Lady Taevyn: Yes, depression sucks. As the commercial says "Depression hurts everyone." Definitely hurt me…you weren't on, so I wasn't too excited to sit down and write anything…Although part of the reason this chapter took so long to get out is because of all the homework my profs keep giving me. I hardly have a free moment to myself. Thank God for having two snow days in the week that allowed me to catch up on my work and let me spend the weekend preparing a chapter.
Lethia: Cherith, yes, lol. Gershom is so much fun. And poor Rosalyn…
Artzee: Hopefully you can scan the pictures very soon, and I'll finally get my Christmas present of said pictures from you. Don't feel bad that you haven't given it to me yet…I have a friend who has yet to deliver my Christmas and birthday present, and she lives in the dorm building five minutes away from my own.
Jadesy: Um, if you wanna stab the boy with a spoon, go right ahead. But I strongly recommend against it, as I know who he is and I wouldn't want to mess with him myself.
Der Drache Dame: Well, I'm glad you were amused when Lenore got caught being sneaky and trying to get herself a brandy, lol.
Sabriel: Well, I'm afraid nothing is revealed about the boy in this chapter. Perhaps, if you pay extremely close attention to details concerning the sections with the boy, you'll figure it out. I've tried to make it extremely discrete though…so…
MJ MOD: Yeah, Gershom's weird. I suppose the sun frying his brain would have that effect on him. How was Lenore supposed to stop Veleno? He only listens to Erik, as Erik is considered the master of the house. The only way Veleno would take an order from Lenore is if it was something he wanted to do or else Erik wasn't present at the time. And while Erik could have messed with the reporter's mind, it wouldn't have made much difference, as more reporters were bound to find the house anyway. As far as Erik sees it, if enough reporters never come back from their quest to find the Dessler estate, the media will stop sending them.
Black Hole Phoenix: Yes, poor little mousie-demon that Gershom shoved aside. And yes, all hail the persuasive power of the shocky spork!
Shariena: Glad that you're still here. Sorry I haven't updated sooner. Being a college student sucks…too much homework to do if I wanna pass my classes.
Adusiriel: Hey, at least you haven't deserted us. So it's alright that it took so long to get caught up. As to who the boy is, as I told Sabriel, I haven't revealed anything. (aka, I haven't come right out and said who the boy is/where he comes from. It's possible, if you pay extremely close attention, that you'll figure it out.)
I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, REVIEW…
"What?" Lenore mumbled, slowly waking up. She quickly realized Erik wasn't in bed with her, nor did he appear to be in the room. And what had woken her was Thomas, making a sound that distinctly conveyed the fact that he wanted to be held. "You decide to start demanding attention at 2:30 in the morning?" Lenore complained under her breath as she got out of bed and approached his cradle.
The moment his golden eyes caught sight of her, he smiled and ceased his demands. Lenore picked him up, not able to stop herself from smiling at how cute he was being. "You'll be just like your father; I won't be able to stay mad at you for long," she commented.
Thomas reached up and snagged a handful of her hair in his tiny fist. She gently freed her locks from his clutches, shifting his position so that his head rested against her shoulder. He made a soft sound that let her know he was pleased with this position, and he took another handful of hair as he buried his face in her shoulder.
Lenore just chuckled and pulled her hair out of his fist just enough that it didn't feel as if he was yanking it out. It seemed Thomas just wanted to be held. I suppose babies want to be held a lot. Though he's never really shown much interest in social interaction before. Not like Sonata; she wants someone talking to her and holding her every minute that she's not eating or sleeping. Looking into Sonata's cradle to see if she might want attention as well, Lenore was surprised to find it empty. Erik must have taken her out of the room…but why? She wasn't making any noise, or I would've woken up.
Still holding Thomas, Lenore walked out into the hallway. She stood outside the bedroom door for a moment, not sure which direction to go. Maybe Erik had taken Sonata down the hall to the nursery. But then again, maybe he had her in his study while he was working on the plans for a new building of some sort.
Finally deciding the nursery was the logical place to start, she turned right. She padded down the hall in her bare feet, considering going back for her slippers as the floor was so cold. She reached the nursery and pushed the door open, disappointed to find the room dark and empty.
Damnit, where the hell are they? Lenore was about to turn and head back the other way when she noticed a very soft glow coming from a room at the end of the hall. She hadn't really seen very much of the house at all, so she didn't know what this room could possibly be. If I find out it's a torture chamber and he's got that reporter in there, he's dead. Especially if he's letting Sonata watch.
