Chapter 163 Fate

Christine jerked awake from a deep sleep. She wasn't sure what time it was, or what exactly had caused her to stir. The fire was warm, no doubt recently tended by Erphan. She stretched just slightly, slipping from beneath the many blankets that had provided her with such comforting respite. She walked quietly to the door. Before she even reached it, she could hear humming. She smiled, no doubt the woman had been up all night working on the jacket.

Christine parted the curtains. It was still night, the dark hallway gave no hint of impending sunrise. Perhaps she'd not slept as long as her body had thought. She knew she'd no chance of returning to sleep, feeling sufficiently refreshed, so perhaps she would pay the woman a visit.

As she wandered down the hall toward the room at the end, she at first wondered why there was no light, but then chastised herself yet again. The woman had no need for light. There was only a faint glow from the fireplace that had been lit solely for the benefit of keeping the woman warm. Christine wandered back to the room she'd come from, lighting the candlestick that sat on the table, carrying it back down the hall. Perhaps a visit with the woman, some company, would do them both good. No doubt the woman would enjoy the conversation, and Christine would welcome the passage of time.

"Hello.." Christine said as she pushed the curtain aside wandering into the room.

"Whatever causes you to rise dear child? Do not tell me that I've become so slow at this art that it is already morning!"

Christine reassured her, "no, it is still night, though the exact hour I shan't know." Christine looked around. She was fairly certain that the bed she'd seen before was indeed where the woman slept. It looked comfortable, and tidy, but nothing more. She glanced at the woman. She was busily sewing up all of the seams. The jacket lacked arms and a proper hem, but Christine could see the beautiful embroidery on the back shoulders that no doubt had taken the woman considerable time.

"May I join you for a spell?" Christine said, looking around for a chair. Finding none, she saw a simple stool in the corner, walking to retrieve it.

"I shan't mind the company my dear, if you cannot rest, I understand. A young bride to be separated from her husband, it is most difficult." The woman said smiling and nodding as her hands busily pulled thread through the needle and began attaching one of the sleeves.

Christine sat in marvel at how the woman used her hands as her eyes, flipping the garment this way and that, pausing from time to time to feel the hem, and the width of the stitches with the tips of her fingers. "Yes, it is difficult to have him away. We've only been married several months now, and I do miss him whenever we are parted."

"I can imagine it is difficult my dear. So, I've a question, I am most certain I already know the answer to…is he as handsome as his voice sounds my dear?"

Christine laughed a little, easing the woman's fear that she'd been too forward. "Yes, perhaps even more so." Christine laughed once more.

The woman replied, "I shan't have believed that he was anything more than modest! He had such a beautiful spirit, though I fear he'd suffered much, perhaps a great rejection, though he'd never spoken of it." The woman flipped the garment yet again, another row of stitches needed around the arm.

Christine sighed, she somehow felt so comfortable in that room, with this woman. "The pictures Madame, I am simply astounded by the number of pictures he'd painted for you. Had you ever any offers to buy them?" Christine said, making a bit of conversation that seemed quite harmless.

The woman's face grew cold. She was silent for a moment. Her upper lip stiffened. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." She grew silent once more.

"And you'd not the heart to sell them?" Christine inquired.

"No, I shan't, and if I had ever been so inclined, it would not be to the likes of them! It was some snobbish woman, and her entourage; she'd an accent that I'd not recognized. She said she must have the collection, that it fit with others that she had in her palace." The woman laughed. "It was all very insulting. She'd stopped here on reference from another family in Paris. She'd wanted a dress for herself and several other women in her group." The woman turned and spat on the ground.

Christine's brow furrowed. "No doubt she'd have offered you a tidy sum for them, then you shan't have had to toil as you do." Christine said as she looked around at the bolts and bolts of fabric.

The woman sighed, "even you my dear, at your tender years, realize that there are things in this world that are far more important than money." The woman flipped over the garment, feeling about the sleeve once more before she smiled, and reached for the next. "He likes his sleeves rather long as I recall." The woman said as she began to attach the next one.

Christine had to admit, her curiosity was peeked. "So how did you deter the woman? No doubt someone that arrogant was not easily discouraged."

"It really was not all that difficult. The first term she requested was that she meet the painter in person, so that she might be able to procure a future appointment to have a portrait made of her family."

