DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 38
Well, that had certainly turned out to be an interesting evening.
"Monsieur Lacroix…"
Erik turned to see Phillip approaching him with an exuberant glow in his eyes.
"Monsieur Lacroix, if I could have a moment of your time."
Pleased with the fact that Phillip had ceased calling him "my lord", Erik stood motionless for a few moments, giving the young nobleman pause to arrange his thoughts.
"Please, follow me onto the portico, I wish to ask you something."
Erik tried to hide the amusement in his eyes and the smile that suddenly rested on his lips.
They had been sitting, seemingly watching the grass grow, for what seemed like an hour. Phillip was nervous and did not know what to expect…so he hesitated. Erik, however, did not.
"Do you love her?"
Phillip lifted his relieved eyes and allowed a small, hesitant smile to grace his lips; he let out a huge sigh and relaxed by sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs.
"Yes, my lord, I do love her…very much."
Erik raised his gilded brow, fringed with a warning glare, and stared earnestly at the man who would take Tarrah from him with just a word of encouragement.
"She is only eighteen…you are aware of this…and she is a commoner."
Phillip nodded, than shifted his eyes to regard the man who held his future in his hands.
"I assure you, there is nothing common about her…I am willing to defy my mother – as my father has already given his blessing – and take Tarrah as my wife…after a proper courtship, of course."
"What of her career in the opera house?"
Phillip uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, he had given this much thought.
"Tarrah is free to pursue her career…I have already been named Count de Changy by my father; his title and holdings are mine. I intend to support her career and be whatever she needs me to be in her career as well as run the family like it needs to be run."
Erik put a discerning finger to his lips and cocked his head sideways, giving Phillip a full-on view of his flawless features with just a hint of the mask.
"If my memory serves me correctly, Count, your family was less then thrilled when your brother announced his engagement and subsequent marriage to Mademoiselle Daae…" Erik narrowed his eyes and smirked, "…I am not sure I like the idea of Tarrah being the object of your mother's wicked and prejudicial tongue…I know how she feels about me."
Phillip gave resolute and determined nod of his head and then stood up.
"I assure you, my mother has been put in her place and anything she had to say about the matter has been silenced…as for her attitude toward you, she is the one who is short-sighted and narrow-minded."
Erik stood, assessing the young man with diligent eyes.
"You have my permission and my blessing to court Tarrah…and marry her." Erik responded. "Not that she ever needed it, I am not her father."
Phillip grasped his hand in a firm, strong handshake, and smiled broadly.
"Maybe not physically, sir, but she sees you as such on a spiritual and personal level, and your opinion is very important to her."
If Erik had been the sappy old sentimental fool that he hoped he never became, he would have cried…as it was, he had something in his eyes
"What do you think of Nikolai's theory about your identity?"
Raoul was across from him in the carriage on their way back to Erik's manor. The evening has been unique – for lack of a better word – and Erik had been the surprising winner in most of the hands they had played. He had, however, stopped by the local orphanage on the way home, and given the money to the sisters while Raoul stood by in shocked amusement.
He had told the story to Raoul – although he had been hesitant to do so; but now, Erik sat in the middle of the large four-poster bed he shared with Lavanya and retold it to her. She sat in front of him; her legs curled beneath her and her hands encasing his as he finally revealed his painful childhood to her.
"He must be mistaken…there is no way that my father was a Russian nobleman." Erik insisted. "He was a monstrous man who stood by and had his underlings murder my mother before my very eyes and then he gave me – not sold me – but gave me to the gypsies as though I was of no value whatsoever."
There was a healthy dose of loathing in his voice, but he frowned and softened his tone before continuing.
"Mother would have told me…I know she would have told me if he was someone of any importance."
Anya had heard the rage rising in his voice and knew he was reliving the day when his innocence has been stripped from him with vulgar precision.
"Perhaps she was protecting you, my love…that is what mother's do."
"Protecting me from what?" he murmured, playing his fingers over her hands and concentrating on the ring he had placed on her finger not too long ago.
"Him…and what he was." Anya stated, softly. "Do you remember him, Erik…what he looked like…anything?"
The trembling boy clung to his mother's safe arms as she ran through the streets – fleeing some unknown, unseen predator.
"Do not look back, Erik…just cling to me and keep your eyes closed."
He always did what he was told…his mother lauded him on his behavior and was always rewarding him with small gestures of her love for him and her pride in him.
She ran for what seemed like hours, but exhaustion finally claimed her as the horsed madman that was chasing them closed in and cornered them in a darkened cove deep in the heart of the city.
He was not alone as a carriage pulled up and a black booted, well-dressed man stepped out and tore the leather gloves from his hands as he walked toward her slumped figure.
"Bernadette Lacroix…you have been a bad girl…" he spoke in a silky baritone, his heavy accent almost making the words indiscernible "…making my man chase you through the streets like a common whore."