Lenore reached the door in record time, and let out a sigh of relief when she found the door unlocked. Entering the room, Lenore was stunned by what she could see in the dim light. The room was full of books and maps, drawing and mathematical tools, and all manner of learning materials. I can't believe this. It's like a school, crammed into one room. Erik's clearly planned for their education. At the back of the room, there was a small soundproof booth containing a myriad of instruments, the walls of the booth comprised of incredibly thick glass.
And there sat Erik at the piano, holding Sonata in his lap with one hand while playing with the other. She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself, and was stretching out her small arm, trying to reach the ivory keys that were far out of her range.
Erik smiled down at the top of Sonata's head as she desperately tried to put a hand on the piano's keys. "You're not big enough yet, petit ange," he chuckled. "Just a few more years, and you can play all you like." As if she understood his words, her little arm dropped and she tilted her head back to look up at him with sad eyes. "Alright, but just this once," he said, picking her up and holding her within reach of the keys.
When her hands met the ivory and produced a discordant combination of keys, she jerked her arms back as if burned. "It's not as easy as I make it look, ange," he told the infant in his arms.
"Don't you think she's a bit young for piano lessons?" Lenore inquired from the doorway. He hadn't heard her open the door, but soundproof rooms were designed that way.
"It wasn't really a lesson," Erik replied, looking at his wife. He noted that Thomas was happily reclining against his mother's shoulder, a fistful of hair clutched tightly in a hand that held the soft tresses so that they rested upon Thomas's cheek. "Is he having problems sleeping?"
"No, he just wants a good snuggling," Lenore shrugged. "You wanna take him?"
"He looks comfortable where he's at," Erik pointed out.
"Maybe he is, but I like to sleep. And you don't. So if he wants to be up and held, you can do it," Lenore reasoned through a huge yawn.
"If you wish, chérie," Erik said. He didn't like the fact that she didn't seem to want to use this opportunity to bond with Thomas, but he understood her exhaustion. Even when he was a child, Erik hardly ever slept. It just wasn't something he seemed to need as frequently as everyone else. And Lenore spent a good portion of her day dealing with the twins, so if he could take them at night there was no reason not to.
The moment Lenore eased Thomas off her shoulder, their son released his first real cry. He literally screamed his lungs out, his face turning red and tears running down his cheeks. In a panic, Lenore quickly replaced him to his former position against her shoulder. Thomas quieted immediately.
"What was that all about?" Lenore asked Thomas. "You kids don't do that! You make those musical sounds!"
"It would seem he wants you to be the one to hold him," Erik commented, an amused grin tugging on the corners of his mouth.
"Thomas, no. I'm exhausted," Lenore complained. "You suck me dry all day long, your sister needs constant attention every waking moment…Your father hardly gets to spend any time with you, it's a perfect bonding opportunity for you and him."
Thomas merely snuggled into his mother's shoulder with a contented smile and a soft sigh.
"And this is why I didn't want children. Keeping me up all night, becoming attached to me, and wanting my undivided attention," Lenore muttered. She gave Erik a look that pleaded for help.
"He wants you," Erik replied.
"You could manipulate him with your voice so that he wants you," Lenore pointed out grumpily.
"That would be morally wrong, ma petite," Erik smirked, knowing she'd have something to say about that.
"Who are you to talk about morals? You let a spider demon eat a poor defenseless reporter! You've poked around in my head too many times to count, and let's not forget that you've killed people."
"Yes, but none of those things effected our children," Erik responded.
"We were discussing morals, not what actions of yours have and have not affected the twins," Lenore retorted.
"But this particular action would effect Thomas; thus I cannot do as you ask without feeling horrendous guilt for the rest of my life," Erik informed her.
"So you can kill people and screw around with my mind without feeling horrendous guilt?" Lenore snapped.
"Very few people deserve to be alive; most of them are tremendously corrupt and sinful, so I don't see as I'm doing any harm by ridding the world of such vermin. As to the subject of your mind…well, it's fun to play with. And I know what I'm doing when it comes to toying with minds, so it's not as if it'll hurt you."
"You are severely twisted," Lenore remarked.
"It probably stems from parental neglect," Erik said, knowing it would make her feel bad for trying to hand Thomas off.
"Well, if you acted anything like you do now, I couldn't say as I blame your mother. You're not exactly easy to handle, you know," Lenore returned.
