to watch the fireworks.
Rolling his eyes, he took out his phone and dialed. The managers weren't going to be pleased.
"I'm serious! I wasn't drunk last night – someone must have knocked into me with a full champagne glass -"
"Listen here, young man. You were somewhere prohibited. How did you get there? It's a matter of security, " thin eyebrows drew together, the long face practically cartoonish with its distaste.
Raoul gritted his teeth, glaring at the manager who sat resolutely behind the desk.
"I don't care how hungover you are, but you're not leaving until you name the member of staff who gave you access, " the manager added, lips pursing.
Shaking his head, Raoul pinched the bridge of his nose. This is getting nowhere. What did Nadir say about the Ghost's antics?
He squinted, glancing at the suit, the Rolex tucked nonchalantly under a sleeve. Aftershave, Raoul could smell it. Just like his father.
Inhaling, Raoul squared his shoulders. Chin up. The oiled, slightly enigmatic appeal that made anyone trust the guile that lingered in his eyes.
The years he had lost as a child admiring it on his father.
Raoul gave an easy smile, his elbow landing on the desk and leant forward conversationally, "If you allow me down to the cellars, it'll solve the little problem you seem to be having. Petrified cast members, sets of instructions appearing out of nowhere," he paused, catching the movement of the man's twitch from the corner of his eye. He stifled a smirk.
Bingo.
"Not to mention all those – ah – disappearing funds that you have a problem of tracing," Raoul lowered his voice, locking eyes.
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
The manager blanched.
"No-one – No one is supposed to know about that!" he spluttered, blinking rapidly, "And how exactly is going down to the cellars able to 'solve' this – this problem?"
Raoul hid a grin as the man opened a draw and pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing at his wiry neck.
Glancing cautiously at the door, Raoul intoned, "Well, my partner and I are conducting a little investigation and have evidence to believe that," he allowed the French accent to filter through, "this pest of yours resides down there,"
The manager leant back in his chair, flitting his eyes away and cleared his throat, "So you are aware of our situation, then?" the man shook his head and narrowed his eyes, "How exactly did your 'investigation' lead you to the roof, smelling like a drunkard? You're not from the bureau!" he accused.
Rolling his shoulders casually, Raoul shook his head, "Well, we're what you'd call the private investigators of the De Chagny investors, I'm sure you've heard of them? They've recently focused on spreading their funding and name across Europe, you see,"
"Oh! The De Chagny's?" he licked his lips, voice curving into a smile, "I've heard that they can be quite selective with their investments,"
"They can," Raoul agreed, idly tracing the wood of the desk, "But with the name of the Parisian epicenter, I'm sure that once your little "infestation" is sorted, they'd be able to come to an arrangement,"
"Oh really?" the manager became thoughtful and rubbed his chin before he looked up, "And you and your partner will rid us of the – ah-"
"Ghost," Raoul smiled coldly.
"And how exactly will you do that?" he peered over his glasses, "It's a far more complex affair than your average criminal, Monsieur,"
"We have our ways; being impartial however is a benefit, we're not liable to be influenced. We do our job, we get paid," he narrowed his eyes, repressing the urge to laugh when the manager twitched once more.
It seems like this one has been susceptible to being blackmailed or bribed – just as Nadir said. He's jumpy all right.
"And," he drew out, " If we are able to eradicate this issue of yours, you'd be in a position to receive funds that have since eluded you,"
Two beady eyes stared back, sparking with what was both wary and interested, "And in return?"
Raoul smiled, "Just your co-operation. Take me to the cellars, and I'll be out of your hands,"
Business is business, after all.
The manager gave a faint smile, teeth flashing as he leant forward.
"I'll go and get you a guide,"
"So you're going down to the cellars, are you?" Jean leant against the wall, eyeing Raoul with suspicion.
Raoul swallowed, vainly trying to control the hammering of his heart, and nodded. Better not to say anything for now.
"Right. Well, lucky for you, I've been tasked with getting you downstairs. Monsieur Moncharmin said that I'm to help you in anyway possible,"
"Yes. I haven't yet thanked you for helping me from the rooftop –"
Jean waved his hand, and started to lead them to the back of the theatre, "Don't mention it. What you wanting with the cellars? Said it's haunted down there, but I don't put much stock in the rumour,"
"I'm looking for my partner. He was down in the cellars but hasn't responded to my text,"
"I'm not surprised. Cell reception is iffy down there. Probably hasn't been able to receive it,"
Raoul frowned. I should have gotten a map of the cellars.