He knelt down beside her trembling figure expecting her to cower from him, but he was met with her stunning green eyes instead, looking at him with a loathing that he was all to familiar with.
"Of course, we both know you are a whore…just not a common one."
He smiled with a sickening beauty – the same beauty of the serpent in the garden when he convinced Eve to partake of the forbidden fruit knowing that it would mean eternal separation from God.
"Please…Demi…do not do this…"
Erik paused for a moment…hearing the pleading voice of his mother as if she were in the room with him - the name she had uttered…Demi…a shortened version of Demetrius. His blood ran cold and his eyes hardened; something that did not escape the keen eyes of his wife.
"Are you going to beg…beg me for your pitiful life and the life of the monster you birthed?"
Bernadette held the precious body of her son so tight that she was certain he would suffocate…but she had to protect him from his father.
"He is your son…why would you do such a thing?" She pleaded, "His scars are a direct result of your failed attempt to kill him within my womb…Demi…you know this."
"I care not…his existence is a thorn in my side…" he reached her cheek and caressed it softly – still amazed by her translucent beauty, "…my wife must never know that I have fathered a son by a whore."
He stood abruptly and gave a curt nod to the man on the dark horse. He descended, and three other men emerged from the darkness.
Before the hideous events of the night proceeded, he turned to give her one last admiring look.
"Her son is my heir…although I doubt he is of my blood." He laughed quite humorlessly and then his face went blank. "Although it is said that the little brat looks just like me."
The four men loomed within four feet of her and Demi stopped again, ceasing their advance with his words.
"Do not fret, Bernadette, I shall be rid of her too…" he spoke as though referring to a pesky animal that he had no regard for, "…I grow weary of women and their demands."
He addressed the leader of the men whose duty it was to rid his life of any and all undesirables – including his wife and his former lovers.
"Kill her and do what you wish with the boy…the gypsy camp not far down the road would be thrilled to add another freak to their sideshow."
"Yes, Sire."
They all bowed as he left them to do his dirty work.
"They ripped me from her arms and proceeded to rape her repeatedly as I was made to watch…" Erik finally released the memories that had held him prisoner for so many years. "…I remember screaming for her to get up and run…but she did not move…"
Anya had already put her hands to her face as the tears came in droves…flooding her eyes and dousing her cheeks. She knew that he had endured much in his life; but to watch as his mother – who had loved him so very much – was tortured and raped before his young eyes…there were no words.
"…I did not realize until later that they had punctured her womb with some sort of object and she bled to death long before they finished pleasuring themselves with her dead body."
Erik shuddered as though a cold draft had penetrated his clothing.
"They left me there…draped over her lifeless body – screaming for her to wake up and take me home."
He finally lifted his reddened eyes to her, trying to give her a reassuring smile.
"They had slipped up the road and sent the gypsies for me…they showed up only a few minutes later and drug me away from her corpse…" His voice lowered to a sharp whisper, "…the rest is history."
She cradled him in her arms and slowly made love to him…showing him that he was the most desirable and beautiful man she had ever seen.
Her kisses cleansed his fractured soul and mended his torn heart – while her soft, demanding touch and the warm, moist haven of her body melted the cold, sickening knowledge of who he really was…who he had been born to be…
…he was Erik Krystian Demidov by birth, the illegitimate son of Demetrius Demidov – a high-ranking member of Russian nobility - and the man who had single-handedly destroyed his life.
♦♠♥♣
The next afternoon
"I did not want to believe it…but Anya listened to my ranting and her love has helped me to face the truth."
Erik had called a meeting of the minds…per say…to help everyone understand what was the current events.
"That makes you his half-brother and a nobleman, does it not?" Phillip injected. "Why is he trying to hurt you…" he paused, "…or worse?"
Erik paced slowly across the stage, as they had decided to meet at the opera house. There were guards posted in the front, the rear, on the roof, and at every entrance that the Phantom had once used – no one was getting in. His hands were tucked behind his back and his movements were graceful and elegant…regal in their beauty.
"It makes me exactly who I have always been…I do not care about nobility and the things that come with it…" the heels of his boots clicked against the floor, creating a monotonous metronome that was set in the beat of everyone's heart. "…I only want my family to be safe…and for once, be able to live a normal life."
"The Russian people and the royal family may not so easily dismiss your noble blood, my friend…you best be ready to claim it." Nikolai advised, "The Demidov estate had been seized pending an investigation of Demetrius' illicit and illegal behavior, and pending the location of a sane and qualified heir."
Erik raised his chin toward heaven and closed his eyes; he would have to cross that bridge when he came to it; for now, he had a lunatic after him – two lunatics – and one of them happened to be his brother.
"They know of his existence then…Yves…" Erik stated – but he was asking for affirmation.
