Update at last! Sorry for the long wait. I've finally typed out the whole deal with the cult- you guys will have to let me know if it's entertaining or not.
Disclaimer: I don't own POTO or Frankenstein
Adam paused in his tale, waiting for Erik's coughing fit to pass. The man on the floor bit back a moan before falling silent. He opened one eye, sunken and bloodshot, the action itself prompting the larger man to continue talking. Adam turned his gaze away from Erik's broken form and towards the fire.
"The Englishman's words fell into his sister's hands. It happened so long ago- perhaps she was repulsed, perhaps she was plagued by nightmares from his account. This is my own conclusion, for I have seen the Englishman myself; he is a brave man, and I doubt his sibling would be the cowardly type. Her husband, he was a doctor."
Cough. The wind whistled around them.
"A mediocre man with many ambitions, and like my-" his nostrils flared, "father, had goals that should not be executed by men. Immortality was what he worked towards; the occult, the undead, all were subjects he chose to dabble in. My Frankenstein's words may have been the only real discovery he stumbled upon. Oh, the foolish man!
"This doctor took it upon himself to recreate the monstrosity that Frankenstein indulged in- he convinced several of his colleagues to partake in discretion. Nothing worked, not until they found a dying infant. They managed to salvage the pitiful thing, but the child grew into something so evil that they had to destroy it- the details are sordid, my friend.
"In the end, their work disappeared, too valuable to be destroyed and too horrific to be used. The child had the looks of any normal human being, the actions, the mentality, but an artificial evil was rooted inside it, as if the corpses they used to save its life were taking their vengeance. This record followed our doctor his entire life, haunted him as it had once my creator. Unable to endure it any longer, he left his life behind- his wife, his children, his home and fled for the barren north.
"He was long dead by the time a young man came across his seclusive Scandinavian home. There, he recovered the notes and used them to fuel his own ambition- immortality. Imagine, Erik- having both the doctor's and my father's work, the possibilities were endless. Anders feared death; there was nothing he wanted more than longevity. With the combined notes, his attention fell on myself and the child.
"How durable we were. But unlike his predecessors, Anders was not a man of science. He believed in superstition and in his eyes, we were products of the undead, of ghosts that could be used. He believed that if he could somehow appease the spirits of dead children, those fated to wander and prey on the living, they would serve him. And they would bring him the power and immortality he so craved.
"The madman convinced others- do not look so skeptical, Erik, your precious Daae is an equally superstitious man- to join his cause. A man's heart is dark, as we both know, and to these persons, they could not resist the temptation of Anders' offer; some were even willing to sacrifice their own children, for they believed eternity as a myling could lead to something greater. But he did not have them all swayed..."
His fists clenched.
"It was not until I arrived, until Anders glimpsed the face of the walking dead, of a so called demon, that he inspired his companions to search for me. It was then that they were convinced, convinced that Anders' proposal had ground that they started the cult. It was a deadly game they played and many suffered- the children were killed to produce ghosts with hatred, with too much pain to enter heaven, and the young women were sacrificed to provide a mother. They were offered as wombs for the mylings, as caretakers in the afterlife equally disillusioned and pained. These were gifts to the mylings, companions and mothers.
"Members of their cult could not leave for the majority would be sure to kill in order to protect their exclusive secret. There was a set number of victims, a number not revealed to me but what Anders deemed just right. Daae's wife was the last one, but ah, you managed to ruin that, my friend. In one night, you have dismantled all of their work."
Adam breathed heavily, eager to catch his breath. He had presented the facts with more eloquence and insight than the woman had given him, but he thought it appropriate to share everything he knew of the events at hand.
"Ha."
Erik burst into mad laughter, cackling and coughing in turn, tears streaming down his face, as Adam turned back toward him, alarmed.
"Oh, Erik has quite the talent for that," he rasped, "he always destroys, Adam, he always ruins."
Adam said nothing, walking back towards the cackling man and sitting a slight distance from him. He eyed Erik warily as the latter tried to roll out of the blankets.
"There is nothing," Erik started, wincing as a patch of red appeared on his bandaged thigh, "good about raising living corpses."
"No."
Breathing raggedly, Erik calmed and ceased his attempts to leave the spot, once again seized by shivering. A long, slow sigh escaped the man.
"Erik wishes to know what Adam plans now."
"I will wait for the storm to pass. In the meantime, we do nothing."
Then, in a quieter tone, Erik's weak voice asked, "Has Erik destroyed Adam's trust?"
The larger man said nothing. He stared sadly back at his companion, then at his own thick hands. "Do you remember when I first told you of Frankenstein?"
He sighed. "I have hurt many in defense. I have done good and received pain in return. I have hurt many for vengeance as well. I have done wicked and received nothing in return... I killed my father's brother, a mere boy, for vengeance, and framed an innocent maid for my crime. I have murdered a kind man to hurt my creator. I have murdered Frankenstein's loving fiancee to harm him. They have done nothing to incur my wrath."
Erik said nothing, clouded eyes staring at the crackling fire.