They started down the second cellar, and then the third.
Raoul winced, fighting the headache throbbing through his skull, one he'd had all morning. No doubt it was thanks of the parting blow he had made. Glancing at an ornate mirror, he evaluated his grimy appearance with reserved disgust.
I really need a shower.
Gritting his teeth, he fought the bitterness back. The frustration, the sash that concealed the horrid bruising around his neck, his voice sore and weak. He'd told Jean not to mention it to Monsieur Moncharmin, at the price of a hefty bribe. He'd been able to speak so that his voice boarded on husky, and had endured the pain thereafter.
I wish I had been able to protect her. I hope she's activated the tracker safely.
If she hasn't... God help her.
Running his fingers against the seam of the mirror, seemingly attached to the wall itself, he moved on.
Where are you, Nadir?
"Are you sure you want to get to the other side? We've searched for a while now," Jean stared at the vast stretch of water, the boat bobbing ominously.
Raoul eyed the lake. Dread curled in his gut.
"I need to find him. What if the man is trapped? Or got lost?"
Jean's dark eyes flashed, but remained silent as he grabbed an oar that lay in the bottom of the boat.
Raoul took the other, looking back at Jean, "You know how to get to the other side?"
The man's jaw clenched, and Raoul felt the prickle of betrayal as the oar was tossed at his feet.
"I do. But I won't risk going across that."
"Why not?" Raoul hissed, "You said that the Ghost was just a rumour."
"Because I won't risk getting lost down here, that's why! There have been cases before when some people have almost died, and that was before the Ghost reappeared," the man winced, "I'm not the superstitious type, but no bribe of yours will get me over there," the man crossed his arms.
Raoul stifled a sigh, "Will you at least be able to wait for me? Until I get back?"
Jean hesitated, but then agreed solemnly.
"I'll wait. You seem like the decent sort."
"Thank you," he murmured gratefully, "Now, will you tell me how to get across?"
Raoul's knees shook as he steadied the boat, trying to forget the half hour of horror he'd just escaped from. Hell, he knew his dad had been a sailor, but Raoul knew he'd never be.
Well. At least not on a boat that size.
Shivering, Raoul heaved himself onto the shore, glaring at the vessel that bobbed smugly in the water. Resisting the urge to let the thing drift away and find another method out of the hole, Raoul knew he relied on it too much to breach the unruly lake alone.
And who knows what state Nadir is in.
Grimacing, he tied the boat to the docking post. It was luck that only his feet were wet.
Still, concussion is a possibility; I don't want to think of the ramifications of a gun blow to the head. But Nadir is too important to lose; I can't risk his death. It'd be on my hands.
He scowled.
And my conscience.
Trudging up the shore, water sloshing cheerily in his boots, the flashlight Jean provided illuminated a set of rudimentary stairs that jutted out of the stone. Grunting as spirals of water dripped from sodden legs from the docking, Raoul made it up the stairs, casting a final look towards the boat.
You'd better not leave me stranded here.
Though expecting some kind of grand entrance, like two Gothic gates embedded into walls of stone, he saw a gracious oak door, embossed with a brass doorknocker and knob.
That…That is unexpected. Just a door, after all this?
Warily, Raoul tested the door handle, only to gape as it fell open brokenly. A wheeze emanated faintly from its hinges.
His eyes drew to a golden object on the floor, widening when he recognised it as the other side of the handle.
Was he really that strong to tear it from the door?
Stepping over the obsolete object, Raoul evaluated his surroundings, holding his torch aloft.
It looked ordinary. There wasn't a torture rack, or grimy cobbles. Instead, umber mini-chandeliers were mounted upon the walls and furnishings that told of a sophisticated taste. The 'entrance' was an opened living room, with dusty rugs that politely covered smoothened stone. Though the dampness was a distinct smell, along with the stirrings of a sneeze that Raoul stifled, he glanced uncertainly for traps.
Navigating his way through the living room safely, two doors stood facing him, placed at opposing corners. They were hinged this time, but yielded no clues as to what awaited him.
Nadir could be trapped in any one of these. But, would that man have left in such a hurry that he wouldn't have taken precautions?
