Chapter 30

Nadir's POV

I agreed with Erik. My police instincts honed from years of watching people and judging them, made me suspicious of both his cousin and even the Comtesse. They both seemed too good to be true. In my many years of dealing with people, I had never found anyone who was free from some sort of bad deed or scandal. Only Allah himself, may his blessings be upon me, was infallible. To find something terrible about a person was not necessarily bad, if a person is otherwise good. Erik is a good example of that. If you dug into his past you would think that he was an evil person, yet I knew of few people who were better on the inside than he was. Through all his degradations and even his murders, on behalf of the Shah and his mother, he maintained a certain code of ethics rarely found in a person who had endured so much. It was that which kept me bound to him, for the rest of my life, and endowed me with the desire to see him happy. I knew of none who deserved some measure of happiness more than my old doostam. If you asked Erik he would tell you that his actions have assured him his spot in hell; but it is my fervent belief that if Allah were to accept unbelievers such as him into paradise, that he would be pardoned for all of his sins.

At first I was wary of Mademoiselle Daae's rather sudden conversion from fear to fervor over Erik. Erik himself reassured me that he had brought her to the depths of hell and back before he gave her his forgiveness, but Erik wanted to believe in Christine. Without her love for him, he found little else to live for. I did not forget all of her plotting, that she had done with her Vicomte, to be free of Erik. I believed that she was in love with the Vicomte and not Erik. This belief was the sole reason why I risked my own neck, showing the Vicomte the way to Erik's lair. I knew that if Erik held Mademoiselle Daae against her will, he would turn against his own self. Erik was a decent human being, who had been brought to the end of his endurance by the indecisiveness of a teenage girl. Throughout all of the trials of his that I had witnessed, he had never been tempted to go beyond the boundaries that his own code of ethics and morality brought to him. He could murder, and did so without regret, when he found that his victim deserved his fate in some way. He did not wait for justice to catch up with the perpetrator but would deliver his own form of justice, sometimes to the disdain of the real authorities who did not necessarily agree with his tactics.

Even though I often disagreed with Erik's means to an end, I was not entirely without understanding as to why he acted in such a manner. I met him when he was barely out of boyhood. He was seventeen years old and already amazing his audiences with his feats of magic and other arts. I traveled to Russia, at the behest of the Shah, and brought him back to Persia promising him both wealth and acceptance. Up until the time we met, he had never had a man who he could call a friend. He had spent his childhood in an attic and then in a cage. He was a performer for the gypsies who treated him as an animal. He had never been shown either warmth or acceptance in any way; he was already hardened and seething with anger at the rest of humanity. I was fifteen years older than him, and, at first, I viewed him as one would view a beaten dog. He was angry and aggressive, but he was not born with those tendencies. He was too intelligent and artistic to have been so, but I could see that, like the same dog, he had been mistreated too many times to retain any trust in humanity.

It took many months of trying, to break through the surface of the young, angry man to find the warm, kind and gentle man who remained inside of him. Later that exterior would become his Phantom persona, but at the time he was simply a tool of the Shah to use as he pleased, no matter how heinous the act might be. Gradually he came to realize that his supposed affection and acceptance of him was only a façade and that he was simply using him. He turned on him with murderous anger. I had to convince him to flee Persia for his own good, and to give up any thoughts of vengeance. Remarkably, I convinced him that the best revenge was to turn away from what he had made him, an efficient assassin. If he wasted his 'talents' in that regard; he would show the world that he was not the monster that he was thought to be. It did not really take much of an effort for me to turn him from what had been his path. A part of him had always despaired of, and despised, what he had become. He did not know how to extract himself from Persia, without being put to death. I helped him escape, and in return he promised me, never to kill except in self -defense again.

I followed him to Paris, and after a short time as an architect he disappeared into his lair under the Opera house. He did not need money, his time in Persia and his career as an architect had provided him with enough funds to live on for a life time. Later when he became the Opera Ghost he extorted 'his managers' for more, but he used much of that money to help the Opera itself as an anonymous donor, and also for the Girys. He could have done both with his own funds, but I think that he believed it to be more interesting to extract it from them. He did not have many diversions and he was providing himself with one. He genuinely was concerned with the welfare of the Opera House and would grow frustrated when the managers did not run the place properly. La Carlotta was an example of their incompetence; he told me that he wanted to retire her, and therefore his ears, as a 'public service to the City of Paris'.

He truly believed that replacing her with La Daae would enhance the cultural scene of the entire city. He could not understand why the management would not heed his less stated attempts to remove her. It was one of the reasons that he took credit for the death of Buquet. He did not think that the act would adversely affect him in any way; since most people did not believe that he actually existed or if they did, they were too afraid of him to challenge him. In the end his decision turned out to be a disaster for everyone involved. Erik succumbed to madness due to his alienation from Christine. The last six weeks have restored the old Erik. His madness has been replaced by a sense of contentment and new maturity.

