Um, just to warn everyone I will say right now that this chapter has a huge cliffhanger at the end. But please keep in mind this is not the end of the story. I wouldn't be that mean. Other than that I would like to thank my wonderful beta Juliana and my faithful reviewers for their input and support.
Chapter 32: Saying Goodbye
Brielle chased Aria down the hallway and into the child's room, coming to an abrupt halt just inside the door. "Aria, love…" she began, her eyes searching the dim corners for the form of her daughter. Outside, a distant rumble of thunder chased the wind across the darkening sky. A storm was coming.
"I d-don't want to h-have new t-teachers! I w-w-want Erik!" the child screamed instantly, her tiny body emerging from the shadows to stand stiffly in the center of the room.
"Aria, I don't want you to be upset by what just happened in the parlor. I was only thanking your Uncle for his offer to help us out." When her daughter ignored this simple explanation by kicking an unlucky toy across the carpet Brielle began to frown. The child's behavior was becoming increasingly temperamental.
"I d-don't want H-HIM to c-come anymore! I h-hate Andrew! I h-hate h-him!"
Raising a hand to press against the hollow of her temple Brielle stepped further into the room. "Stop that instantly! I will not tolerate this sort of behavior young lady! Your uncle has been nothing but kind to us since your father died! If it had not been for his generosity we would have been living on the streets! You know your grandfather basically ran us out of England!"
Stamping a foot loudly against the floor, Aria turned her back to her mother and covered her ears with her hands. With an inhuman shriek the child wailed at the top of her lungs, her high pitched voice echoing off the dark wood paneling. Banging her palm against the wall to grab the attention of her banshee daughter, Brielle advanced to stand towering over Aria's shaking body.
"Stop it! Stop this at once! I am your mother!" she shouted against the ceaseless earsplitting screaming. When Aria gave no sign of stopping her noisy tantrum, Brielle cursed loudly before turning on her heel and marching out of the room. At the doorway the white haired woman paused and took the door handle in her hand.
"When you can behave yourself properly you may come out of this room. Until then you will stay in here!" she bellowed before swinging the door shut behind her. Leaning her back against the cool wood panel behind her, Brielle let out an agitated breath. Why did I do that? I should not have yelled at her…I must be more on edge than I thought. The last few days have left me in a terrible mood. I will apologize to her after she has had time to cool off…
Pushing off from the door, Brielle made her way slowly back down the hallway to the front parlor where Andrew continued to wait patiently, if slightly uncomfortably. Apparently he had heard the argument. Pushing a strand of hair behind her ear, Brielle gave him a harried smile. "I am sorry about that…she is terribly sensitive."
Merely nodding his understanding, Andrew turned his hat slowly in his hands. "No need to apologize. Children will be children. But I do believe it is time for me to make my exit. I believe it will begin to rain any moment and it is getting rather late as well."
"Oh yes of course," she replied distractedly. "I will show you out."
As Brielle walked the young lord to the door, she continued to press against the pressure building just behind her left temple. Blast, I don't have time to have a headache right now. I don't have time for half the things I still need to get done. Opening the front door, the white haired woman ushered Andrew out of the house. He donned his hat and said a hasty goodbye before making his way into the yard.
Turning suddenly Andrew glanced back at her, a worried expression darkening his eyes. "Get some rest Brielle. You look ready to faint at any moment." he stated matter-of-factly before mounting his waiting horse and galloping off down the drive.
Leaning against the doorframe for a moment as the gathering storm blew rain scented puffs of air over her burning face, Brielle closed her eyes tiredly. "I must look a terrible fright if Andrew is urging me to get some rest." Closing the door, she turned and headed wearily down the hallway. "Maybe I will go to bed a little early," she sighed as she glanced at the wall clock.