Raoul succumbed to a shudder of his mind's gruesome image of Nadir's cold, fractured body. Blood seeping into unfeeling stone.
I've been watching too many horror movies. Nadir said – said they were acquaintances. He couldn't have really killed him? Right?
If so, then why spare me?
He stepped to the closest door, brushing aside a curtained section that Raoul hastily stepped away from when a wide-legged arachnid scuttled out.
Eyeing the handle, it gratingly swung open. To his relief, there was no corpse on the floor. The dreary room was otherwise masked by the walls, of which were decorated with lacy curtains and white sheets on a mahogany bed.
A guest room, it seemed.
Still, the air was oddly scented, retaining a musty floral aroma and his torch caught the refraction of a shimmering gold frame. Unable to help his curiosity, and the urge to discover a weakness in his nemesis, he prowled closer. Resting on a chest of drawers was the gilt frame, blue butterflies decorating it quaintly.
His eyes widened as he took in the image.
No. No, that – that couldn't possibly!
His breaths quickened, the horror of plausibility ricocheting through his mind. But how? How had that man got a picture so precious, stowed away in this home of his?
It was a picture – not of Christine now – but of a young Christine.
No. Not a picture, a drawing, so realistic that for a moment he thought it was a photograph. He shook his head. Didn't that monster first meet Christine in America? Then how did he have a portrait of her here?
Suddenly, a thought occurred. Had they stayed here? In this world, underneath detection? Is that how Nadir hadn't caught them? Living right under his nose the entire time!
Raoul turned. Seeing a wardrobe, he flung open the doors.
His mouth dropped slightly at the excess of clothes that met his eyes, bursting at the seams. Underneath bags of clothes, and after peaking, still with tags.
Frowning, he opened a door that led to a bathroom. The bar soap hadn't been touched – odd if they had been staying there. Unless…Was she forced to share a bedroom with that man?
I'll teach him a lesson he'll never forget!
Sucking in a pained breath, Raoul felt the heat of ferocity. He should have protected her! Christine, who had never hurt anything or anyone, cursed with the lascivious libido of a monster, demanding her freedoms and rights. As if she belonged to him!
She never said anything – only defended him. Raoul winced. God knows what he's done to her. I can't imagine anything worse.
Stockholm syndrome is truly frightening.
I can see why now Nadir has been so fearful about Erik. He's far more beastly than I ever gave him credit for!
Taking the frame, Raoul roared as it smashed against the wall, glass spraying as the fury led, refusing the need to sink to his knees and sob at the freedoms that man had taken against Christine.
How could he! How dare he!
"Raoul? Hello?"
Nadir's weak voice echoed, and his heart leapt at the sound. Relief as sweet as fresh air filled his lungs.
"Nadir!" he cried, scanning around for another door, "Nadir, where are you?"
"I'm down here. Where are you?"
"I'm in a guest room. What do you mean, down?" he frowned, trying to follow the voice.
"I'm trapped, Raoul!" there was a grunt of pain and a sharp rap sounded of knuckles against glass, "It's one of his safety measures, you see. A macabre thing, that's against the room you're in. There should be a way to get in here,"
"How hurt are you?" Raoul rapped his fist against the wall, closest to Nadir's voice. It didn't sound hollow.
"Broken ankle, bit of a nuisance, I know. It was a long drop," the voice laughed thinly, a tiny waver that crackled around the edges.
"How do I get to you? I can't find a door," he glared at the impenetrable walls, "This place is seamless,"
Agitated, he ran a hand through his hair, wincing as his fingers brushed a sizable lump.
"I know – I know there is a way in," Nadir's whisper was filled with conviction.
"What sort of trap exactly are you in?" Raoul inquired, narrowing his eyes at the tone, "How well did you really know that man?"
"How much I know is inconsequential," Nadir replied evenly, "What matters is catching up to her before it is too late,"
A series of taps resounded and a grunt of frustration.
"He always left some sort of clue. Something that filled his damnable pride, knowing how close you were,"
There was a shuffle and another set of raps.
"What are you doing?"
"Trying to see which side is hollow. Wait – I remember. Traditional, yes. Erik liked classic solutions," Nadir let out a laugh, "I can't believe I hadn't thought of this. Raoul, you'll need a key. It's going to be somewhere in that room. I believe that Erik would have kept it in a common place. Somewhere mundane."
