Lady Taevyn: Get online, read the last chapter (since I have no review for it), read this chapter, and review!! Honestly woman!
Lethia: Lol, leave it to you to be concerned about Thomas's dislike for Ember. It's more that Thomas doesn't like change, and having Ember there suddenly is a big change for him.
Der Drache Dame: Um…I'm lacking a review for chapter 49…and post more of the prequel!
Sabriel: There are no full female members of the Condemned Circle, no. Remember that the youngest member of the Circle is about 160 some years old. Due to this, the time period of the creation of immortals held the view that women were weak. Therefore, no member of the Circle has ever considered turning a woman immortal. They just assumed women would be too weak concerning any battles with Heaven, as well as the fact that they believed women would show mercy and tenderness for the plights of humans that might be plagued by the attentions of the Circle. I know I never really explained that, but it wasn't something that seemed to really need discussing. And the class I wasn't doing well in was Multivariate Calculus. But I managed to pass it, as you'd have found out when you got to the review reminder.
Black Hole Phoenix: Yes, poor Tulia, all scared by the kitties. And dude! Don't go all "rotten little sheep-throwing ingrate" on Thomas. As I told Lethia, he's just upset by the sudden change.
Timeflies: Lol, yes Lenore has a chaotic life. Maybe that's how she actually manages to sleep. I have a very boring life, and I have insomnia problems.
MJ MOD: No, you can't borrow Bishop to claw someone unless we can confirm your victim is a resident of Hell. Yes, it's the boy who wants to hurt Danielle. Why is that? Can't tell you yet. Again, Thomas doesn't hate Ember, merely the change. And Gershom is a wonderful guy. I'm delighted to know you find him funny.
Anonymous#13: Oh, hello. Didn't realize I had another reader. Thank you for finally dropping a review, I do love them.
Yuhi-thedoerofevildeeds: Where to start…Well, let's begin with the first review you have left me. I'm glad you spent 8 hours reading and reached chapter 25. Sorry your butt got sore from sitting there so long. (Trust me, I know what that's like, which is why I have a pillow on my computer chair nowadays.) I'm flattered that you are pleasantly addicted to my story. You thanked me for a sleepless night, muffled fits of laughter, and a long sermon from your mom when she found out you were awake at 1 am reading a story online. You're welcome. Happy to help in any way I can. It's good to know you can connect with Lenore entirely, and that Erik's character is very fresh for you. Thanks for adding me to favorite story, favorite author, story alert and author alert list.
On to your second and third reviews. Obviously you know what happened to Lenore by now. And yes, you're very lucky not to have to wait for the chapter after 27, to find out Lenore's fate. For the third review, yes, I played around with the lyrics of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical for the songs. The other song in that chapter is "Four Seasons" by Namie Amuro. It comes from the third Inuyasha movie. It's sung almost entirely in Japanese (a few lines are sung in English, but not many), but I found a site translating the lyrics, and I knew it was perfect for my story.
Fourth and fifth reviews. I'm sorry I made you cry at the end of chapter 29. I cried too though, so at least you weren't alone in the cryingness. You didn't ask, but the song in 29 is called "If Only Tears Could Bring You Back" by Midnight Sons. As for Chapter 30 review, yes, it sucks that Lenore has no fiery temper. But, as you may have noticed by now, it's back. Sorry I had to kill her off, but her death was plot enhancing.
The sixth review (for chapter 35), which happens to be the last review I had before posting this chapter. Sorry that you aren't used to sci-fi fantasy stuffs. But, chapter 35 also pulls in a lot of religious references and junk, which can make it a harder chapter to read through. Kinda tedious to read through and stuff if you don't care, or if you already know that stuff. Hopefully, by now, there's been romance enough to satisfy. If not, let me know in your next review. I'll see if I can't up the romance a notch or two.
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…
It was two weeks before Christmas, and a light snow was falling as Erik walked in the door. Gordon took his cloak, hat, and gloves silently, picking up the temper Erik was in. He stormed up the stairs, down the corridor, and into the nursery.
"You shouldn't have left Madam Johannson as the senior manager," Erik snarled at Ember, who was currently rocking Thomas to sleep.
