A/N Thanks so much for the continuing reviews...they are proving invaluable to me. This one has turned out a little longer than usual but I hope it makes up for ch8. Behold Erik the nerd. Enjoy!

Chapter 9

Two days! It had been two days since they had finally arrived in Venice and it had rained non-stop since. Having left Paris early on the Monday morning it was now Thursday and Meg had seen nothing of it save for the inside of her room. They had booked into a small hotel as soon as they had arrived and when Meg awoke on Wednesday morning to the sound of thunder, she realised adventure was plainly off the menu. She had stared longingly out her window to the empty canal below, to the fat raindrops pelting the surface keeping all but the most intrepid travellers away. She had seen little of Erik since they had arrived, each having rooms at opposite ends of the hotel due to the proximity of Easter. She had wandered through the corridors yesterday after an early dinner to see if he was alright. She had stopped outside his room and was about to knock when she had heard the scratchy sounds of a violin. He sounded like he was tuning it and thought it best not to disturb him. She had instead gone down to communal sitting room where she picked out a guide book to Venice and settled into one of the armchairs to read. She had thought it wise to not be completely ignorant of where she had brought her friend and perhaps she may surprise him with her little knowledge.

This morning a shaft of bright sunlight pouring across her pillow had woken her and Meg was jubilant to find the canal below teeming with gondoliers ferrying goods and passengers under the blissfully clear sky. They would finally be able to go out and explore, maybe visit St Mark's Square and feed the pigeons. She desperately wanted to go and find Erik and not waste another minute of the glorious day they had been gifted. She wondered how he had been since they arrived, all on his own. "He would have been perfectly fine; he has lived his entire life on his own. Silly girl." Meg thought, feeling a little dejected. She was dying to take him outside and watch his reactions to seeing this city of his dreams coming to life. She had not slept particularly well last night, having lain awake for hours wondering if he was having more nightmares with no one there to comfort him. Now she just wanted to see if he was alright, if he had slept, if had eaten anything. She suspected if left to his own devices he would probably go for days forgetting to do both. Well that nonsense stopped here. He was under her watchful eye now and she would make sure that he did not put himself in an early grave from neglect. She wished she had gone back up to check on him when she finished reading but she had been so tired that it had completely slipped her mind. By the time it had occurred to her she had been about to get into bed and she did not think it at all appropriate for her to be flitting about in her chemise. She realised that she had missed him yesterday, actually missed him. Unbelievable! He irritated her, made fun of her, shouted at her and ignored her, not to mention his uncanny ability to get right under her skin, enough to make it itch. But he also fascinated her with his astonishing brain, the way he moved both seen and unseen, his ability to morph persona whenever he needed to and his wicked sense of humour that she had only barely seen a glimpse of but was determined to encourage. He alternately entranced and incensed her. Just when he was driving her to the point of exasperation he would do or say something that would completely knock the breath out of her and she would forget what he had done to annoy her. Erik was she supposed a mystery. A puzzle. There were some very dark pieces belonging to that puzzle in amongst the genius and the heart. She found it hard to reconcile the man she was coming to know with the utter devastation he had created. Her poor little friend had caught his eye and he had become a man possessed. She could not help feeling that had he never seen Christine and become fixated with her then none of this would have happened. He would remain unburdened by the atrocities he had committed and the destruction of their home and livelihood. But then he would still be alone, living underneath in the cold and she would never have found him. They would not be here in the most beautiful city in the world about to have the adventure of a lifetime. Meg believed in fate, believed that everything happened for a reason. The Italians called it destino. It was up to them now to decide what to do with it.

