Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I don't own POTO... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: ErikRaoul slash.
Warning(s): homosexuality (that's what slash is people)
Pairing(s): ErikRaoul
Author Note: Well, a one week turnaround isn't so bad. No one's reviewing! It makes me sad. T.T
Story Note: So much is going on. It's hard keeping track of everyone. Stupid too many characters doing too many things.
o.o.o.o
Imaginary Friends
Chapter 20 – Traitors
o.o.o.o
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt
o.o.o.o
Last time: The Comte de Montmartre gets the opera ghost's mask and orders Raoul and Erik to be killed. The kidnappers get their money. Erik gets angry (big surprise there) because even though Raoul asks the big question, Raoul still has absolutely no idea who he is. The managers get the note sent by Carlotta as the OG and they no longer trust the Comte. Erik and Raoul escape with the help of Philippe, who is shot in the end of the chapter.
o.o.o
Christine woke up suddenly. Her heart was racing. The specifics of the dream had already vanished, but the feeling had remained. It was dread. It felt as though she had been running for miles.
She was not sure if the dread was because of the Comte or because her angel still had yet to speak with her. The Comte made her nervous, but he was someone she could simply avoid. She had not only Meg's help in that situation, but it seemed like she would have the managers' help in keeping him away as well. That left the all too obvious absence of her tutor and angel to be the reason she was unsettled.
Speaking with Raoul yesterday had helped ease her worries somewhat. What if he was wrong though? Christine grinned. Raoul would never lie about someone's voice. She had thought he had been such a hateful little boy when they were younger. He would never praise her when she sang for her father and him. She sighed. She would miss his company. Things certainly would not be so complicated if he had remained the patron.
She wondered what he meant when he said that if it were his choice he would not be leaving. The only thing she could think of was that the managers had planned it. Either way, Raoul was probably more disappointed about his fiancé than the opera house. Now, that, if she could have helped him, she would have. She wondered if Meg was right and she should try again with him. She shook her head. It was too soon. Raoul had been very much in love with that woman. Anything after would certainly pale in comparison, and she did not want him to settle with her.
Sighing, Christine stood up. There was no way she could go back to sleep now. Too many things were running through her mind. Getting dressed, she headed towards the stage. They would not need her there until later in the day since the ballet corps always had morning exercises. Maybe she could speak with Meg. As Christine walked through the halls, she realized that she should probably speak with Madame Giry. Madame Giry had known about her tutor before she ever told anyone, and it was she who had been the first to tell her that her angel had been well pleased after Hannibal.
She hastened to the stage excitedly. There were very few individuals she passed in the hallway en route. Even when she reached the stage, she saw only a few ballet dancers. Christine had not realized how early it actually was. Madame Giry was there though doing her own stretches. Sometimes Christine missed being a chorus girl. It felt good to move her body through those motions. It was like flying. Her life as a singer was different. The motions were so stiff and minimal.
Approaching Madame Giry, Christine wondered how she would get her attention when Madame Giry stopped stretching to look at her. She had heard her approach.
Madame Giry had been waiting for this moment. Erik had been strangely silent these past few days, but more than just these few days. The opera ghost had been acting strangely ever since the Vicomte had become patron. First, there was the kidnapping of Christine and her sudden return. Madame Giry had been turning it over in her mind repeatedly. Why would he kidnap her yet keep his identity a secret? She knew that he would eventually grow tired of the ruse he kept with Christine as her angel. Perhaps, kidnapping her was not the strange part since the Vicomte had been encroaching upon Erik's territory. Instead, it was her return. Madame Giry had truly thought that Christine would never return to them. Christine had though, and the Vicomte suddenly was less forward about visiting her. In fact, the Vicomte had noticeably kept his distance away from Christine.
She did not know why she was so disturbed about the turn of events since everything seemed to settle after that, but Madame Giry wanted to know how. She wanted to know why. Erik was not being communicative about matters either way. He was changing, and she wondered if it was for the better. She could distinctly remember how he had acted when she had helped him escape. He had been desperate – almost as though he had a purpose, and later on, she found out that he did have a purpose. He had told her he was not going to stay at the opera house for very long. He had someone to go to, someone to find. Madame Giry had been surprised then; after all, how could the Devil's Child have someone to go to after being caged for so long?