Christine shook her head. Surely the woman knew not of his deformity, or his aversion to people. "What was your response?"

The woman chuckled. "Now my dear, I do not lie, in truth I abhor it. But in this case it was entirely necessary. You see I'd promised to keep his identity secret, it was indeed part of our initial negotiation. So I would have done him a greater disservice by going back on my word, than protecting him with a simple untruth."

Christine waited patiently. Whatever the woman had said had obviously worked well or she'd have not taken such pleasure in the triumph.

"Ah yes, just a few more stitches here, and that should do nicely." She felt about the rim once more. "You see, it was not true, but fashion a proper untruth I did. I told this pompus sultana that he'd contracted a fever and died a quite pitiful death the year before." The woman laughed. "She then suddenly lost interest in the paintings and left seeming quite injured. She'd not even stayed to have the garments made. I heard her mumbling about wanting to return home immediately, that their search had produced nothing more than rotting fruit! I never heard from her again!"

Christine shook her head, "wealth and privilege often do not make for a better person. It is nearly always true that possessing too much, makes one callous and unfeeling. Wanting that which is not theirs, simply because they feel they've some inherent right to it because of their wealth. Truly, some of the finest people I've ever had privilege to know, were of meager means in terms of worldly wealth, but were rich in so many other ways far more priceless than gold." Christine's mind wandered from person to person in her life that were neither wealthy, nor snobbish, who'd been generous and compassionate with her when she'd needed it most.

The woman smiled, "I can see why he loved you. All those years he spoke of your good spirit, your kind soul, he was certainly most correct my dear…you were meant for one another." The woman laid the jacket down on the table, smoothing it with her hands. She'd a final inspection to make before she put the finishing stitches in place.

Christine was at once thankful for the woman's blindness. Not out of cruelty, but for selfish reasons. Her cheeks were a deep crimson…he'd no doubt spoke of his love for her to this woman. And though the woman had not eyes in the literal sense, she could see that Erik and Christine were a perfect match.

Christine rose from the chair. "A cup of tea Madame?"

The woman smiled. "Yes, I think I'd love a cup, and my dear old hands could use a bit of rest. Come child, I'll show you to the kitchen. Perhaps we can sample some of those cookies that the two boys have been nibbling on all evening!" She walked out into the dark hallway, calling back over her shoulder. "And do bring that candlestick with you my dear!"

Christine lifted the brass-handled sconce and followed the woman down the hall. A cookie did sound rather fetching just now. She smiled, and a piece of fruit perhaps. Remembering Erik's words as she ran her hand over her abdomen.

XXXX

The woman laid the ivory parchment on the small table near her bed, removing the spectacles from her eyes, placing them on the table. She grew tired. On any normal evening, she'd have been asleep long before, but this night had produced several surprises, and was anything but normal. She stretched tall straightening her nightdress. Her long locks cascading over her shoulder. Though grayed by age, there were hints of its former luster. Some onyx strands had simply refused to lose color, as though they'd held on to her youth, the way her heart had hung onto hope. She ran her hand over her face. Her skin was of the fairest ivory, nearly flawless, offset only by the delicate pink of her lips, and her striking blue eyes. Her high cheekbones and noble brow gave her a look of regal elegance that were the envy of women half her age, and the object of many a disappointed would-be suitors. No, there were only two men in her life she had ever loved….one with whom she had shared warm embraces, and one she'd never touched. She could forget neither of them…not even after all this time.

A perfect pairing she thought, as the Lord took one from her, he'd provided the possibility of another. Perhaps this one would be far more pleasant than all the others she'd held on to. He was not of the painful past that she shared with those who'd died before her…he was of the future…the future benefactor for the City of Chauesser if he could be persuaded to be as much. No doubt the promise of inheriting her wealth would not likely be an influencing factor, as it seemed he must have wealth of his own, having seen to the final arrangements for Victoria.

That name….it even burned on the tip of her tongue when she said it, but it was more painful still rambling about in her mind. She tried not to think of the woman, but at some point each day her mind had wandered to her….that dreadful feeling of a seething hatred soon followed, that followed by self-condemnation, and then acceptance. It was a vicious, painful cycle that had become as much a part of her day as having morning tea, though considerably less pleasant.