Erik was going quietly mad. For hours he had been awake gazing out his window at the Venetians going about their daily grind. He watched the delivery boys bringing fresh bread and vegetables to the hotel just after dawn, a bottle neck developing in the narrow canal as several merchants attempted to do business at the same time. They were all smiling good-naturedly as they poled away, where minutes before he had been sure a fight would break out judging by the shouting and wild gesticulating. Had Meg seen it too? Did she have a room with a view this fascinating? Was she even awake? He knew she possessed the ability to sleep deeply for hours but surely she could not sleep late on a morning like this. The thunderstorm of the previous day had cleared the air and blown every cloud from the sky so its reflection now sparkled on the surface of the water. He could not remember ever waking in sunshine, even in his miserable childhood memories. Shaking the unwanted thoughts from his mind he considered the possibility that Meg was probably indulging in the fact of his absence. He knew he irritated her but if he was perfectly honest the feeling was mutual. Quite how she did it he could not figure out but plainly she did. Despite her obvious flaws; crankiness, impatience, sarcasm to name but a few; his little dancer had stayed by his side and true to her word had spirited him away from the scene of his crimes. He was not used to company except his own. He was not in the habit of making conversation except to deliver threats. He was not accustomed to the presence of others in his life. She was a part of it now, always chattering away about anything and nothing and expecting him to respond accordingly. She asked him questions, looked for his opinion and listened intently for his reply like it actually mattered. No one had ever wanted to hear what he had to say about anything before, not that it had stopped him enforcing his wishes on the Populaire management. She infuriated him with her little stamping tantrums when he had annoyed her but conceded that he was secretly partial to seeing the sparks fly out of her eyes when he had really incensed her. Meg was transformed when she was angry, most especially when she was angry with him. She really did take on the properties of a feline when riled; her long hair flipping back and forth behind her, little fists clenched like she was restraining her claws, shoulders up around her ears and those eyes! Those lovely nut coloured eyes, normally so soft and warm positively liquefied when she was livid, narrowed lids and sharpened pupils with irises burning the colour of a low flame. They were magnificent and he wondered if his eyes had anything like the same effect. Did she anger him on purpose? Absurd! It was laughable. Meg would never do anything so calculatingly base. Not to mention his damaged right eye which was not quite, he thought, the kind of thing anyone would deliberately seek out...even if that someone was not totally appalled by it. She was the last thing he expected and truthfully at the present time the one person he most wanted to see.

Where was she anyway? He was burning with a desire to escape, even if that meant being outside, in daylight, among his fellow man. He was not as wary as he would have been in Paris. No one knew him here, not that they really did in Paris, but he felt as if that which he had thought impossible before was perhaps less so in this beautiful place. And he had Meg.

Think of her and she shall appear! A hesitant knock his door finally announced the arrival of his young friend.

"What the devil took you so long?" Erik demanded then instantly regretted it; he did not want Meg thinking he had been waiting for her like a drowning man watching for a lifeboat. "What I mean is that it is dry outside."

Silly man! As if I would not know he has been pacing the floor all morning. He probably has not slept more than an hour in the last twelve. "Good morning to you too. I am fine and yes I slept extremely well thank you for asking." Meg smirked at her friend, knowing well that she would put him in bad form for the rest of the morning but really there was no need to be unmannerly. It was not like him.

"I do apologise. I am just inclined to go out and see everything. I am glad you managed to rest; I shall not insult your intelligence by telling you I slept like the dead." He knew that she knew he did not and there was no point lying about it.

"So the Angel of Impatience has got you in his grip again this morning hmm? Come on then Erik the Eager, let us explore your city. I have been reading about it you know. Perhaps I may teach you something!" She handed him his cloak and ushered him out the door, pulling it closed behind her.

"I doubt that." Erik knew everything there was to know about Venice. He was in possession of a million facts about a million subjects. How could she possibly know anything that he did not? He would humour her of course being a gentleman, if she did happen to come up with some gem along the way. Having arrived to the hotel by gondola they now left by the street entrance on the opposite side and were immediately hit by the reality that they were on quite possibly the narrowest street in the world. It was barely wide enough for two people to stand side by side. There was no way to pass. They would have to stay in single file as they could now see the Venetians doing, left side to the wall. Erik had no idea which way to turn, not having a map and for the first time in his recollection his sense of direction failed him. It was like a rabbit warren of tiny narrow streets that all looked exactly the same. He felt Meg's hand pull at his elbow.

"This way. I spoke to the concierge last evening and he told me to turn left out of the hotel and from there on everything important is signposted."

Meg was thrilled with herself. Erik thought himself an authority on absolutely everything and in fact most of the time he was but just this once he was at a total loss. She was quite enjoying the feeling of having him follow her down the narrow street when he would normally have led. He was like a lost puppy following her home and he had no choice in the matter! It was delicious. Meg though it would do him some good to be bowing to someone else's superior knowledge for a change. At the end of the street she saw the myriad of little signs for the Campanile, Pont de l'Accademia, and Dorsoduro which she knew was the next island across. There were more signs for places she did not recognise but only one she wanted to follow. She turned right, glancing behind to see if Erik was still following. He was turning his head from side to side trying to catch a glimpse of everything that they passed. Meg thought he looked just like one of those birds of prey that sit bobbing and twisting their heads almost all the way around. He was going to give himself whiplash before the day was through if he was not careful!

