Child of Freedom

Chapter 11- The Deal

A/N: Just so everyone knows, when there are 2 dashes, it means it's still the same person's perspective; I've just skipped a few minutes. When there is one dash, it means it's a different person's perspective.

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"No," I sobbed over Erik's chest. "Erik, please," I begged him. "Please, don't go." I was soaked in his blood. It was all over the beautiful dress that he had bought me, and all over me. I didn't care.

I didn't even notice the men until I was surrounded with swords pointed at my throat. I looked up and turned around, wondering what was going on. Then I saw M. Didier among the men, and behind him, a tight-lipped Pierre.

I narrowed my eyes at him. He seemed to shrink under my gaze. One of the men grabbed me and tied my hands behind my back.

"You," I spat. "You bastard!" I screamed and kicked as I struggled in the soldier's iron grip. "I'll kill you for this!" Pierre's face turned ashen at my words. "Do you hear me!" I screamed. "I'm going to kill you, if it's the last thing I do!" Then I saw that they were picking Erik up and carrying him towards the exit.

"YOU BASTARDS!" I screamed at them. "Leave him alone!" I kicked and struggled, but received a blow to the head that knocked me unconscious.

--

When I came to, I was shaking all over. At first I thought I was sick. Then I realized it wasn't me. I was in a covered wagon and was being carted away to who-knows-where.

I carefully turned my head to look around me. I didn't see Erik. I sat up and a wave of nausea hit me. I had to steady myself before I could move around. The ceiling was low, and around me there were wooden crates, each marked with a red x.

I was about to try to open one, when the cart stopped moving. Before I had time to react, the doors were swung open. Two guards came in and grabbed my arms. I tried to kick them in the nuts (that always seems to work in this century. Glad there aren't any female guards. Then I would have a hard time of it.), but they saw it coming, and avoided it.

I was dragged towards an enormous mansion that reminded me of the Whitehouse in the US. I remembered that the Whitehouse was burned down in the war of 1812. That was long ago. The two guards dragged me inside and threw me down on the floor.

"Why are her hands not tied?" An angry voice asked. I stood up in time to see a guard near me come forward with a rope. I kicked him in the crotch, and he fell down. Two more guards grabbed me by the shoulders and held me while a third tied my hands behind my back.

"We are sorry, Master," one guard said. I looked up and saw who they were talking to.

There was a man in front of me, and he was dressed all in black. His skin was a dark brown color, and his hair was black. His eyes were...nothing. There was absolutely no color to them at all. They were completely white. I thought that perhaps he was blind.

"Finally," The man murmured. "Now I get to meet you face to face." He took a few steps towards me.

"Who the hell are you," I began. "And where is Erik?" My voice rose slightly when I thought of Erik's still, pale, form. He was normally quite pale, but he had become even paler due to such a dramatic loss of blood.

"Me?" He asked. "My name is of no consequence. However, you can call me Master, or you can call me Monsieur. The choice is yours. To answer your second question, I have absolutely no idea what my associate-" Here he gestured to M. Didier. "Did with him. You'll have to ask him that," he paused. "Now I get to ask a question." He said, and he rubbed his hands together like an eager child.

"Who are you, and why did you kidnap the Hidden One?" He asked.

"My name is of no consequence." I mocked. "As for your other question, I have absolutely no idea who you're talking about."

"This," the man replied, "Is what I am talking about." And he gently lifted a baby out of a bassinet.

"Lynaea!" I cried. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why did you take her?" I demanded. "She doesn't belong to you."

"On the contrary," the man said. "She does." He held Lynaea in his arms and rocked her a little.

"She is the daughter of my late sister. The child's father, Isaac Gregoire, was a drunkard, and right before she died, my sister made me promise not to let him have the child. You see, the man has a bit of a problem with children," he paused. He seemed to be searching for the right words. "He-how shall I put this? He loves children, if you get my drift. And his own daughter would be no exception. I did what my sister asked and hid the child away under the supervision of M. Rouleau, M. Didier, and your friend, Pierre. They are my most trusted servants, and would die for me. Although, should it come to that, they wouldn't have a choice." Here, he smiled at M. Didier and Pierre.

"And you expect me to believe that?" I asked incredulously. Then I had an idea. "Alright," I said. "If you're telling the truth, prove it to me."

"I don't have to prove anything to you," he replied, putting Lynaea back in the bassinet.

"Then I'll report you to the police," I replied.

"Go ahead," the man replied, smiling. "I own the police. Literally."

I was taken aback. "What?" I asked, confused.