"Why?" Raoul argued, glancing to the hook mounted on the door, "Why would he keep it somewhere simple?"
"No, mundane. There's a difference," Nadir said succinctly.
"And this is exactly the time for riddles," he muttered, pulling open the draws where the frame had rested. Empty space stared back at him.
"Did he have a place he liked to store things?" he called out, kneeling reluctantly and peering under the bed.
Apart from the dust, that this time did make him sneeze, no keys lurked under the bed.
"I don't know," Nadir sighed tiredly, "I have never been invited inside his homes. No matter how many times I've tried to get in,"
Frowning as the bedside table yielded little but more sneeze ammunition, Raoul rocked back on his haunches.
Every minute that they spent getting out, Christine was one step closer to danger.
She has to have gotten away. We couldn't have done everything for naught.
Please, God, let her be safe.
Sighing, Raoul gripped the sheet of the bed, frantically thinking of other places to look.
His eyes slid over to the broken frame.
Rising, he approached the casualty. It remained undented. Butterflies twinkled uselessly up at him. Picking the thing up, wary of the shattered glass, something stirred at the sight.
He'd seen them before. Blue butterflies. His mind flashed back to the masquerade. Christine's beautiful butterfly costume. An engagement ring – yet another butterfly. Had that been blue, too?
"Hey, did Erik have a thing for butterflies?"
"Why do you ask?" Nadir's voice sharpened, "Have you found something?"
"I just – Christine was wearing butterflies a lot. Her bloody ring even had one on it. Now there's this picture frame with them, with her portrait inside it. But it feels like more than a coincidence. Tell me I'm going mad here,"
"I had never thought of it," Nadir breathed, disbelieving, "I'm a fool - of course! I had never understood until now…"
"What? You mean that you know about this!" Raoul growled.
"Not until you've just mentioned it!" a mournful sigh echoed, "Oh poor, unhappy Erik."
"Spit it out man, the sooner we discover this mystery, the sooner we can get back to searching," Raoul turned baleful eyes on the curtains, following the floral pattern with distaste.
"He once said to me that he'd 'find his own butterfly' – I believe he thinks Miss Daae is 'the one'. The creature he can care for and keep safe," Nadir let out a bitter chuff, "He also said I'd never see her either. Guess he's right, he kept it a very careful secret,"
"But why a butterfly?"
"Does it matter? Erik is a complex man, it is unlikely we'll ever truly understand exactly what goes through his mind,"
Nodding absently, Raoul brushed a finger over one of the butterflies that was perched above a twisting flower. The butterflies had their own setting, four blue jewels making the wings. In the same style as the butterfly on her ring.
One of the butterflies was irritatingly out of place. Its legs failed to reach the flower it intended to land on, looking forever stranded. His thumb instinctively pushed the little creature, as if the metal would bend – but to his utter shock, the thing moved – with a small but delicate click – as it now sat unerringly on top of the flower, that moments ago had seemed just out of reach.
The hell!
Peering closer, he saw the flowers and butterflies, how some were in a similar position. Stranded from their flowers.
Swallowing, he called out, "Did Erik like making puzzles?"
Nadir huffed, "Is that a rhetorical question?"
"No. I think I've found a sort of puzzle of his. Picture frame of movable butterflies sound familiar?"
"Unfortunately not, but that sounds promising,"
"Any patterns he was fond of? Like sequences?"
"Not that I know of," Nadir harrumphed, "I suggest clockwise or anticlockwise,"
Raoul briefly closed his eyes, wishing that he'd gained more knowledge from this man in their brief encounter. Still, if Nadir who'd spent extended time in this man's presence, had very little knowledge of the eccentricities, then what could he have done?
I wish I wasn't so useless. If I had been there for her, if I had followed her home, just once, I could have prevented that madman from even taking an interest.
I could have protected her when I had the chance. How many times did I push away the pale face and withdrawn character? How many times did I put it towards that she was just depressed about something, not to pry when she dodged the topic? Or just assumed she was 'going through a rough patch'? Or foolishly hopeful enough to believe her excuse about sleep? Suddenly being allowed back into her life, only to have rushed calls or stilted coffee together – too relieved to stop questioning why? Or letting her go back to her apartment – all alone, isolated and perfectly vulnerable – after spending days together, with her too terrified to mention anything that had happened? Pretending that her paranoia was nothing to be concerned by. That a man's fall from the flies was just that.