She lifted the small silver bell that lay on the tray next to the emptied teacup. Then she carefully folded the pages and slipped them into the envelope, quickly pouring a thick drop of black wax, pushing her seal into it. Lifting it from the quickly cooling wax she looked at the imprint. She'd never picked a specific shape or insignia, preferring only to have a generic treble mark. She'd not wanted to embrace her last name, for in her heart she belonged to another, so she picked the love in her life, music, as what she wished to be remembered for.

The maid quickly appeared, retrieving the tray, waiting with her head down.

The woman lay the letter on the tray, "do see that the young man receives this tonight." The maid curtsied and departed. The woman went to her bed, climbing in and extinguishing the light. She was tired, indeed, very tired. The morrow would bring much preparation, but at least she'd finished her part, and she was sufficiently pleased with the contents.

XXXX

Erik's horse was less than capable of keeping up with Nadir's, as his had just come from the stable, Erik's having just completed the trip in from Paris. A million things ran through Erik's mind. There were memories of past events which he swiftly put from his mind. Then there were thoughts of events yet not arrived. Those were what he would cling to. They were the hope of his future, the redemption from his past. The wind had picked up just slightly, making calling out for Nadir nearly impossible as they were riding into the wind. A gunshot would only further frighten him, making him likely to turn and retaliate. There was simply little Erik could do but try to keep up until Nadir overtook whomever he was pursuing or abandoned the chase, which Erik doubted would be the case. He kicked his heels into the horse, but stroked his mane, knowing the beast was doing all it could.

Nadir had paced the horse quite well, though he knew he was falling further behind the boy. The increasing winds made it all the harder to be certain in the near pitch night sky that he was indeed still following in his tracks, though he had a feeling he was by the tracks in the snow. His pulse quickening with each length of the horse's stride. He'd had his weapon at his side, exposed and ready as soon as he could get within firing distance, he would take care of this swiftly.

Erik was gaining on Nadir, though he tried as much as he could to stay off to the side, hoping that Nadir would recognize this silent language that the pair had shared in Persia. Nadir had oft told him, "enemies pursue from behind, strangers from the left, but a friend, he follows from the right at a fair distance until he is recognized." Erik could only hope that Nadir would recall his own words, lest this night end pitifully for them both.

Erik leaned down trying to aid the speed with which the horse could move. In doing so he put his head close to the beast neck, giving break from the wind. It was then that he heard it. Hooves, a number of hooves, yet a distance away, but most decidedly coming up from behind him.

Erik's eyes grew wide. Rauol would certainly have sent support for Nadir, it made sense. Erik swallowed, perhaps Raoul himself would be among them. Oh how Erik was torn. He could slow down, allow them to pass and assist Nadir, returning to Raoul's house to speak with Madame Giry and Meg. He could slow and follow, taking Raoul down, none being the wiser, in fact the blame would fall squarely on the shoulders of the Crawlings boy. Though Erik was ashamed for thinking it, it would indeed resolve a number of issues that had arisen since the Raoul appeared months ago.

No, Meg was fond of him. And though part of Erik loathed Raoul, even still, he could do no such thing to someone who had extended such generosity to Meg, Madame Giry, and even Nadir. No, if Raoul died this night, it would not be at his hands. He had saved Meg from a certain fate….no…even though it would make Erik's life less complicated, he could do no such thing…it would make him no better than the beast from Persia…depriving people of their lives merely because they'd become an inconvenience.

The decision sprang into his mind, and before he'd a moment to consider it, he embraced it. He leaned even further down on the horse, giving it several sharp jabs to its side. The horse responded as though it could sense the urgency of the situation.

It was not long before Erik began to make loud clicking sounds with his tongue. He had no idea if Nadir would hear them, but he simply had to try. The closer Erik came, the louder the sound he made. He could tell Nadir had heard something, for he could see the man begin to slow his horse looking over his shoulder this way and that. In but a moment, Erik was in that pivotal position, completely vulnerable, and completely within range of Nadir's pistol should he mistake Erik for another.

Erik glanced to toward the sky "God help us!" He cried with a plea. He closed his eyes for a brief second then delivered two more jabs to the horse's side. He found himself moving closer and closer to Nadir. He could see Nadir was reaching for his pistol. Erik inhaled as deeply as he had ever in his life, then releasing with such force the sound even startled him, "NADIR!"