"Oh, I was worse as a child," Erik assured her. "I was continuously breaking the china, or etching architectural plans into the dining room table, or putting Mother into trances with my voice…Really, I'm not half as horrible as I used to be."
"And you say all this without an ounce of regret," Lenore muttered.
"She deserved the suffering I caused her," Erik replied darkly.
"She couldn't have been all that bad," Lenore argued.
"You have no idea. I was punished for the most ridiculous reasons. If I was tapping out a rhythm that had entered my mind, I received a sharp slap across the face. Just for tapping out a simple rhythm! She kept me locked in that damn house, never letting me out. I wasn't even allowed to play in my own backyard. I had to stay inside because someone might see me. I was barely older than two years when she threw my clothes at me one day and told me I'd have to learn to fend for myself. And I spent a whole day in that attic room, in tears because I couldn't fasten that bloody mask and I knew I would receive a beating if I went downstairs without it. So you tell me how awful my mother was, Lenore," Erik snarled.
"Why didn't your father ever stop her?" Lenore asked softly.
"He was killed by an accident on a building site three months before I was born," Erik said coldly. He could have no affection for a man he'd never known, for the man who'd married the horrible woman his mother had shown herself to be.
"Wasn't there anyone else? What about that Mademoiselle Perrault you mentioned?"
"She was as timid as Tulia."
"I can't dispute that your past is rather…dreadful. But it's no excuse," Lenore declared. "You know the difference between right and wrong, but you don't care. You'll do something you know is wrong, just because it's what you want."
"There's no point in denying myself anything I want," Erik shrugged. "I'll never have to suffer Judgment; my soul's been condemned already. I might as well indulge myself."
"What if the police caught you?"
"What if they did? They can't kill me. And if they imprisoned me…do you honestly think Satan would leave me rotting in jail? Considering that I'm the only immortal to ever remove an archangel's wing, I find it highly unlikely."
"It's still no excuse," Lenore insisted. "Just because you don't have to worry about dealing with the consequences doesn't mean you should do things that you know are wrong! Our children are going to look to you for guidance. Are you going to teach them to take whatever they want and not worry about the consequences?"
"Of course not," Erik replied instantly.
"This is the first time you've thought about it, isn't it?" Lenore guessed with unfailing accuracy. "If I hadn't said anything, you'd never have thought of it. So from now on, you can't kill anyone, or let Veleno eat them, or anything else that you know to be wrong. Is that clear?"
"You've made yourself perfectly clear, Mother," Erik teased her lightly. "But I'm afraid I'll need an incentive to be a good boy."
"I'm sure the threat of never letting you take liberties with my body again will provide proper incentive," Lenore smugly replied, a malicious grin gracing her features.
"What a cruel mother," Erik remarked, giving her one of those pitiful puppy dog looks.
"You're trying to make me feel bad about threatening you, aren't you?" Lenore observed.
"Is it working?"
Her silence was answer enough.
Sonata startled both of them by making a soft "Ahhh" and reaching for Lenore.
"You children live to torment me," Lenore grumbled as she took Sonata and held her daughter against her other shoulder. After Sonata was comfortably settled (with a fistful of Lenore's hair clutched to her tiny chest), Lenore took Sonata's place on Erik's lap. She couldn't stand and hold the twins for very long, especially when she was so tired. "Erik…do you ever worry about how advanced the twins are? I mean…she shouldn't be able to move her arms so deliberately yet. And they can smile, and see more than most babies can, and…it worries me."
"I began walking when I was six months old," Erik told her. "And I spoke at that age as well. Most infants know the words, but not the meanings; they don't know to associate names with particular individuals. But Mademoiselle Perrault was certain that I knew what I was saying, and I don't doubt her, as she was practically a nun. She couldn't have told a lie to save her life." He paused for a moment, considering something. "And no immortal's ever had children, it could have given them a head start. Let's not forget, this is your Second Life, and you learned to walk and talk earlier than most infants. That could be another contributing factor."
"I can't raise prodigies, Erik," Lenore fretted. "I don't know the first thing about raising normal children, for heaven's sake!"
"Perhaps we should just concentrate on getting them to their first birthday, hm?" Erik suggested.
"But they'll want to learn things, earlier than most kids. They'll be reading at a young age, devouring any knowledge they can," Lenore whined. "We can't teach them, not for long. They'll quickly surpass what we can provide them with."
