OOO
The coming of Luciana, it seemed, exacerbated every other problem or difficulty present in the arrangement the two boys had with Giovanni. Whispers about Erik's mask that had remained subdued, for fear of Giovanni and implications that Erik was his bastard, grew louder as Erik acted increasingly on edge and questions about why Raoul was there too were voiced once again. People began whispering monster – and Luciana could not help up to hear and flit about with the frenzy of an inner battle, caught between her wishes and her fears.
As Erik's irritation grew he started to work later, avoiding Luciana, Giovanni and even Raoul. In response, Raoul started to skulk around the site, watching him work from the edge of the sites and shooting dark glances at the men who whispered behind Erik's back. Erik suspected he was secreting away knives again, but the boy was getting better and he did not have the time or the patience to find everything he could hide.
"You need to stop this, Raoul," Erik admonished as they walked back in the dark.
"It's the only place I can see you," Raoul pouted. "You don't come home."
"The sites are no places for you Raoul; they are unsafe. And I don't want you threatening any of the men Raoul."
"I know my way around; I know how to be safe. And the men… they say terrible things!"
"And what you might do may only make it worse!" Erik's grip on the boy's shoulder tightened. "And I told you before, you should be going to school."
"School ended two weeks ago. And who would look out for you?"
"I can look after myself!" He replied with an incredulous laugh.
At this, Raoul tore away and ran into the house. For a moment, Erik stood in the dark, frozen, watching his brother disappear through the door. He only saw Raoul's retreating back but he could surmise the boy was crying. When he got inside, Raoul had already vanished and there was only Giovanni, sitting at the table.
"My brother…"
"In bed," Giovanni sighed wearily. "He ran up without saying anything."
"Perhaps Raoul and I could take a trip after my last project is finished," Erik suggested timidly. "Like we did before in the fall. Leave for a few weeks, observe architecture, take some sketches, stay away until…" He trailed off, leaving the wishful, bittersweet hope of Luciana's leaving unspoken.
"You think she will leave?" Giovanni looked at him, voicing what Erik feared.
"You could make her go," Erik whispered, not wanting such a conclusion but recognizing its necessity all the same.
"It would kill her," Giovanni rejoined softly. "I…"
"I know sir." Erik nodded. "I am afraid we have imposed upon your kindness for far too long. I will pack."
As he turned to go, he felt Giovanni take him by the arm.
"Don't be foolish, boy. Sit down, sit down."
Erik was pressed into a seat and sat in uncomfortable silence as Giovanni left for a moment, returning with a bottle of wine. Pouring them both glasses, he spoke of his past, his complicated relationship with his daughter – half exposition, half apology for his inability to control her. The elderly architect went on about ideals, about architecture, of God and men and women. Then, pressing a compass that had been a gift from his wife into the somewhat drunken boy's hands, he spoke of affection, of letting people inside and of trusting.
"No less a love than you have for your own charge," he whispered.
Erik nodded, half numb, looking at Giovanni with red-eyes that seemed as if they wanted to cry. "Sir, I… I mean…" He fumbled for words before lapsing into silence.
"Come," Giovanni said, leading him with a firm hand. "You must get to bed. I know how hard you work and you have had more than enough."
"Yes, yes… I know…" He clutched the compass to his chest.
The aged architect left Erik at the top of the stairs before shuffling off to his own bedroom, worrying that he would not be able to do right by all of the children in the house. Perhaps Erik was right, he thought, and a space of absence for the boys would be best for all of them. But his reliance on Erik had grown and, unless they slipped away in the middle of the night, he was sure that if Luciana were to know of their going she would press the issue. Regardless, it was a temporary salve at best – she would be there when they returned, if they left, and likely all the more irritated and eager.
Nothing to do then, he thought. Nothing to do at all.
