Chapter Thirty-three

"The family is a haven in a heartless world."-Christopher Lasch

It was entirely too early for drinking. The sun had only just risen, and almost everyone, with the exception of the household servants, was still in their beds, recovering from the previous night's revelry. But some had never gone to sleep that night, and now they were gathered in one of the many rooms of the house, laughing and drinking together as they celebrated. It may have been the birthday of one of their company, the son of the master of that estate, but the men were not celebrating a life.

They were celebrating a death.

The Comte de Bellamy sat in a chair in a dark corner of the room, a wine glass in his hand and a somber look on his face in contrast to the almost grotesquely gleeful faces of the drunken men. Damien had been the one to orchestrate their entire plan to finally get rid of the lunatic murderer whose death they now reveled in, but for some reason, now that it had succeeded, he found that he was not in the mood for celebrating.

Raoul came into the room and made his way over to where Damien sat by himself. "Christine's locked herself in our room," the Vicomte said. "She won't speak to me."

Damien just looked up at his friend, saying nothing.

"Are you going to drink that?" Raoul asked. Damien shook his head, so the other man took the glass and drained it. "Just look at them." He gestured across the room at the men, who were recounting the night's events, making vulgar remarks about the man they'd killed, the girl who'd seen them, and laughing hysterically at their own jokes. "You'd think we'd be as happy as they are, seeing as we're the ones who came up with the entire plan in the first place. We're the ones who wanted him gone more than anyone else."

"All most of them wanted out of this was the money," Damien said. "And now they have that, as well free drinks and room and board in this house, at least for today. I don't blame them for being like that. Once this is over, they'll go home, and their lives will return to normal." The Comte sighed.

But will mine?

He was glad that Erik was dead; the thought filled him with immense relief. The sight of him lying bleeding, suffering on the ground, and then watching him disappear beneath the icy river, was the most morbidly satisfying thing he had ever seen. And yet, he was not as happy as he'd thought he would be.

Erik's death did not take away the hatred Damien felt toward him. It did not take away the pain of losing Avery. He had thought his revenge would change everything, and that the justice in Erik paying a fatal price for the things he'd done would somehow make his own life better.

But it hadn't.

He felt just as cold inside as ever.

Damien realized distantly that Raoul had been talking for a while now about who knew what. The Vicomte paused for breath and said, "I really am worried about Christine." His tone was grimly serious. "She had such a strange…attachment to the Phantom. Somehow, he'd always been with her, haunting her, every day and night of her life since she came to that opera house. When I fell in love with her, she told me that she wanted to be free of him and yet, it seemed that she couldn't live without him. I just don't understand what he did to her, how he did it."

"Some of those who are mad can have a powerful effect on others," Damien said. "He couldn't control his own life, his own self, so he learned to control all those around him instead."

Raoul thought a moment, and then nodded. "That's an interesting thought. Maybe it's true."

"It is true." Damien rubbed his temples; he had a terrible headache. "He's a master manipulator, from all you've told me and from what I've found. Just look at Alana. A perfectly normal girl, completely…fallen under his spell, if you will, drawn into his madness so deeply that she doesn't even realize what he is. You saw her when she found us. She was absolutely hysterical at seeing him like that, and she wouldn't believe us when we told her what he was, when he confessed it with his own lips." He sighed again. "I only hope that she's not a lost cause…"

"Maybe you can win her over in time." Raoul patted his friend's shoulder encouragingly. "Why would she continue to seek a life with a madman in the dark, always running and hiding, when she could live with you like a queen?"

"Time will have to answer that, I suppose…I wonder where Alana is now. I really must speak to her before long."

The men's noise kept Damien and Raoul from hearing the footsteps hurrying down the hallway, and from seeing a small figure in white flash past the open door.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Alana couldn't believe her luck. She'd made it all the way upstairs without being caught. A few servants had seen her, shooting her bewildered, sometimes disapproving glances, and one serving woman had inquired as to her state, but Alana had just walked right on by her without explaining anything. She didn't have the time.