Yet, he seemed to have lost that resolve and had remained all this time. As he lost his purpose, he lost all desire to live. He barely hung onto life those few months after he escaped. Actually, it had taken him years before he seemed to find a reason to live again and even then Madame Giry had seen him slowly dying inside, his mind become just as twisted as the passageways he roamed. No one deserved to live alone, but Erik had. It was why she had been willing to let him have a relationship with Christine. The child had been just as lost as Erik. Now, Madame Giry wondered if she should have encouraged Erik to leave all those years ago. Now that she was older, she could see how badly things would turn out. She knew Christine too well. She knew them both too well to believe anything between them would work out. Erik wanted to hide from the world, too bitter to believe anything it offered would be good. Christine thrived off the spectators' attention. She wanted to be noticed, to be seen, to be heard. She wanted to be flaunted in society. She wanted everything that Erik could not personally give her.
Maybe it was not too late though. Christine would surely break his heart. She would not react well to discovering her angel was a man shunned by society. The shock was surely enough to cause enough damage. Who knew if she could grow to love the man? Madame Giry almost wished that Raoul would take her away. That was no longer an option though. The Vicomte was gone and this new Comte was only more trouble. She knew it the first moment she had seen him walk in with Carlotta.
Christine stood there uncertainly. She did not know what to say, but just thinking about her angel mad at her made tears well up in her eyes.
Madame Giry looked around the stage before pulling Christine aside, "What is wrong?"
Christine shook her head and sniffled. "I don't know what to do, Madame Giry. My angel hasn't come to visit."
Taken aback, Madame Giry could not believe what she had heard. "Your angel hasn't spoken to you? Not tutored you?"
"No," she looked at her pleadingly, "Do you think he is displeased?"
Madame Giry automatically shook her head. They would all know when Erik was displeased. No, this was not about whether or not he liked her performance. This was something else entirely. The ghost would not miss speaking with Christine or contacting her after a performance. That was inconceivable.
Now that she thought about it, she had not seen him during the performance, but she was not always able to catch sight of him. Erik also had not given any indication about how he felt about the new patron. She had thought it odd at first, but with yesterday's performance, it had slipped her mind completely. If only there was a way to contact him, but practice was going to start soon. He could be anywhere in the opera house. It could take hours to find him and even then, if she did, who knew what mood he would be in if she disturbed him unnecessarily?
She feared that something bad was going to happen. Silence from the ghost usually meant he was planning something unpleasant.
"You were wonderful, Christine. You needn't worry about the angel's approval," Madame Giry tried to assuage her fears. "Perhaps you no longer need to be tutored."
Christine nodded, wiping tears from her eyes, "That's what Raoul said."
"Well, Raoul is a smart man," Madame Giry added.
She tried to calmly think about the situation. It was not odd for Erik to not contact her or to go into isolation, but he would not usually do so on a night that Christine was performing. But something about the Vicomte's absence followed closely by Erik's absence made her pause. It could be coincidence, but Madame Giry's instincts were telling her it wasn't – probably as much coincidence as the Comte arriving and the Vicomte suddenly wanting to leave.
She saw that it was time to begin practice. Offering her support to Christine again, she suggested, "Practice is starting soon. Would you like to have a little exercise?"
Christine looked back towards the other girls. Meg was there watching her worriedly. It would be nice to run through the motions again; she had grown up doing ballet, it would be nice to stand by Meg and pretend that everything was all right.
"That would be nice," Christine replied walking back with her.
As they were crossing the stage, a chorus girl screamed as one of the backdrops suddenly fell. Everyone scattered.
o.o.o
On the ride home, all of Raoul's energy seemed to disappear. Only fear and desperation drove him forward. It dawned on him that Philippe could actually die. A small part of him that had stayed from childhood always thought that Philippe was invincible. His brother laughed pain away as though it truly did not hurt. There was no laughter right now. Raoul's throat constricted and his breaths came in short gasps.
He can't die. Raoul said desperately to Erik. Please, don't let him die.
He's strong. Erik replied, and he was so certain that Raoul almost believed him. He'll fight to stay alive.
He swallowed through the lump in his throat and focused on getting them home.
With his free hand, Philippe had grabbed onto one of Raoul's, but that grasp was growing weak. Somewhere near the estate, Philippe had slumped forward on the saddle. Raoul barely caught him before he slid off the horse. He was having trouble directing the horse and keeping Philippe steady. Raoul worried that they would not make it in time.
