The mask made his face severe, and forbidding. Without it, he could have been a gentleman with his elegant clothes and fine appearance.
He stood only a few steps in front of her. She felt pressed in and controlled by his presence. If her hands had been free, she would have beaten him back. Instead, she waited for his next move.
"Mademoiselle, if you promise me that you won't run out of this room, I will undo your bonds," he said casually. His voice was low and calm.
With her eyes fixed upon his she thought, So, this is my benefactor. The person who has been giving me gifts is a madman. Would the ironies of her life never end?
She had no choice but to comply and hope that acting rationally would save her. Bracing herself, she turned and offered her hands to him.
Slowly, he loosened the rope. He had wrapped the lasso around her hands, and tied the extra part about her waist. Slipping his fingers between the rope and her clothes, he tugged the rope free. She flinched at his touch and reflexively moved closer to the door. There were rope burns on her wrists from her struggle that were an angry red color. As he freed her, she slipped past him while rubbing her wrists.
Coiling the rope, he then neatly tucked it into a pocket in his cloak.
She watched him quickly put it away as if he had done it a thousand times before and thought, what kind of a man routinely carries a rope on his person? Then she remembered Pierre's tale. The madman had hanged one of the opera house staff in the middle of a performance. That thought raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
He was quietly looking at her and waiting.
As she glanced around the room that was stacked with crates, she gathered her wits about her. She needed to clear her mind. It was spinning with questions. How had he brought her here? And what had happened before this room? Why can't I remember?
He had spoken of her letter. She needed to know if he was her benefactor or a thief that had stolen it.
"Monsieur, you mentioned my letter. Would you please tell me what gifts you have recently given me?"
His cape fell open and revealed a finely tailored suit as he sat upon a nearby crate. Crossing his legs in a nonchalant manner, he answered her. "Mademoiselle, I gave you a book titled 'Jane Eyre' by Charlotte Bronte. I also gave you a salve that you used for the roan mare, as well as a cloak. The cloak is a light brown color, and was designed for you. It is made of cashmere. I hope you are enjoying it on these chilly nights. " Then he folded his arms across his chest, and raised his eyebrow as if he dared her to make another inquiry.
Jade wondered if the masked side of his face had an eyebrow as well. She pushed the thought out of her mind. She could only handle one disturbing idea at a time.
Turning away from her, he checked the lantern which had started to flicker. When he turned back to her, his face was deadly serious.
"There is an urgent situation in the stable. The new stallion has been badly injured. He will need intensive care for the next few days if he is to survive."
Her eyes remained on his. A memory was trying to push itself into her mind but there was a shut door that it couldn't get past. At that moment she began to feel queasy.
"I will bring you medicines for his wounds, and a tea that you will give to him as often as he will take it. He has lost a large amount of blood. You will find the items in this room in three hours time. In the meantime, give him as much water as you can. I will meet you at the stable after sunset."
He rose, and walked to the door. Turning towards her, he said with a commanding tone, "I do not want my presence to be revealed. I assume you will be keeping our meeting a secret. If you wish to keep the horse alive, you will need my help." He gave her a threatening look that warned her not to disobey him. "Take the first passage to the left and then the next one to the right. Go to the end and take the right turn. It will take you to the stable." Then he was gone.
Astonished, she sat in the storeroom for the next few minutes trying to comprehend what had just happened.
She had just had an exchange with the man who called himself the Opera Ghost. He was still in the opera house, and he had taken an interest in her. Why me?
There was no time to think about it. If he was correct, she needed to get to the stable fast.
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She was soon back at the stable. It was quiet and without human activity. Where was Rascon?
Approaching the stallion's stall, she couldn't see him. His stall appeared to be empty. Then she opened the stall door.
The horse was lying on his right side with a blanket covering him. The bedding around him was heavily stained with the dingy brown color of dried blood. He was breathing softly and unaware of her presence. As she slowly approached him, her stomach began to twist and knot. She removed his blanket and stared down at the many cuts and gashes on his body—his coat glistening with sweat. Suddenly her stomach heaved, and she quickly turned away to retch on the nearby bedding.