She rushed down the hall, found Cerise's room, and knocked on the door, hoping and praying that no one she knew would see her. There was no answer, so she knocked again. Mere seconds crawled by. Finally, the door slowly opened, and Alana pushed her way through.

"What? Alana?" From the looks of it Cerise had just gotten out of bed. She blinked at her cousin in confusion and then her eyes grew wide with alarm as she took in Alana's bedraggled appearance, her torn nightgown, and the cuts on her feet. "What's going on?"

"You have to help me," Alana said breathlessly, quickly closing the bedroom door and moving far enough away from it so she could speak freely. "Erik's been hurt." She could see questions in Cerise's eyes, but she didn't give her cousin time to speak. "He's been hurt, very badly. I found him, and I helped him as best I could, but it's not enough. I've got him in a hunting shed down in the woods by the river, and I need some food and water and bandages and things to take to him! We have to hurry! I don't know if he can make it…"

Cerise held up a hand. "Wait…what? How did Erik get hurt, and how did you two get all the way to the woods? I saw where they were when we rode in…that's a bit of a walk, and it's barely past dawn. What on earth were you doing?" She raised a suspicious eyebrow.

"I'll tell you when we're on the way!" Alana said, frustrated. There wasn't time for explaining anything! Every minute that passed could put Erik's life more in danger as he suffered from his wounds. She didn't know if she had treated them well enough to save his life. "I don't think I can carry everything we need by myself, so I need you to help me. Will you?"

Cerise put her hands on her hips. "If you'll tell me what's going on!" Her voice rose. "This sounds serious!"

"It is!" Alana stamped her foot impatiently. "All I have time to say now is that Erik can't come back to the chateau. There are people here who want him dead, and they think they've killed him. But I found him, he's alive, and he needs our help. Now, can you go and find the kitchen and get some food we can carry with us? And something to drink. And bandages! I need to run to my room and change out of this gown so I won't be so suspicious-looking. Can we meet back here as soon as possible?"

Cerise gave her a perplexed, slightly irritated look, but nodded. "Yes, of course. As long as you give me a full explanation later." She went to the armoire in the room and quickly seized something to wear.

"I will," Alana promised. She helped her cousin button up her dress in the back, and pulled her quickly by the hand to the door as Cerise tried to fix her hair. "Now go! Don't tell anyone about what's really going on here. Whatever you do, don't mention his name!"

"All right!" Cerise let go of her hand and went back to grab a small bag to carry things with before they both hurried out into the hall and Alana disappeared into her room.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Cerise made her way down the grand staircase, holding onto the ornately carved marble banister and hoping that she didn't fall down the stairs. She still struggled to push away the fog of sleepiness over her brain; she'd only gotten a few hours' sleep before being woken by Alana all of a sudden. A feeling of dread had crept into her heart at what her cousin had told her, and only grew stronger the more awake she became.

What am I even doing? Cerise wondered as she reached the bottom of the staircase, her footsteps echoing on the floor. The grand room looked so different now than it had last night, completely empty except for a few servants here and there cleaning.

A bit hesitantly, she approached one of the maids. "Excuse me." The maid looked at her expectantly. "Do you know where I might get some bandages? My…cousin has hurt herself and needs some."

"Yes of course." The woman nodded. "If you'll wait right here, mademoiselle, I'll bring them to you shortly." She turned and headed off down one of the hallways, leaving Cerise alone with her thoughts, which grew clearer by the moment.

What have I gotten myself into? Why in the world would someone shoot Erik, and also, why would he and Alana have been out in the woods last night? Why would anyone have been out there? It was evident that something strange was going on at the chateau, and she wondered how deep into it her cousin was. Cerise needed to make sure that she and Alana made it back home to Paris safely, but now, she was worried that maybe, there was some possibility that things would somehow become very, very different. She had no idea what the near future would bring, and she was beginning to feel very afraid.

"Mademoiselle?" Cerise jumped as someone spoke, and spun around to face the maid, who was standing in front of her, carrying two rolls of bandages. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you."

"It's my pleasure, mademoiselle," the maid said with a curtsy. "Should I call for a doctor for your cousin?"