"I sought to dismantle my father. I tried forcing him into making me a companion but he refused- he was afraid and in my bitterness, I committed the horrors you know of. I followed him to the ends of the Earth, driving him mad, and in the end, I killed him as well. But only because there was nothing left for either of us. There was no solace in the crimes we shared or what I had done. All I ever wanted was to call him father. Acceptance, to be able to live like any other man."
"I tried to join him in death but could simply not destroy this body. When I first came here, after years of wandering with no answer, I found it in a violinist's music. He ran from me in fright the first time I confronted him and in retaliation, I-"
Adam gulped, ready to confess. "I smashed his violin. I will not say anymore- perhaps I did the violinist injustice. Soon I met a woman, her name was Aana, a Finn's daughter, and although she could not see me, she was the first to show kindness to a lonely traveler behind her walls. Slowly, I befriended her and some foolish notion allowed me to love her."
"I felt passion, such joy towards her. It was as if my life up to this point meant nothing before her. But once she saw me... she screamed and ran in disgust... blinded by rage, I attacked her. She died by these monstrous hands. Afterwards, I spent time in this village pillaging and lurking, like a beast with a thirst for vengeance against the wrongdoings of mankind. Until you came, until I finally felt as if I was no longer alone."
The flames cast dancing light across their features. It was a long time before one spoke.
"I was born in a small village near Rouen."
Born. You were born. That was enough to cement the gap between them.
"My father never saw me and my mother hated me. My poor, unhappy mother- she would throw a mask at me if this face was bare. It was the first gift I ever received. She could not bare to look at me, touch me, let along kiss me. I ran away from her as a child-"
He coughed and sighed, a forlorn sound.
"She did not need me in her life, should not have been saddled with the burden. I fell in with a band of gypsies. A man displayed me as the living corpse- a fitting name, isn't it?- and for a while, I knew what it was to live in a cage. Don't look at me like that, Adam- your shock troubles me. I killed that man and life was a new horizon. I traveled the world with these fairs and freakshows, as a magician and as an oddity, as an entertainer of the shadiest sort.
"The shah-in-shah of Persia requested me, demanded me, you know." He laughed softly. "The chief of police came for me himself, the daroga as I called him. In Persia, I was the court's most loved and most hated; for a while, I knew what it was to live in power. And I was willing to do anything to keep that power, to please the shah, to save my own hideous hide."
The strained voice wavered. "I built torture devices for the shah and the little sultana. She loved the morbid, Adam. She would laugh with each death. There were men who died in artificial deserts of my design, men who were strangled by my own hand in the sultana's playgrounds, men who I executed for her laughs, who may have died innocent, who I fought for hours on end. I lived in sin, so much blood and death."
Erik coughed once more, attempting to lift his trembling hands, as if to show Adam that the blood on them was not his own. "I was their master mason, their magician, their trap door lover. The Shah wanted me gone in the end- my eyes were to be put out and my head mounted on a pike. It was the daroga who saved me from sure death, who assisted my wretched escape."
"The daroga was my... my first companion. He made me swear to never kill again- oh, I showed him, didn't I?- I doubt he walked free from this. From there, I went to Constantinople and fell into the sultan's employment. It was only a short while, dealing with machinery and buildings. I fled from execution once more and-" cough "-in a few months' time, I came to Scandinavia to wipe away my trail."
"I too had hoped to escape solitude when I met you. I-I had also hoped to keep these hands clean." He broke into another series of hacks and curled into a fetal position, shaking so badly that Adam wondered if the man was crying.
And in that instant, the mystery surrounding Erik fell away. It was a fantastical, twisted life he led, one that ran parallel to Adam's own and still managed to be worlds apart. Erik was just a man and Adam knew that whatever he himself was, he was no better or worse.
Gustave rubbed his sore neck, eyeing the healing cut on his wife's collarbone, and spooned another bit of stew into his mouth. He knew she hated to cause Frederik's family any more trouble, but the snow had not yet let up and in the meantime, they were all stuck in the cottage, including the elderly gentleman he had barely spoken to. But he had little doubt that without the doctor's presence, neither he nor his wife would still be sitting together.
Kristine offered him a gentle smile, hands once more touching the growing abdomen. Gustave wished he could revel in the miracle of life. The cult flashed in his mind and he felt himself shudder. It was not a nightmare. While had had drifted in and out of consciousness, Kristine's bound petrified form appeared in his dreams, the knives and screams, the fires and blood, the drums, the monster's face- the monster that had taken his violin in another nightmare, and the only solace he found through the pain was the angel of music.
The angel of music, whether real or imaginary had saved his life. His memories were mingling. No, the voice had belonged to Erik. Perhaps the voice was shared... The violin case lay at the foot of the borrowed bed, its black still stained with dry blood.
"Where is he?" he asked quietly, hoping Kristine would finally be able to answer.
"I don't know." She shook her head, eyes blurring with bits of water. "I don't like the idea, love. I don't want to think he's still out there- ill, injured, stranded. I feared him, I hated him once, Gustave... but now I don't know."