"Philippe. Stay with me."
His brother groaned, but gave no indication that he had actually heard Raoul. Panic was settling in and Raoul spurred the horse faster even though he wanted to make the trip as painless as possible for his brother. However, he knew that they were running out of time. Philippe was losing a lot of blood.
"Brother," Raoul spoke more to himself. He hated how his voice cracked. "Don't die. Please, don't die."
It felt like forever before Raoul made it home. The front door was already open and Raoul could see that not only the butler was waiting, but everyone else was standing near the entrance watching him ride up.
"He's been shot," Raoul yelled when he was certain they would understand his words.
The butler and gardener rushed out to meet him.
As gently as he could, Raoul handed his unconscious brother to them before dismounting himself.
He babbled, "He was shot as we were escaping. It hit his stomach I think. I couldn't really see."
The oldest maid caught him before he could follow the men and his brother into the sitting room. They placed him near the fire and he looked desperately at them from a distance.
The woman grabbed his arm tightly, "There's nothing you can do for him right now."
"But," Raoul protested, "I could be there beside him."
There was a flurry of movement. Maids were bringing blankets and bandages. They moved around them with quick efficiency.
"Warm water. Towels. A knife," the butler yelled out orders and the other maids were quick to respond.
"You need to clean yourself up first," the maid replied, pulling his attention away from the butler tearing off Philippe's shirt. His brother moaned and Raoul almost yanked his arm away from her.
She continued, "There's a bath prepared and when you're done with that you can come back."
Raoul shook his head. "I need to be here." He stared past her at his brother. He was not moving.
You need to listen to her. Erik's voice snapped him out of his stupor. There's nothing you can do for him right now.
But, Raoul did not even want to voice the fear, what if he dies when I'm upstairs?
Erik paused. He won't. He'll wake up. You'll see.
The maid reached a hand up to his face and he flinched at first but held still. She wiped his cheeks, wiping away tears he had not even known he had been crying.
"Just like when you were little," the maid thought aloud, "Your brother used to wipe most of your tears for you. He'll be angry to hear that he's the cause of them right now."
Raoul sobbed before wiping away his tears. He could not speak.
"You're cold," she commented, "The Comte would hate to see you fall ill. Warm up first."
Cold? Raoul had not even realized that he was cold.
She's right. You were in the cold for a very long time.
Raoul nodded numbly. "I'll be right back. Please call me if something happens."
He raced upstairs, taking two steps at a time.
Be careful, Raoul. Erik warned. You don't want to hurt yourself.
Raoul ignored him for now. He wanted to take a bath and get back downstairs as fast as possible. All he needed to do was rinse himself and change his clothes.
He winced when he pulled off his jacket. His shoulders hurt still. His shirt was stained with blood. He frowned. It was both the ghost's and Philippe's blood. His hands were covered in blood as well. He tried wiping some away but it only smeared it. They had been trying to help him. He was the cause of their injuries. The wave of guilt actually took his breath away. Raoul leaned against the nearest wall, squeezing his eyes shut.
Why am I so weak? Raoul sobbed. He could no longer control it. Everything was happening too quickly. How did things come to this? How?
Bad people. Erik replied, You aren't weak. This isn't your fault.
How is it not my fault? Raoul pleaded with Erik to enlighten him. I was stupid enough to get into that carriage. I put myself unnecessarily in danger.
They wanted to help you, Raoul. The people at fault are the kidnappers and the one who sent them.
Raoul was not convinced, but he knew that just crying would not accomplish anything. The thought of Philippe downstairs barely clinging onto life spurred him onward. Removing the rest of his clothing, he quickly stepped into the bath.
o.o.o
The Comte entered the manager's office confidently. The Vicomte and the pesky ghost would be or rather had been taken care of. He did not so much trust the kidnappers as he trusted his reputation and himself. If they did fail him, he would find a way to kill them and then deal with the Vicomte and his accomplice himself.
Andre and Firmin were waiting for him. Firmin perched atop of Andre's desk.
"Comte," he greeted and indicated the chair in front of the desk, "Good morning."
Pierre sat down. The managers did not look as happy as he expected them to. After all, he had given his word that the Vicomte and the ghost would be dealt with by morning. If they thought him to be a liar, then there would be problems between them.
"Good morning, Msrs. Is everything well with you?"