"Now it's time for you to answer my question," the man began. "Who are you and why did you steal my niece?"

"First of all," I said. "I didn't know that she was your niece. Pierre told me about the Chosen, and I assumed that she had been abandoned by someone. He never mentioned that she belonged to anyone."

"Of course he didn't" the man said matter-of-factly. "He had orders not to should a problem arise. The child was only to stay there until I was sure that her father was not looking for her."

"And second of all," I continued. "I won't tell you who I am until someone tells me where Erik is."

"Gentlemen?" The man asked, turning to M. Didier and Pierre. I turned to them also.

"Well," M. Didier began seemingly proud. "We had him taken to jail for his crimes. He will be put on trial as soon as his wounds heal. They weren't as bad as the idiot next to me said." He jerked his head in Pierre's direction.

"Hey!" Pierre protested.

I frowned and said, "He's right, Pierre. You are an idiot. I actually had thought that you trusted me, and that we were friends." I smiled cruelly. "I won't go back on my promise to kill you," I said. "Of that, you can be certain."

"Well, now that your question has been answered, you can tell us all who you are." The man smiled. It wasn't necessarily an evil smile, just peculiar. It seemed almost supercilious; as though he knew something I didn't and was just dying to tell me what it was.

"My name is Rebecca Lawrence." I said. "I am nineteen years old, and I worked for m. and Mme. Rouleau for several months before this whole fiasco began."

"Good," the man said. "I am somewhat satisfied with your answer, but not completely." He pointed to Pierre. "This man here mentioned that he overhead a conversation between you and this, Erik person. He said that he heard you talk about the twenty-first century, and a time machine. Perhaps you can explain your reasons for doing this." He smiled.

"No." I said flatly." I can't tell you that."

"Oh, come on, now," the man coaxed. "Sure you can. You have nothing to fear from me or my men."

"That's where you're wrong," I said. "I have everything to fear. You control the police-so you say- and if that's true, then you can very well inflict serious damage to a person. Besides, that's none of your business." I struggled against my bonds for a moment.

"Yes, it is my business," the man corrected.

Suddenly, and idea came to me. "Alright, Monsieur," I said. "I will tell you the meaning. But first, you have to do something for me."

"I'm open to new ideas," he replied. "I love to barter."

"I'll tell you what I meant when I said that, -and I don't deny saying it-if you give Erik amnesty." If my hands hadn't been tied behind my back, I would have crossed them over my chest.

"I'm afraid I am not familiar with that term. I, myself, have never been a political person." He smiled, showing his white teeth. He seemed to like smiling.

"It means that you will get the authorities to grant Erik a pardon." I was shaking with nervousness. "You won't let them imprison him, and you certainly won't let them kill him." I clamped my lips shut to keep from crying. Just speaking the thought aloud made me want to burst into tears.

"And how exactly am I supposed to do that?" The man asked. "As I recall, he's wanted for murder in several countries, -including France-he kidnapped a young soprano several moths ago, and he stole thousands of Francs from the owners of the Opera Populaire."

"I don't care how you do it," I said. "So long as no harm comes to him."

"Why is it, exactly, that you feel the need to save him?" The man asked. "After all, for all you know, once you tell me the reason, I may want you executed."

"I suppose it's possible," I said in return. "But unlikely. My main thought is that you'll need me just so you can get even more filthy rich than you are now."

"Although it may seem to you that I am a man who hoards wealth, I am not." He said. "I was born to a servant maid, and when my mother died, her employers, who were kindly people, took in myself and my sister and raised us as their own. They had no children of their own, and could never have children due to medical circumstances."

He sighed and sat down in a plush armchair. Then he motioned for the guards to untie me. Perhaps he had realized that, with so many men, I wasn't much of a threat.

"When the rich couple died, they left everything to me. My sister still lived with me at the time. They didn't leave it to her because she was younger, and the custom is that the elder would get the fortune." He smiled sadly.

"Will you do it?" I asked him. "Will you grant him clemency?"

"So many political words!" He exclaimed in jest and sat down. He sighed wearily. "Very well," he said. "I will see what I can do, but I can't promise you results. I may own the police, but I don't own the governor of Paris, and it is he who is the judge residing over all trials of importance."

"Thank you," I said, relieved. I just prayed that he would keep his word. For Erik's sake, I prayed for a miracle.

A/N: I hope you liked that. I'm going to start a V for Vendetta story, but I'm thinking of posting it after this one is finished. It would make things a little less stressful. As well, I want you, the readers, to review and tell me if you think I should continue with one or both of my stories called, Me and My Muses, and Planet of the Opera. Review and let me know!