"Perhaps they'll quickly surpass you. But I've learned a great deal in my one hundred and seventy nine years. Trust me, they'll never run out of things to learn," Erik assured her.
"They'll think their mother's an idiot then, won't they? They'll wonder why their father married such an ignorant woman," Lenore sighed. She knew that, compared to Erik, she knew almost nothing considering how much there was to learn in the world.
"And when they ask, I'll tell them the truth. I married you because I love you, and because you felt the same. If there's one thing they learn from us, it will be that love is the most precious gift you can give someone."
William sat on the couch in his apartment, nervously flipping through the pages of an old newspaper. When is Master going to return? What if Madam Johannson decided not to show? Master will be positively livid. And I'll be the one to suffer…I hope she went, I can't afford another failure. Master is beyond impatient…
Another fifteen minutes of aimlessly leafing through newspapers went by, and William started to get a horrible sinking fear that his senior manager hadn't gone. And if his master spent the evening in the restaurant waiting for someone who never showed up, William would have a less than pleasant night to look forward to. Standing, William began pacing the floor, speculating over the probability of Madam Johannson's attendance at Le Train Bleu.
The door opened and his master stepped into the room, pulling white formal gloves off of his hands, a pleased smile on his face.
"It was absolutely delightful to meet your senior manager, William," the boy said as he closed the door. "You were right; she's terribly stubborn. But I find she can be persuaded, provided one has the capabilities of a master manipulator."
"So everything is"- William began to inquire.
"I've done what is necessary," his master interrupted, his anger burning in his eyes with the heat of liquid steel. "Things I shouldn't have had to do, if you hadn't proved incompetent. You did a spectacular job of mucking this whole thing up! If you'd done things proper from the beginning, we wouldn't have to deal with this second obstacle."
William winced inwardly; he should've just kept his mouth shut. Until he'd tried to ask about the current situation of his master's plans, Master had been in a good mood. But it seemed that merely speaking a few words was more than enough to remind his master that he was a complete failure.
"Now, if you think you're capable, I need a little 'accident' arranged," the boy informed him, a cruel glint in those steel eyes.
"I'm sure I can manage it," William hastened to assure the boy.
"That's what you said about Rosalyn Johannson. And somehow, I ended up removing that obstacle. Would you stake your life on it? Will you kill yourself if you fail to completely eliminate this next obstacle?"
"If you wish it, Master."
"I very well might if you fail again," the boy snapped. "Now, as for our next obstacle…"
Lenore slowly awoke to a rather passionate kiss on the lips. Erik's in a loving mood this morning. Wonder why…maybe Gershom's gone. Lenore opened her eyes as his lips finally pulled away-
And screamed in surprise.
"What the bleeding hell do you think you're doing?" she yelled at Hiroshi.
"Oh, don't be so upset, kitten," Hiroshi said, plastering a look of pure innocence on his face. "Erik's busy in his study, and you were just so beautiful laying there. You looked like an angel. I just had to taste those divine lips."
"Well, as flattering as that comment may be, you're my father!" she reminded him. "So squash any romantic urges that pop up from now on!"
"You didn't like my kiss?" Hiroshi inquired, his eyes filling with crocodile tears.
"Perverted old bastard," Lenore snarled, flinging back the covers and getting out of bed. "Kiss me again and I'll deck you!" She snatched a robe and flung it around her shoulders, wrapping it tightly around her frame as if it could somehow protect her from Hiroshi and his advances. "What are you doing here anyway?"
"I thought you might need someone to help you look after the children," he replied, going over to the cradles and smiling down at her offspring. "And since I'm their grandfather…"
"No you aren't. You have no blood relation to them, and I'd rather you didn't screw up their lives," Lenore responded, wondering where Bishop was that he wasn't currently attached to Hiroshi's leg and trying to figure out why Tulia hadn't woken her up when Hiroshi came in the room. Which is when she noticed that Tulia was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Tulia?"
"Oh, I sent the little mouse to the kitchens, to get you some breakfast," Hiroshi answered dismissively.
"What right do you have to come into my house and boss around my staff?" Lenore hissed.
"I'm your father."
"You're a condemned immortal who happened to raise me," Lenore corrected.
"Come now, kitten. Don't you love me at all?"
"Pervert."
"Can't you come up with something other than that?"
"How's corrupt, lecherous freak sound?"
"Oh, much better," Hiroshi beamed. "More vocabulary words in that one. I didn't pay for an expensive education for you to repeat the same old tired phrases, you know."