"Bit late for that, isn't it?" Ember retorted. "What's got you so pissed?"
"Keep your voice down, you'll wake Sonata," Lenore chided, picking up toys and putting them away.
"Rosalyn retired today," Erik stated, coming straight to the point.
"What? She's not supposed to retire until October of next year," Ember said, perplexed.
"I don't like it," Erik snapped. "Something's going on, something I've not been informed of."
"Well, whoever said everyone had to tell you everything?" Lenore shrugged. "I mean, maybe Rosalyn decided she just couldn't take it any longer."
"She's made no mention of retiring early until today, when she turned the business over to those incompetent fools, Evans and Steele."
"Let me guess; they have no intention of paying your salary and they're going to sell Box 5," Lenore speculated.
"And they intend to 'expose' me for 'the prankster' I am," he added bitterly.
"The Punjab lasso stays home, Erik," Lenore commanded before he could even hint that he might treat his new managers to an early demise. "As does the rapier, and any other weapon you might care to use to kill people."
"I'm afraid I can't leave my hands home," he returned.
"No strangling people, either."
"You take all the fun out of work, chérie," Erik chuckled softly.
"As a wife, it's my job. Nice to know I'm succeeding," she said.
"Oh, is that what a wife's supposed to do?" Ember inquired. "I never took the fun out of Patrick's job. Hell, I told him to jail as many people in a day as he could manage."
"I guess there's a difference in marital occupation between a judge's wife and a ghost's wife," Lenore remarked.
"Yeah, that would make sense," Ember nodded sagely.
"You both realize that Mademoiselle Turner's life is all but forfeit with these new managers," Erik proclaimed.
Lenore straightened up from just having closed the toy chest and turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Has my husband become so incompetent at being a ghost that he can't manage to keep the diva safe while avoiding the clutches of the new managers?"
"It's not necessarily just the new managers to deal with," Erik snapped, irritated at being called incompetent. "With Rosalyn, the staff was instructed to ignore any and all signs of my presence. These new managers will have the staff all but turning the building upside down to find me."
"You're an immortal. Just mess with the managers' minds so that they do what you want," Ember suggested as she placed Thomas (who, now that Ember had been present every day for almost a month, was quite taken with her) in his crib.
"Ember, that's"- Lenore began.
"Immoral," Erik finished for her. "And Lenore doesn't allow immorality now that I'm a father."
"For shame, Lenore!" Ember scolded. "You sit there and preach to him about immorality and not killing people, and he listens to you. So you're, in a sense, killing the Opera Ghost by telling him not to kill people. I mean, talk about throwing rocks in a glass house."
"Keep your twisted logic to yourself," Lenore muttered. "I'd rather not see Patrick in court because he's ordering Erik sent to jail for killing some idiot."
"Where's your sense of adventure?" Ember teased.
"It went on holiday when I gave birth," Lenore retorted.
"I'm so glad to see you're so concerned about Mademoiselle Turner," Erik quipped. How could these two sit there joking about immorality and him going to prison when the diva was doomed to an early end?
Danielle hurried to her dressing room the moment the curtain came down. Two performances ago, she had received a box of sinfully rich chocolates with a card that simply read "from a secret admirer". Then at the last performance, she had found her dressing room decorated with a vase of thirteen white roses. The accompanying card had a bit more writing than the previous one, saying "White roses symbolize the belief that the recipient is a heavenly being. From your secret admirer." Needless to say, she was excited to see what she would receive this time.
At first, she was horribly disappointed to find nothing visible on her dressing table. But closer inspection revealed a small card.
If you would care to dine with me this evening at L'Astrance, I will be waiting for you outside the Opera House on the Rue Glück side. You will recognize me by my white top hat.
Hopefully,
Your Secret Admirer
Danielle squealed gleefully. First the chocolates, then the roses, and now dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in Paris. It seemed she had finally attracted the eye of one of the wealthy patrons. She hurriedly shed her costume and put on one of her more revealing formals. With a rather low neckline and a slit up one side to her hip, it would certainly show off a great deal of what her admirer could have if he was willing to commit. Tucking the latest card into her purse where she kept the previous two, she hurried out to meet this secret admirer.
