a/n: You have all been waiting long enough! My appologies; I was very ill for a long, long time.

Chapter 22: A Plea for Mercy

"Take your hands off of her, you vile creature!" Mifroid tore Alice from her companion's arms. She struggled free of her father's grasp, but the Persian held her fast.

"You bloodthirsty beast! Lefevre was one of my best men!" Mifroid reached for the mask.

"Monsieur," protested the Persian, "I would not advise—"

Alice screamed as her father tore off the mask.

The man whom she had embraced made no move to resist, but red hatred burned in the dark sockets of his frightening death's head. A walking corpse, his ugliness surpassed anything the commissioner could have imagined. Mifroid, whose mind still spun from his exploration of Erik's intricate torture chamber, stared slackjawed at the demon he had uncovered.

The Persian moaned and closed his eyes. His heavy heartbeat matched the hollow tick of the grandfather clock.

Erik's golden eyes turned to Alice. When she met his gaze, her face contorted in spasms as she fought to keep the tears from her eyes.

A commotion arose as Richard and Mechnikov burst into the room. Behind them, the cavern appeared to be aflame.

"A channel of paraffin gas!" Mechnikov exclaimed. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his face. "We lost the lantern in the lake, but fortunately Richard had some matches. The conduit surrounds the entire lake—it's an ingenious construction for illuminating the cavern!"

"That feature is not included in the Garnier's architectural plans." Richard frowned as he surveyed Erik's drawing room. "None of this is in the plans."

"Erik built it all," sighed the Persian. "He built the Garnier."

Mechnikov turned to Mifroid's prisoner, and his eyes grew wide. "Is this our Opera Ghost?"

"We were just about to arrest him," the commissioner replied.

"No!" Alice renewed her struggles against the Persian. "You don't understand! He only harms those who disturb his peace! He's not a beast—He saved me in the catacombs!"

Mifroid scowled at his daughter.

"I fainted while looking for clues in the catacombs, and Erik carried me to safety. Later, I returned to his house for evidence of its existence, but he was there… He didn't hurt me, Papa! His face frightens people, and he only wants to live in peace."

The Persian released another sigh. He had led the commissioner into the monster's domain expecting to find Alice a prisoner, begging for her life—instead, she was fighting for his life. All this, the Persian was convinced, meant that something in his friend had changed.

"And what now, Erik?" he asked. "We can't allow this to continue."

"Now, Daroga, I will face the consequences of my crimes, even if it means my death."

"No!" Alice pulled free of the Persian's weakened grasp and threw herself between Erik and her father. "Papa, I love him!"

This statement so shocked the commissioner that he nearly dropped his service revolver. Richard staggered backwards and ran into the wall, and the Persian began pulling on his beard with the hand that held his revolver. Mechnikov smirked and threw up his hands in a gesture demonstrating women's frivolity. Only Erik, who still stood in the middle of his crowd of captors, was unphased by Alice's revelation.

"Alice!" Mifroid hissed, his beady eyes narrowing to deadly slits. "This man murdered a captain of the Sûreté! Have you gone totally mad? Has he hypnotized you?"

To everyone's surprise, Erik himself replied. "On the contrary, Monsieur Commissioner," he said in a calm, splendid tenor, "I only wanted quiet isolation, as she has already explained. Moreover, I could no more convince a young woman to adore a man with a face like mine, than I could convince my own mother. Impossible as it is for me to believe, and despite my objection, she has chosen me."

Mifroid did not know how to respond.

"Let him go, Papa. Please."

"You know I can't do that. This isn't Persia—this is a country of laws, not of men. I must make the arrest."

"Don't torture him like this. Give him back his mask! Please!"

"Best to replace the mask. We don't want to make a scene when we take him outside," reasoned Richard, who would not confess that the man's face terrified him even more than had the Opera Ghost's illusions.

The commissioner shrugged and handed the mask to his daughter. She said nothing more, but turned to Erik and touched her palm to his deformed cheek in a tender gesture before reaching behind his head and tying the cords of the mask.

Erik took her hands in his. "Alice, let them take me."

"But they'll execute you!"

"Let them."

She looked in his masked face and could no longer hold back her tears. He released her, and she stood aside while her father made the arrest.

Then Mechnikov led the way out to the raft and boat while Richard held open the door for the commissioner and his prisoner. The reluctant Persian brought up the rear.

Alice looked around Erik's vacant apartment in tears, her hands balled into fists. His harp and violin were abandoned in the corner; his hat still hung by the door. Her eyes found the architectural plans with their corrections in Erik's hand. The domes of the Sacré-Coeur are doomed to collapse, because Abadie has never seen a mosque… As her father had just said, this wasn't Persia.

Seized by a sudden idea, she grabbed the drafting papers and hurried out to the lake.

"Extradition!" she shouted at the men boarding the raft and boat.

They all stopped and turned.

Alice ran to the Persian. "France and Persia have a treaty of extradition, do they not? When the sultan hears of Erik's arrest, he'll demand that Erik be turned over to Persia."

Erik's golden eyes grew wide. "No!" He took hold of Mifroid's lapels. "Monsieur, I beg you, kill me where I stand—but don't send me to Persia! The suffering I've endured in life will be nothing compared to what the sultan will devise!"

Mifroid turned to the Persian. "Is this the truth, Monsieur? Tell me honestly. I am a man of justice; I cannot allow a prisoner to be tortured."

"I'm afraid it is all true, Monsieur Commissioner. Our ways are different than yours. There will not even be a trial—the sultan has no time for such empty gestures."

Mechnikov placed a hand on Mifroid's shoulder. "Monsieur, perhaps we can keep this arrest just between ourselves? Is there not some way to punish him without a formal trial? By his appearance, he is a man who has suffered much already."

"But executions are public affairs."

Alice shoved the drafting papers under her father's nose. "Let Erik serve his penance at the construction site of the Sacré-Coeur. He found faults in the architectural plans, and the building will collapse without these changes."

The Persian smiled. "If the arrest is not made public, then I am relieved from reporting to the sultan."

Mifroid frowned at the plans. "He'll stay at the prefecture until a closed inquest before the magistrate, where I can recommend lesser charges."

Alice gasped with joy and threw her arms around her father.

"That's all I can do. You can never return to the Opera, you know. You might even have to leave France."

"Yes, Monsieur Commissioner," Erik replied.

"And your service at the Sacré-Coeur, if allowed, will be watched by the Sûreté."

"I understand completely."

"I'll call the carriage from the stables," said Richard.

The men led their prisoner out to the lake and into the boat. With Richard guiding the craft and Mifroid guarding the captive, the party left for the precinct.

Alice watched from the dock as the small boat, surrounded by a circle of flame, made its way to the opposite shore. She then turned to prepare the apartment for the absence of its owner and to secure the trap doors.

In the bath, she found Erik's dressing gown in the mustard-colored, art nouveau print. She took it from its hook behind the door and inhaled its earthy fragrance.