"Can you leave now?"
"But I just got here. And someone has to help you take care of the babies, you can't do it all by yourself."
"That's what I have a husband for," Lenore informed him.
"But he has a job," Hiroshi argued. "He spends so much time in the Opera House, scaring those new managers. He can't possibly be of great assistance where the twins are concerned."
"I take care of them in the day; he manages them at night, except for feedings. It works out splendidly," Lenore smiled sweetly. "Now, seeing as how we really don't require any assistance whatsoever, you can leave."
"Chérie, are you up?" Erik's voice called from the hallway.
"Vertical and in a spectacularly foul mood, thank you," Lenore called back.
"I'll be heading out shortly and"- Erik began, entering the room. "Hiroshi. What are you doing in our bedroom?"
"Oh, just giving me a good morning kiss," Lenore snapped.
"You're omitting facts, kitten," Hiroshi sighed. "I dropped by to offer to help watch the twins, and I saw her laying there. She just looked like such a perfect angel, and I wanted to taste those lips, just a little taste of heaven. Since I'll never know what it's like and all."
"The next time you have the urge to taste heaven, try to remember that she's married," Erik snarled, his hands twitching with the desire to strangle Hiroshi.
"We're family, Erik. Certainly you don't mind sharing with family," Hiroshi said casually.
"Families don't share wives," Erik replied, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"I don't see why we can't. You can't have fun with her while you're at work, so someone should be allowed to play with her. And you wouldn't want strangers entertaining your wife, so it should be family," Hiroshi reasoned.
"Oh, not like I have any say in the matter," Lenore grumbled. "Don't bother consulting me. It's entirely inconceivable that I might not want to be played with while my husband's at work."
"I wouldn't dream of consulting you," Hiroshi beamed at her. "You're just the wife, what you say doesn't really matter."
Tulia walked in that moment, hurrying over to Lenore with a tray containing croissants, fruit, and juice for breakfast. Lenore wrenched the tray out of Tulia's hands, not even remotely worried about the fact that she sent the food flying from the tray.
"Bastard!" Lenore insulted Hiroshi as she began bludgeoning him with the tray.
After a few good solid hits that were sure to leave the man bruised, Erik walked over and caught the tray in mid-swing, taking it from Lenore and handing it back to Tulia. "As much as I was enjoying it, I think that's enough, chérie," Erik claimed, a smile on his face.
"Thank you, Erik," Hiroshi said weakly, looking rather the worse for wear. "I don't know where she gets that violent nature…"
"I get it from the devil," Lenore informed the immortal. "If he hadn't tempted Eve, we mortals wouldn't know a thing about violence."
"You called, darling?" Satan inquired, appearing behind her as a woman with fiery red hair and emerald eyes.
"God no!" Lenore stated firmly. "Go away! I hate my in-laws!"
"But we love you, kitten," Hiroshi replied with a smile.
"Thus the basis of my hate," Lenore snapped.
"You don't really mean that, do you?" Satan said in a sticky sweet voice, twining his arms around her from behind.
"If I had something to stab you with right now, you'd have an answer," Lenore responded, mimicking his sweet tone.
"Let go of my wife," Erik hissed, directing a dark glower at the father of lies.
"Surely you're not jealous?" Lucifer giggled in a very girly fashion. "I'm a girl right now; there's nothing perverted in two girls hugging."
"Tulia, let me have that tray back," Lenore said, extending a hand for this morning's weapon of choice.
Tulia promptly squeaked, dropped the tray, and dove under the bed to avoid having any part in the inevitable conflict between Lenore and Satan.
"Erik, you should get going. You don't want to be late for work," Hiroshi stated, taking a few steps towards Erik as if he intended to herd Erik out of the room, down the stairs, out the front door and into the car.
"I think I'll take the day off," Erik replied curtly, still glaring at Satan.
"Nonsense. There's nothing to fret about; we've got kitten well in hand."
"That's precisely what I'm worried about."
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Hiroshi scoffed. "I brought Chicago along, I know how Lenore adores the movie." Hiroshi pulled said movie out of his jacket. "I thought we could spend the day together, catching up and watching movies while taking care of the twins."
"Well, that's completely out of the question," Lenore said, still captive in Satan's embrace. She had decided to just put up with it unless he tried touching her inappropriately. "Erik hates television, so we don't have one."
"Problem easily solved; we'll go down to Hell and watch it there," Hiroshi shrugged.