The boy's iron gray eyes studied the side of the Opera House intensely. Everything William had told him indicated that the diva was a gold digger, searching for a husband and suffering from depression. Such an easy target, so quick to jump at the slightest hint of a large bank account. Subconsciously, he adjusted the position of his white top hat.
After a few moments of shifting from one foot to the other impatiently, he saw Danielle Turner exit the building in a black evening dress, swaying her hips as seductively as possible. Her considerable bosom was almost popping out of the top of her dress. Quite a temptation…for those who enjoyed physical pleasure. He'd never experienced it himself, nor did he care to. It was utterly impractical to engage in such an activity, as there would be very little profit in it for him.
Spotting his top hat, Danielle sauntered over to him, her eyes clearly displaying her incredulity at the fact that he appeared at least three years her junior.
"Good evening, Mademoiselle Turner," he greeted her with a deceptively warm voice. "I'm delighted you chose to accompany me tonight."
"Oh, really, it's my pleasure, Monsieur…" she trailed off, waiting for his name.
"Dunn. Achaius Dunn," he supplied. It'd been so many years since he'd used his surname, but he would never forget it. Too much of who he had once been was attached to that name. He offered her his arm.
"Achaius. That's an interesting name," she commented, looping her arm through his.
"It's Gaelic, and it means 'horseman'," the boy informed her.
"Oh, is your family into breeding horses?" Danielle inquired conversationally as they walked down the street.
"No, more into riding," he answered, hailing a cab.
"I used to ride. But with my new position at the Opera House, I just don't have the time for it anymore," Danielle told him as she slid into the backseat of the taxi that had stopped for them.
Once they were on their way to the restaurant, Achaius decided to play the ace up his sleeve. "I have another gift for you, Mademoiselle Turner," he said, reaching into his coat and removing the long flat box.
"Oh, you shouldn't have," Danielle replied politely, eyeing the box eagerly.
Opening the box produced an audible gasp from the woman, her eyes going wide and her mouth dropping open. Resting on the cushion inside the box was a silver collar studded with fifty eight purple amethyst gems. It was priced around five hundred dollars, so it wasn't overly expensive at all. But it certainly looked like it was.
"It's absolutely gorgeous," she gushed, a slight blush touching her cheeks due to the thought that he would buy her a necklace like this. "Thank you so much, it's so beautiful."
She turned her back to him and lifted her hair off her neck so that he could fasten the necklace around her throat. If the cab driver wouldn't have been there, Achaius could've strangled her to death. The gloves he was wearing would ensure that he didn't leave fingerprints…but strangling was a nasty business, and she might scratch at him in defense. Too much bother really, when there was an easier way…
Dinner turned out just as planned. That is to say that it was a very tedious affair with Danielle attempting to 'modestly' praise herself every few minutes or so, probing into his past and financial situation between the self-flattering comments. Achaius played his part with accuracy, hitting every target necessary to ascertain Danielle's interest in him would not waver. In fact, he played his part so well, that she invited him home to her apartment on the outskirts of Paris.
"I'll just slip into something a little more comfortable," she excused herself, not at all concerned about leaving him in the sitting room. Achaius threw her a seductive smirk to imply that he wanted nothing more than for her to slip out of everything she wore and go to bed with him. She giggled girlishly and disappeared into the bedroom.
While the foolish simpering diva busied herself with changing her clothes, Achaius raided her purse. He had briefly glimpsed one of the notes he'd sent her in it, and he needed to retrieve those. He was pleased to find all three notes together, as it meant he didn't have to worry about digging through her trash bins to ensure no clue was left behind…
By the time she sauntered out in a black and violet satin lingerie set, he was lounging on the couch, perfectly at his ease.
"You know, I need to be sure a man's willing to make a solid, lasting commitment to me before I let him enjoy the whole package," Danielle purred, sitting on his lap and twining her arms around his neck.
"Danielle, my only intention concerning you is eternity," he assured the girl.