Erik was not in the humour to speak even if he could. Meg had already managed to trump him with the directions and he was far too busy soaking up Venice like a sponge. Every little street looked the same, some terminating in a little bridge and all with a plaque stating its name. Calle de la Verona, Rio Tera Degli Assassini, and now they were walking alongside a canal on Fondamenta Orseolo. The path had widened and Meg had slowed her pace in front of him, glancing back again to see if he followed. Where did she think he would go? She was the one with the directions in her head for a change. She was smiling at him now, eyes full of merriment. He had seen that look before, at Gare de l'Est.

"Erik close your eyes and give me your hand." Meg was on another surprise mission and hoped he had learned to trust her.

"Not again. Do you perchance have a surprise for me?" This was ridiculous; a grown man being led blindly by the hand through the streets of Venice by a slip of a thing with a sly grin on her face. He was curious though as to where she had brought him so reluctantly he held out his left hand to join with her right one and closed his eyes.

"It will be worth it and I will not let you trip or walk into anything. Just trust me." She walked slowly, careful to keep the same pace as Erik stepped tentatively forward. This was killing him! He really was not used to having someone else in charge, especially a female but to his credit he was actually keeping his eyes closed. Was it possible that he had now figured out the concept of surprise? That his compliance was essential to the outcome? She was tickled pink that she had managed to teach him something, give him an experience that he had been denied. Only a few more steps and she would allow him to open his eyes. She led him slowly through one of the many arches she could see down along the street, crowds flooding through each one. She was careful to choose an entrance with fewer people so they would not bump into her blind companion. And then they were through; out into a vast open space filled with the colour of Venetian society and thousands upon thousands of pigeons.

She squeezed Erik's hand and pulled him alongside her, laughter bubbling up from inside her. "Look...look and see" She tore her eyes away from the view before her to sneak a peek at her friends face as he saw St Mark's Square, the basilica, the Campanile and the pigeons with his own eyes for the first time. Oh she was getting good at this! He was awestruck. He dropped her hand, walking forward as if in a trance. She picked up her skirts and walked a little faster to catch up with him. "Well? It is everything you had dreamed?"

"More, it is beyond description. I have read about this place many times but nothing can ever prepare you for the real thing. You cannot feel the space in a book, you can only imagine. This is...this is quite beyond anything I had ever dreamt."

"I suppose most things are better first hand. Books cannot give you the sounds or the smells or as you said the space. Look at the Campanile, it almost looks like it is moving if you look at the top long enough!" Meg was feeling slightly dizzy staring at the spire at the top of the tall tower which stood at the far corner of the square opposite the entrance to the basilica.

"It is actually over three hundred feet tall and is almost one thousand years old. It is the bell tower for St Marks as you probably know but its five bells were used for more than just calling people to prayer. The largest of the bells marks the beginning and end of the work day and another chimes the hour. The third was used to call the senators to the Doges Palace and the fourth summoned the magistrates. Would you like to guess what the fifth was used for?" Erik smirked mischievously knowing Meg would never guess and relishing the opportunity to deliver a grisly story.

"Oh I do not know...perhaps when there was a new Doge or bishop? Like the white smoke in Rome." She could not think what else could have a special bell all of its own.

"No ma petite, nothing quite so innocent. The fifth bell, which incidentally was the smallest, was used to announce the execution of prisoners. It was called il Maleficio." He was in full theatrical mode now, intent of painting a gruesome picture for his new history student.

"NO! That is horrible. What does il Maleficio mean then?" Meg was enthralled, eyes wide imagining the horrible sound that would echo around the city. It even had an evil sounding name.

"It means 'the curse'. All of the bells have names but none of the rest are quite so macabre. The prisoners were hung in cages about half way up the tower's walls. If it makes you feel better there is a huge golden weather vane in the form of the archangel Gabriel at the very top." Erik craned his neck and squinted trying to focus his eyes on the sculpture wasted so high up where no one could see it. "Would you like to see them? I believe you can go up almost to the top and the view must be magnificent."

"I think not. We are not all blessed with an affinity for heights. Even the thought of it is making me feel quite ill. You should go up and see the view though. Do not miss out because of me."

"No, I will see it someday, but not today. Shall we queue for St Mark's or do you have another suggestion?" Erik had no intention of leaving Meg all by herself on the ground while he enjoyed an admittedly unparalleled view of Venice. Anything could happen to her, he must not forget she was still essentially under his protection and a young blonde woman in Italy was a rarity that would attract altogether the wrong kind of attention.

