DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 34
D'Ombre.
Ice-cold dread poured down his spine and Erik swallowed the sudden deluge of bile that filled his throat. His whispered instructions sent a chill through Lavanya; she had never heard him sound so despondent.
"Tend to them, Anya – bring them plenty of food and drink – make them eat…" his voice was stern and his eyes issued a warning as his voice did the same, "…do not follow me."
His terror-filled eyes pleaded with her and he scanned her panicked features before abruptly thrusting himself from the room and running for the front door.
She watched him quickly disappear, fighting every urge to follow him, and focused on her patients.
Thankfully, they had not been bleeding for very long, which led Lavanya to believe that whoever had done this was either interrupted by their speedy and unexpected return – or had just finished and left as they were returning.
She set about to do as he had instructed, trying to keep her mind off whatever Erik had found; but she could not help but feel waves of anxiety and trepidation invade her normally calm nerves.
Meanwhile, Erik ran full speed toward the corral, noticing that Sumukhi was running full speed around the corral – spooked and terrorized. He used every skill he knew about horses and finally managed to calm her down…but her agitated mannerisms only proved to Erik that there was still a threat in the area.
He could feel eyes on him – watching…calculating…planning – he scanned the nearby tree-line for any sign of unusual activity, but he neither saw nor heard anything out of the ordinary.
He cooed into Sumukhi's ear and soothed her racing heart with his low, steady voice.
"Good girl…shhhhh…." Erik rubbed her strong shoulders and looked her straight in the eye, letting her know that he would do everything he could to make things right.
She talked back to him with a soft, nervous whinny and Erik knew she understood.
"Where is he, Sumukhi….what have they done with him?"
She softly answered him, and Erik looked to the enclosed stables with a heavy heart; fear – stronger and deeper than any he had ever known – gripped him; but he made his way toward the place that he had designed and decorated with D'Ombre in mind.
For more than ten years, he had been by his side – through the horrors of Paris, the loss of Christine, and his descent into darkness. Recently, they had shared some of the best times of their lives…together….
…and Erik knew in his heart, that he was gone.
♠♣♦♥
Lavanya had made a quick broth and made each traumatized victim eat a cup full and drink some water. Their physical recovery would be quick – however, their mental recovery might not be so easy to repair.
It had been thirty-five minutes since Erik headed for the stables; she had heard nothing. She feared for the horses…but most of all, she feared for Erik.
She had instructed Lawrence, the carriage driver, to head into town as fast as he could, get a doctor, and notify Tarrah at the opera house.
♠♣♦♥
"Mistress Tarrah, you must come quickly…something has happened at the manor."
Lawrence came sweeping through the back doors of the opera house and did not care that he was interrupting a rehearsal; he was doing what he had been told.
She looked up with her hand over her eyes block the light.
" Lawrence?"
He ran toward her with a stricken look in his eyes.
"What are you talking about?"
She was already gathering her skirts to leave with him when Madam Giry appeared at her side.
"What has happened?"
Lawrence looked from Tarrah to Annette and quickly summarized.
Both women stood in horrified amazement at what the young man was saying.
"I will go with you…I may be needed." Annette rushed off to gather her things while Phillip overheard what had happened.
He placed himself at her side, hugging her trembling form and trying to calm her turbulent nerves.
"Do you wish me to go with you?"
She shook her head and caressed his cheek, "No, now is not the time."
He understood and stood helplessly by as she and Annette quickly gathered their things and were in the carriage in a few minutes, headed toward the manor.
"Who could have done such a horrible thing?"
Annette watched the young woman mull over the events in her mind and the images were horrible.
"I do not know, Tarrah, but if anyone can get to the bottom of it, Erik can."
♣♦♥♠
Tarrah and Annette were stepping down from their carriage, when the de Chagny carriage rolled to an abrupt halt in front of the marble steps of Lacroix Manor.
"Phillip informed us that something had happened….we do not live far from here…how can we help?"
Raoul swept into the house as he spoke, after helping Christine down out of the carriage. He had surveyed the area around the manor as he arrived and did the same to the inside of the vast estate as he stood before a very distraught Lavanya.
"Where is Erik?" He asked quietly, not wanting to rattle her any more than she already was.
"He went to the stables, Raoul…something is terribly wrong." Lavanya answered with a quiet dread. "He has been out there for almost an hour."
"Stay here." He instructed the women.
Raoul made his way quickly toward the stables, wondering what Erik's reaction would be to seeing him. They were not friends, by any means…but Raoul found himself admiring the older man for – not only his incredible talents and intelligence – but also for his inner strength and drive. A lesser man would have withered away under the type of life that Erik had been forced to lead.