How many times did I fail her!
Raoul gritted his teeth, staring at the damning evidence.
His fingers rose to the next butterfly and pushed down gently, but it was unmoving beneath his fingers. He moved to the next one. A shift and it clicked into place, now perched on the flower.
It was a frustratingly slow process, but eventually they all sat on their flowers. Raoul breathed a sigh of relief.
Fingers gripped the frame, whitening as silence reigned.
Thud; metal collided with his boot. Raoul cursed as it skidded away. He followed it.
Bending over, he took it in hand, and ran his finger over the metal. It was a key. Bronze, the length of his palm and the width of his finger. Turning it over, he eyed the engraving underneath the head of the key. Another butterfly.
"What was that? Are you hurt?" Nadir called.
"I found a key! There was a compartment in the photo frame," Raoul shook his head in wonderment. Is this what Nadir meant? When he said he was ingenious?
"Finding the door is now the issue," he said under his breath, eyes glaring at the drapes, "Now, where would a madman hide a door?"
"Are there any more butterflies in that room?" Nadir asked, "He'd keep an entrance with a similar motif. Just so he'd find it again, in case he couldn't,"
"Wouldn't he be too smart to forget?"
"Erik is complicated."
"That seems to be the answer for everything," he growled, glancing at the room. Four walls stared hopelessly back.
Christine licked her lips, salt acidic and tasteless. The things were chapped, despite the strategically placed lip-balm with a plastic blue case, which had appeared in the toiletries that she'd been given.
She couldn't remember if it had been there all along. Or, if rolling it between her fingers was the only way to pretend that she wasn't aware of the hairs prickling on her neck. That the nausea had returned when her feet had stepped back on land. That the cinched arm that was neatly arranged beside his, had stopped hurting.
He was still squeezing. When the doors had shut and the train rattled down the tracks. Was it Glasgow or Aberdeen – she hadn't bothered to look. What point was there?
It was a public thing; it actually felt odd to be on a platform. With people. Voices – that didn't whisper inane or insane things, and poked at a conscience slipping from grace, and bark so cruelly.
Or command so kindly.
To give up, and lean on the bony shoulder when offered. Head too heavy and heart too tired. To think. To choose.
It was loud. A baby wailed from the end, a black buggy tied with pretty plastic toys swaying back and forth. A pang of longing echoed in her heart, seeing the baby so distressed and a smaller, cruel part, hoping it would just go away and let her sleep.
When sleep was near, she felt the train judder and stop, and somewhere on the edge of feeling, was a gentle caress. Hardly there, imagined but for its tremor. Still, a sigh – happy, content, elated – that gave her heart a clench, a tear to the eye perhaps, the faint fracture of fingers against her scalp.
And somehow, his happiness just made her feel worse.
Anger was the first thing he smelled when his footsteps strode towards the house. 94 Penbrooke Lane. Perfectly respectable, high-rise house for a high-rise man. White walls and a dark green door that glinted under sunlight. A functional but boxy BMW parked on the drive. Practically new.
His fists refused to clench.
He's been worried sick about her, but it is about time he grows up and deals with the 'living' part.
Growling under his breath, Philippe shoved the key into the door and shouldered his way into the house.
"You're going to explain to me why you weren't at work again, today. And you are going to get off your lazy ass and stop moping! I cannot deal with it all by myself, and I certainly don't pay you to sit here and do absolutely –"
He halted at his bedroom door, mouth falling open.
Shit.
Paper scuffed as it tore from droopy blue-tac. Crumpling it in his hand. Knitting it into a ball.
He's going to get himself killed out there.
Raoul heaved a sigh, wincing with his bruised windpipe and wearily glanced around the room. The tomb's walls were truly hidden by the lace. It was wilted, as if from the lack of sunlight. A cheap mockery of sophistication. An unending stare of white.
The shush-shush of the lake's water had felt less suffocating, even with its concave ceiling that had hovered a few feet above him, let alone the eerie almost-quiet of his pulse thundering in his ears. The building was practically stacked upon a wobbly piece of ground, and this house had landed itself the main attraction, filled with thin hallways and even thinner walls.
Sweat beaded uncomfortably, trickling along the length of his spine.
Get a grip. It's only a virtually unknown home carved into stone and if you die down here, no one will discover you until they uncover your sunken skeleton.
