DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 17
"You are both welcome at the chateaux, Erik, you know that."
Raoul and Christine had just come by to visit and Erik had to get used to seeing them together; he realized that it was probably a good thing for him to see – the reality of it would help any healing that was yet to be done.
Erik had his back to them when Raoul spoke and it took a great deal of effort to keep his back from becoming rigid and a scoff from escaping his lips. He spoke softly, but quite forcefully,
"You will forgive me, viscount, for not accepting your invitation. It is just too awkward." Erik turned his head slightly – allowing a brief glimpse of his white mask, "I have accepted that she chose you, who can blame her; but I would rather not have to be exposed to it every moment of my life."
Christine cringed at his words. The self-loathing was painful to hear and even worse to see; although he had accepted their marriage and love for each other, it would be harder to convince him that she loved him also, in a different way, and wanted the same for him.
"Then you will stay here, Erik…there is plenty of room."
Annette would not hear of Erik and Tarrah spending their days in the hotel, wasting money on such things. There were plenty of unoccupied flats in the opera house; he and Tarrah could stay in one of them.
"Annette, I appreciate what you are trying to do; but I assure you, there is no need."
Truth be told, Erik didn't want to stay in the opera house. It called to him from the walls and depths – he was fighting the urge to seek out his old home and see what had become of it.
"Tarrah will be happier in the hotel and I believe that I will be, too."
Annette was fighting her own battle. Erik was back, and she wanted him close. He had agreed to write a couple of new operas while he was here; and allow them to be performed in the Populaire. He would wave his fee and allow his name to be advertised in association with the operas.
He and the two managers had been up for several house last night; talking and bartering until the wee hours of the morning had begun to fade and tiniest glimpse of dawn shined through the trees.
Erik sensed her unease and went to her; he broke all tradition and past behavior patterns, and wrapped her in his arms, giving her the hug she had thought never to receive.
"Annette, I am not going anywhere – alright – I will be here for some time, at least until this situation is resolved."
She turned from him, after he had released her, and sat down. She picked up her knitting and the quiet sound of the needles sliding together was soothing and domestic.
Raoul and Christine proceeded into the room and took a seat on the Queen Ann sofa. Raoul lopped his arm over the back of Christine, ready to pull her into him; but Christine gently pulled from him, not wanting to alienate Erik any further; she really had to find the time to talk to him.
Thankfully, Raoul understood and settled for holding her hand. He glanced up and saw that Erik was not even watching them, but was intently watching Annette knit something in a bright display of blues.
"Does the name Pieter Mallory mean anything to you?"
Raoul had decided it was time to find some answers to some questions he had been dying to ask for a couple of years.
Erik had not been pale for three years now, the sun had kissed his skin and he looked healthy and robust; but at the mention of Pieter's name, he went as white as a sheet.
"Where did you hear that name?"
He had not meant for his voice to sound so demanding or panicked, but he had hoped never to hear that boys name again.
"He is the one they apprehended in conjunction with Piangi and Carlotta's deception…" Annette stated, looking deeply into Erik's eyes and seeing a glimmer of recognition in his eyes. "…you do know him."
They could see it in his disturbed eyes and hear it in the way he sucked his breath in suddenly and forcefully.
"How do you know him?"
Erik moved to sit beside Annette, but his eyes remained decidedly fixed on his gloved hands. He had not made the connection when Annette had mentioned Carlotta and Piangi's son in her letter.
"He was my pupil…once…" he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "…a few years ago."
"Your pupil?"
Annette thought she knew about every person that Erik had taught, but she knew nothing about Pieter.
His mocking scoff showed Annette that Erik was more than willing to forget about whatever had transpired between him and Pieter.
"I taught him for about five years – around the same time I was teaching Christine."
He removed the gloves from his hands and laid them neatly in his lap; his aching head lolled back and he rubbed his forehead as though willing the pain away.
Christine watched him take his gloves off and noticed how beautiful his hands were. She remembered seeing them that fateful night four years ago, but the nights events had prevented her from appreciating all the beautiful aspects of the man.
"Erik, tell us about him."
He took off the mask and placed it on the table next to the settee; he knew that everyone in the room had seen him, but since leaving England, he had worn it more than he had for the past couple of years.
He rubbed his face with both hands, and then leaned forward; he dropped his hands and his head between his knees and quietly thought.
Tarrah entered the room and went to stand behind him; she rubbed his shoulders and smiled when he bolted upright from the contact. He smiled briefly at her and patted her hand with his.
She continued to rest her hands on him, and Erik eventually leaned back, accepting her hands on him with reluctant approval.
"There are two men in this world that I have feared; Pieter Mallory is one of them – my father was the other."
He sighed deeply and closed his eyes; memories flooded his mind – cold, terrifying memories of a time not long ago when Erik had realized Pieter's sexual orientation, and his demented mind.
"He was gifted; there was no doubt about it. His voice was…" Erik struggled for the right word, "…unmatched.