"I'm not taking my children into Hell," Lenore snarled.
"You make it sound like a bad thing…I took you to Hell all the time when you were little. And you turned out alright," Hiroshi responded.
"You used to take me to Hell?" Lenore snapped.
"Yes, when you were very, very young," Hiroshi explained. "Too young to remember it. I'll always treasure the memory of you tormenting that jellyfish demon. You kept poking it with the walking stick you stole from Viktor. It was precious."
Erik managed to keep the amused smile off his face. Poking a jellyfish demon…even at a young age, I'm sure her intention was to learn all about the poor creature.
"Oh, that's a load of crap! You never took me to Hell," Lenore argued. "You're just saying you did so that I'll go down and watch Chicago with you, giving you ample opportunity to molest me."
"He's telling the truth," Satan contradicted her. "I remember your visits. You were so cute. You used to glare at me whenever you saw me."
"And I'm supposed to believe the devil when he tells me that my damned immortal father took me to Hell because…?" Lenore inquired.
"Because I'm telling the truth, darling," Satan said in a bubbly voice, tightening his embrace briefly for a quick squeeze. "Come on, it'll be fun. We can watch any movie you like. After all, almost every director has sold their soul to me to have their films made. So I have a very wide selection for you to choose from."
"Oh, yeah, right. I can just see Walt Disney offering his soul to have his movies made," Lenore chuckled.
"Sadly I have no rights to anything he did. But all the Disney films after his death have a bit of my involvement."
"No way," Lenore gasped in shock.
"Yes way. It seems when Walt kicked the bucket, the Disney corporation thought they couldn't continue to prosper. So they decided to ask for a bit of unholy assistance."
"No…Disney?" she asked, looking as if the world had just fallen to pieces right in front of her.
"Disney," Lucifer confirmed. "What, did you actually think those films were wholesome works untainted by evil?"
"But…but…the good guy always wins," Lenore protested.
"It wouldn't sell if it portrayed reality and the villains won, now would it?"
"But…the good morals, and the themes of love, and family, and"-
"Once again, necessary to sell the film. The world adores being deceived by illusions."
"I loved Disney films…" Lenore said softly, looking as if she was about to cry. "Does that mean by watching and adoring these films I was, in some twisted and obscure way, condoning lies and worshipping the devil?"
"What does it matter if you were?" Belial asked. "It wouldn't effect whether or not you went to Heaven. God doesn't fault you for what I put on the market."
"Erik, you'll be late for work," Hiroshi pointed out suddenly.
"I already told you, I'll take the day off," Erik replied, wondering when Lenore was going to hit Satan for clinging to her.
"Whatever for? We can handle things here, can't we kitten?"
"To be frank, I don't trust the two of you alone with my wife and children," Erik informed Hiroshi before Lenore could reply.
"Why not?" Lucifer whined. "We'll be good, we promise."
"Your word is worth nothing to me."
"You need to start trusting me. I wouldn't harm a hair on your precious darling's head," the devil tried to reassure him. "And I wouldn't hurt the children whose conception was made possible by my own hands."
"Your definition of 'harm' changes according to your whims," Erik reminded the fallen angel.
"I'm hugging her right now; do you honestly think I'll hurt her?"
"Once again, definition is key," Erik sighed.
"I'll watch him, and make sure he doesn't try anything," Hiroshi promised. "Now get going, you can't let those new managers think they've chased you off."
"And I assume making sure he doesn't try anything would involve molesting Lenore; after all, he can't possibly do anything to her if you get to her first, now can he?"
Hiroshi began looking around the room, feigning innocence.
"What possessed you to visit in the first place? And try not to lie this time," Erik advised.
"I meant it when I said I wanted to help with the children," Hiroshi insisted.
"I asked you not to lie, Hiroshi. Try again."
"Lucas popped into Hell, doing some research to find a gift to give you to congratulate you on the birth of the twins. He said if I was any kind of father to Lenore, I would be helping her take care of them; he always did believe in a supportive family," Hiroshi responded, crossing his arms and giving Erik a look that dared him to call Hiroshi a liar. "And you know he's older than me…"
"Erik, did you know that you have forty two rooms in this tent that are supplied consistently with water?" Gershom inquired, waltzing into the room in his white robe.
"I'm well aware of that fact," Erik replied.
"Is it the elusive Gershom?" Hiroshi gasped in excitement. "How delightful to see you're out of your desert, Gershom. How's immortality been treating you?"