Cerise shook her head. "Oh, no, the injury is quite manageable, but…it may keep her in her room for some time, so would it be all right if I could bring some food from the kitchen to her?"

The maid looked back at her a bit strangely for a moment, but then nodded, smiling, and said, "Yes, mademoiselle, follow me."

She led Cerise through the halls and down a short flight of stairs into the servant's quarters. The people that they passed shot confused glances her way, but they said nothing to her. Soon Cerise began to hear the loud clattering of pots and pans, and then they turned into the kitchen.

Cooks and servants were everywhere, washing dishes and cooking all different types of food. "Now, what is it you wish to bring for your cousin?"

"Hmm." Cerise hadn't really thought about it. "Some bread...and some apples and grapes as well, I think, things that won't spoil too quickly."

The maid looked at her strangely again.

"Oh, my cousin is very concerned about things spoiling in the open air…she…got ill once, from eating something spoiled…oh! Could I also bring her a flask of water, and another of wine?"

That earned her another suspicious glance, but the maid curtsied. "Yes, mademoiselle. I'll bring everything you've requested." In no time, she'd delivered the food and drink and Cerise had put it all in the bag she'd brought with her.

"Thank you so much for all your help," she said to the maid as they climbed up the stairs to the main floor. "I don't know what I would have done without you!"

"It's my pleasure, mademoiselle," the maid said with a stra Cerise was about to open her mouth to speak again when they turned the corner, and she bumped straight into someone. To her horror, she realized that she'd collided with a man…not just any man.

Damien.

"Oh, Mademoiselle Cerise! I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going. Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she answered with a nervous laugh as she ran her fingers through her hair. She could feel her face burning. He looks so handsome today…

"What are you doing up so early this morning?" he asked. "And with that bag there? Are you leaving us already?"

"I…er…no," Cerise said. "I always wake up this early! And I'm taking these things to my cousin's room. She's not feeling at all well, I'm afraid."

Damien's cheerful expression darkened considerably. "What's the matter with her?"

"I'm not quite sure," Cerise answered. "I think perhaps the ball may have been a bit too much for her."

The Comte cleared his throat. "Yes, perhaps. Should we send for a doctor?"

Cerise shook her head, maybe a bit too quickly. "No, not yet anyway. Alana isn't very fond of doctors, but if her condition worsens, then yes, we might send for one."

"Very well then," said Damien, "Please tell Alana that I sincerely hope she feels better soon."

"I will," Cerise said softly. She curtsied, and then quickly walked off down the hallway.

When she made it back to her room, Alana was inside, fully dressed and with her hair tied up. She had some candles and matches in a small patch she was carrying, and she looked extremely anxious.

"Where were you?" her cousin demanded. "We don't have all day! Now come on!"

The two of them escaped from the chateau mostly unnoticed. There was no more sign of Damien, just the servants, who almost never looked them in the way. It would be strange, Cerise thought, to have so many people all living in such an enormous house. It was almost like its own little kingdom, separate from the rest of the world.

Alana led the way through a door, and soon they were hurrying across an open green field toward some trees off in the distance. A cold wind was blowing, and the sky was a dull gray with dark clouds on the horizon. Rain was coming soon.

They rushed through the woods, branches tearing at their arms. Cerise wanted to slow down, but Alana was sprinting at a breakneck pace up ahead. They followed the river and charged through another grove of trees until they reached a small hunting shed.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Alana froze in the doorway. Erik was lying on the floor where she'd left him. He looked dead. She just stood there, unable to move for a moment, until she heard Cerise come up behind her, and then heard her gasp. They both just looked at each other for a moment, then Cerise turned her gaze on Erik. Her hands were trembling and her voice shook as she asked, "Is he…dead?"

Alana hurried to his side and knelt down beside him, reaching out a hand to feel the pulse on his neck. She breathed a sigh of relief. "No. He's alive."

Cerise came slowly forward until she was close enough to see his unmasked, mangled face. Her eyes grew wide. "Oh my God," she whispered. Alana watched as her cousin took in the sight of all Erik's terrible injuries.