Nadir spun around on his horse, his hand moving abruptly from his weapon to pull on the reins of his horse. He thought he'd imagined it. That voice….it belonged to one person alone. But it could not be! He was with Christine, safe and warm at the winter house, awaiting word….then he heard it again, this time a bit louder. "NADIR mon aimee!"

Nadir tugged hard on his reins. If it were his imagination, it was the grandest hallucination he'd ever had. It was but a few seconds before Erik was at Nadir's side, removing all doubt. The men were both short of breath.

"Nadir, my friend, there is no time to explain. A contingent follows close behind me no doubt from Raoul's house. Return to Raoul's, STAY THERE….tell them you lost the trail…I promise the boy shan't return."

Nadir was covered in sweat, relief but such confusion in his eyes. Indeed there was no time to speak of how the pair had found each other on this bit of earth. Nadir reached out, doing the only thing he could, grasping Erik's shoulder, gasping, "God's speed to you sir, thank you."

Erik nodded, "They are well? All of them?"

"Yes" Nadir said. Erik sighed, the fire had not consumed them. "Stay at Raoul's, do not come to the Opera House. I shall find you at Raoul's, or send word to you as to a meeting place. Promise me that you nor Meg will venture out until you've heard from me."

Nadir looked all the more confused, but quickly agreed. "Done." With that the pair of weathered friends exchanged one last glance, and then Erik was gone.

Nadir tarried, perched on his horse. He could hear pounding hooves moving in both directions, some toward him, some away from him. He sighed, his breath rising toward the barely lit sky. The earlier cloud cover was beginning to break once again. He could but wait now for them to catch up with him. From what he could hear, it would be a few minutes only. He lit the single candle and set of matches that he had in his pocket. It would be his only way of signaling to them, for no doubt they'd not see him. No, waiting was all he could do, though he'd rather be at Erik's side keeping his promise. But Erik was right, this was the only way. If Nadir could not take care of this boy himself, he knew of only one other person that was better at this than he….and that was the one that now pursued the boy…truly…he was a master at it. I all of the years Nadir had known Erik, he'd not failed….not once.

XXXX

Raoul paced heavily in the library. The doctor was at his side. "We should return to Meg. She will be wondering where I am. I told her I had to but retrieve one thing from my room. She is even now holding a cloth to her cheek in anticipation of having her stitches removed. I've given her something for the impending discomfort, but no doubt would not mind having your hand to hold. That indeed would explain the delay in my return."

Raoul was huffing. "It is most wise what you suggest, I am simply…" he stopped pacing, inhaling, and exhaling slowly. "This infernal pacing…it is a habit, a most annoying one, that I've inherited from my father's example."

He stood behind the divan, grasping the back of it with both hands squeezing until his knuckles were white. "Yes, yes, it makes the most sense. I can be of no use to Nadir. The finest men have gone to join him. They shall either find and vanquish the boy, or will return to protect us. Whatever the case, I have little control over the outcome. But Meg, yes, I can be of use to her." He stood, running his fingers through his hair, straightening his jacket, repositioning his cravat. "Yes, you lead sir, I will follow."

XXXX

Erik glanced up at the sky. The departing clouds were giving way to a star filled sky, giving some illumination to the night, making it far easier to travel…far easier to hunt. Erik could see the outskirts of Paris off in a distance. He'd been following the trail of the horse, he was certain, the newly churned snow was good evidence that he was on the right track. Erik had reconciled with the beast below him. He leaned in closely, the horse moved ever faster, with no further encouragement. Perhaps it had been a horse in races at one point in its life. Erik had neither ridden the beast nor seen him for months, but it had taken but this one ride for the horse to remember him.

Erik felt a creeping feeling crawling up his spine. He knew what must be done when the boy was finally found. For if he did not strike first, surely the boy would. He remembered the last time he'd seen him, though it was somewhat of a blur. Suddenly a rage grew within Erik. It was at the hands of this very boy that Sara had been deprived of her life. It was at the hands of that boy that he'd thought to have killed Erik himself. Erik had no desire, nor use for suppressing this rage now. He would need to muster all he could to swiftly deal with this boy, for it was certain, if he was not put to an end, he would but further wage his treachery, and who next…what other poor family would be deprived of its father, a husband, a son? No, he was a man of conscience, and he knew regrettably what had to be done. This boy would do no more, no more harm.