Walking with dragging footsteps into her bedroom, Brielle slowly began peeling off her many layers of clothing. The moment the corset's constricting embrace had been removed, the Irishwoman felt slightly better. The cool cotton of her nightdress was a welcome contrast to the stuffy heat of her daytime dress. Raising her hands above her head, she stretched tiredly and moved to the full length mirror in the corner of the room. Pulling the tiny hair pins from the bun at the back of her head Brielle let her long hair fall down her back. Rubbing her fingers over her scalp she was just about to turn from the mirror when she noticed a crimson droplet fall from her left nostril and slide down to her top lip. Startled at the sight of blood Brielle stepped closer to the mirror, one hand rising to touch tenderly at the drop.
"What the hell?" she murmured, peering closer at her image. Wiping the blood away Brielle blinked rapidly as she watched her own face go deathly white in her reflection. Odder still, as she continued to stare at herself she saw her own eyes dilate until only a dim ring of gray surrounded the blackness of her pupils. The floor under her feet gave an unexpected lurch just then, sending her staggering to the side. The sight of her Persian rug flew up toward her as she fell to the ground, her vision graying at the edges. No, no…not now…not…
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Buttery yellow sunlight flickered steadily onto Brielle's upturned face as she sat rocking absently on the front porch. A breeze tickled the wind chime into a short burst of song as she slowly opened drowsy eyes. She smiled at the familiar sight of her daughter skipping through the tall grass, her dark hair sweeping back and forth at her every movement. She sighed sleepily into the welcoming summer air, the lilac growing just around the corner of the house making each puff of breeze heavy with its scent, as she waited for the comforting presence of her mystery man to arrive.
Though she had never seen the man's face Brielle had come to know his touch, his voice. And in her waking mind she knew who she wished the man to be, hoping deep in her heart for the dream to bleed into reality, for the man to take up a name. But at the same time these longings frightened her, they made her vulnerable to a pain she was sadly very familiar with. Another loss, she knew, would break what was left of her heart. My word Brielle, it is just a pleasant dream. Stop over-processing it and just enjoy.
Knowing the scene to be a dream did nothing to diminish the serenity of the moment, and Brielle was in no hurry to awake from this fantasy. This particular dream, since its debut several weeks ago, had repeated nightly until Brielle knew every movement, every smell as if they were burned into her brain. Its constant occurrence was soothing after days of stressful arguments and frustrating silences. Somehow, despite everything, she knew everything would work out for the best.
But as Brielle leaned back in her chair she noticed something was different this time, she felt lighter than she had in her last dream. Raising a hand to rest upon her abdomen, she was startled when her palm fell not on the pregnant swell she had come to expect, but an unpretentiously flat belly. With a frown, Brielle glanced down and stared at this odd alteration to the dream she had come to know so well. As she drew her hand away from her stomach, a flicker of hollow dread tightened like a vise around her chest. Something is wrong…it wasn't like this before.
Blinking with confusion, Brielle raised her eyes to the yard where Aria had been playing happily moments ago; the child was nowhere to be seen, she had disappeared as if she had never been. Climbing to her feet, the white haired woman took one step off the porch calling her daughter's name with growing anxiety, but only the tinkling of the wind chime greeted her straining ears. The tall grass and wildflowers, which only moments ago held charm and appeal, now loomed endlessly into the distance, concealing something sinister and unknown.
A deep seated sense of trepidation stirred within her, climbing ever higher into her consciousness until it clawed at every thought, took every breath. Wrapping her arms about her waist, Brielle turned back towards the house unsure of what to do - the knowledge that this was all just a dream no longer proved comforting. Her attention turned suddenly to the front door when her ears caught the soft click of the latch being pulled back. That's right - any second now the door will open. That is how it goes. The door opens and he comes out, we talk and then I wake up. Please, I want to wake up…something is wrong here.
Stepping back up onto the porch after a moment had passed, Brielle waited for the door to open, her heart racing with expectation. Any second now…Slowly, as she watched with bated breath, the door knob turned with an over loud squeak in the resounding quiet of the dream. Taking another step closer she reached a trembling hand toward the door, but as her fingers brushed the revolving knob it dissolved from under her hand, leaving a dark void in the smooth plane of the door.