Nikolai nodded, "Yes, they are aware of his existence, but they are also aware of his tendency to be more insane than his father was…and his love of dramatic flair."
"They are looking for him….I assume."
Nikolai shrugged his shoulders and frowned, "He has thwarted all attempts to be taken peaceably…he lives lavishly, spending whatever he has left of the money his father left him, and is rather sloppy with his lifestyle."
"What does he want with Pieter, I wonder?" Erik asked, not expecting an answer.
"Pieter would be nothing more than a plaything to Yves…a dalliance he will soon be rid of."
"A plaything?" Erik countered. "Explain what you mean."
Nikolai pursed his lips and dropped his eyes – avoiding Erik's piercing green gaze.
"His lover…that is what it means…and a means of getting to you, my lord…." Nikolai sighed and continued to speak, "…this is another reason why he is not considered a qualified heir to the Demidov estate…he will not marry; and therefore, there will be no other heirs."
Donning crept into Erik's features, "He wants the estate and me out of the picture so there can be no mistaking whose it is..." Erik began pacing again, but not before he squared his eyes on Nikolai and narrowed them severely, "…do not call me that…I am no one's lord."
Nikolai chuckled and shrugged his shoulders; he did not intend to listen to Erik's cryptic advice.
Raoul stood up from his chair and started pacing in the opposite direction; finding it completely unsurprising, that Erik was of noble blood.
"It seems that he is a bit too cocky for his own good, he seems to be under the impression that no one knows who he is and that his anonymity will keep him safe…"
Phillip stood up and joined the pacing…leaving the women to stare in amusement at the three of them devising a plan together.
"….yes, and he must be close by or he would not know Erik's every move." Phillip added.
Nikolai clapped his hands together and surged to his feet.
"Of course!" he exclaimed, suddenly forcing everyone's eyes to settle on him, "The whole reason why Demetrius spent time in Paris was his love of the arts; the French being some of the most artistic people he had ever met…" Nikolai joined the pacing, "…he purchased an old building not far from the bustling downtown of Paris, hoping to turn it into a museum or opera house…but his life took a downward spiral before he could complete his dream."
Erik regarded the man with a curious stare, "How do you know so much about my father and the Demidov family?"
Nikolai smiled and bowed his head in a show of honor, "My mother's best friend was the governess for the Demidov family for three generations, until she passed…she knew all their dirty little secrets…and she talked about them often when she visited my family." He winked and shrugged his shoulders, "I had a tendency to eaves drop..." he smiled broadly, "…it is a problem I am working on."
There were a couple of stray chuckles heard, but the conversation soon turned back to the immediate problem.
"I guarantee we will find them both if we determine which building my father purchased…" Erik stated.
"That is easy enough, I will call in a few favors and we should pinpoint the building by tomorrow afternoon."
Phillip was more than happy to be of service to Erik…he was the only suitable heir to the Demidov estate and title, and he was going to be related to him – sort of; in Phillip's eyes, that made for a wonderful business opportunity with a man he could respect….and there were not many that he could.
♣♠♥♦
The gathering has come to a close and Erik was eager to return home. He was patiently waiting on Lavanya to finish her conversation with Christine before he could wisk them both away to the manor.
He heard a woman's high-pitched squeal and turned just in time, as Tarrah threw herself into Erik's arms, almost toppling him over in the process. She reigned kisses over his cheeks and giggled as he stood in stunned shock.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She repeated.
"For what?" he asked with equal fervor.
Phillip approached with a grin on his face.
"Oh…that." Erik mumbled, suppressing his own grin.
Lavanya watched the exchange between them and could not keep the smile from her own face. She grasped Erik's hand and brought it to her mouth for a kiss.
"Christine and Raoul have offered to be our chaperone's on several outings…" Phillip stated, "…that should be sufficient for the gossiping tongues town."
Phillips stood tall and clasped his hands behind his back. His eyes never wavered and his chin was raised high.
"After this is all sorted out, my lord, I hope that you, and your lovely wife, will join my family and me for dinner at the de Chagny estate."
Erik had rolled his eyes and released an exasperated sigh upon hearing the use of "my lord" once again – but Phillip had not faltered.
Lavanya was having a hard time hiding her mirth about his persistent denial of his noble heritage…and Erik could do nothing but shake his head.
"I thought your family – minus yourself and your brother - was rather ambivalent toward me…in fact; they loathe me, if I recall correctly."
"I just want to rub my mother's nose in it, my lord."
If looks could kill, Phillip would be sprawled out on the floor with Erik's "looks" sticking out of his chest.
"Young man, if you are going to persist in calling me 'my lord', I may have to throttle you in ways you have never seen or heard of before…is that clear?"
Phillip smiled, "Perfectly clear…" and then grinned, "…my lord."
TBC