The air was eerily still and thick with the smell of blood. Raoul's heart began to beat frantically, anticipating the worst…finding Erik lying in a pool of blood.
However, as he approached the dusky inside of the stables, Raoul was struck by the sight of Erik sitting on the ground with D'Ombre's head in his lap. He caressed and soothed the bloodied hair beneath his hands, and quietly rocked back and forth.
There was a force, strong and foreboding, that Raoul felt closing in on him. Although Erik appeared calm and subdued, Raoul could see the erratic movement of his eyes and the deep, seething jaggedness of each breath.
Raoul was not even sure the man knew he was there…until his haunting voice filled the stables much as it had the opera house years ago…and Raoul stopped in his tracks.
"You do not want to be here, boy..." Erik spat, "…take your wife and go home."
Ignoring the biting, warning tone in Erik's words, Raoul found his bearings and warily approached the scene. He no longer feared this man…he had proven himself in many ways and he was worthy of the respect Raoul had developed for him. He knelt down beside Erik who did not acknowledge him at first.
There were deep gashes covering the torso - gaping and torn; and D'Ombre's strong back legs had been cut - increasing the blood flow.
"He was alive when I got here...he died in my arms."
The brutal scene had a strange peace about it as Raoul observed a man, who had rendered such fear and mistrust in the hearts of many people for years, gently sooth the bloodied, mutilated corpse of his closest friend.
Gently removing himself from underneath D'Ombre's head, Erik abruptly stood, causing Raoul to do the same. The two faced each other with equal stubbornness, and Raoul could see an incensed, boiling hatred burning in Erik's eyes.
"I can help you find them…I have endless resources."
Erik's calm demeanor did little to convey the collage of emotions that was bombarding him; the last thing he needed was a confrontation. Oddly, Erik felt no animosity toward Raoul – he felt nothing at all – he was hollow inside.
"I do not need your help…this is my fight."
Erik's hostile whisper was followed by his elegantly determined pace. Every cell in his body was throbbing with the need for revenge.
"I will find them and I will kill them." Erik whispered on the wind.
The promise in the words was haunting and Raoul felt the cold chill of dread climb up his spine.
"This was just a warning…the few people in my life that I care about are at risk…and I will kill myself before allowing anything to happen to any of them."
Raoul had the distinct impression that Erik was not talking to him – he had probably forgotten he was even there.
"Erik…"
The despondent man moved his eyes to look at Raoul – the rest of him remained still and hard as granite.
"Get out!" Erik ground out, with a menacingly cold tone.
The logical side of Raoul knew that he was pressing where few dared to press, but he was not going to back down from this man, no matter what.
"Erik, let me take care of him…Lavanya needs to know that you are not injured in any way."
Every word that proceeded from Raoul's perfect mouth just seemed to wedge itself into Erik's already overly sensitized nerves.
Every part of him was livid and advanced on the smaller man without mercy. Raoul stood his ground, even though he was not certain of Erik's intent.
"For the greater part of my life, I have had to pay homage to men like you – perfect faces, perfect bodies, perfect lives – I have watched as women throw themselves at you and you toy with them like dolls…."
Erik could not be stopped. His tall, outraged form towered over Raoul – slinging words that were meant to isolate and wound – but Raoul knew the depth of Erik's pain and the atrocities of his life…he would get through to this man…somehow.
"…this heinous act was committed by men like you…never happy with what they have – always seeking the treasured possessions of other men they consider beneath them…."
"Do you think this of me?" Raoul asked quietly, but with equal fervor.
Erik retracted a slight bit and looked down his long, patrician nose to stare solicitously into Raoul's seeking eyes.
"Are you any different?"
They stood boldly before each other; Erik breathing heavily with the grief that poured through him like molten lava and Raoul wanting him desperately to see that they did not have to be enemies.
"Are you going to stand there and tell me that a creature like me deserves a life like what you enjoy…" Erik's voice softened, but Raoul still heard the intolerance seeping through, "…a beautiful wife on my arm and in my bed, a child to carry on my legacy, a place in society…"
Raoul frowned at the implication that Erik felt unworthy of such things. There was no doubt that he was lashing out – redirecting the grief that had undoubtedly seized his heart.
"You have the beautiful wife on your arm and in your bed and you are one of the most sought after composers and playwrights in Europe…a child will come in time."
Erik recoiled from Raoul as though he burned and stalked away from the young aristocrat with long, hasty steps.