He stroked the horse once more, patting its shoulder just beneath the neck. The horse gave one bolt, no doubt the last surge of energy the beast had as they reached the outer edge of the City.

The boy hadn't even looked back. No doubt he'd thought foolishly that he'd out maneuver whomever pursued him within the City. He turned down this street and that, ducking into alley after alley, to no avail.

It was in one fateful second that he turned to glance behind, just as they came beneath the lights of the cathedral. It moved in seemingly slow motion, a second being a minute easily if not more….the boy's head turned, glancing over his shoulder to see a man on a rather large black horse, cape flying high behind him. In that brief moment Erik sat nearly upright on the horse.

The boy gasped…his mind surely deceived him…was this not the man he'd killed not long before in that pathetic excuse of a hamlet hours from here? He gasped, yet there was something far more frightening than thinking him to be a ghost, as a shadow passed over Erik's face, the boy wasn't at all certain that he'd not been pursued by the Phantom who'd gone missing several months ago with a young girl! Which would be worse, he knew not. He jerked his horse hard to the left. There was one place he knew, none would follow him, for if they did they certainly weren't from the land of the living, for none dared trod there.

Erik leaned down once more shaking his head. If the boy thought this would deter him, he was entirely mistaken. His head next to the horse's head, he pursued him. It took but several minutes and Erik's suspicion was confirmed. There was but one place that this road he'd now turned on led, and that was to LeMortem Street.

The boy had taken up a slight advantage, having somehow put a small distance between them. As the boy approached the row of single-story cement buildings, he turned sharply once more to the left. This would surely do it, and if not, he was running from more than mere mortals. His head spun over his shoulder once more, he did not see the man behind him as he moved swiftly down the alley behind the undertakers. It was the place in the City that all feared more than any other, the river of blood ran behind it, and all feared to trod there.

As he entered, he had want to cover his face, the stench was nearly unbearable. There was a splash beneath the hooves of his horse and the boy could not bring himself to look, though he'd some suspicion what it was that would not be solid on a cold night. He looked back not even once more. He'd get to the end of it, darting in and out of every alley after that he could find. If he'd not be pursued then…then… He heard it behind him, the fresh beat of a horse's hooves just entering the alley. His thoughts had not proven to be folly.

He pushed his horse as hard as he could, the very thought of what was not afraid to follow him down that alley frightened him more than the thought of dying….was it the man? The Phantom?

He quickly reached the end of the alley, taking another rather abrupt left, leading his horse inside an abandoned building, closing the door behind him. He traveled as swiftly on foot as he could to the other end, opening wide the door, so that the horse would eventually make its way out of its own volition.

The boy inhaled once sharply before he found himself out into the snow. He'd travel on foot, concealing, as much as he knew how, his footprints. He'd find himself another horse, and return to satisfy what bloodlust had found him once more in Paris. For he was certain when the sun rose that there would be all manner of people looking for him, with no further chance of his exacting his revenge to come for months.

He quickly found himself on the roof of the building next. Crawling on his belly he moved from one rooftop to another until he found himself at the building's edge. He moved quickly down the sloping roof and ran across the street. So far as he knew he'd not been discovered. In just a few more blocks he'd be at the Opera House. He knew there would be horses there…and all he needed was one freshly rested.

Erik made his way down to the very end of the alley and back several times. He'd splashed around in every crevice he could find, and to no avail. There was no boy, no horse. He walked his horse down to the end looking out in the street, there were no hoof marks, no sign that there had been anyone there.

He looked once more to the left, there, around the corner, he saw the nose of a horse, it was moving slowly toward the corner. Erik lifted his gun, pulling his horse back just slightly into the shadow. He checked the chamber, it was ready, he pulled back, prepared to take shot at first opportunity, his exit from the City already planned, though none would pursue him once they found who'd been felled. He waited, and waited.

Slowly the horse moved out into the open. Erik gasped, there was no rider. His eyes grew wide, his head twisting this way and that, scanning the shadows…had he been tricked? Suddenly had the hunter become the hunted? Erik moved back into the shadows and waited.

When he saw and heard no movement, and watched as the horse wandered down the street without direction, Erik realized it had been abandoned. Slowly he made his way out of the alley, looking now to find the singular set of hoof prints in the snow leading up to the building just next. He dismounted, lashing his horse to the door, and crept inside. He looked at the door open on the other end. No doubt that is where the horse had exited. Erik's eyes were scanning the rafters, he saw nothing. He moved back outside, and to the edge of the building. There were no footprints in the snow. Where had the boy gone?