He winced, fighting the urge to bolt out the door and sprint back to the boat. Christine is relying on you to find her. First Nadir, then Christine.
There was a flutter, and then his face was framed with a draft of air and he leaned into it greedily, its dampness notable.
A gasp caught in his throat when his eye caught movement ahead of him. Instantly, he gripped the key tighter, refusing to release it despite the slickness clinging to his palm.
Nothing appeared, no skeleton mask or automated killer-darts, no tell-tale click of a gun pressing against his forehead.
Nothing.
Raoul eyed the walls suspiciously, knowing his enemy could appear at will. One fake wall –
White!
The movement was there, against the wall. The lace! A lower segment hadn't been so tightly pinned and it rippled ever so slightly. From a draft, it seemed.
Pursing his lips, Raoul cautiously moved forward, unwilling to underestimate the lethal genius of the architect.
The lace itself was a combination of flowers and interwoven leaves, it reminded him of a veil. Peering closer, the section in which he'd thought were floral arrangements like the rest, were actually butterflies – mismatching the pattern that surrounded it. The butterfly piece extended about three feet across, and with a tug, revealed that despite its camouflage, the lace's edges revealed a faint line on the stone underneath that extended to the floor.
Could this be the door? It even has butterflies on it!
Unless this is just another trap?
Pursing his lips, Raoul searched the other side, mouth dropping when a forbidding keyhole was revealed under the layer of lace. He hovered his hand against the lock, eyebrows raising when a whistle of air escaped and brushed against his skin.
Well, that was the source of the draft.
"I've found the door!" Raoul coughed, wincing with pain. His head ached dully.
"Well done!" Nadir called, "Be careful, though, we don't know what awaits behind that door."
"I'll be careful," Raoul muttered, inserting the key and twisting it apprehensively. I've already underestimated the kind of situation I'd be dealing with.
There was a screech as moments later, stone grinded against stone, followed by a deafening ka-thunk, but all was still as the door remained unmoved.
Dismay simmered at the edges of his vision and his foot howled as he swung it against the rock rebelliously. Biting back a curse, Raoul shoved the wall, heart juddering when he felt it give way. Another shove and it groaned, pivoted at a speed he hardly registered until he twisted, lunging back to the safety of the room before he stepped into mid-air.
Damn!
His body collided against the wall, breath pulled out into a gasp.
"Raoul! Are you alright?"
Raoul groaned, "I wasn't expecting the sudden drop. You know, a little notice would have been nice,"
Nadir harrumphed, "I didn't know there was going to be a drop. Plus, I did tell you to be careful."
Raoul relented from rolling his eyes. Nadir, 'be careful' doesn't cover the sudden leave of the ground beneath your feet.
"I'm going to need a rope to get you out." Raoul pursed his lips.
"I getting the feeling that you didn't think to bring a rope down with you." Nadir answered meekly.
"I didn't think that I'd be hoisting you out of a ditch a hundred feet underground."
"Guess there's always time to review your expectations." the older man replied cheerfully.
Huffing, Raoul eyed the bed. A tired smile graced his lips.
At least Erik had left them with a way out. Even unwittingly.
Nadir grunted as he gripped the sheet, heart juddering as he wrapped it around his waist. He breathed heavily, jarring his foot in attempting to stand. Leaning against the mirror he signaled his readiness with a tug.
"You're lucky I work out," Raoul gritted out, as Nadir felt the vice grip of the sheet under his arms.
"I would have been able to lift myself had my foot not be broken," Nadir intoned, wincing as said foot jolted off the floor.
"Yeah well, you're even luckier I remembered the sailor knots Dad taught me when we went on spontaneous sailing trips," Raoul continued, letting out a hiss as Nadir moved up another inch.
"You're doing well, Raoul," Nadir couldn't help but groan when his foot bashed against the wall, and he steadied himself with his hands against the mirror.
Eventually, the top of the mirror came into sight – and they spent another minute resting, Raoul panting woozily as sweat dribbled across his forehead.
Nadir pursed his lips, taking in the disheveled sight of Raoul in, and suppressed the dangerous question that lurked in his mind.
Still, when Raoul had enough stamina to help Nadir through the home, the boy didn't utter a complaint. Nary a question as they traversed to the water's edge, grimness burning within him.