Startled, she jerked backward as the hole grew larger, watching it eat away at the front of the house until the swirling blackness encompassed an area large enough for a small person to step through. Squinting into the oddity before her, Brielle tilted her head to the side trying to see into the apparently unending dark, nothing meeting her gaze besides the shifting whirlpool of shadow. As she watched open mouthed, the edge where the hole met the house siding began to shift and bend. Slowly, like water swirling down a drain, the darkness began to suck everything around it into its depth.
Backing unsteadily away from the horror opening up before her Brielle turned and jumped off the porch at a dead run, her skirts kicking out behind her. "This isn't right! This isn't how it is supposed to be!" she screamed. "Erik, Aria where are you!"
As she ran, Brielle could hear the destruction behind her as the gaping chasm pulled ever more quickly at the surroundings. She did not have to glance over her shoulder to see it was catching up with her; the very ground shook under her feet from the approaching force. Wake up Brielle. This is a dream - just wake up.
Finally, unable to bear the unknown danger behind her any longer, Brielle turned her head to look back at where the house had been. Nothing was left, only a darkness beyond any moonless night loomed behind her, its edge licking inches towards her racing feet. But as she jerked her head back around to the front, Brielle caught a vague image in the corner of her eye. Glancing in that direction, hoping to find a savior, she distantly saw a cloaked man riding away on what remained of the drive leading from her house. The man paused and turned in his saddle, one side of his face glimmering abnormally white. With a jolt Brielle recognized him and stopped running.
"ERIK! ERIK help me!" she shrieked, as her feet slowly began to sink into the inky blackness. "Erik wait come back! Wait! Help me! Do not leave me here alone! PLEASE!"
But he did not appear to hear her, for the masked man turned away and urged his mount on without another glance in her direction. Erik rode off into the darkness without looking back.
Jerking suddenly upright from the floor Brielle gasped for breath - cold sticky sweat stood out across her forehead and dripped down her back. A blinding flash of lightning lit up the room in pale white light for a mere moment, its brightness soon followed by rolling thunder that shook the house. Without a thought, Brielle shakily climbed to her feet and staggered out the door. She ran so quickly from her room that she hardly remembered traveling down the hallway; racing to Erik's closed door, Brielle pounded on the dark wood until her fist ached. Calling his name with growing hysteria she yanked the door open and scanned the room frantically. It was empty. Whipping around, Brielle ran toward the front of the house; when she reached the front door she wrenched it open with inhuman force.
Fear drove her outside into the heart of a raging storm, but even as the wind lashed at her face and cut through her thin nightshift Brielle did not hesitate. Somehow she knew she had to get to the barn.
Somehow she knew that he was leaving her.
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Tragedy is the inevitable working out of things; it can neither be avoided nor overcome. The one true constant in the universe is that life ends in death, and love…love ends in betrayal. There is no happily ever after, it doesn't exist. And though the deepest corners of Erik's heart had rejected this truth his entire life despite his mother's cool disgust and the gypsies' brutal abuse, he had no strength left to fight against it any longer. No other choice remained but to simply accept what fate had been beating into him since birth. He was born into loneliness and he would die alone.
Staring numbly over the back of Brielle's old carriage horse, Erik laid his cheek against the mare's withers. I don't know why I am so surprised. I know better, truly I do. I know that despite everything I have accomplished, every breathtaking aria I write or inspiring building I design, I am still just an ugly gypsy sideshow. Closing his burning eyes, Erik breathed in the warmth of the animal under his hands. Dully he felt the hot trail of a tear slide out from under his closed lids as the churning storm of pain beat unrelenting against the brittle shield that his shock provided.
Carefully he raised his head and gazed fixedly down at the wet swatch of fur on the mare's back where his face had rested. After a moment the trembling deep in his heart stilled as his dark brows drew together into a severe line. The echoing whispers of agony within his soul quieted as another more powerful emotion poured into his consciousness.