Erik went back in, surely the boy would have…then his eyes, looked more closely…had the boy gone out the door with the horse? He moved cautiously toward the other, gun on the ready in case the boy appeared. He'd made it to the end of the building only to find that the footsteps went to the next building. Erik saw the rather large pile of snow that lay on the ground, having recently been deposited there. "The roof?"

Erik made his way to the building, quickly climbing the trellis. Off in the distance, a few blocks away, he saw the boy, scaling yet another building. "Where was he going?" Erik's heart fluttered… "The Opera House!" Christine's dream had been specific. She'd seen the boy there….Erik dropped back down to the ground, running through the length of the building, mounting his horse with a flourish. He was once again out in the snow on the street next to LeMortem. He'd been down that area twice in one night. The only fear that people should have, Erik thought to himself, is fear of that which resides within them, for that is the most paralyzing of all.

Erik moved swiftly down the street. He'd have to be careful himself as he approached the Opera House as even he rode a horse that had been borrowed, however temporarily. He was but a block from the building when he saw a small rider burst past on the street. Erik looked down at the tired beast that he rode. He knew he'd no choice but to make it travel once more. Where the boy thought he would go now, was beyond him. He turned in his saddle, a bit disoriented….hadn't that been the direction they'd just come into the City?

Erik gasped…was he bold enough to return to Raoul's that very night? Erik could only assume that the boy, in his ignorance would have thought that to be his last maneuver. Erik shook his head. The boy would be moving in on the tail of Raoul's retreating forces, who no doubt would have made their way home by now. They'd not be thinking the boy would return. Erik had promised Nadir that he'd take care of the boy, no doubt Nadir comforted them into thinking they'd have nothing further to fear that night.

Erik's horse was slower than it had been, no doubt tiring from its pace. He'd no time to risk being caught trying to take another horse. A tired one was better than none at all. Erik made swift work of the block, taking a sharp right. The snow was firm, but Erik could tell the crust was thinning. It would not be an easy return, but he'd no choice. Erik could see the tails of the boys cloak off in the distance as he turned the corner. Perhaps it would take the boy a few minutes to realize he was once again being pursued, Erik could only hope that this would give him enough of an advantage to catch him before he'd gotten too far.

The boy thinking himself to be quite clever pushed the beast. The night hours were waning, and his window of opportunity would soon close. If it were not finished before the hints of sunrise came, he'd have to wait, how long he knew not.

Erik followed, an ever increasing distance growing between them. His heart was sinking. Had his promise put Nadir, Madame Giry, Meg in Peril? No, he couldn't second guess himself. He could only travel the distance as fast as he could, hoping he'd not be too late if he couldn't overtake him before.

The boy continued, the rested horse making the trip quite easily. It was but twenty-minutes time and he found himself a the edge of the woods where he'd been just hours before. Surely none would suspect him to have returned, and indeed, he'd not seen anyone out in the yard, though he was fairly certain there would at the very least be guards posted.

He ventured closer, back to the very edge of the building where he'd been once before. He saw no one in the yard, not even one. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the men in the stables, surely there was something going on in there.

His heart was pounding. He abandoned the horse, tying it up on a low stump. He'd move through the woods off to the left that lay off to the side, behind the fire. He was certain there would be no wolves there, nor need for guards. Slowly he made his way through the trees, carefully avoiding making so much as a sound. Though he saw no dogs in the yard, he knew they'd have keen hearing and barking would ensue if they heard anything.

Slowly, methodically he moved ever closer toward the house. It was seemingly all too easy. If he could but make it to the house and to the trellis, the victory would be assured. Raoul's room was right on the corner of the house, he knew. He'd but have to wait in the closet or behind a curtain until Raoul retired, and it would be quiet and effortless, and he'd be on his way. A perfect plan.

Erik's heart pounded as he saw the tree line come into view as he crested the last hill. He could no longer see the boy. He wasn't certain how best to proceed, but he'd want to do so quite out of view. If only he could find the boy before he'd find a way to the house. Erik rode down the hill, trying now to be as quiet as he could. He dismounted some hundred meters behind the carriage house, choosing to make the last leg of the journey on foot.