He was coiled. A decisiveness that struck Nadir, and who marveled at the queerness in the change of his companion. There was a subtle ferocious tick, that stalked with Raoul to the boat, and hissed as the vessel gave way into waters once more.
Nadir hadn't even tempted the boy with the suggestion of looking further into Erik's home; not when they had been both so lucky to escape with the rest of their bones intact. With skin still stuck to their spines. And with Raoul's current mood, Nadir was less inclined.
Raoul silently pooled them across the waters, lips pulled down into a scowl, even while Nadir could see his legs almost trembling.
He'd offer to steer, but having his leg propped up on the prow was all Nadir could stand.
Foot thumping impatiently against the shore, Jean glared across the lake, momentarily widening at the sight of the boat morphing from out of the gloom and the torchlight wavering in a foreign hand.
"You made it back," he narrowed his eyes, "I see you found your missing partner too. The Ghost not get you then?"
"Alas, I got caught in one of his traps," Nadir answered wearily, "And most likely snapped my ankle with it,"
Jean grimaced, and made a sound, "I suppose that'll teach you not to mess with the bugger. He's not to be taken lightly."
"We can see that." Raoul said steely, and then offered a palm to Nadir, as Jean also lent his aid.
Together, the two of them supported the injured party up to the ground floor, scuffing back through the wayward props and curious looks of the staff.
"Right, I'll call you a taxi. I'm sure you'll need to go to the hospital to get you checked out." Jean nodded gruffly and retrieved his phone.
Raoul scowled, and turned to Nadir.
"I don't think we have time. I need to find her, and I won't be doing that if I'm stuck in a hospital. I won't fail again, Nadir. I won't,"
"Hey, we will find her. If you want, I'll go to hospital – get this bandaged up – and you go back to the hotel. I showed you how to access her tracker, and how to figure out when it last updated her position," Nadir placated, at once used to Raoul's impatience and concerned about the slightly wild look in his eyes.
Raoul nodded, agitatedly rubbing his neck – but froze, wincing.
"Did Erik hurt you, Raoul?" sharply, Nadir reached up from his seat and tugged away the sash from Raoul's throat, his gasp stuck at the ring of familiar bruises that reached his eyes.
He'd felt that pain once, too.
Raoul hissed in pain, glaring at Nadir, "Yes, fine. He almost strangled me to death – and was the receiving end of my own gun! He used it to knock me out,"
Nadir's eyes flashed, "Why didn't you tell me sooner? You foolish boy, you could have concussion! And you need to make sure that your throat is checked out, in case it gets worse. They can be serious!"
"No. You can't tell me what I have to do. All I need to know is that Christine is safe, and then I'll go to her, and keep it that way!" he snarled, hushing only to avoid the suspicious look Jean gave them.
Nadir shook his head and sighed, "You are going to be in better shape to protect her if you are actually able to stand, and not die from a brain bleed or other internal injuries we had no idea about,"
The brows of the young man furrowed, and he exhaled slowly. Nadir could see the darkened circles that hung underneath his eyes, the slight tan that had paled under the strain of exhaustion.
The poor boy was worn thin.
"Look, she'll be at the safe-house now, or at least on the way. Far ahead of what Erik could manage in a night. An hour could be enough to set him off her trail for a day," Nadir assuaged, mustering a warmth which had long coated his conversations – back when a pair of fragile eyes had looked wonderingly at him, a headscarf of a mother who'd hush her words when his assurances dried up.
Raoul, despite the determined jut of his chin, was no more than a child, too.
The boy shook his head, slumped on the bench beside Nadir.
"You really think she got away? That I stalled for long enough – she'd barely got in the car before –"
"We cannot do anything but wait, Raoul." Nadir interrupted, reaching out wordlessly to pat the youth's knee, "You have managed to escape Erik alive, and enter his domain once, unscathed. That is no small feat."
Raoul stayed silent, brooding, as his gaze flittered to the figure of an angel mounted above.
His scowl deepened.
The hospital released them promptly two hours later, leaving Nadir with a splinted ankle and a pair of crutches. They had proclaimed Raoul had been lucky to escape the more lethal aspect of concussion, but to rest and return if he experienced any of the other symptoms. His throat had been probed with a series of tests, given medication for pain and been sternly told to rest it.
If I didn't know it better, Erik went easy on him. I'd never think that I would ever see the boy again.