A comforting wave of unbridled fury washed over him as he turned and snatched a saddle off a nearby shelf, surrounding him in its hellish heat, molding the broken shards of his heart into a deadened lump within his chest. No, there will be no hurting this time. Why should I mourn the fickle fancies of a damnable Irish trollop? She certainly will not give this poor masked fool a second thought after she returns to London and basks in the glow of her young lord's riches. She is just another chapter in the tragic saga of my life. I will forget her…I will forget all of this…it is just a matter of will.
Even as he gently swung the saddle up onto the mare's back and settled it into place, his hardened heart and mind boiled with a growing need for violence, a need to inflict pain likened to that which hovered just outside the edges of his anger. The old horse whinnied and swung its great head around to gaze mournfully at him as he tightened the cinch just as a clap of thunder shook the small barn. Soothing the shaggy mare Erik stroked a finger down the animal's muzzle, his hand trembling even though his face remained carefully blank.
When the howling wind blew the barn doors open with a resounding crack, Erik merely continued to calm the nervous animal. It wasn't until a shadow fell across the floor to his left that he bothered to pause in his ministrations. Slowly, with temper blackening his features, Erik turned toward the doorway. He dropped his hands from the mare's head when his eyes fell upon a familiar figure gasping for breath just outside the barn.
Brielle stood drenched to the bone and shivering in the cold rain, her breath puffing out before her face like white wedding ribbons in the air. She stood perfectly still, almost ghost-like, despite the chaotic storm breaking over her, even the long threads of her hair hanging limp and plastered to her small body. Only her large fog gray eyes moved, taking in the scene of the saddled horse and his cloaked figure.
"What are you doing?" she demanded weakly, as if she already knew what his answer would be.
Not bothering with a reply, Erik turned his face away from Brielle, the very sight of her with her wet night dress and muddy feet bringing the pain that much closer to the surface. She looked so young, so lovely that his blackened and bruised heart began to bleed again…her beauty made him weak, Erik vowed he would hate her for that.
"Erik, what are you doing!" Brielle demanded again, this time an edge of hysteria distorting the normally charming lilt in her speech.
"What is the matter, Madame Donovan?" Erik inquired politely, his voice dangerously low. "Are you having trouble with your fortune telling abilities? Have they betrayed your expectations?"
"No, Erik you must…"
"Then perhaps your eyes have failed you," he shot over his shoulder, the brutality boiling within him leaking into his voice as he fisted his hands at his sides.
"Please Erik, what has happened to upset you so?" she pleaded stepping cautiously into the barn, the muddy hem of her nightgown trailing through the dry straw.
Resting a trembling hand upon the pommel of the saddle, Erik sighed heavily. "I am not upset, Madame," he replied softly, gathering cold formality about him like armor against the sincerity he heard in her voice. I can hate her if I try…stupid twit…blasted horrible woman…making me almost believe…making me hope that…that perhaps…BLAST IT!
With her arms wrapped protectively about her waist, Brielle stood shivering just outside the stall where he continued to saddle the shaggy mare. "Of course you are upset. You haven't called me Madame since the first few weeks we knew each other. Something must have happened. Please tell me!" she begged, her rustling footsteps coming just a bit closer.
The anger that her soft words and vulnerable appearance had quelled roared to life once again in his chest then. She doesn't even know! She has no idea that I saw her…wretched, miserable, bitch! After all why would her confession of love to another man bother little old Erik? He is just a medical oddity after all!
Whirling violently around, his cowled cloak whipping about his ankles, Erik stalked toward the dripping woman with murder in his eyes. Annoyingly enough, the damned girl stood her ground. "What has happened is that I saw you…" cutting off suddenly in the middle of his tirade, Erik flashed a mean smile down at Brielle. Something about his expression must have disturbed her, for she finally took a step away from him. When she raised a nervous hand to press against the base of her throat, Erik's own fingers itched to wrap about her pretty neck and squeeze. It would be easy…
"Is it because of the strange things happening about the house?" she asked worriedly. "I know you have had nothing to do with the disappearances. If I have not expressed that then I am deeply sorry…"
"Oh, you will be sorry alright…" he growled, taking a threatening step forward, his menacing demeanor pushing Brielle another step backward.
"Erik, please," she pleaded, her wonderful eyes filling with tears. "Tell me what is wrong. Do not go."