Half an hour later, Achaius was in Danielle's bedroom, retrieving the necklace he'd given her. If she'd had any intelligence, she would have realized that amethysts were supposed to help a person achieve his or her spiritual destiny. Well, she'd certainly reached it now. Her body was already cold on the couch, an empty bottle of depression pills on the table beside her.
Achaius returned to William's apartment, humming an old sneak-up tune. If William had done his part, the vase of roses and the box of chocolates Achaius had sent Turner would be gone from the scene. A maliciously delighted smile crossed his face as he stepped out of the cab and erased the driver's memory of this night.
Lenore was sleeping rather peacefully, dreaming about some unmemorable occasion, when she was shaken awake roughly.
"What is it?" she asked worriedly, thinking it must be something to do with the twins.
"Look at this!" Erik snapped, holding a newspaper inches from her nose.
"I don't care about what's going on in the world," she whined, closing her eyes and rolling over in the hopes that he would take the hint and go away. Instead he grabbed her shoulder and yanked her up into a sitting position, shoving the newspaper into her hands. She started to reach for the bed side table to locate her glasses when Erik jammed them onto her nose. "Ow," she muttered in irritation. "Clearly you find this important."
Erik paced beside the bed while Lenore read the article by the early morning light streaming in the window. When she finished the article, she put the paper aside with a sigh. She knew where this was leading.
"Only a week!" Erik snarled, noticing she was done. "They've been managing for a week, and Turner is found dead."
"Erik, it was suicide," Lenore pointed out. "She swallowed almost an entire bottle of medication. You can't really blame that on the managers."
"Yes, a suicide would be convenient, wouldn't it?" Erik argued. "Then there's no blame to be had, no reason to suspect foul play."
"They'll do an autopsy on the body, Erik. If there was any struggling on her part, they'll know," Lenore sighed.
"I may have to investigate this myself," he muttered, clearly ignoring Lenore now.
"Suicide happens," Lenore calmly informed him. "There's no reason to believe it was a murder, unless the autopsy turns up some sign of a struggle. Besides, who would shove an enormous dose of depression pills down her throat when it would be easier to stab her, or shoot her, or strangle her, or hang her, or any other form of traditional murder?"
"Haven't I told you before that every incident at the Opera would have appeared an accidental death?" Erik inquired crossly, not at all pleased that Lenore refused to support his theory of murder.
"Let's assume for a moment there's a murderer out there who is responsible. While trying to kill her in the Opera House, he would want to arrange it as accidental death so that police wouldn't have any reason to start hunting for him. However, if he decided to kill her at her apartment, why make it look like suicide? All he'd have to do is wear a pair of gloves, stab her with one of her own kitchen knives, avoid getting blood on himself, and then steal a few electronics or something to make it look like a robbery," Lenore pointed out. "It just doesn't make sense."
"Which is exactly why the murderer will escape with no one the wiser!" Erik persisted.
Lenore shook her head; Erik had decided this was a homicide case and there was no convincing him otherwise. "Fine. Do you have a suspect?" Lenore asked.
"No," Erik admitted.
"Then there's nothing to be done about it. The only witness to the murder would be Danielle, who's dead. And unless she went to Hell, you'll have a hard time questioning her."
"She's not in Hell, I already checked," Erik said dismissively.
"Did you wake me up for a reason, or did you just want someone to suffer because you're tortured with the fact that you can't figure this out?" Lenore snarled. After all, she was tired, and this wasn't a conversation she wanted to take part in, as her part would consist of listening to him complain about a lack of clues and witnesses.
"I woke you to give your input. As an outside observer, you might catch a clue I miss," Erik replied, his tone implying that his reasoning should have been crystal clear.
"Well, I did catch something you missed; it was most probably a suicide!" Lenore exclaimed. "If you want to solve a case of sudden death, you have to consider all the options! And suicide is one of them! Keep it in mind."
"I thought we'd already established it wasn't suicide, chérie," Erik sighed tiredly.
"You established it wasn't a suicide, not we," Lenore retorted.
Before Erik could reply to that, Gordon stuck his head into the room, looking utterly puzzled. "Madam, there's a gentleman on the phone for you," he informed Lenore. "It is not one of your brothers, nor one of your nephews, nor Master Hiroshi."