"Well we could wait for St Marks but the queue is quite long and we can come back here anytime. I did read about the island across from us, where all the artists live and work and I thought perhaps it might be interesting. We could get something to eat there if you wanted to." Meg had read all about the area called Dorsoduro in her guide book. Erik was not the only one who could read. The artisans of Venice had made the area their home, setting up their studios and shops all along the narrow canals. It fascinated her almost as much as the more famous attractions.

"As you wish; St Mark's will still be here tomorrow. Come, we can cross at Pont de l'Accademia." Meg was not the only one who knew the layout. Now that he was somewhere familiar he could picture it all in his head.

After what seemed like miles of walking, they finally reached the far side of the huge bridge that spanned the Grand Canal. Erik had taken the lead since leaving the square, some internal compass guiding him through the city of his dreams. Meg was beginning to get hungry and was longing to stop and rest although her boots were accommodating to her feet at last. She began to lag behind, feeling too warm from the exertion and heavy clothes and tired from walking. There was so much to see at every turn, brightly coloured shop fronts displaying traditional Carnevale masks of every description and beautiful glass from the island of Murano across the lagoon. They had missed Carnevale, arriving too close to Easter and they would have to wait until next year she supposed before they could take part in the most famous spectacle in the Venetian calendar. Erik would be able to legitimately accompany her to a masquerade and she wondered what he would wear. He had obviously not been invited to the ball on New Year's Eve at the Populaire but he had turned up anyway. She would never forget the lithe figure in scarlet and a skull mask that had made its way down the great staircase, cape billowing behind him and that magnificent sword at his hip. He could never be accused of not knowing how to make an entrance having ground the ball to a halt and scared the living daylights out of everyone. He had been angry that night, seeing Christine's engagement ring on full view of the world dangling from her neck. She should have worn it where it belonged, on her hand beneath her gloves. Christine had made little mistakes like that which had seemed nothing at the time but looking back she could see now that every single one was significant. She had been treading on very dangerous ground and she had not even realised. Poor Christine. She wondered how she was, if she was happy now with Raoul. She hoped so. So much had been lost that night that she hoped her friend had found with her Viscompte that which she obviously could not with Erik. Meg recalled Erik had also known how to make an exit the night of the ball, dropping through a trap door on the landing of the staircase in a puff of smoke, theatrical but effective. He would have to learn to live now without his tricks, trapdoors and smoke she thought wistfully, the sound of her name breaking through her memories.

"MEG!" Erik was stalking towards her with a murderous look in his eye and it made her shiver to see it.

"Where in the devil have you been? I turned around and you had vanished! Anything could have happened to you." He was furious with her for wandering off and making him feel fear like he never had before. Images of her being snatched by some shady character and whisking her away in a gondola with nefarious intent flashed through his mind until he realised what he had been thinking. He could have been describing himself!

"I suppose I must have fallen behind." She hung her head now in shame; sorry that she had so obviously scared him. Neither of them could afford to lose the other here until they knew their way around a little better. "I was tired and wanted to look in some of the windows. I should have asked you to stop for a while and I did not. I am sorry; I did not mean to cause you to worry." She looked up into his half covered face imploringly, feeling thoroughly chastised and repentant. She hated when he was angry with her as opposed to just irritated which was sometimes amusing. But this, this was not a nice feeling and one she did not wish to replicate.

"Come, you can lead lest you disappear on me again. There is a pasticceria up ahead you may get lost in." Erik stood back to allow his crestfallen companion to go ahead. She looked on the point of tears due in no small part to him shouting at her and also because she was tired and hungry. He followed closely behind for the few minutes it took until she came to a stop outside the little pastry shop he had smelled rather than actually seen. Pasticceria Pellizzari had a brightly coloured yellow and white striped awning and its name displayed in gold lettering on the large picture window. The smells wafting out of its door were mouth watering and Erik was surprised to see Meg still standing staring through the window taking in all the delights displayed on trays instead of inside buying half the shop.

"Meg? Are you not going in?" He was baffled at her hesitation.

"What does the sign in the window mean – in affitto?" No one puts a sign in a window unless they are either renting rooms or looking for staff. She crossed her fingers.

"It means for lease I think. I assume it refers to the house above rather than the shop. Why?"

"Oh Erik, how are you so intelligent? For lease! We need somewhere to live that is not a dreaded hotel. Think! Shall we ask inside? Then I shall buy all the pastries in the shop!" Meg did not wait for his answer but took him by the arm and pulled him behind her through the door, her mind full of the possibilities of having somewhere they could call home.