September 18th 1892: Christine
By the time we were all standing outside at last, I felt so exhausted that my legs could hardly support my weight anymore. My weekened state seemed to be clearly visible to those around me, because Marielle and Jacques seized me by the arms and held me upright.
"You will only have to hold on for a few more minutes," Jacques assured me. "Once all this is over, we will bring you to a doctor."
I nodded gratefully. Usually I was not one of those women who went to the doctor the moment they were feeling even slightly unwell, but just now, the thought of a nice warm bed and something to free me from that terrible headache was simply wonderful.
"But first we'll have to end this," Marielle reminded us grimly, pointing at the men. They were still fighting and fighting, with no end in view.
"Can't we wait for the police?" Jacques asked, surveying the heap of people with great dislike. It was clear that he didn't trust himself to end the fight, and I couldn't blame him. Even if I hadn't been this weak, I wouldn't have known how to separate those men. "Surely Madame Larisse will alert someone," he went on.
"I have no doubt about it," Marielle said. "Your… Larisse is her name?… is a very capable woman. But unless I'm very much mistaken, she cannot fly. It'll take her a while to alert the police, and it'll take them even longer to come here, especially if they have to go to the fire brigade first. We have to do something now."
Looking over at the men, I saw that she was right. We couldn't just let them go on fighting. Who knew what they'd do to each other? I could make out neither Erik nor Raoul clearly among the mass of bodies, yet the mere thought that they were there, being kicked and hit, made me sway slightly. Hastily, Jacques wrapped his arm around my waist to keep me from falling.
"Thank you," I whispered. He merely nodded and turned his head away. He looked as though he'd have preferred joining the fight to standing here with me, the woman who had taken his master away from him. "Thank you for everything," I stressed. "You needn't have done all the things you did. You were very brave."
It was one of the few occasions when his wrinkled face showed an emotion. His cheeks flushed, and he looked at me, his gaze almost kind.
"I did what I had to," he told me softly. "All I ever wanted was for Master Raoul to be happy. I would have never believed it possible, but he seems to be happy with you. So…"
It was my turn to look away, feeling rather embarrassed. He had a point. Raoul loved me so much, and I repaid him by making love to Erik. What kind of a wife was I?
Marielle seemed oblivious to what was going on between Jacques and me. Her gaze darted around restlessly, and she asked:
"Do you think you can hold her alone for a moment, Jacques? I have to search for something.".
"Of course," Jacques replied readily, tightening his grasp. When Marielle let go of me, I stumbled, but managed to remain upright.
Marielle walked over to one of the bushes and stepped into it. For a moment I was afraid that the sound of snapping twigs could attract the men's attention, but one glance in their direction told me that they were too busy fighting to hear anything. Perhaps they'd have looked up if I had started screaming on top of my lungs, but the sounds Marielle was making were much too soft.
"What are you doing?" I hissed.
She did not reply, yet once she emerged from the bush, no answer was necessary. She held a pistol in her hand. Suddenly I felt faint again.
"Oh…" I breathed, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment as the world started spinning around me. "You're not… going to shoot anyone… are you?"
Marielle glanced down at the pistol before looking at the men.
"Not unless it's necessary," she finally replied matter-of-factly. "I certainly won't shoot anyone as long as they're lying on the ground. I can hardly see who is who. But we need something to attract their attention with, or the fight will go on forever."
"And you know how to use it?" I asked, thinking of the one time I had tried to threaten Erik with the pistol from Raoul's study. Although it had indeed scared him, the plan hadn't worked too well. If the pistol would scare the men now, however, it would be good for us.
Marielle nodded briefly. She raised her arm high into the air and fired.
The men may have been engrossed in their fight, but that didn't make them oblivious to everything that was going on around them. A shot was something even they couldn't ignore. They looked up, crawling and stumbling over each other in their attempt to find the source of the noise. It didn't take them very long. After just a few moments, all eyes were focused on Marielle.
Her father was the first to react.
"Good girl," he cooed, smiling up at his daughter. The effect was appaling rather than comforting, for one of his front teeth was missing. A thin trickle of blood made its way down his chin. "Now give your father the pistol. I need it."
"Of course you need it!" Marielle called shrilly. "You need it to shoot all those people, who are my true family. You need it to cause mayhem, just like you always do. No! Not this time! Make sure none of them runs away," she added in a lower voice, addressing the men who had fought on our side.
Her worry wasn't unfounded. Victor had used the time when she had spoken to try and get to his feet. Gabriel seized him by the upper arms and dragged him upwards roughly.
It was hard work to get all the men to their feet without letting anyone escape. Jacques went over to the others to help them, leaving me behind. After the minutes in which he had supported me, it almost felt a little strange to be on my own, but it worked surprisingly well.
Once everyone was able to walk, we seized the chance to draw back from the house and marched onto the lawn behind it, Marielle and her pistol showing us the way. I walked slowly, facing the wall at the back of the garden all the time. Once or twice I was tempted to glance over my shoulder, but I forced myself to go on, step after step. I wasn't prepared to see the house yet.
Marielle led us to a secluded spot under a large tree. It was only when we came to a halt that I had a good look at the men. I couldn't hold back a whimper of sympathy. They were in a pitiable state. Their clothes were torn and dirty, smeared with blood, and their faces were scratched and swollen. I had already noticed that Victor was walking with a limp that he had certainly not had before, and he was not the only one whose legs were hurt. One of the other henchmen of Marielle's father was rubbing his knee. Several men also had wounds on their arms and hands.
Naturally, my gaze was drawn to the two most important men in my life. They were standing on opposite ends of the line. Raoul was holding the henchman with the injured knee. He had a ring of bruises around his left eye, and his hair was dishevelled and dirty, but apart from those little things, he seemed unharmed. He smiled at me.
Erik was smiling as well, from behind Marielle's father. To my surprise, I saw that his mask had not been damaged. It seemed to be sturdier than it looked. His other cheek was scratched and bleeding, yet given the fact that much worse things could have happened, I couldn't help giving a sigh of relief. I felt much better, knowing that everyone I cared for was safe.
But was this truly the Erik I cared for? Only now did I rememver what had happened. Had Erik joined the fight to save us, or had the Opera Ghost joined the fight because he simply liked violence? I threw him a questioning glance, although I didn't seriously expect to see whether he was his old self again. His lips formed one word: Philippe? Smiling brightly, I gestured at the path around the house, trying to tell him without words that he had fled. I should have known. The Opera Ghost wouldn't have cared about my son.
"So…" Marielle called, breaking the tense silence at last. "We'll all wait here till the police arrives. No one will try anything stupid, or I'll be forced to use this." She brandished the pistol. "Believe me, I know how to use it."
"You wouldn't kill your own father," her father said confidently, taking a step forwards. I could have told him that this was not a good idea. Within a second, the noose of the Punjab Lasso had wrapped itself around his neck.
"Perhaps not," Erik agreed pleasantly, smiling the sardonic smile I had missed so much. "I, on the other hand, wouldn't mind. You'd have killed my godson without batting an eyelid. Just give me one reason to hurt you, and I'll be happy to do it."
Marielle's father opened his mouth, yet his retort was cut off by Gabriel's call.
"Wait a moment! Where's… where's Jacqueline?"