DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS
CHAPTER 40
There was an exigency to his love making that night; an urgency and tenderness that had Anya crying out his name for the greater part of the night; his mouth, hands, and body seemed unable to be quenched.
The pounding of their hearts and the racing of their blood was almost audible as they lay in each other's arms. Erik absently stroked her soft arm with his fingers and allowed silent tears to caress his cheeks.
He had thought her asleep, until she pulled up and looked down at him.
"What is it Erik…you have been so melancholy tonight?"
He smiled, hoping she saw the happiness he felt within his heart, twinkling within the green ocean of his tears, "I just…" he stared and then looked away, "…just remember, no matter what happens…" his eyes spoke every word as did his mouth, "…that I love you more than life itself."
She knew he spoke the truth; and yet, there was something he was not saying. His eyes held a darkness – a shadowed sorrow – that she had never seen before; what had happened that he was not sharing…why did the dark cloud of doom seem to hang over him?
"Tell me." She urged.
He held her tighter and kissed the top of her head as she settled down upon his chest once again.
"Please, Anya…just trust that I do what I must…alright?"
Although the pain in her heart was almost more than she could bear, she had to give him her trust – her faith – and somehow let him know that she would always be there for him.
"Of course I trust you."
♦♠♥♣
The Next Afternoon
"What is the meaning of this?!!" Annette spewed, resisting the hand that gently led her down the long aisle.
Shock and fury mixed with large helpings of disbelief and confusion were written all over the faces of the four women as they were escorted out the front of the opera house and into a barred carriage.
"What is he thinking?"
Christine was flabbergasted; she could not understand the look in Erik's eyes as they paraded past him. He had seemed cold and indifferent; suddenly, he was the Phantom all over again.
The rehearsal had gone better than expected; everyone was there. Raoul and Christine had come upon special invitation – supposedly from Erik Lacroix himself.
"Where is Erik…I have not seen him all night?" Tarrah asked, looking around the theater for him.
"I have no idea. He assured me he would be here, but he had some business to tend to."
Lavanya had only been in the opera house one other time, but had never been in the actual theater part. It was extraordinary! She was anxious for Erik's play to open and she wanted to stand by his side as all of Paris lauded him for his accomplishments.
Annette had just finished her last minute instructions and was spending a few minutes in Richard's company. They had decided to start courting and upon her acceptance, he had become a most attentive suitor.
"They are so cute together…I am so glad that love does not stop simply because you reach a certain age." Lavanya cooed.
Tarrah shook her head in agreement and giggled as Richard bent down and placed a soft kiss upon Annette's upturned nose.
"Meg left a couple of days ago…did you know that?"
Lavanya turned toward her and frowned, "Left…where did she go?"
"She asked if she could move to the opera house in London – the one that Erik and I used to be with... Hammond offered her a tremendous deal to come and be their lead dancer."
"I am happy for her…she has been wanting to leave Paris for some time…from what I understand."
Tarrah lifted her brow and shrugged her shoulders, "Yes, I believe she has…but she did not want to leave her mother…but with Richard not far from a proposal, I think she made a wise move."
From the back of the stage, police swarmed the area, forcing their way through the chorus and lines of dancers to make their way to the front.
"Madam Annette Giry, Viscountess Christine de Chagny, Mademoiselle Tarrah Sheldon, and Madam Lavanya Lacroix..."
All four women lined up in a row; backs straight, chins high, and fear in their eyes. It was not until they saw the tall, elegant figure of Erik standing just inside the perimeter of the stage that they began to panic.
"…you are all under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder."
For a few moments, there was not a sound.
"You have got to be jesting?" Tarrah protested. "We have done no such thing."
"Who brings these charges against us?" Annette countered; every moment that she stood there, she was growing angrier.
"I do."
Erik spoke firmly and loudly – making all eyes focus on him.
Lavanya looked deeply into his eyes – and she saw it…the uncertainty and the sorrow. He did not want to be doing this.
"We will sort this all out, Monsieur Lacroix, I assure you." The man in charge stated.
Erik nodded and then watched each of them as they were hauled away like common criminals.