"Do you know anything about treating wounds?" She asked after a moment.

Cerise looked at her in astonishment, then nodded faintly. "We've had a hospital set up in the church before. There were some bad riots a few months ago near where we live. They got violent, and we had doctors come in and help some of the people who'd been hurt. Mother and I helped nurse some of them. I know a little." She knelt down on the other side of Erik. "Alana, what happened to him?"

Alana's chest hurt as she recalled the gut-wrenching memory of seeing the men surrounding Erik, seeing the gypsy man with the bloodied knife, seeing him beating and kicking Erik as he lay on the ground. "I'll tell you after you take a closer look at him. It doesn't look like he's bled too much more since I left him. The cuts on his face do look like they've gotten a bit worse though. I wasn't able to bandage them really properly."

"Is this where he was shot?" Cerise pointed to the strip of linen bandaging the gunshot wound.

Alana swallowed hard and nodded.

Cerise shook her head in disbelief. "Who did this?"

"Can we please just look at the wound first?" Alana burst out. She reached over and carefully undid the bandage. Erik remained unmoving.

Alana watched Cerise examine the wound. "Well, it's not the worst gunshot injury I've seen. The bullet's out…did you get that out all by yourself?"

"No," said Alana. "It went straight through him."

"And was he able to speak or move?"

"Yes."

"Well, he seems to be breathing well enough," Cerise noted. "That's extremely fortunate with a chest wound like this…he's lucky the bullet didn't pierce his heart or a lung."

"It was bleeding, but it was never as terrible as I was afraid it'd be, but he'd been in the river I think, and maybe a lot of the blood came out of the wound in the water. I don't know how much he's lost…" Alana's throat hurt and tears were welling up in her eyes. The man she'd known looked so weak and fragile now as he lay still on the ground. Please, God, she begged. Let him live.

Cerise cleaned the gunshot wound again with some of the water they'd brought. "I'll have to come back here and sew this up," she said as she bandaged it up again. She proceeded to do the same with the cuts on his face. Alana could see the horror on her cousin's face.

Once she had finished, Cerise immediately turned to her. "Now you can tell me what in God's name happened to Erik. Who shot him?"

"I don't know who the exact person was that shot him…" she began, but then broke off. She had been about to mention Damien's name…

Damien. Just his name filled her with rage and a feeling of betrayal. How could he have let those men do such a thing?

But he'd said what Erik had done…

No. It wasn't possible…

She knew that Cerise had feelings for Damien. If she told her cousin what the Comte had done, then Cerise would feel the way Alana felt now. So confused, so hurt, so lost.

"Alana? What happened?" Her cousin was looking at her with concern.

Tearfully, Alana related the story of how she'd seen Christine running to the chateau, gone out to meet her, and been led to the terrible scene where Erik was being tortured by a group of strange men. "But then," she said, "I saw the Vicomte de Chagny. And then I saw Damien."

"What?"

Alana nodded. "He was there. And he wasn't doing anything to help Erik."

"But…but why? He doesn't even know Erik, he only just met him last night…" Alana could see the same shocked disbelief in her cousin's eyes that she'd been feeling.

"He said…" Alana broke off, having trouble saying the words. "Damien said that Erik had…killed his brother. And other people. And done all manner of horrible things. Erik even confessed it himself that it was true…" She wiped a tear from her cheek.

Cerise just shook her head. "Never trust a man in a mask," she muttered.

"What did you just say?"

"I knew there was something he was hiding from you!" Cerise's voice rose. "I just didn't think it would be something this bad! Oh my…I can't believe how much danger you've been in all this time!" She put a hand to her head in amazement.

"What? No…Erik would never hurt me…wait…" Alana could feel a surge of anger coming. "You're not taking their side are you?"

"I don't know, Alana. I don't know what we should do now…should we really even be helping Erik? He's a mad killer…"

"Of course you take Damien's side!" Alana shouted.

"Well, I don't think it's right to torture people, but Erik should be in prison anyway! Oh my Lord…he's the man who's been wanted for the past year, isn't he? He's an insane murderer…it's not safe for us to be around him!"

