"Garridan!"

He turned around and raised his eyebrows. "What now Chavi?"

"Where are we going?" the gypsy girl demanded. Garridan had to repress a sigh. She had been in his face ever since Javert's murder. Had they found anything yet, why did they have to leave Paris so soon, couldn't they please stay a little longer?

"I was thinking we head out east again. You know, Germany, Belgium, thereabouts," he replied nonchalantly.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why? What's out there?"

"Fresh faces," he explained without missing a beat. The less she knew about the true reason, the better. "We exhausted the market in Paris waiting for some news about your father's killer. We have no choice but to keep moving, and we haven't been that way in a long time."

"What about out west or south?" Chavi protested. "Cherbourg, Orléans, we could even go to Spain!"

"Listen, I'm doing everything I can to keep things functional around here. Now that your father's gone, I've been trying to keep things as normal as possible, which means going where we think we can make the most money. Cato and I talked and out east seems like the better option."

"But I just thought…"

"Don't think!" Garridan snapped. "I'm in charge now, not you! If I want your opinion, I'll ask you for it, but until then, stay out of my way." He shoved past her. Chavi seemed to think that just because she was Javert's daughter, she got a say. But she hadn't when her father was in charge and she sure as hell wasn't getting one now.

"Now what's she done?" Cato asked as his brother stormed past.

"We could even go to Spain," he mocked before letting out a low growl. "She thinks she runs the place just because of her father. Well she's sorely mistaken."

"Do you think she suspects anything?"

"Who cares if she suspects anything?" Garridan replied. "It's not like she's going to do anything. She spent years watching her father torture that girl without so much as raising a word against it. Chavi may act all brave, but it's nothing more than an act. She won't be a problem. And if she is, well, we'll take care of it, won't we?"

"She's awfully pretty too," Cato commented with a malicious smile. "And without a father to protect her, it would be a shame if something happened to her."

"My point precisely."

Katja suddenly found herself with nothing to do. Erik had gone to his first day at the theater, while her parents and brother were downstairs in the café. She could probably go down and help if she wanted, but Katja didn't think she could face a crowd yet. That and the mix of scents was enough to make her feel ill.

Not able to think of something better to do, Katja sat at the piano and began to practice. Maybe they could start lessons again, provided Erik didn't mind playing piano all day then teaching her at night. But playing all the time didn't seem like something that would bother him much; Erik seemed to thrive around music.

Tanja walked into the room. "You play too?" she asked in awe.

"Kind of," Katja replied. "Erik's been teaching me a little."

"Do you think he'd teach me?" her stepsister asked excitedly. "When he played last night, it was so beautiful. I want to sound like that!"

"Maybe," she responded. "I don't see why he wouldn't but you'll have to ask him when he gets back." It amazed her how quickly Tanja had taking a liking to music. Katja hoped for her stepsister's sake that Brigitte would develop the same fondness and quickly. But if anyone could get her to love music, it was Erik.

The door opened. Katja leaped up to go meet Erik. But to her horror, it wasn't Erik waiting for her. She backed away from the gypsy, trying to remain calm. Erik had to be home any second now. "What do you want from me?" she demanded. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"I want you," he replied, a sinister glint in his eye. For each step Katja took back, he took one forward, seeming to want to take his time and terrify her even more.

"Erik!" she screamed, but received no response.

"He's not coming," the gypsy replied, holding up a knife. Katja felt her heart stop when she saw the blade was covered in blood.

"No!" she cried, her hands flying to her mouth in shock. She backed up further still, until she hit something solid. Looking up, Katja saw another gypsy. A scream escaped her lips as he grabbed her arms.

The first man closed the gap between them. He ran the tip of the blade down her swollen stomach, not to cut her yet, but to frighten her. "Well, well, well, what happened to you?" The gypsy leaned in until their foreheads were touching and Katja could smell his putrid breath. "I don't remember saying this was okay." He took a step back and raised his knife. "Luckily for you, it's a problem that is easily remedied."

Katja tried to break free from the gypsy's grip, but to no avail. "Don't," she begged. "I'll do whatever you want me to, just don't hurt me."

The gypsy ran the blade down her cheek, leaving a thin cut. "Anything?" he questioned, raising his eyebrow. "Anything at all?"

"Please," she whimpered. "Don't hurt me."

"I don't think so," he replied before burying the knife in her stomach.

Before she could scream, Katja was enveloped in a warm embrace. She threw her arms around Erik's neck and crushed her lips against his. "Thank God you're okay," she cried, hugging him tightly.

"Why I wouldn't I be?"

"Oh Erik, it was awful," Katja whispered, burying her face in the crook of his neck. "They were going to hurt our baby."

He held her securely. "It was a dream and nothing more," he replied soothingly. Katja kissed him again. Being in Erik's embrace was warm and comforting, and Katja never wanted to leave.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," Katja said, rubbing her eyes. "I just got so tired. I think it's from the baby."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Erik replied. "It's probably good for you to get the extra sleep now that there are two of you."

"How was your first day at the theater?" she asked, realizing Erik must have just gotten home. "Did you like it?"

"I probably would have liked it better if I could understand half of what was being said. They ran rehearsal in German," Erik explained. "I had to have someone repeat everything for me in French. I need you to teach me German."

Katja smiled and nodded. "Of course. But you're going to learn it my way."

"What does that mean?" he questioned.

She smiled mischievously. "Kein Französisch."

"What?" Erik cried. "That's not what I meant!"

German Translations

Kein Französisch-No French