Finishing, she turned back to him. After studying the cross work pattern of wounds from the whip, she touched his side. At last, after all the time that she had spent earning his trust, she could finally touch him! Her eyes blurred as the tears spilled out. Blinded, she no longer saw him, but felt his warmth beneath her hand as she struggled to hold back the sobs.
A little later, while fetching a bucket of fresh water, she heard a moan from a nearby empty stall.
The man was lying on the bare floor with his shirt caked with dried blood. He was slowly returning to consciousness. It was Meley, the music director.
Jade stared at him. At first she didn't understand why he was there in that state. And then it came to her, and her mouth formed a hard line.
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Rascon was returning to work after a long lunch. It was close to one o'clock in the afternoon. His boy had been running a mild fever the last couple of days, and he had gone home to check on him. He'd had a pleasant meal with his wife and daughter. He liked his wife's cooking more than the opera café food, so he was in a good mood when he entered the stable.
Hearing a low moan, he pivoted around, and searched for the sound. When he found Meley in the stall, he cursed. Then he examined him. His left arm was torn from a bite that had bled badly. It looked like a horse had gotten him. The back of his head was tacky with dried blood. Rascon stood up and looked down the wide hall of the stable as if the answer was lurking near by. How the hell did he get into this stall?
There was only one horse in the stable that would have given Meley that bite.
He found Jade crouched next to the stallion as she spooned liquid down his throat. The trail of blood and the fallen whip told most of the tale. That fool Meley! Except for the part where Meley magically ended up in the empty stall. There were marks of blood on the stable floor between the stallion's stall and the other one. It looked like he had been dragged there. Rascon doubted that it was the stallion that had dealt the blow to his head. The rope marks on the horse's neck showed that it had been restrained. Somebody else was involved in all this.
He hated mysteries. He liked things cut and dried. Unsolved problems made his head ache.
"What is going on here?" he asked as he bent over the horse, and looked at its wounds.
Jade looked up at him briefly, and then continued to spoon the water into the stallion's mouth. "He was beaten by his owner. I found him like this a short time ago."
Glancing at her hands, he noticed the rope burns about her wrists. Then he looked sharply at her face. There were no other signs of trauma about her. "Did you see it happen?" he quietly asked her.
She turned to him and looked at him for a moment, and then turned away. There was confusion in her eyes.
A weak voice calling for help came from the other stall. Rascon turned on his heel, and went to assist the man.
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Jade walked back from the storeroom carrying the medicine that the man had promised her.
For the first time in her life, she felt out of control. Part of her was missing, lost in the time before the storeroom and the appearance of the stranger. Instead of her normal self confidence, there was uneasiness and a feeling of weakness. She hated it. She wanted to go back to the stable, get on a horse, and ride anywhere that took her away from this place and this sense of doubt.
It didn't make sense. Why did he bring her to that room bound and then return to free her and tell her that she was needed in the stable? Had seeing her conscious and aware stopped his plan? Was there even a plan?
She guessed that he hadn't wanted the encounter either. As casual as he had appeared, there was a hint of uneasiness while he silently watched her, as if he were waiting for a cue. He was being deliberate and careful. He didn't act like a madman.
She inwardly snorted at that. Exactly how many madmen have you known in your lifetime? Don't be a fool. He killed and kidnapped, and set the opera house on fire.
I've been called mad also. What did they know? she thought.
Mad or not, he had known enough to help the roan mare. For the sake of the stallion, she would trust him.
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Jade sat on a low wooden bench as she spoon-fed the tea into the stallion. The lantern that hung from the wall illuminated the stretched out horse and the still figure that bent over him.
Even in his ragged state, the stallion was beautiful. His head had been unmarred by the whip. In profile, he showed all the beauty of his breed: the delicate bone structure, the small head, and the large velvety nostrils that indicated his stamina. As Jade fed him the medicine her heart was wrenched by his quiet dignity as he lay there helpless. He had been beaten down by a cruel rule of life: humans had the right to kill and maim animals by virtue of owning them. The word slavery crossed her mind. Life was innately unjust and cruel.