"Just look at him, Cerise! I don't think he's going to be hurting either one of us!" Alana was shaking all over with anger and despair. "You know, when I first met Erik, I did think there was something strange about him." Cerise opened her mouth to speak but Alana cut her off. "But over time, he really did change….the man I spoke to, the man I danced with at the ball was not the same person I met before. I don't want him to go to prison…I can't imagine a life without him now…"

"You're in love with a murderer," Cerise said bluntly.

"And you're in love with a man who attempted to murder someone! How is Damien any better than Erik?"

"Erik was wanted dead or alive. Damien was just doing his civic duty…"

"Oh, right!" Alana interrupted. "What, by letting a defenseless man get shot and tortured! I saw them beating him, kicking him, while he was lying on the ground, helpless. When I first found them, I saw one of them had been carving up his face with a knife. That's sick!"

Neither one of them said anything for a moment.

"Once Damien was my friend," Alana said finally. "But I can't be friends with someone who would torment and kill the man I love."

Cerise, who was staring down at the floor, gave a faint nod. "You love who you love, I suppose. Maybe you'll change your mind in time, I don't know. But I guess that I would feel the same as you do if Damien had been the one to be attacked. Maybe even if he was the one who had killed people. But Alana, what are you going to do now? You and Erik can't stay in this shed forever! Someone's bound to find you, and then you'll be in trouble for aiding a wanted man. Oh no…now I've gone and aided him too…"

"I haven't really thought that far ahead," Alana admitted. "I don't know! I don't want him to go away by himself when he gets better. Maybe we can find some place, off in the middle of nowhere, where nobody can find us. Maybe we should get out of the country…"

"We?" Cerise held up a hand. "No. You can't run off alone with a man! It's…it's just unthinkable!"

Alana shrugged. "I know, but I've done it before, and everything turned out all right."

Cerise laughed bitterly. "You call this all right?"

"Please don't tell anyone about this, Cerise," Alana begged, a plan formulating in her mind.

"Tell them what?"

"That I'm going to stay here with Erik until he's strong enough to move. Then, I'm going with him to find some place where he can be safe. Where he can have a good life."

"You've lost your mind," said Cerise. It was clear her cousin was beyond frustration. "How are you going to make it on the run?"

"I don't know. We'll be all right. Somehow. It will be fine. Please, promise me you won't tell anyone where I've gone!"

"What am I supposed to tell them then?"

Alana thought for a moment. "Tell them I've gone back to Détente, that I've missed it there and that Madame Durand had offered me a room in her home if I wanted to stay for a while, and that I'll be back soon.

Cerise folded her arms tightly across her chest. "I don't want to lie."

"And I don't want to make you, but please, let me do this. I'll find a way to repay you for this, I promise."

Cerise just stared at Alana, her blue eyes full of conflicting emotion. At last, she sighed and said, "Very well. Only because I know how much you care about Erik, and I know how unhappy you would be if something happened to him, or if you had to be separated. I'm not doing this for him by any means." She reached out and took Alana's hand. "I'm doing this for you, because you're my cousin, and my friend, and I love you."

Alana squeezed her hand. "Thank you. And I will keep my promise to you, I swear."

Cerise let go and rose to her feet. "I should go back to the chateau now. I'll be back tonight with some more things and to see how the both of you are doing. If anyone asks, I'll keep telling them that you're ill in bed. If it reaches the point where Damien or someone wants to call for a doctor, then I'll tell them that you're not really ill, you just don't want to come out of your room or talk to anyone because you're suffering from a broken heart." Alana nodded her agreement with her cousin's plan, and Cerise continued. "If anyone asks about Erik, other than Damien or the Vicomte de Chagny, I'll tell them that something happened which required him to leave immediately. Don't worry, Alana. Your secret is safe with me."

A small smile crossed Alana's tearstained face. "Thank you so much."

Cerise gave another bitter laugh. "Don't thank me yet. Thank me when you both get out of this alive."

And with that, she left Alana kneeling by Erik's side, and set off back toward the chateau as thunder rumbled overhead.