Raising his chin to better look down his nose at her sniffling, Erik's lips thinned as he struggled to keep the blistering insults from spilling from his mouth. He saw things so clearly now. Her sincerity, her kindness, and most of all her lovely expressive eyes were all a farce. The woman used her attributes like weapons, wielding them with more skill than the finest marksman in the world. After all, Brielle had nearly found his walled off heart with her gentle smiles and witty tongue. But now it will not work. I can see everything so clearly now. What a fool I was to have almost believed her. Wicked little vixen certainly has been leading Andrew on for years…I could almost feel sorry for the prat even after everything the bastard did…now he will be stuck with her.
"As I stated before Madame, nothing is wrong with me. I have simply decided my time here finally must come to an end," he stated matter-of-factly, never once taking his burning gaze from her face. Forcing himself to see the confusion and hurt war across Brielle's features. It is all a lie…
"What are you talking about?" she breathed, her voice cracking halfway through the question.
Sighing impatiently, Erik gave an indifferent shrug. "As surprising as it may seem to a woman such as yourself I did have a life before coming here. I never had any intention of staying here forever. I have business I must return to." The lie dripped sweetly off his tongue, like honey from a beehive. Especially when he saw the dramatic effect it had upon Brielle's expression.
It was laughable really, how easily he could predict her emotions, now that he saw the true nature of her charm. First came the open mouthed shock, then the confusion and disbelief, only to be followed by the hurt darkening her eyes. How could he have never seen the lie of it all before? How could he have been tricked by this woman's wiles after Christine had given him a thorough lesson in the treachery of the female heart only months ago? I am a damnable fool…that's why…I always fall for the beautiful things in life…but no longer. I think it is time I stopped being a fool…I think it is time that I returned just a little bit of the agony I have been dealt.
"Erik, what are you talking about? What business? Why are you acting this way? I thought…I thought we were…"
"What…you thought what? That we were friends perhaps?" he asked, a cruel chuckle bubbling up in his throat. Taking a step forward, emboldened by the security of his fury, Erik raised a hand and brushed a finger across Brielle's cool cheek. "Did you actually believe that to be true? Poor dear. I won't lie, I was grateful for your assistance. But make no mistake, I would have left the moment I could have walked out the door if the amusing prospect of tutoring your daughter had not arisen. My only interest in you is the very same thing Lord Andrew has been after for years," he finished quietly, pointedly turning his gaze downward to her lips and her clinging nightgown.
"W-What…" she murmured in stupefied disbelief, her arms coming up to cross self-consciously over her chest. "Why are you saying these things…you don't mean that. You saved Aria's life…why would you do that if you didn't care!"
"Dear Madame I am a devilish bastard to be sure, but even I could not allow a mere babe to drown."
As he continued to gaze down at her, the dark pain behind Brielle's eyes slowly sparked into anger. With a smooth quick movement, the white haired woman batted his hand away from her face. "Stop this right now! You are lying! Why are you doing this!"
Casually straightening his cloak, Erik took a step away from Brielle. "Being a woman who considers herself an expert in the medicinal arts, you of all people should know that when you amputate a leg it is best to do it with a sharp saw and firm hand."
"Is that what you are trying to do? Amputate yourself from m…from this household?"
"Certainly."
"You would have left without a word! You would have left without saying goodbye to anyone…to Aria…to me! She loves you! How can you just leave?"
Frowning slightly as a corrosive drip of guilt blackened the pure white heat of his self-righteous anger, Erik turned his back on Brielle. I forgot for a moment about Aria. I should not have left her without a word. Damn it, I always loose my head when I get like this. But…it is too late now…it is always too late…
"The child will understand. She is young…children forget." Looking over his shoulder at Brielle Erik flashed her a wolf's smile, nothing behind it but teeth. "Besides, she will be busy enough with her new tutors once you return to London."
Brielle fell silent then, the crashing of the thunder filling the quiet between them with its rolling beat. "I don't believe you," she whispered, her voice fighting the hopelessness whitening her face.