Erik's eyes blazed as he turned a suspicious glare at Lenore. "If you've been having an affair, this might be a good time to mention it," he said in a dangerously soft voice.
"I am not having an affair!" Lenore snapped. "How does some strange man calling me equate to an affair? Honestly, Erik, work on your self esteem. I assure you that no Vicomte de Chagny equivalent could seduce me into running away with him." Lenore was currently in the process of tying her robe belt and sliding on her slippers to take this call. "And anyway, where would I have found a lover? I've been stuck at home with the babies for the past, oh, month or so."
That said, she marched out of the room and down the hall to the room reserved specifically for telephone calls. It was filled with various comfortable couches to lounge on while you spoke, and the table that held the base for the wireless phone also had a pad of paper and a pen for taking messages.
"Hello, Lenore Dessler speaking. How can I help you?" she inquired into the receiver.
"Hello, this is William Steele," the man on the other end greeted her. "I'm one of the managers at the Opera Populaire. The reason I called is that our diva has passed away just recently and we need someone to fill in for the rest of the season."
"Surely you have a plethora of chorus girls available," Lenore said casually.
"Our choir mistress has confessed that none of them are quite up to taking the position. Even our best would need at least a full year devoted to nothing but voice training before she could fill in," William informed her. "It would only be until the end of the season, Madam Dessler. Nothing permanent. In fact, it might not last that long, if we can manage to locate a replacement before the end of the season."
"I don't know. I don't think my husband would like me taking a job," Lenore confessed. She knew if she took the position, Erik would have a fit. Mostly because she was the wife, and the wife was not supposed to be the breadwinner of the family (in his opinion, another of his old-fashioned ideas), but also because it would place her in close contact with other men. Not to mention the fact that Erik believed it was her duty to stay home and raise the twins.
"As I said, madam, it's temporary," William insisted. "I really can't tell you how much it would mean to us. You see, we've got performances sold out through Christmas, but with no diva, we'd have to cancel the shows and refund hundreds of thousands of people. It would be a terrible blow, financially."
Of course the idea she might have a lover was absurd! Turner's murder was clearly grating on Erik's nerves more than he had thought, to have him reverting to his old highly suspicious nature. Well, he would apologize to Lenore when she returned from taking her phone call.
It was a good twenty minutes before she returned, and more than once he had wanted to creep down the hall and eavesdrop on her conversation. It had taken quite a great deal to restrain himself. "Lenore…I…apologize. It was cruel of me to assume you were having an affair," he managed to spit out.
"No one's perfect," she sighed tiredly, going to her wardrobe to select clothes for the day.
Erik knew she was willing to drop it, so he did. "I must be going now, chérie. Work should be…interesting today."
"Wait up, I'll be ready in ten minutes," Lenore said, flinging off her robe and nightclothes while pulling out a knee-length navy blue skirt and a white dress shirt.
"I beg your pardon?" Erik inquired, raising an eyebrow.
"Okay, okay, maybe fifteen minutes," Lenore sighed, trying to pull on stockings with one hand and hook her brassiere with her other.
"And precisely where do you think you're going today?" he asked, seeing as how she seemed oblivious to the fact that he was baffled by her sudden decision to accompany him.
"The Opera House, of course. Where else?" Lenore mumbled, struggling with the pantyhose and brassiere.
Erik stared at her.
"Don't look at me like that. I'm just going to the Opera House with you, it's no big deal," Lenore muttered. Having just managed to hook her brassiere, she snatched up her blouse.
"You're…what?"
"I'm coming with you," Lenore replied, a touch of impatience in her voice. From her point of view, this shouldn't be a particularly hard concept to grasp.
Erik, on the other hand, found the idea to be near incomprehensible. "I suppose I'd like to know why, if you'd be kind enough to explain it to me."
"Is there a reason I can't?" Lenore said evasively, still struggling with her pantyhose while trying to slip into her blouse.