Her own life had had an abundance of harshness—her mother's abandonment of her, the circumstances that had forced her from her home, Jean-Luc, and her need to isolate herself from people in order to protect her self. But in spite of all that, she had always been able to make intelligent decisions that gave her a measure of freedom and hope. She had always felt that she was in control.
Until now.
The sun had set an hour or so before. Rascon had gone home for his supper but would be back in several hours. He had spoken with DuChant who had agreed to allow Jade to stay in the stable for the next few days and care for the stallion.
As she dipped the spoon into the pot of liquid, her eye caught a movement to her right. He was suddenly there, silently crouched beside her. Inwardly she started but managed to keep her calm demeanor.
He had a salve pot in his hand, and was dabbing the medicine on the stallion's wounds. First he carefully wiped each wound clean of the previous salve and then he added the second one. He was next to her, scarcely a couple feet away. She could see the unmasked side of his face in profile. The lantern cast a yellow orange glow across his countenance. His expression was stern and focused, and he was ignoring her. His long legs in their black pants were bent under him, and his face was smooth, very masculine, and oddly youthful.
Jade moved a little further down the bench away from the man, and then returned to her task.
Shortly, she looked back at him, and watched his hands as he spread the salve. He had large hands with long fingers that were smooth and pale. They looked strong. He was being extremely gentle as he handled the wounds.
He finished, stood up, and turned to her. She rose and faced him.
"He has a good chance to survive. Give him the tea every two hours and use this to heal his wounds." He reached out and offered her the salve. There was an inscrutable expression on his face.
Jade stepped close enough to take the medicine from him. As she reached out for the salve, his left hand moved forward and he lightly rested his index finger on the rope burns of her wrist. She glanced at her wrist, and then looked up at him. He was looking down at her, staring intently into her eyes. He held her gaze for a long moment and then she felt something at her wrist. Looking down, she saw his fingers smoothly rubbing the salve over the rope burns with the same gentleness that he had applied to the stallion. He finished with one wrist, and then reached out for her other hand. She gave it to him without a thought.
When he had finished, she stared down at her wrist for a moment, and then looked back up into his eyes. He was watching her. She could almost hear his thoughts. She slowly blinked twice, and the spell was broken.
She backed away from him toward the stall door. Then she turned, and ran out of the stable.
Standing outside of the stable entrance, she caught her breath and then looked back. She half expected to see him behind her with the rope in his hands. But there was nothing there. Breathing deeply, she walked down the side street towards the main road. The stallion would be fine without her for the next couple of hours.
She walked towards the river. The night air hit her face, and wiped the sweat off her brow. Her tension gradually decreased as her shoulders began to relax.
For the next hour, she sat on a bench near the river, and mindlessly watched the water flow by. She wished that she could be something other than an emotionally stunted woman with strange and confusing feelings. She had to be stronger than that if she were to deal with a madman who was haunting her. Or maybe, he isn't mad at all.
She wasn't sure which was worse.
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Erik stepped out of the stall and watched Jade run away from him. He saw her pause by the entrance and then disappear.He covered the horse with the blanket, and left the stable.
It had been an eventful day. It was their first meeting, and in spite of the circumstances, it had gone relatively well. She had trusted him enough to return to the storeroom and get the medicine. And in the stable, she had remained near him as he worked on the horse. He had seen her watching him as he tended the stallion. He had enjoyed being near to her.
It was still early, so he decided to go for a stroll. Walking along the bridle path, he moved past the cedars and beyond. There would be no moon tonight so he was safe.
The rope burns on her wrists had bothered him. He could have suggested that she use the salve on herself, but it was more interesting for him to do it for her. He had wondered how close he could get to her, what she would allow. Her weakened state from the events of the day had made her vulnerable, and had damaged her normal barriers. He saw that when he looked into her eyes, and decided to use it to his advantage. She had let him touch her.
He smiled at that, and continued to silently stride down the path. The night air felt good.
He had overheard her conversation with Rascon. She would be spending the next two nights in the stable sleeping on a makeshift bed. There was a lovely throw in the props department that would do nicely for her new bed. He would retrieve it before going back to his home.
All in all, it has been a very interesting day, he thought with satisfaction.