The carriage was comfortable enough, but each woman was lost in her own thoughts.
"Something is not right…Erik would never do this." Tarrah pointed out; but then her eyes turned doubtful, "Why would he do this?"
There were not answers, but shrugging shoulders and nodding heads. Lavanya finally wiped the tears from her eyes as the carriage came to stop in front of…
"...Chateau la Broughton….why are we stopping here?" Christine asked in a very small voice.
The doors opened and several young men escorted them out of the carriage and into the private castle.
The large, baroque doors opened and Mr. Tibbs greeted them with a looming smile.
"Welcome ladies….it will be my pleasure to serve you during your stay with us."
They all looked at each other, more baffled than ever. They proceeded into the castle and noticed that each door was guarded by two armed men.
Upon entering the drawing room, Phillip greeted them with a broad smile, but strained eyes.
"Phillip….what is going on?" Tarrah questioned upon seeing the look on his face.
He nodded and indicated for all the women to sit.
"I know that this all seems rather dramatic, but it was the only way that he could be certain of your safety."
He spoke to them all, but his eyes focused on Lavanya…she knew that Erik was aware of her desire to help him, and he had taken precautionary measure.
"Why the humiliating arrest scheme?" Annette asked, raising her brow and barely containing her anger.
"Would you have come willingly?" Phillip countered, without an once of shame.
No one said a word and eyes dropped in guilty confession.
"I thought not."
He eyed each of them, careful not to spend too much time on any of them for fear of being reduced to ash. He left the room to tend to instructing the servants. The women sat quietly in a state of stunned shock, until Lavanya broke the silence and stood up, slowly pacing the floor.
"This is what he met last night…asking me to trust him." Lavanya had never felt so alone, "He made the most tender, beautiful love to me and then made me promise to trust him."
All four of them had tears rolling down their faces. As Lavanya sunk to the floor, Christine and Tarrah captured her arms. Annette moved in front of her and tried to console her.
"He knows what he is doing; he has faced far more formidable foes in his time."
Lavanya clutched her heart and held the deep groan that she felt rising her throat.
"I know he has, but he never had so much at stake."
"Anya, what did he say to you…last night?"
Lavanya looked at Christine; they had become close friends, and the fact that Erik and Lavanya had finally consummated the relationship gave her joy...but she also knew that Lavanya was feeling anything but joyous at this time.
"He did not say anything in particular…it was more in the way he acted and…felt."
They knew what she was evading to and none of them was shocked – they wanted to know about this side of a man who had once thought himself beyond such passionate love.
Before anything else could be said, a loud, resounding knock penetrated the heavy oak of the door.
Tarrah rushed to the door and threw it open, hoping it was Erik on the other side.
Mr. Tibbs, knowing her disappointment, smiled forlornly and walked into the room carrying a tray of light refreshments and tea.
"Lord Erik made sure that all the necessary refinements are at your disposal. He stocked the place himself – just a couple of days ago…he will be beyond consoling if I fail in my duties and one of you loses even an ounce of weight while in my care."
Tarrah blinked at him in complete amazement.
"You knew about this, and did not tell anyone?"
Mr. Tibbs, although he chuckled in amusement, feigned no guilt.
"As it is Lord Erik that employed me, it is Lord Erik that pays me and Lord Erik that risks all that he has to bring the man to justice who would have murdered me…then it is Lord Erik's confidence that I shall be keeping." He nodded to each of them as he poured tea. "Good day, ladies."
They watched him leave, all of them feeling thoroughly lashed.
♠♦♣♥
Silky strands of long abandoned cobwebs hung delicately from various places and the air was dank and murky.
Giant pillars of stone jutted out in regular intervals, showing no sign of crumbling beneath the eternal load of the structure they supported.
Sunlight had not touched this ground for centuries, and the stillness that hung in the air was witness enough to that truth.
Meticulously dropping one quiet foot in front of the other, Erik made his way through the thick darkness; the waning flickers of his torch seeming to cut the darkness like a knife.