Not when –
"Nadir, something's wrong," there was a husky tremor in Raoul's voice that sent a slice of warning through him, "It hasn't moved in hours. It should have moved by now,"
Nadir placed the cup back on the stand, "Bring it over here, let me see."
Rising from the table, Raoul brought the laptop over and settled it against Nadir's lap, eyeing his raised ankle with pursed lips.
"How is it?"
Nadir glanced down, the white cast glaring against the dull room, "It is manageable."
Inconvenient. Painful. Irritating, but I can still hunt.
Raoul silenced as Nadir peered at the screen, refreshing the page and wrinkling his nose when nothing appeared changed.
"It is…odd. It tracks changes. But you are correct, it should have moved by now." Nadir gritted his teeth against the mounting weight against his chest, pushing back the fear of failure and Raoul's steely countenance.
"He's got her. He's got her, I know it!"
"Calm yourself, we will not be able to make rational decisions if we descend into panic, nor will your voice heal if you shout,"
"We had one chance! One chance, and we've already made dozens – countless mistakes! Hours wasted. We have to go, now!" Raoul stormed to the bathroom, coming back with Nadir's toothbrush in his hands.
"We cannot leave unless we know where we are heading." Nadir remarked, zooming closer into the map where the red dot hovered. "She arrived in Rome safely, that much we know. Perhaps it fell off her? Perhaps she thought Erik had hacked into it, somehow?" Nadir paused, brow furrowing, "Maybe, she didn't want to be found."
Raoul froze, fingers ceased zipping up his bag.
"What did you just say?"
Nadir soothed the furrowed ridge between his brows, "It could be that she is warding us away. Perhaps she knew that Erik was close by, and knew that he'd work out how to find us? Or she has been so swayed she no longer knows who is on her side,"
"That's crazy! She wanted to be rescued, I've known her ever since we were kids!"
"And I know of what Erik is capable. He is a proficient killer, a man who knows the art of hypnotism, ventriloquy, participated in developing sorts of technology that is hard to even comprehend in the modern world. He is a genius, Raoul – and I –" he bowed his head, shame rifling through, "And I did nothing to stop his madness."
Raoul dropped into the room's only chair, resting his head in his hands, "Earlier you said she'd have gotten away. Now you're saying she hasn't,"
"I know. I was being optimistic, for our own sake. But in reality, Erik is the most difficult foe you'll ever meet. His only weakness is the fact that makes him so unwieldy now,"
Raoul raised his head, piercing eyes demanding an answer, "And what is that?"
"His weakness is Christine. But, it is also his strength. He will do anything for her – and I mean anything for her to stay at his side,"
"So what do we do? How do we find her, if she's not attached to the very thing that allowed us to know where she is!"
Nadir closed his eyes briefly. "We go back to the start. Hacking is the only way to work out where they are. Because if it is one thing I do know, Erik is good at running."
Why hello all! Your prodigal authoress has returned! ( I'm not dead yet! Ha.) I could list you numerous reasons why it has taken so long to arrive here, 7 months later, yadda yadda, but you've already probably guessed them all!
What I can say, is that I'm glad to be back. I have toiled with five drafts of the same chapter and this is the final version (whoo!). I hope you enjoyed the investigation skills Raoul ultilised, and who knew, kicking something with frustration can actually get you somewhere...XD
My many heartwarming thanks to all of the continual reads I've had, whether it's the old-timers coming back for a refresher, or my newer readers wondering why I haven't updated for a while, but devouring it anyway because it's a 100k + and worth the effort while unfinished. :) It's been so lovely to go back to my old reviewers and see all the thoughtful comments and how much that's been able to encourage me to continue.
Don't worry, my heart is on my fic. I love this baby with my whole two hands. Even if I can't post for a while, a need to write still creeps on me and so I write despite everything else!
You guys are amazing. I hope this brings you a measure of joy. :P
Your humble writer,
Enigma.
P.s a call out for my reviewers last chapter (my appologies for the wait!): Jenny-cjn, Marzz, Laurenvbellado, Landidie, Luxpop (thank you for joining the saga - welcome! ^^), DesertMama (lovely to have you once more! ^^) and LoreLorelei!
You are wonderful human beings, I cannot express how much your comments makes my heart ache so happily *kneels and opens arms with a sappy face *
Anyone else looking forward for phictober? ;)