Gershom stared at Hiroshi for a moment, the look on his face saying he hadn't the foggiest idea of what the man was talking about. Then, he came to a conclusion and tentatively patted Hiroshi on the shoulder. "It is truly regrettable that the sun has robbed you of your wits. Perhaps, with rest and an abundant supply of water, they shall return to you."
"Robbed of my wits?" Hiroshi muttered. "You're one to talk."
"Erik…I was under the impression you had only one wife," Gershom commented, noticing Satan for the first time.
"I'm no one's wife, and everyone's sex toy," Satan replied with a mischievous smirk. "Would you like to play, Gershom?"
"Do you have an abundant source of water?" Gershom inquired.
"Enough to satisfy."
"You're clinging to me, and hitting on Gershom. That's extremely disturbing," Lenore commented tersely.
"Aww, didn't mean to make you feel left out," Satan reassured her, leaning his head to rest against hers. "You can play with us, if you like."
"Get off," she hissed.
"No." Mephistopheles nuzzled her neck affectionately.
The next thing Erik knew, he was looming over Satan, who was sprawled out on the floor, and he was holding Lenore close with his right arm.
"Quite an impressive left hook, Erik," Lenore commented.
"That wasn't very nice, Erik," Lucifer snarled, pulling himself to his feet.
"What if master bruises?" Hiroshi added.
"Do you honestly believe I care?" Erik snapped.
"You're very poor at sharing," Satan remarked crossly, dusting off his skirt. With that, he disappeared.
"Good riddance," Erik grumbled.
"He misses you, you know," Hiroshi proclaimed. "The Circle's meeting next month. You should go. You haven't been since"- He cut off abruptly, turning his eyes to the floor.
"Since what?" Lenore prompted. Erik knew she had never considered that he'd actually ever attended any of the Circle's meetings in his lifetime.
"Since he met you," Hiroshi answered her softly.
There was a brief moment of silence as Lenore processed what Hiroshi had told her. "Wait a minute. Are you saying that…Satan's jealous of me? That he doesn't like the fact that Erik spends all his time with me?"
Hiroshi shrugged half heartedly. "He's not used to it. He's the center of every immortal's attention…except a certain desert nomad who will remain unnamed," Hiroshi explained. Said desert nomad was currently marveling over the discovery of the master bath, the forty third room in the tent to have a consistent supply of water. "He sees you as competition, and he doesn't like to lose. And since he won't win by competing against you, he wants you to give him all of your attention. If you do, he thinks that Erik will too, because he'll be the center of your world. And Erik would do anything to make the center of your world the center of his as well."
"Aw. Now I kinda feel sorry for Satan," Lenore said sympathetically.
"Don't," Erik advised.
"But…he just wants to spend some time with you, that's all," Lenore pointed out.
"He just wants to dominate my life, that's all," Erik corrected.
"Well, now that Satan's gone, you can go to work, Erik," Hiroshi said cheerfully.
"And leave you alone with Lenore? Perish the thought," Erik retorted.
William turned his attentions to Madam Johannson, doing a superb job of keeping a knowing smirk off his face. His cousin Justin wore the most unflattering look of bewilderment at Madam Johannson's request that they set their work aside for a moment so she could make an important announcement.
"Boys, I think you're ready to take over the business. I feel confident that you can handle any situation that might arise. In light of that, I'll be retiring in mid-December. Now I haven't mentioned anything to the cast yet; I don't want them making a big deal of it or anything. So this little announcement stays between the three of us," Madam Johannson informed the cousins.
"The four of us," Justin mumbled bitterly, referencing the Opera Ghost.
Danielle Turner muttered a few soft curses and insults, her British accent quite pronounced even when she spoke under her breath. "All bloody incompetent," she grumbled. Of course, that wasn't exactly true, and she knew it. But it was her nature to blame everyone else around her for every tiny little problem.
She walked off the stage, despite the protests and pleas from the conductor. Locating her bag, she dug around until she found the bottle of depression pills. Picking up her water, she downed two of the small, purple pills.
No one ever thought divas, models, or other famous people needed depression pills. Danielle knew better. It was always true that the more fame you had, the more depression you dealt with. Because when you were famous, you had an image to uphold. You couldn't be yourself, because 'yourself' wasn't good enough for the public. 'Yourself' was too normal, too much like everyone else, and that meant 'yourself' was corruptible. No, you had to be above drug addiction, physical and psychological illnesses, and all the other evils of society.