His instincts were on alert and the severity of the situation did not escape him. Ever since he had received the letter, he had been having the orphanage watched – no one of any significance had come or gone – not even Pieter. Had he decided to leave without a fight? Erik doubted that, and was aware that there could still be something or someone down here.
Although the torch shined a limited light on his path, there was a great deal of darkness; and that made him slightly nervous. He had maneuvered well in his lair with little light, but he knew the area - this was unfamiliar to him.
Erik kept his sharp eyes alerted to every vague image he was able to make out that extended past the realm of his light; more than anything, he used his attuned sense of hearing.
The only peculiar sound was coming from about fifty paces to his right. He turned to head in that direction. The closer he drew to it, the more it sounded like a creaking board, groaning with the weight of a burden it carried.
The reaching fingers of his lantern's light could not see anything out of the ordinary. He turned in a slow circle, straining his eyes to see into the heavy darkness.
"I grow tired of games, Pieter…show yourself."
His back collided into a large object and he immediately turned his lantern toward the obstacle. Erik backed away from the sight before him; as a mocking voice sent a sickening shiver up his spine.
"What a pity he could not be here to enjoy this moment in your arms, as he had so hoped."
Pieter's hung body slowly rocked back and forth…causing the rope to whine beneath his dead weight. Erik could not take his eyes from the look of stark terror on the dead man's face; Pieter had not expected what had come to him.
The deep, heavily accented voice pierced the darkness long before a tall, distinguished looking man emerged and stood just inside Erik's line of vision.
"Yves."
He stepped forth from the shadows, struck a match, and lit his cigarette and a candle; Erik moved his lantern to that area; the light focused on the dangling form not two feet from where Yves stood.
The man laughed and moved a few steps closer. Daunting dark eyes drilled into Erik's features, not missing any details.
"Yes, I am flattered that you know who I am…" he smiled deviously at the dead corpse, "…it was quite a fight the young boy put up…I did not think he had it in him."
Disgusted with the lack of remorse in Yves' voice and the grotesque display of heartlessness, Erik found it hard to play the part of detached killer.
"You certainly saved me the trouble…but why kill him…he was your pawn in this sick game."
Yves threw up his arms in a loud scoff and then leveled malevolent eyes on Erik.
"I expected more from you, brother…your skills in the art of death are legendary." He gave a mocking clap of his hands as Erik lifted his chin and creased his brow, "Oh yes, I have enjoyed studying you over the last few years."
He paused to study Erik's reaction and continued answering the question.
"Pieter lost sight of my mission…his desire was to keep you as his pet…"
Erik shivered at the loathing he heard in Yves' tone. He had yet to determine why this man hated him so much…they did not even know each other.
"…I have no such intentions….he was of no further use to me."
"You have me at a disadvantage…you seem to know a great deal about me, but I did not know you existed until a few days ago." Erik admitted.
Yves laughed – filling the cellar with his odious mirth.
"Father made sure that I knew about you…he never ceased about the stories of my bastard brother whose face was so hideous that only the gypsies had a place for him."
Erik narrowed his infuriated eyes and inhaled deeply. He released the breath slowly, trying to calm the rage boiling in his blood.
"I would listen to him tell of his beautiful courtesan and the child she bore him…he bragged about his attempt on your life within the womb – but how much more fitting it was for you to live life in a form that no one but your mother could love."
Yves was slowly circling Erik's poised body; scrutinizing every inch of him from head to foot.
"But it seems to me that you cut a striking figure, brother…despite father's depraved attempt to kill you…"
Yves smiled with no humor and began pacing in a circle once again. The creaking of the board that supported Pieter's body was becoming incessantly annoying.
"…what a foolish boy he was, loving you as he did."
Erik lifted his chin and dropped his eyes; the last thing he needed to talk about was Pieter's affections for him.
There was something that Erik sensed about Yves…something primal and base; the man was a skilled killer – maybe as skilled as Erik was – but he had one thing that made him very dangerous…
Insanity.
And, not just any insanity – but diabolical, criminal insanity.
Yves snarled at Erik's expression,
"Do not assume that I am insane, brother…indeed, I am quite sane…it is a conscience that I lack."