Firmin and Andre had decided not to tell the Comte about the note from the ghost. They would wait to see what the man was planning. If this were some ruse just to make them believe that he was doing something in return for the demands he was making now as patron, then they would have proof of his lies. However, this ruse would be dangerous. They would have to worry about both the Comte and the opera ghost. At least, they knew that Carlotta was willing to help them out if need be.
The managers had sent a servant to secretly spy on the Vicomte's house earlier, and upon his return, they learned that the Vicomte was absent. So, maybe the Comte had done half his job. Half their deal was not enough though.
"We are well. We were just discussing the new demands you made the night before," Andre said.
Firmin fought not to roll his eyes. "We were told by La Carlotta that you did not care to have the power of casting our singers. We still need to discuss the details with you, but before business, how are you this morning?"
The Comte smirked. He was not very worried about the managers. They were easily dealt with. After all, he had given them the one thing they had wanted most.
"It is a pleasant morning indeed. I have gotten rid of the ghost."
As he spoke the last sentence, someone began to pound on the door. Before they could react, the door was opened. It was a stagehand.
"Sorry for the intrusion, but chaos has erupted onstage."
The managers shared a look with each other before racing out of their office, the Comte close behind. It was as the managers feared. The ghost was not pleased. It had been waiting for them to relax before he decided to terrorize the opera house once more.
Firmin asked as they raced through the halls, "What has happened?"
The stagehand was out of breath, but his answer was clear, "First a backdrop fell and we all thought it was an accident since it was so early in the morning. One of the workers probably too tired. However, the curtain itself suddenly fell, nearly took out some dancers."
Before they even reached the stage, the screams of the ballet girls could be heard. The managers could only wonder 'what now?'
The stage was truly chaos. Chorus girls were running around. The stagehands were trying to get everything settled, but half of the right wing curtain was still perilously dangling. The other curtain had fallen to the floor already; various workers were trying to drag it off the stage so that no one would trip over it. Madame Giry was trying to herd the girls away, but with morbid fascination, they stayed waiting for something else to happen.
They did not have to wait very long. As the other half of the curtain fell and the managers were yelling to get everyone's attention, sheep suddenly walked onto the stage. Their unhappy bleats and livestock smell filled the air while their keepers scrambled to get them under control. However, with all the ruckus, the sheep became frightened and began to run away from them. The managers and stagehands tried to help, but all they really ended up doing was running into each other. The chorus girls were laughing at them. From the sidelines, the Comte observed them for a moment before realizing that if he wanted something to be done properly, he would have to do it himself.
He joined the fray and quickly caught one of the sheep before it wiggled its way out of his arms.
o.o.o
Carlotta opened her door and leaned out of the room to listen to the faint sound of screams. She had seen several people running down the hallways just to get to the stage. She had heard that even the managers and the new patron were there trying to contain the chaos.
Smiling, she returned to her room making sure to shut it behind her. Everything was working perfectly. It had been difficult and dangerous, but with a knife and some well-placed cuts on ropes and loosening of knots, things had turned out nicely. She had actually wanted the backdrop and curtains to fall later on in the day when there were more people there to witness it, but now wasn't too bad either. The animals however had finally found their way onto the stage. She had released them earlier leaving a trail of their food to the stage. She was glad to hear that they had made it safely to the stage.
She dropped back onto her chair and sat up straight immediately. Something was poking her back. The only thing there however was the Comte's jacket. Picking it up, she looked through the pockets. She gasped when she found the porcelain mask.
Had the Comte actually succeeded in capturing and killing the ghost?
Then, it had to mean that the Vicomte had actually been cohorts with the ghost. She scoffed. Of course, that was why the Vicomte was so against her singing. It was all so clear now.
Carlotta realized that this was an opportunity that she could not pass up. Pierre was already cheating on her. Her career was at stake. New plans were forming in her mind.
She practiced a cough. Shaking her head, she tried to make it sound more convincing. When she made her cough sound believable enough, she crawled back into bed and waited for her attendants to come and see her ill.
The opera ghost would make an appearance once more.
o.o.o
Erik forced the horse to go as fast as possible. The kidnappers' trail was clear for now, but the edge of the cemetery was coming up rather quickly. If they reached the main road, much of his tracking would be guesswork.
"They're going to die," he muttered to himself. It was a mantra that made him feel better.