His eyes stayed fixed on the case. Isn't this instrument what you wanted, Daae?
"I want him here, safe and alive, as much as you do, dear," she finished.
He nodded, throat tightening.
The cold had never bothered Adam until then. Steam left his nostrils as he turned away from the window, his cloak already covered in white. The cottage was slightly larger than Daae's, and older, looking as if the next gust of wind would wear the wood away. He could be at rest, in spite of the bitterness, that Daae was fine, that his hands had not been the cause of more destruction.
It reminded him of the few days spent outside Daae's windows, pondering over his little wife. He shook his head, no longer ashamed, and feeling oddly aware. Surely this was only a sign that he was as much a man as Frankenstein. But there was a conflict raging in his heart.
She had been crying. If he had managed to read her lips correctly, she had been distressed over Erik's whereabouts, over his pain. She had been shedding tears for him. Compassion.
Adam wondered how Erik would take this- would such a simple action compel his whole outlook to change? Would this bring a permanent end to what little companionship they had left? Or did that not matter anymore? Perhaps they were better off separate, had always been meant for different paths. Overcome by a sudden grief, Adam began the walk back, heavy and cold, colder than he had ever been.
No, no, leave Erik be! Leave him be! He cried out, trying to wriggle his body away from the shadows. The walls blurred and stretched before him, his vision hazy with pain and a strange sensation, as if he was caught between hell's pits and Hades' river. It was a dream, he had to remind himself. Erik rolled aside, the dead men in a circle around him. There was a showman between them, a Persian at the door, a woman by the fire.
Mother, Erik is sorry- the mask! The mask, mother! Erik will wear the mask and he will be good! He vomited, choking and hacking, hands writhing behind him, eager to break free and touch his face. He dragged his body toward the door, the world fading in and out of black. Daroga, leave Erik be! All of you, leave him be- he has nothing more to offer. Nothing!
He was almost at the door, body sticky and wet, as if it was sweating blood. His leg refused to move and his back was in agony. Of course, there had been a whipping- he was not submissive, he remembered. Groans and whimpers. Victims of his torture chamber. His chest was a wreck, his shoulder must have been sawed off. That must have been the Shah's punishment. He managed to arrive at the foot of the door before crumpling face down, overcome by pain.
Cough. Cough.
"Erik." Garbled, deep... where? Ah... Adam.
"You should have stayed put."
Water in his lips. Something soft put against his torso. "You bled all over the floor."
His eyes cracked open. He was in Adam's arms, trembling, and lacking the strength to look up. The eyes stayed fixed on the ugly wound in his own side, pink at the edges and held together by messy black thread, bits of angry red showing from the inside, a little yellow seeping out. The abdomen itself was mottled with purple and black. Thin scabbing cuts. He didn't want to know what his chest looked like.
Adam lifted him up. "Erik, can you hear me?"
"Yes."
"What we nearly had... it was a wonderful thing, was it not?" Yes. "But we cannot pretend any longer."
He could find no words to reply. The meaning behind them refused to sink in as the world darkened. When Erik was aware of his senses once more, he saw Adam's fingers winding a long strip of cloth around his face.
"You'll die if you stay. We both know that."
Ah, that would be no great loss.
Adam was careful with the other man's sore shoulder as he approached the door, a coil of rope around himself. He had mulled over the decision for hours, and feeling the heat from Erik's body, staring at the bile and blood on the floor, he knew there could not be another wasted night. The storm had finally let up.
Erik trembled in his arms, tangled in a pathetic blanket, as they entered the freezing air. He groaned incoherently with each step, any words muffled by the bandage tucked around his face. Adam ignored the man's pleads for respite and company, journeying on through the knee deep snow. The barking of dogs coincided with his catching sight of the violinist's temporary home. He could make out the shape of Daae's friend circling the cottage.
"I am sorry."
It was the last phrase he ever told Erik. Tired, Adam bridged the distance between himself and the cottage. Not lingering, he propped Erik against a tree and unbound his hands. He then fastened him to the trunk with rope, the blanket lost in the snow.
He was close enough to the crying canines. Goodbye.
Don't leave him. Don't leave him. Daroga. Adam.
"Adolph! Adolph what is it!?" Screaming beasts. Hounds...
Erik felt himself slide forward, immobilized by the cold, the strange binds falling apart. A stocky man was coming towards him, several grey dogs at his sides. He was aware of an aging man leaning over him with quiet, concerned eyes.
He felt an overwhelming desire to apologize for dirtying the man's hand with his blood before darkness overtook his surroundings once more.
Kristine would awake that morning to the sound of Erik's fevered moans.
Thanks for reading! Reviews count as IV bags for Erik- and the torture is finally over, honest this time. One more chapter plus an epilogue and it's over. Was this worth reading? A waste of time? A decent crossover? Let me know!
Next time: the Daaes learn something else about the cult, the doctor has another epic night, and Gustave comes up with a name for the baby (I wonder what that could be...)