OOO
Raoul was still reluctant to leave Erik's side when the heat of August finally returned. Luciana had not gone back to school which had only made him all the more agitated, regarding her as much of a threat as the malicious men who worked under Giovanni, a threat of a different and, to Raoul at least, more dangerous nature. The men he could handle, but Luciana…
He'd had a row one night and left a torn apart, stabbed doll in her bed that evening. The mutual furies of Erik and Giovanni had been incredible and Raoul had quailed in the face of their rage. He could do nothing against the little beast that could stir the others to sympathy, do nothing to make them see what she was and it gnawed at him.
Then he woke one day to angry shouts again, though these not of his doing.
"Leave them alone!"
"If they don't work, what does it matter?" There was a smash. "That doesn't work!" Another crash. "Or that one now either!"
"Do not touch them!"
"Why? It is my house, I may touch what I please!"
Raoul ran to the top of the basement stairs and clambered down to see Erik kneeling on the floor, hands running through the broken shards of numerous inventions. Luciana was still tearing about the room, red-faced and reaching for more of the shelved objects as Erik sat there, numb and mortified, gaping at the destruction.
With an incoherent cry, Raoul ran down the rest of the way and launched himself at the girl. They tumbled to the flooring, bringing down more of the contents of the shelves, and he reached for a piece of broken glass which he dragged across her arms. Her shrieks pierced the air and it was only a few moment before he felt Erik's hands on him, pulling him off.
Luciana fled upstairs into the waiting arms of Giovanni, who too had heard the ruckus and come to see what was happening.
"He cut me!" She wailed, proffering her arm.
"Luciana!' He thundered. "What did you think you were doing down there!"
"I'll kill you!" Raoul bellowed at the top of his small lungs. "I'll kill you, you destroyed his work, I'll kill you!"
"Raoul!" Erik wrenched the glass away then smacked him. It was not particularly hard – but it was a physical violence Raoul was unused to being directed towards him. Erik's Voice could be terrible, to be sure; but he had never touched him, not like that.
At the top of the stairs, Giovanni was roundly berating the still-wailing girl. Pushing past them, Raoul ran and Erik followed after, panicked at seeing everything falling to pieces.
"You see what you have done!" Giovanni pointed after them.
"He's a wretched little beast!" She sobbed. "I don't see why Erik cares for him! And I am bleeding…"
"It is barely a scratch," Giovanni snapped, suddenly nauseated and unsympathetic at her willingness to tear apart Erik's labors. "And of course he loves the boy – they are as brothers."
"They're not related," she sniffed. "They could not be! Raoul is so… Erik is a genius and Raoul is a nasty brat!"
"They love one another," Giovanni went on. "Can you not see what you are doing to them? Are you so selfish…"
She fled, refusing to listen to the rest of the reprimand and he, already weary from the argument, found himself unable to follow. The boys had already gone and the best he could hope for was that they would come back.
OOO
Erik caught up to the boy when he finally tripped from exhaustion and lay down in the grass.
"Raoul, I am sorry!" He gasped. "But you could have killed her!"
"I should have!" Tears spilled down his cheeks. "She was destroying your work! All your work, everything you made – did you not want to hurt her?" Erik looked off into the distance, silent. "I did it for you!"
"Raoul… Raoul, please."
"Don't love her more," Raoul whispered and crawled into Erik's arms. "I love you always and forever, don't love her more. Don't, don't, don't, she will go away but I will not, you are all I've got…"
Erik sat and rocked as the sun climbed in the sky and then, still holding Raoul in his arms, began the trek home. The day was stifling and hot and it was with a sense of relief that they walked into the cooler, now-quiet darkness of the house. Laying Raoul into his bed, Erik went back downstairs, not seeing Luciana much to his relief. He gave a brief, apologetic nod to Giovanni.
"I am going down to the site," he whispered and Giovanni let him pass without any other exchange.
As he made his way down, Erik wondered what type of brother he was, what type of brother he'd become that he could no longer bear to act on his own behalf and prioritized a child whose affections and attachments he could not trust over his unswervingly loyal brother. What type of brother was he, anyway, who had raised a docile, cheerful little boy to become a child at ease with the idea of tearing apart a girl for offending them, slicing her apart for behaving in a way he took to be a threat?