"You honestly think that beautiful woman would share my bed…" Erik laughed; darkly and without an ounce of humor, "…we have barely touched…" Erik spat, "…a blessing in her eyes, I am sure – oh…she tolerates my sloppy, novice kisses, but nothing else."
He made his way back over to D'Ombre and knelt down by his side; his words were even and cool, but Raoul heard the underlying agony.
"You find this amusingly justified, I am sure..." Erik's menacingly shrewd eyes bore into Raoul's inquiring ones. "...I am getting what I deserve..."
Erik's fists tightened and he screamed in rage...and then his eyes focused on D'Ombre's still form.
"...NO CREATURE SHOULD HAVE TO ENDURE SUCH TREATMENT!!" He fell to the ground once more; his hand atop his horses head. He spoke, but did not look at Raoul. "Lavanya could be next..." he stood up, breathing heavily and dangerously poised for battle, "...I will die before they lay one finger on her..."
Raoul heard it; the deep conviction in Erik's voice and strong, protective urgency in his demeanor.
"You love her…" Raoul finally realized – speaking what he knew to be the truth.
"I can no longer deny that fact…but what I want has never mattered..." Erik murmured, then his hand rested upon D'Ombre's still chest, "…this is what happens to the things that I love…I destroy them – one way or another." His head dropped in complete surrender to the collage of emotions that choked him. "To wish for her love is a dream - a fanciful fairytale where I turn into a handsome prince…" he closed his eyes and a grievous shudder ran through him, "…I will not allow her to be destroyed by my darkness."
Erik was trembling - from head to foot - and he felt an overwhelming urge to suddenly hurt someone.
"They will pay...somehow - someway - they will pay."
The last three words made Raoul frown and a he was determined to get through Erik's thick, stubborn skull in some way.
"You are not going to go after them…it would be suicide."
Erik heard the warning words, but they sounded like a jumbled mess to his ears. How much pain and loss could a person stand in a lifetime? Was there a limit? Had he reached his? Was he destined to live out the rest of his miserable life with no passion for the things that had once been so dear to him? What burned where the fire had once been?
This was his chance – his moment in time. He would ensure the safety of those he loved and maybe – finally – find peace; for he did love, stronger and more passionately than most.
"The wounds were inflicted by a whip laced with metal shards – or pieces of bone. The whip was wielded with skill and precision and I know only one man who could have done it."
Raoul stooped down beside Erik and looked at the wounds covering D'Ombre's black, shiny coat.
Erik met his gaze and was strangely thankful for the boys company.
"Surely you do not mean Pieter…he died in the hospital fire months ago."
Erik's empty eyes barely looked coherent as he lifted them slowly to Raoul's handsome, concerned features.
"I know that the body they found was unrecognizable and could have belonged to anyone." Erik said - his voice quiet and thoughtful.
"Nobody even attempted to research it…there was no need." Raoul stated, beginning to wonder about Erik's theory.
"There are two distinct sets of shoe prints on my property…one man – Pieter – attacked and brutally maimed D'Ombre and the other took the staff out of the picture. He – whoever he is – would have probably killed them if Lavanya and I had not returned home." Erik furrowed his brow and thought back to the moment he stepped into the manor after returning, "There was still someone in this house when we stepped through the door…I could feel them."
Erik turned from Raoul and began gathering the things needed to bury D'Ombre. He felt the heaviness in his heart feed through his entire being and threaten to rip him of his desire to go on.
"I wish to bury him beneath the poplar tree in the back of the property; then I wish to be alone."
"Let me help you." Raoul insisted.
Erik shook his head, "I will do it." His eyes dropped as soon as he said it, and he knew he did not wish to do it alone; but that was the way things had always been.
Raoul reached out and grasped Erik by the forearm as he reached for the shovel and started to leave.
"Erik, you cannot do this alone."
Erik furrowed his brow in confusion and resigned dismay, "Alone is what I am, Vicomte…I have never been anything but alone."
Raoul refused to back down – even upon hearing the quiet warning in Erik's tone.
"You need not be…not anymore."
Erik's back was to him, and Raoul watched as Erik's broad shoulders gave just a little bit beneath his words.
"Let me help you." Raoul's words were quietly finding their way into Erik's wounded heart. "I will unhook the horses from behind my carriage and we can transport D'Ombre to his final resting place."
Erik gave a slight incline of his chin, "As you wish."
♥♠♣♦
Lavanya could not stop crying as she watched Raoul unhook the horses and head back toward the stables. It was the hardest thing she had ever had to do - not going to Erik when she knew how much he was hurting.
"Stay here, he wants to do this…then he insists that he wants to be left alone…but he needs you so desperately."