Striding stiffly over to where the old mare stood waiting, Erik took the reins in his hands. "You'd better begin to, because I am tired of catering to your oddities and temper. As I said I was grateful for your help, but you are no longer of any use to me."
"No Erik…"
"YOU ARE OF NO USE TO ME!" he bellowed, his voice punctuated by a raucous clap of thunder.
As the echo of his words faded, the last foundations of Brielle's trust in him crumbled away into dust. "How dare you say that…after what I told you…"
"What, that your only fear is being useless? Poor thing, I suppose that comes from you being unable to stop the deaths of your father and husband. Take a little advice Madame - no matter how much you study, how much you accomplish…in the end you will be nothing but a useless young girl. No one will ever seriously consider the wild theories and long winded ranting of a woman. And I am done with you now. Goodbye Brielle. I will return the horse as soon as I reach Paris."
A terrible heart rending moan passed through Brielle's trembling lips as the first bright tears escaped from her eyes and splashed down her cheeks. "Keep the horse," she choked. "Consider her your salary for two months of music lessons."
With a terrible fascination, Erik gazed fixedly at every subtle nuance of emotion passing over Brielle's bone white face. Something terrible was working its way through her, starting close to her heart and moving outwards. Her small hands shook so badly now that she could not even grip her wedding ring hard enough to give it a distressed twist. Erik waited for the anger, the hate, to crease her brow and tighten her mouth, but as he continued to watch no such signs appeared.
To his dismay the tears continued to cut like diamonds down Brielle's face, a wrecked, bruising hurt flattening her eyes to the exact color of wet slate. Her unique sparkle which normally made her so enticing winked momentarily and then faded, making her almost appear to shrink before his eyes. The same thing happens after a person dies…without animation they shrink down to the elemental makeup of flesh and bone. A white hot flash of lightning flooded through the open barn doors then, limning Brielle's small frame and soft curves like the silver edging on a cloud. It made her seem not a real woman at all but a thing made of mist.
Finding himself no longer able to stomach the scene before him, Erik turned his face away from the Irishwoman. Suddenly the sight of her pain no longer amused him. Clucking quietly to the old mare he led the animal toward the door, pulling the deep cowl of his cloak up and over his head. I can forget all of this…I can hate her if I try. It will be easy…
Just as Erik prepared to step out into the pouring rain, Brielle's voice rang out across the small barn. "Wait Erik…please don't…don't…" she stuttered brokenly.
Turning his head to the side, he gazed coolly back at her as she tried to push the words up past the blockade in her throat. But when her eyes rose and caught the sneering impatience in his gaze, her mouth snapped shut. Whatever she had been about to ask of him died before it fell from her lips. "Never mind," she whispered hopelessly. "It doesn't matter…I saw that it would happen this way…why did I think I could change it…I can never change anything…"
With a shrug Erik turned quickly toward the raging storm, ignoring the guilt trying to wheedle itself through the protective confines of his rage. They will forget me…people always do. In less than a month's time I will only remain in the deepest regions of their nightmares. In one smooth motion he swung up onto the old mare's back, settling into the saddle with a practiced ease. It will be easy…forgetting is easy…
Unable to stand the boring stare of Brielle's eyes upon his back any longer he nudged the horse into a quick trot, throwing himself into the rain, running away from the house and all the falsely happy memories it held. It was all a lie…it was all a lie…it was all a lie…it was all a lie. The roaring of the wind in his ears and the voice in his head drowned out all other sound, cocooning him within a tunnel of nothingness, making it easier to stare straight ahead into the darkness. Where will I go now? What is left for me?
For a moment, as he raced forward into the embracing arms of the night, Erik thought he heard Brielle's voice calling out to him over the whistling wind. It was a lie…a lie…the voice repeated steadily within his head. In the end it was only the strength of that logical repetition that kept him from turning in the saddle to gaze back toward the house, toward Brielle.
And suddenly he knew where he had to go, the only place which had ever truly offered him a home. Yes, that is right. I will go home…I will return to my beautiful Opera House.