Danielle had taken the position of the Opera Populaire's diva two weeks after that Lenore Wolfe girl had given two astounding performances before disappearing from the Opera scene entirely. The girl who had taken the position when Wolfe disappeared, Misty Moreau, had quit after only two weeks in the position. And then, lounging on the beach at the Sandgate Village in Kent, Danielle had received an urgent telephone call from the managers of the Opera Populaire, asking her to take the position of diva.
Danielle was no fool; she knew it was a marvelous paycheck for an easy job that would keep her in the spotlight of high society. Her family's fortune was beginning to run low, and the only way for her to stay at her current social level was to marry a wealthy old man who was likely to kick the bucket within the next few years.
Through odd happenstance, Danielle had been walking in the doors of the Opera House as Misty Moreau was walking out of them. Not even apologizing for having run smackdab into Danielle, Misty had informed Danielle that she was a fool to take the position, as she would never live up to that "perfect little bitch".
And now, about sixteen months into this opera career, Danielle understood exactly why Misty quit. Danielle had spent the first few months listening to the conductor's complaints about her lack of this or that, which Mademoiselle Wolfe had been so spectacular at, what he wouldn't give to have Mademoiselle Wolfe back. And then there were the critiques in the papers, all praising her for her talent, but at the same time noting that she fell short of the level of performance Wolfe had delivered.
While the newspapers had ceased comparing her to the woman, and the conductor never openly mentioned Wolfe to her face, she heard a great deal of the chorus girls and musicians talking to each other when they thought no one was listening, saying that Danielle just didn't have the proper talent for being diva. They speculated that Lenore had been spirited away by the Opera Ghost and was being held captive in his domain. She would never be freed, because she'd had no real gentleman caller to be overly concerned about her whereabouts, and her father seemed to be rather uninvolved in his daughter's life so he most likely hadn't even realized she was missing. Or perhaps he suspected what the opera employees did and knew that any attempt at retrieving her would end disastrously. Poor Lenore Wolfe, the perfect diva, trapped underground and forced to sing for the Phantom at his whim.
Poor Lenore Wolfe? What about poor Danielle Turner? Poor Danielle Turner, who had to listen to everyone compare her to that buggering little wench who'd most likely just run away when she discovered how difficult it was to be in the spotlight. Poor Danielle Turner, who had to suffer through every day being criticized for slight imperfections that Lenore Wolfe hadn't possessed. Poor Danielle Turner, who knew every employee and every patron was silently condemning her for not being that girl.
"Bloody buggering bitch," Danielle muttered as she put her pills away. "Couldn't quit respectably, oh no. Had to go capering off without so much as a word, leaving anyone who tried to take her place to the mercies of those gormless critics." If only I could find a husband. Then I could tell Madam Johannson that I planned on retiring, no matter how much she wanted me to stick around as the diva. But until Danielle had financial security, she would just have to soldier on.
"So, this took forever to get out…College is stupid," Tammy grumbled, glaring at her textbooks. For she had spent far too much of her time immersed in those books as of late, doing homework that seemed to multiply every time she checked the pages in her notes that listed her assignments.
"Well, if you'll be my precious little pet, you wouldn't even have to deal with college," Hiroshi suggested.
"That's true. I'd only have to worry about being raped and eventually murdered," Tammy pointed out. "And if I was murdered, the story wouldn't be finished. Wouldn't that kinda suck?"
"I'd finish it for you," Hiroshi promised.
"SHOCKY SPORK!" Tammy shouted angrily as she jabbed the immortal's side with said spork.
"Thanks for that," Lenore said, looking at the smoking, unconscious lust murderer sprawled out on the floor. "If he'd taken over the story, I have a feeling I would've somehow become his sex slave. Or something along those lines."
"Chérie, Thomas is hungry," Erik called out from the nursery he'd installed beneath Tammy's dorm room. Lenore sighed and trudged down the stairs to do her maternal duty.
"You know, sometimes, I worry about having my characters living underneath my room. Then again, I suppose it could be worse. They could have the twins up here, and then we'd be really crowded in this room. Hell, Hiroshi takes up enough space as it is," Tammy commented. "Anyways, readers, do review. Hopefully my professors will lighten up on the homework a bit and I'll get time to write. But reviews will inspire me to shirk my work for a few hours or so to sit down and write, so…Yeah, reviews equal a higher probability of getting a new chapter sooner."