They had hurt Raoul. They had kidnapped him when Erik had been so close to taking what was rightfully his. Then, they had shot Philippe.
Erik did not know what to think about Raoul's brother. He remembered Philippe from that night when he took Raoul away from him. Erik had hated Philippe with all his might at the time. He had hated him for everything he was and Erik was not. He hated him for being the one to take Raoul away. He hated him for the fact that even though Raoul was trying to tell him to come back, he had not moved. He hated him for being Raoul's brother.
With time, Erik had eventually stopped hating Philippe. It was inevitable really. He convinced himself it was fate that had torn them apart. Raoul had been the one to call out for Philippe. How could Erik be mad at the child for calling out to his family? Raoul's main goal had been to find them. It had been Erik's selfish plan to simply take him. Erik could not even be angry with Philippe for not having tried to help Raoul reach him. He had been unmasked at that point. His face was enough to scare anyone away – anyone but Raoul. And now, he could not even be envious that Philippe was related to Raoul because what Erik felt for Raoul was far from brotherly.
To think that the Comte, Raoul's brother, would help him escape. Raoul had already been out of the mausoleum. Philippe could have easily taken him and gone. Sure, Raoul would have struggled, but he had heard no struggle. Philippe had willingly helped him escape, and then he offered his house to him. Erik could not believe it. He certainly could not understand what was going on through that man's head. One thing was certain, Philippe knew who he was. There was no way that he had invited him to the estate thinking he was the opera ghost. The man knew his past and still invited him. What could that even mean? Was it pity that drove Raoul's brother to the offer? He doubted pity was that strong enough of an emotion for that much kindness.
Philippe had even protected both he and Raoul from the bullet. And as much as Erik would like to deny the fact that Philippe had indeed tried to protect him as well, there had been no regret in his eyes that he had taken a bullet for both of them. It had happened so fast that Erik had not even had time to react properly to the shot; yet, the Comte did and still took charge of the situation.
Erik hated to be in debt to people. It was easier to think of it as a favor than to accept it for the kindness it was. All Erik knew was that he had to make things right. He had to make it up to both Raoul and Philippe.
He was forced to slow down for a moment when he came to a point where there was more than one set of tracks. Cursing, Erik looked for any sign as to which way they could have gone. He was about to choose left when he heard a yell from the other direction. He quickly redirected his horse before racing down to catch up with the kidnappers.
He was close. He could feel it.
And there. In the distance, he could see them.
He snapped the reins. His face was numb in the cold air; the bandage covering his face was beginning to loosen. His legs were cramping. But even so, his hands felt warm, and it was all because of his pinky. Raoul. He had to go back to Raoul as soon as he could. He had made a promise. Raoul had initiated another promise between them, and Erik would do everything in his power not to betray Raoul's trust in him. There were so many things to do in the meantime though. The kidnappers and then the Comte. What would he do to them? There were so many options. So much that he could do. Then there were the managers who he would have to deal with next. They were all keeping him away from Raoul.
But this was one step closer to him.
The kidnapper that was riding uncomfortably in the back turned around and spotted him.
"It's the ghost. He's found us. Go faster," he yelled at his partner.
His partner could only dig his heels into the horse's side. However, he knew that there was no way to escape now that they had been caught. Two men on a single horse was simply too much weight to carry and from the sound of the hooves behind him, he knew that the ghost was catching up rather quickly.
"Hurry," he saw the ghost approaching ever closer. He tightened his hold on his partner.
Erik was close. He was behind them and closing the distance quickly. His mind was clear of everything but of catching them.
The kidnapper holding the reins knew he had to make a decision quickly. If the rumors about the ghost were true, death would be a gift if the ghost got his hands on them. He yanked the reins to the left quickly heading off the path and through the forest. He knew he had seen a house somewhere in this direction. His partner almost fell off, but clung to him tighter.
Erik followed as they veered left. It did not matter. It was only a matter of time before he caught them.
The kidnapper aimed towards the fence. He knew his partner was looking over his shoulder consistently. He did not bother to warn the man as the horse leapt over it. Losing his grip, his partner fell backwards off the horse hitting the floor rolling a few feet. He looked dazed and hurt, but he was still alive.