Lavanya understood, and would bide her time until she could comfort Erik in a way only the woman who loved him could.
Erik and Raoul worked together to load D'Ombre and guide the horses to the necessary spot.
They began digging the hole, pausing every few moments to swipe the sweat from their brow. Erik had stripped down to just his pants and boots – as had Raoul.
They finally finished digging, after a long drought of no talking. The beloved animal was placed in the grave and they worked diligently to put the black soil back into the hole.
Erik would not allow himself to cry…there was no need. He had only himself as a source of comfort – and that was no comfort at all. He had not shed a tear in years, until Christine had penetrated his hardened heart; and he had not shed one since.
They leaned against a large log, wiping their brows and dutifully trying to avoid small talk.
The amiable attitude they had settled into was encouraging to Raoul. He no longer wanted to be this man's enemy – Christine loved him too much.
"I will lend whatever help I can to find these men." Erik's head rose abruptly and a strange, inquiring look rested on his face.
At first, Erik seemed inclined to disregard Raoul's statement; but dark, iridescent eyes regarded him from beneath long, dusky lashes.
Raoul frowned, "You cannot think that you are going to do this on your own?"
Erik's hands crossed in front of him as he leaned against the log with his legs stretched out before him. He looked over and saw a young oak tree sprouting through the ground and he bent over to dig it up.
He transplanted the young seedling to D'Ombre's grave. He walked over to the small brook that babbled about forty feet away and dunked his shirt beneath the water to soak it completely.
He sprinted back to the young sapling and squeezed the water from the shirt onto the tree, giving it an extra boost of hope.
Raoul had watched this entire exchange and marveled at the care that Erik took with the tree. Erik knelt down over the grave and looked like a lost little boy for a few minutes. Raoul's unanswered question still hung in the air.
"This is my fight – and mine alone…" Erik finally stated, quietly and reserved. "...your wife would never forgive me if something happened to you."
"And neither yours nor mine would ever forgive me if something happened to you." Raoul echoed.
Erik scoffed without humor and his smirk held no mirth.
"Do not think for one moment that she cares for me in the same way Christine cares for you…we are – at best – friends."
Erik saw the look in Raoul's eyes and could not look straight at him. He knew that the truth glistened in his eyes; he had fallen in love with his wife. It had happened the first day he met her; however, it had taken a while to accept it.
His ambition to become a complete fool was complete.
It was not his place to dispute Erik in any way, so Raoul kept silent…almost.
"Talk to her, Erik…she needs to know what is going on….do not just assume that she does not care."
This felt rather strange to Erik, talking in a civil manner to Raoul. The pain of loosing D'Ombre seemed easier to bear when the young nobleman kept him busy in conversation.
Erik felt a drop of rain trickle down his bare face and looked upward. A tattered veil of dark clouds floated above them; the threat of an impending storm in their majestic beauty.
"We need to gather everything and get the horses back before we get stuck in a major…."
Erik did not get a chance to complete the sentence as a shattering rip of lightening struck the ground several hundred feet away.
They hurriedly picked up the tools they had used and strapped them to one of the horses.
"You ride on to the manor; I will put away everything."
Raoul did no argue. As he made his way toward the manor, the rain only fell slightly, but began a heavy downpour before Erik made it back.
He surged through the door, soaked to the bone. Raoul came into the foyer to help and saw that Erik's shirt was not buttoned and he was completely drenched. The shirt clung to parts of his chest and the rest was exposed.
"Erik, you should button your shirt."
Erik looked down at his almost bare chest and shrugged his shoulders as he ran his fingers through this dripping hair. His voice was even but full of self-mocking.
"I doubt that my bare chest is going to arouse illicit thoughts…"
He turned as he spoke the last word, and saw several sets of eyes on him – all female, except Raoul's – whose raised brow would have been comical under any other circumstances.
"Erik…"
Her voice soothed his torn nerves and stole the last remaining shards of his heart. He slowly lifted his inimitable eyes and saw the tears coursing down her face.
It seemed, in that moment, that his own sorrow surfaced and the tears he had tried so hard not to shed – that he had hoped never to have to face – spilled forth.
"Excuse me." He murmured.
He moved toward the staircase – having no desire to face the unending barrage of questions that he was certain everyone had.
His tears had pierced her heart as proficiently as a beautiful but deadly blade and she longed to be by his side.
She glanced at Christine, then at Raoul – both of them giving her positive nods; however, Madam Giry stated the obvious.
"Follow him…he does not need to be alone...not matter how much he insists upon it."
TBC
I am sorry for the brutality of this chapter - but it was necessary to move forward...D'Ombre will live on...