The teen could feel the weight of his own failures settling on his shoulders, with the greatest looming like a guillotine above his neck.
OOO
Back at the house, Luciana had come down the stairs, bandaged and insisting to her father that she would know what was behind the mask. And when Erik finally returned home, exhausted and wanting nothing more to sleep, it was the first thing she demanded. Raoul, who had been hovering tensely in the background, stepped forward at the demand and Giovanni stood at attention.
The tragedy, the old man realized dimly, was reaching it's climax.
"You must excuse me," he stammered after she made her demand.
"No!" She shrieked. "I will know! I demand to know!"
Erik made for the steps when, quite suddenly, Raoul stepped in front of him, diminutive but defiant.
"Fine," he trebled. "You want to see? Do it, Erik. Do it and see what happens. I do not mind. You need not wear it for me. Those who love you… Remove your mask and you remove hers!" He cried out. "See what she really is!"
Raoul's argument had come to its point and, fearful, Erik looked over at Giovanni. For a moment, the man paused, having the distinct feeling as though they were all at the edge of a precipice. And, despite his own myriad mistakes, his ineffectiveness, Erik had given him power and control in this last moment, the ability to shape the outcome.
Such a gift, he realized, was not to be wasted or misused; and ultimately, he felt it should not be his decision to make.
"As you will, Erik," he replied, giving the choice back. "I will not permit Raoul or Luciana to compel you to do anything you do not wish."
Slowly, Erik nodded, drawing nearer to Giovanni. He looked up at the older man, pained and weighed down. When they were facing one another, Erik looked at the floor.
"This won't end any other way, will it?"
"I… I cannot say for sure. But I do not think so," Giovanni admitted wearily.
Erik nodded as if this were the conclusion he too had come to.
"Very well, mademoiselle. You insist?" His voice sounded dead and pained.
"Yes!" She balled up her fists petulantly. "If Raoul doesn't mind… I will prove you wrong!" She pointed at him.
With a sigh, Erik reached up and unfastened the mask. Behind him, Giovanni steeled himself; Erik's back was to him, but Raoul was watching, and if he glimpsed and flinched, who could say what the child might do? He caught the briefest sidelong glance and did not move; instead pity welled within him. It was as bad and as ostracizing as anything he could have ever surmised or imagined.
Luciana, however, was in full view of his face – and she was horrified. Terror played across her features and when he reached out, a last gesture of futile hope, she threw her arms up and fled to the parapet.
"You see? You see?" Raoul cried out, weeping. "All the same."
"Luciana…" Erik's voice pleaded and he took a tentative step.
"Stay away!" She shrieked, flinging herself against the parapet, as far away from him as possible up on the balcony.
Then a horrible crack, which would stay with those present at the scene for years to come, split the air. Beneath the slight girl, the crumbling parapet finally tumbled to the ground in a rush of dust and marble, taking Luciana with it. A final cry, then everything went silent for a moment as the dust settled on the earth several stories down.
The air pressed out of Erik's lungs, a disbelieving sound of grief and self-blame. Giovanni went over to the boy and heard him rambling to himself.
"I should have left, I should have left, she had no need to see, no need…"
Meanwhile Raoul had gone up to the edge, fearless of whether more of it might fall. He looked down with approval on the gruesome destruction below, as if it had been a deliberate act, punishment by the hand of God.
"I knew she would scream," he sniffed, with a hint of smug, malicious satisfaction. Then he turned and went over to Giovanni, who was still holding onto the mortified, grief-stricken Erik. "You did not scream," he said, as though Giovanni had at last passed some test, before going into the house without the slightest pretense of grief or mourning.
"She insisted," Giovanni murmured helplessly. "She always did insist…"
He held onto Erik, checking his own tears to let the boy have his.
OOO
So I finally updated. I got to see a performance at the West End and it was inspiring. :) Hope you forgive the delay – quite inexcusable. Also in the world of PotO – a summary of the first act of the sequel has been released. Anybody other than me incredibly nervous about this? Anyway. Review, if you so choose, and I will try to be timelier with the next chapter.