Erik was too close behind them to slow down. His horse plowed into the man on the floor without missing a step. He heard rather than saw the sickening crunch of bone as the horse trampled him before jumping over the fence. Erik winced and spared a glance backwards. The man was certainly dead, but just as certain as that fact, Erik knew that his partner had done that intentionally. He scoffed. The remaining kidnapper was willing to sacrifice his partner to save himself. Well, it would not matter how they died. They would certainly die at his hands.
Although it took more time, Erik was able to catch up to the man. Riding astride him, it was only a simple matter of pushing the man off the horse. When he did fall, his horse continued running without once looking back. Erik could not help but see the irony in it.
Turning his horse around, Erik dismounted and approached the dazed man.
"You and I are going to have a good time," he promised.
The kidnapper looked up to see the bandages falling off Erik's face as the ghost towered over him. He screamed.
o.o.o
It took quite some time and a lot of effort before things calmed down. Backdrops and curtains stopped falling. The sheep had all been caught. The ballet girls were no longer screaming – or laughing at them.
The managers and the Comte were in the middle of the stage bent over and out of breath. Various workers were near them.
"Now," Firmin started. He was out of breath. His clothes were in disarray, but he did not bother to try to fix it since everyone else was in a similar situation. "We need to get this cleaned up."
He indicated the stage. The stagehands worked to bring the backdrop back up.
"Everything is alright," Firmin tried to calm them.
Just as he said the words, a loud rip was heard. Above their heads, an incision had been made into several sandbags. No one had noticed the slow trickle of sand from them in all the chaos. However, as the backdrop had been pulled up, the movement jarred the sandbag enough so that they split open completely.
A shower of sand came down onto the stage falling directly on the managers, Comte, and the workers.
When the dust cloud settled, a note was the last to flutter down.
The Comte dusted himself off and angrily picked up the note. It had written on it one single line.
Welcome to my opera house, Comte. -OG
He narrowed his eyes.
Firmin whispered to Andre while the Comte was distracted, "Prepare the ghost's papers. I'll speak with the Comte."
Nodding, Andre slipped away, brushing sand off him as he went.
Firmin approached the Comte carefully; the man looked absolutely incensed.
Before he could speak, the Comte faced him and said, "I'm being sabotaged."
Madame Giry watched from the sidelines. This seemed like the work of the ghost, but something felt wrong. She looked around at the stage, but did not see anything or anyone for that matter. However, she found another note.
Picking it up, she approached Firmin and the Comte. Holding it up, she stated, "There's another note."
o.o.o
Raoul's bath had been quick not only because he wanted to be near his brother but also because he could not stand the sight of the blood-tainted water.
He rushed back downstairs with a towel still in his hands. His clothes were barely on. The bath had only alerted to him of the fact that he was in fact still cold. He ignored the chill in favor of seeing his brother though.
When he entered the sitting room, the butler and the oldest maid were the only ones inside. It was quiet; the only sound was the logs in the fireplace crackling. He slowly approached them.
"Is he…?" Raoul looked at Philippe's still form.
The butler turned around and smiled, "He's asleep for now." He didn't mention the fact that Philippe had been unfortunate enough to come back to consciousness when the butler had been digging into his abdomen to retrieve the bullet or that he'd stayed awake long enough to experience the cauterization of his wound.
Philippe had managed to swallow his screams though knowing Raoul was still in the house. Thankfully, he had passed out from the pain.
Raoul lowered himself on the floor beside him. He reached out a hand and brushed Philippe's hair away from his face. He needed to make sure his brother was still here with him.
He's alive. Raoul sighed with relief.
Erik smiled. Of course he is. He still has a little brother to protect.
Raoul allowed himself a small grin.
The maid broke the silence, "Where is the ghost?"
Raoul looked up at her and frowned, "He went after them."
"The kidnappers?" The butler asked.
Raoul nodded and took Philippe's hand into his. They were a little cold so Raoul worked hard to warm it.
"He'll be back though," Raoul said before they could ask any more questions, "He promised."
o.o.o.o
End Chapter 20
Word count: 5,520
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A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Chapter review: Man, this was definitely a building chapter. You know, climbing the mountain before you reach the precipice. Damn, will everything go to hell when it does. Hope you enjoyed. Uh, realistically, who knows if you can really time all those 'accidents' to occur like that, but for the plot… they did. Let's just say that Carlotta has really good luck.
Author review: Shorter chapter, but still a lot of action. The next chapter's going to be crazy though.