"However, he began exhibiting symptoms of mental illness and depraved sexual urges…"
Erik looked at all the ladies in the room and apologized.
"…forgive me…the story is not appropriate for mixed company, I should not speak another word."
Annette would not have it, and knew the other ladies present would want to understand.
"Continue Erik, we need to know."
He looked away, sighed loudly, and then continued.
"Anyway…these urges were centered on me…" Erik's humorless laugh did little to lighten the air, "imagine that…" He shook his head and cleared his throat, "…we had been working closely together for three years, and the entire time he moved closer and closer to me…touching me inappropriately and making lewd remarks…
"…I chose to ignore his advances instead of addressing them; hoping that he would understand that I was not interested."
Erik's steely eyes fixed on Annette, but then moved around the room; finally settling on an inanimate object some three feet in front of him. His voice was harsh and full of self-hatred.
"I will never know the lovers touch of a woman – I am very much aware of that; but, I have no desire to be with a man."
He felt the nausea rising in his throat and he swallowed hard, hoping to ward it away. He composed himself and continued.
"I had been physically groped many times while in the gypsy camp – my master made sure of that – so I knew where Pieter's desires lay.
"I verbally told him I was not interested, but it was as though my words were falling on deaf ears – meanwhile, I stopped teaching him – the music…self-defense…the magic – I cut all ties with him.
"When Christine entered the picture, he backed off, but his cold, unwavering, dead stare left me frozen inside." Erik looked up into the avid eyes of everyone in the room, "He watched me silently and greedily from then on…then he started doing other things."
"Did you know he was Carlotta and Ubaldo's son?"
Erik nodded, quickly answering Raoul's question.
"I never took him to my lair, and I am most thankful that I never did…he started becoming increasingly agitated and edgy – he refused to believe that I did not return his feelings – the boy is inhumanly strong and assaulted me on many occasions. It seems his…" he glanced at the women again, and chose his words wisely, "…urges had turned violent. He had learned a great deal from me, and used it against me when I least expected it."
Erik leveled his gaze on Raoul and they seemed to share a moment of silent commonality.
"If I am a monster, as most of you have claimed at one time or another, than Pieter is pure evil….he has no soul…if I were a betting man, I would wager my life on it."
"What did he do to you, Erik…you said he assaulted you?" Raoul asked, not completely certain that he wanted to know the answer.
Erik scoffed and pursed his lips, "He searched and searched for my lair, and many times he caught me off guard when he was lurking through the tunnels – he and Bouquet. At that time, Pieter always carried a whip on him and he would stalk me until he found a good attack point. He would hurl the tip of that whip through the air and bring it across the back of my legs – sending me to my knees...I woke up several times, bleeding profusely from wounds on my legs and buttocks."
Raoul interrupted, needing to clarify a few things…and hoping to get the bloody images out of his head.
"Erik, you are a hard person to sneak up on …how did he manage this?"
Erik grimaced and inhaled deeply.
"Easily, I taught him."
He whispered, closing his eyes in shame.
"He had apparently been abused as a boy – just like me – we shared a common past. I wanted him to be able to defend himself against future attackers…so I taught him what I knew; well, most of it, anyway."
This was a part of Erik that Tarrah had never known – it sure explained a great deal; and what was this she heard about gypsies?
"Where is he now?" Erik asked, curious about what had happened to him.
"He is being treated at Voorhees Institute in Chateauroux." Raoul stated, "They have the best security in Europe and they are foremost in research on the criminal mind."
Erik laughed bitterly, "I should donate my brain to them for dissection and research."
Tarrah swatted him on his arm and Erik jumped form the contact.
"Ouch!" He exclaimed; he was ready to leave the heavy and depressing subject of Pieter behind.
"Do no' even tease about such things, Erik…ye are the most brilliant man I have ever known."
Erik rubbed the area she had swatted and feigned a great deal of pain.
"Than you obviously know very few men…." He teased; he smirked devilishly and winked, "…but I think that to be a good thing."
Raoul still had a rather serious look on his face, despite the jesting going on between Erik and Tarrah.
"What of the treasure Pieter is so adamant about?"
Erik shook his head and laughed.
"I suppose you refer to the treasure of Napoleon?"
Raoul nodded.
"There is no treasure…at least not in the traditional sense."
Erik's laugh was full and hearty, but Raoul still had not cracked a smile.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"My lair…that was the treasure of which Napoleon spoke. He had it carved out and had begun building it – assuming he could hide away for months on end without being caught by anyone. It was a brilliant idea; he just did not orchestrate it very well."
"Let me see if I have this correct, Pieter and Joseph Bouquet were looking for a treasure that did not exist – in the context they wanted it to – but they did not know this?
Erik nodded, affirming his assumption.
"That is correct."
Raoul finally cracked a smile and looked relaxed, "That is really quite amusing."
Erik smiled and nodded; he felt the same way. He rested his head back, nursing his headache with great care. The fact that he and Raoul seemed to agree on a great many things, did not help the situation any.
TBC