Erik was growing impatient; nothing was going as he had planned. His sources had assured him that no one had entered the orphanage since since yesterday afternoon, that means that Yves had been here, murdered Pieter, and remained here - just to kill Erik. Pieter had been dead for at least a day by the condition of his body.
"What do you want, Yves…my claim to our father's vast estate and title…." Erik saw the flinching movement of Yves' eyes and knew that was exactly what he wanted. "…and me…dead…out of the way?"
Yves verbalized nothing, but Erik knew that was precisely what he wanted.
"Well…brother….here is the strange fact…I do not want it; none of it - you can have it all without contest." Erik announced.
Yves raised his impertinent brow and scoffed.
"You do not want any of it?"
Erik smirked smugly and shook his head.
Yves straightened his shoulders and released a short, humorous chuckle.
"I believe that means that we have reached an impasse."
Erik gave a curt nod and smiled with equal malevolence.
"Yes…you still want me dead and I have determined that I would like you dead…" Erik growled, "…I believe that is the only way that I would like you."
"Touché." Yves stated.
They studied each other with bruising stares and stubborn curiosity. Erik felt an unusual stirring in his heart – one that cried within him. This man was his only blood relative…they shared a troubled and abusive past dominated by a monstrous father whose only love in life had been himself.
"We can go our separate ways, Yves…you can have all the fortune that father left and his title – I will continue to live the life I have at last been granted…we need never see each other again."
For a moment, Erik thought Yves was going to agree, but in a matter of seconds, his face went rigid and his movements became tense.
"You delude yourself it you think I can do such a thing…I killed our father, Erik…" Yves admitted, "…I drove a knife through his black heart." His insidious laughter chilled Erik's spine and his empty, sinister eyes drilled into him, "…only to discover that mine is blacker."
For a brief moment, Erik saw lucidity and regret in Yves' eyes – but only for a moment.
"I have been on the run ever since – searching for you. If you die, they will have no choice but to give me my inheritance; but while you breathe, they will favor you."
He pulled a pocket revolver from his waistcoat and began his methodical, circulatory pacing once again.
Erik tensed at the sight of the gun; the only weapons he had on him were two rapier daggers; and in this faint lighting, he was unsure of his aim.
Taking another life was something Erik did not take lightly; especially when that life was the only blood relation he had in the world.
The only way that Erik had any advantage at all was to send them into darkness. He dropped his lantern, immediately extinguishing the flame and casting him into the shadows where Yves' candlelight could not reach.
"I did not take you for a coward, Erik…"
"I am not a coward…I am simply regulating the playing field."
Yves did not look so confident with Erik out of sight, but still within the immediate area. He fired a shot into the dark spaces…toward the area where Erik had last been and waited for the proverbial grunt that indicated his shot had fired true…but none came.
However, it the few moments after he fired, Erik had somehow gotten close enough to him to throw a large amount of dirt at the candle Yves carried, extinguishing his source of light and casting them both into utter darkness.
A loud curse resounded through the chamber and Yves threw the useless candle on the ground. He was mumbling, incoherently, but finally raised his voice to pinpoint his adversaries whereabouts.
"It is nothing personal, Erik…understand this…I think we could have been like brothers under different circumstances…."
His voice sounded desperate, but Erik wanted to believe his words with all his heart. How different his life would have been if he had been given the chance to know his brother and love him.
"…it is just good business for me to take away any competition that comes between me and what I want."
"This is not a matter of business, Yves…this is blood….our blood." Erik's melodic baritone echoed back.
Yves searched frantically in the dark for some idea of where Erik was standing. A part of him was proud that his brother was a worthy opponent; but he was growing irritated with the chase.
They both heard them at the same time; a thunderous banging coming from the large door.
"Monsieur Lacroix….are you in there?"
The deafening thud of their fists against the door and the raised voices only seemed to amuse Yves…his putrid laugh filled Erik's ears once more. A malicious eeriness filled the air as a moment of dead silence enveloped them; but to Erik…there was no such thing as complete silence. He heard Yves' breathing and the steady shuffle of his booted feet through the tiny rocks and various items that littered the ground beneath their feet.