"There's no reason you can't," Erik responded. Which was true enough; there were reasons why she shouldn't (such as the simple fact that it would be wrong to leave the twins home all day without her on hand for feedings), but no reason why she could not. "I never said there was a reason you couldn't. I'm asking you to tell me. And soon enough, I won't be asking."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Of course not," Erik said reasonably. "It's just that, eventually, I'll get tired of asking and will begin demanding. So will you tell me why you should go to the Opera House with me instead of staying at home with the twins like you should be doing?"
Lenore swore softly when she discovered her struggles with the stockings had resulted in a rather noticeable run in the nylons. "Because I'm obligated," she mumbled, staring pointedly at the floor.
Erik truly felt this was getting him nowhere. "What you are obligated to do," he said, beginning to lose his temper, "is stay at home with the twins. Now stop this foolishness."
"So all I'm good for now is to stay home and raise kids?" Lenore argued, throwing the ruined stockings at him. The crumpled ball of nylon fell short of its target, though, as she hadn't put too much effort into her toss; she was too busy locating another pair of stockings.
Erik let out a hissing sigh. "I'm not going to get into another argument with you. I've got to go to work."
"You're not leaving without me," she contradicted.
"Tell me why," he demanded.
"Because I said you're not," she snarled.
"I'm not taking you with me unless you give me a reason," he said hotly, glaring.
"Why do I have to have a bloody reason? You go to work, leaving me here to have those children suck the life right out of me all day! And when I want a ride somewhere, you need a fucking reason to give it to me! How about the fact that I'm your wife? How about the fact that I bore those children for you? How about the hours I spent in agonizing pain bringing them into the world? Or maybe the fact that I've devoted myself exclusively to their well-being for almost two months straight?" she shouted, chucking one of her shoes at him.
He ducked the shoe and stood where he was resolutely. "Lenore," he began, sighing again, "I realize you've done all those things, but the twins still need you, unless you have a very good reason for leaving them. So you need to tell me why."
"Because I have a job, that's why," she snapped, looking in any direction other than his.
"Oh. I s - a job?" he asked incredulously.
"No, I'm really asking you to take me to the Opera House so I can have mad, passionate sex with every male cast member," she said sarcastically.
"How in the world - what in the world are you doing with a job at the Opera House?"
"What I'm doing is exactly what you trained me to; sing," Lenore responded, pulling a pair of knee-highs out of the drawer and hurriedly tugging them on.
Erik stared at her. "I'm going to have to have a word with those managers..." he grumbled.
"Whatever for?"
"For even entertaining the idea that you'd take the open diva position."
"They didn't simply entertain the idea; they sold it," Lenore retorted. "And don't even think of leaving me here. I'd just call a cab and show up late is all."
Erik snorted and left the room. Perhaps a quick word with Ember would be beneficial.
Bishop stretched and yawned, waking up from a pleasant nap in Sonata's cradle. She herself seemed to be just waking. Lenore's littermate was busy with Thomas at the moment, but he knew she'd be taking care of Sonata soon enough.
Erik walked in, and Bishop knew it was one of those moments when hiding under the bed was the safest thing to be doing. Obviously Erik and Lenore had rubbed each other's fur the wrong way again.
"Your sister is…" Erik snarled at Ember, clearly searching for an adjective.
"What did you do to piss her off now?" Ember replied.
"Why do you assume I'm the one at fault?" Erik snapped. "She took the diva position at the Opera House!"
"Wait, she what?"
"Yes. She went and got herself employed," Erik hissed. "And now she expects to go into work and leave you here to take care of the twins, never mind the fact that you are incapable of feeding them."
That was all Bishop needed to hear. As Erik and Ember continued to converse, Bishop mewed softly to Sanura, who popped up out of Thomas' cradle. Within seconds, they were racing into the master bedroom. Lenore was finally located in the master bathroom, brushing her hair. Her shoes were right beside her stockinged feet. Bishop leapt up onto the counter, obscuring Lenore's reflection and pawing gently at her arms as she attempted to continue brushing her hair.
"Bishop, stop that," Lenore sighed. "I have to be ready to go to work."
Down below, Sanura rubbed against Lenore's ankles, one of Lenore's shoes in her mouth.
"Sanura, not now," Lenore chided, looking down.
Sanura dashed off with the shoe as if possessed by the devil. Lenore dropped the hairbrush on the counter and chased after her.