He found himself moving in the shadows of the overhang. Slowly he'd make his way to the corner and then to where he could view the house, and the yard, as well as the front of the carriage house. He turned the corner, his heart pounding when he saw the horse lashed to a tree stump. It was no doubt the one the boy had ridden in on, but there was no sight of him. The hunt, the instinct, before Erik had even felt it, the change had happened. Suddenly Erik no more he grasped the edges of his cloak, pulling it in, his gun poised, though he'd have preferred a sword.

He moved to the edge of the building, his heart rate slowing…it was method, it was precision, nothing more. His breathing began to shallow, his eyes keen and set as he came to the corner glancing, surveying the yard, the house. There was no one in the yard, no one on the veranda, no guard, no dogs….no boy. Where had he gone?

Erik glanced out of the corner of his eye at the woods and the fire. If it were he, that is what he'd have chosen. He squinted, focusing all that he could on the trees. The flames that danced not far in front of it provided light and distraction, making truly seeing difficult. But patience in this process was something he knew well. Hunting was not about being the quickest, it was about out-smarting what you hunted, you need be no faster. Then, he saw it. Slight movement, but movement. No sound…the boy was clever. But he had to be certain…a wolf could do the same. He strained, squinting his eyes, trying to focus through the trees.

In that split second, a second that would haunt Erik as long as any memory he'd ever had, the door to the house opened. It was Raoul. "I'll be just a moment," he heard him call over his shoulder, as he walked out. No doubt he'd be coming to check on the swift return of the contingent. Erik glanced back and forth. Raoul paused briefly, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the light of the fire. Erik looked over at the woods, the boy was emerging slowly. There were no guards, no dogs, no reason for anyone to suspect he'd be there….it would be even easier than he'd thought.

Erik glanced at Raoul…part of him hated Raoul for all he'd deprived him of, or tried to. He could not kill him, but if Crawlings did, he'd not be responsible. The boy would flee after satisfying his revenge; after all he was not threatening someone he loved. Raoul was a man who himself would have struck the fatal blow in the cemetery had Christine not begged for Erik to be spared. If the boy killed him, Raoul's blood would not be on his hands…..The next second was a blur. A single shot rang out. Erik snapped his head to see as Raoul hit the ground.

The carriage house doors opened all manner of men flying from it. Nadir ran toward the house. Raoul was laying on the ground, a bit of deja-vous from hours before. He leaned over him, throwing his cloak over him as men began to scurry in all directions. Erik had retreated, running to his horse, mounting it and driving it as hard as he could into the woods.

Erik's pulse was pounding so heavily in his temple he thought he'd lose consciousness before he'd find safe harbor. In but a few minutes time he was deep into the dark woods. He rode and rode until he came to a thicket. There was but one opening, seemingly made by the hands of man, not nature, for the thicket was tangled well on all other points. Erik ducked below, leading the horse through it. He looked around. The place was well groomed, almost oddly so, and off to his left, was that benches? He led the horse over to the dark mass that lay off to the side. It was a cave of sorts. This would provide the horse shelter temporarily until he could decide what to do. He lashed the horse to the tree, and he began to pace. Tears streaming down his face. He held his hands up shaking his fists toward the sky, his self-directed hatred erupting in him like convulsions. He flung his cloak to and fro and he paced and paced and paced.

He finally came to rest on one of the benches. He put his head down into his hands. He was crying, a pitiful, deep, gut wrenching cry, and then an anger boiled to the surface, and then once more pity. He wrestled with that which had just happened, the split second decision he'd made. In the quiet of the grotto, he uttered but one word… "Why…" then his shoulders began to wretch pitifully.

Author's Note:

Dear Faithfuls: My goodness, what a long chapter. I apologize, but most everyone was looking for some resolution, and hopefully this will put part of the story to rest.

First, do not worry, all will be as it should be! I am once again thankful that no one knows where I live lest I be hunted down and harpooned!

Second, I am going to try as Fanfic suggests, and respond to you using the reply link. So, check your e-mail. If you reviewed for the previous chapter, I'll try to be sure to include you in the response e-mail for the next! Please let me know your thoughts on how I've done this. If anyone feels that it should be done differently, please let me know. Perhaps Fanfic will occasionally allow me to put notes such as this one at the end of the chapter as long as I do not put the lengthy reviews here. Please let me know what you think! Bon Nuit!