"Ahhh, it seems we have company….are they here for you, or for me?"
Although the very sound of Yves' voice chilled his blood, Erik used it to pin-point Yves' location and moved to stand only inches behind him.
Using instincts honed years ago, Erik thrust himself against the man's body, grabbing the extended arm, which held the gun, and forcing the gun to fall with a loud thud to the ground.
The resounding grunts of the battering ram against the door seemed to have little affect on the two men as they pounded each other to the ground and fought like two caged animals.
"Erik!"
Raoul's commanding voice carried well through the thickness of the wall, and Erik almost smiled to himself upon hearing the authoritative tone.
Erik had engaged in his share of hand-to-hand brawls, he had learned at a very early age to defend himself. Although Yves was familiar with fist fighting, he was no match for Erik. They were equally matched in cunning and wit; but Erik had skills in combat that Yves could only dream of having and a body resembling a Greek statue. They wrestled on the ground, in the dingy, faint, lighting - bludgeoning each other with fists that felt like solid stone.
One last resounding bang again the large door, and it was ripped away. The police forged their way into the damp, musky area with their lanterns illuminating the darkness as they drew closer to their target.
Yves used the diversion to frantically search for the revolver, but he had no luck. Erik's right fist pummeled his left cheek and then connected with his gut, causing Yves to spit blood.
The last kick in the dirt had uncovered the revolver and Yves threw himself at it, covering it with his body. Erik, having not seen the revolver, thrust his weight upon Yves, hoping to pin him to the ground.
They wrestled with the gun; Erik trying to keep it pointed downward and away from him while Yves threw insults and curses and tried to point the gun at Erik.
Both men fought as though the devil was on their shoulder – the revolver wrestled in Yves' hands while Erik forced it away from his body. Erik's mask had long since been dislodged, and Yves was tiring of the physical struggle rather quickly. Erik out maneuvered him and was a skilled assassin – Yves was nothing but determined.
Although the police had yet to actually find them, they shouted through the darkness, stating their main purpose for coming.
"Lord Yves Demidov, by the authority of the Russian Royal family, you are hereby charged with the murder of Lord Demetrius Demidov.…."
His laugh made everyone cringe, including Erik. Blood was now tickling down Yves' shirt, and the lust for death had settled in his dark, empty eyes.
"…I suppose that means they are here for me." He growled – answering his previous question.
Raoul raced forward as he saw the revolver in Yves' hand…but it all happened so fast that there was no way to stop it. Two shots went off in quick succession, and Erik realized he had plunged one of his daggers into the Yves' heart. His brother's blood covered his hands as life left him. Erik stood to his feet and felt the bile fill his throat – as it always did when he killed.
"Erik…" Raoul reached him and smiled wearily, "…I am sorry it took us so long to get here."
Erik slowly nodded; feeling physically drained and strangely cold…he had not wanted it to end like this.
"He killed Pieter…" Erik pointed in the direction of the body, "…please see that the boy has a proper burial."
His hazy eyes looked up to see Raoul examining him – a look of pure terror on his face.
"Erik, there is blood all over you!"
Erik looked down at this shirt, "It must be Yves'…"
The words halted in his mouth as his legs gave out and his eyes drifted shut - Raoul rushed forward to capture his collapsing form.
"Erik?!" Raoul shouted.
No response.
"Erik…talk to me." He demanded.
His eyes stirred open, no focus – no light, but they were open.
"I am so cold…" Erik murmured as trembling waves wracked his body.
His eyes did not want to stay open and he could not feel his body – he felt numb all over; but somehow…he was no longer weary of death…it seemed to welcome him now; perhaps he had finally earned his place.
"I think he shot me…" Erik choked, trying to smile – but the sweet light of heaven was coming to claim him.
Raoul was urging him to stay awake…urging him to keep his eyes open and his mind active…
"Tell her…" Erik thrust the words from a throat that no longer wished to work, "…that I will love her…" he smiled as his eyes closed – no longer able to stay open, "…forever."
TBC