Bishop picked up the hairbrush and leapt to the floor, then scurried away with the hairbrush. He decided he would hide it in the barn, as she would never think to look for it there. After all, she couldn't leave the kittens home all alone! Thomas and Sonata needed her.
"Sanura! Get back here!" Lenore gasped, skidding to a halt as she watched Sanura disappear around the corner at the end of the corridor. She clutched the doorframe she had stopped beside to support herself as she caught her breath. It just so happened that she stopped at the door of the nursery.
"What the bleeding hell is wrong with you?" Ember snapped, coming over to Lenore while glaring fiercely.
"The cat stole my shoe!" Lenore explained.
"I'm not talking about the cat. Taking the diva position! What about your kids? You can't leave them here alone!" Ember pointed out, the look on her face clearly communicating her desire to smack her sister upside the head for such foolishness.
"I wasn't going to," Lenore replied indignantly. "I thought you and the twins could come along with us to the Opera House. You can watch over them in the diva's suite, and if they need a meal, just come get me off the stage. That manager, Steele, said it would be perfectly alright and that they were willing to accommodate me in any way necessary."
"You gave me the distinct impression you were leaving the children home, chérie," Erik remarked angrily.
"I never said I was leaving them home," Lenore returned. "And you didn't ask. So don't try to blame any misunderstandings on me. Ember, get the kids dressed and ready to go. I've gotta go find that cat."
"You took the position then, kitten?" Hiroshi commented, appearing in the corridor behind her. "Shouldn't you be concerning yourself with raising children instead of taking"-
"Shut up," Lenore interrupted. "You're the damn idiot who gave the managers my phone number. Surely you knew what they were going to ask."
"Of course. But I was expecting Erik to pick up the phone. Which would have provided some entertainment for the day," Hiroshi replied. "There was the possibility that you'd get to take the call, naturally, but I assumed you'd flatly refuse them, knowing how livid your husband would be if you accepted."
"You live to create trouble," Lenore snarled.
"Yes. If I lived to create peace and harmony, the world would be so utterly boring," Hiroshi smirked.
"But things would certainly be easier," Lenore muttered. "If you'll excuse me, I've a cat to catch and a shoe to find." That said, she scurried off down the corridor.
"Kitten needs some common sense," Hiroshi sighed, shaking his head sadly. "Taking that position."
"Something that wouldn't be an issue if you hadn't given those blasted fools our number," Erik snapped. "I should've followed my instincts instead of having a phone line installed."
"Oh, muffin, you're looking splendid today," Hiroshi remarked, finally noticing Ember.
"Well, you look as if you're in serious danger," Ember retorted, noting Erik had that murderous gleam in his eye. "But don't let that stop you from hanging around."
"Woot! Finally got another chapter written and posted. And my classes are done for the semester," Tammy announced joyously. "I've been home from college for two weeks now. I woulda had the chapter up sooner, except my computer tried to commit suicide on finals week, so I had the reinstalling of windows and junk like that to do."
"I believe you're rambling on, creampuff," Hiroshi noted.
"Hmm. I guess I am. And I shall continue. I passed all my classes this semester! Yay!!" Tammy cheered.
(Through a rather strange, long, involved process that Tammy chose not to bore the readers with, Gershom had appeared outside of the story, Erik got mauled by the authoress for stealing her Pepsi, and Hiroshi had acquired the Shocky Spork.)
"We shall celebrate by feasting," Gershom proclaimed.
"Miserable wench," Erik muttered, glowering at Tammy.
"I love you too, Erik!" Tammy beamed.
"And what about me, creampuff?" Hiroshi pouted, making sure the Shocky Spork was quite visible.
"Um…oh…uh…I love you just as much as I love Erik," Tammy lied. She observed that this statement was inciting Erik's anger, as he was a rather jealous person and didn't like the idea that she might have even a shred of affection for Hiroshi. "To spare you readers the violence that will begin momentarily, I will ask that you review before I leave to find a safe place to hide until the dust settles. Come on, Gershom, we're gonna find a nice oasis very far away from here and have a long chat over water and flatbread."