It was to my dismay that I discovered that his suspicions were correct, and that we had reason to be concerned about both Christian and the Comtesse. My sources in Bonn had turned up the fact that Christian's grandparents had been murdered. The person who had tampered with their carriage was suspiciously sloppy and was caught almost immediately before returning to France. He confessed that he was hired by a Baron, to kill his own brother but to me the story seemed to be too fabricated to be the true one. The murderer's name was Etienne Herrmann and he came from Haguenau where he had been in the employ of the Comte de la Bois for several years. Looking deeper into his past, I discovered that he had been dismissed from another household on suspicion of theft and shortly thereafter was hired by the Comte. His son owned the inn across from the train station, which was purchased by the boy with a large sum of money shortly after he came of age. There seemed to be no connection at all between the old Baron Erik de Mulheim and the murderer; but there was definitely a connection with the de la Bois family. It lead me to look into this incident further, and the further that I dug the less sense that it made. Why did the Baron murder his own brother?

It took me some more digging to discover a motive but it also revealed even a greater motive for either the Comte or Comtesse de la Bois. It would appear that the Comtesse was involved in a love triangle with both brothers, something that she had already disclosed to both Erik and Christine. What she did not disclose was that she had been made pregnant by the murder victim Georges de Mulheim, but neither Mulheim would marry her. The older brother Erik and the younger brother Georges were estranged by the incident which the Comtesse had claimed led up to the pregnancy. Erik had made no attempt to harm his brother directly after the incident, when he would have been most angry. I spoke to a very old servant at the Chateau, who had been a young man at the time of the incident, who had witnessed Auguste Marie visit Erik, in a vain attempt to gain his sympathy. He and another servant overheard a heated exchange in the rose garden after which the old Baron threw the future Comtesse out of his home and sent her back to Strasbourg in his carriage. On the way back he overheard her crying and vowing to get even with the arrogant Baron. He reported it to Erik who shrugged it off, telling him that there was nothing that she could do to him. He also told me that the Baron had later regretted his estrangement with his brother over the entire incident. It did not sound like the ravings of a man who would kill his brother years later.

Further investigation of the Comtesse revealed other causes for concern; both her mother and the Comte died years apart under similar circumstances, and even more ominously, both Erik's father and grandfather had also died under suspicious circumstances. A tall blond German man meeting a description similar to Christian was seen at the work site shortly before the accident. The area of wall that fell had been strongly reinforced. It was well known that Charles Mulheim was very particular and would continuously visit his work site after his workers were gone, to be sure that there were no defects. Of course Christian would have been an infant when the incident occurred, but his father would not have been. Christian was present at the time of old Erik's death but it appeared to be of natural causes even though the old man had exhibited no signs of any medical condition. He was a youthful seventy- year -old, who was known to walk for kilometers at a time and work in the garden and vineyards. He exhibited no signs of illness before he died. Christian appeared to be very upset at the death of his uncle and had never given anyone a reason to question his integrity. Christian had gone out of his way to treat Erik pleasantly and seemed to harbor genuine affection for him. Still there were a lot of red flags that alarmed me. I felt that I needed to share my findings with Erik. There was one other suspicious occurrence that I did uncover. The Comtesse claimed to have a miscarriage, but the cousin who she had been staying with in Paris was known to be barren and suddenly was the mother of a baby girl. That child would grow up to be Aurore, the current Comtesse de Chagny, mother of Raoul. It was strange how worlds would randomly collide. Or was it random at all? Was the Vicomte Christian's first cousin and more distantly, Erik's?

Too many questions for my taste. I would need to go to the Inn to interview the son of the 'murderer' to find out what he knew. Hopefully I would be able to dismiss my suspicions but would the man even know the answers? Many of the participants were already dead or would definitely not be inclined to tell the truth.

I approached Erik to tell him what I had found. He was working on some architectural sketches. He had only been in Alsace for a few months but he was already gaining a reputation for excellence. He looked up from his work and smiled brightly, he was not the haunted Phantom that he had been for all of these years. The pain of what had seemed to be unrequited love had given way to something else. Did I detect contentment in my old friend's green eyes?

He looked up at me from his chair "Are you going to stand there and assess me doostam or is there something that you need to tell me?" His words held a challenge but his eyes conveyed mirth and affection towards me.

"I was just thinking that this Chateau has a positive effect on you, doostam; Christine as well."

He smiled at me and teased "What of you and Antoinette Giry, doostam? I have seen the admiration in your eyes as you gaze at her. You seek to hide your feelings from her Daroga, but I know you well. She feels the same way you know."

"Yes. I know." I admitted "But she is an unbeliever. I do not want to fall in love with her and then be separated from her when we die. It is better if I do not pursue her."

Erik rose and put his hand on my shoulder. He towered over me as always "I am what you call an unbeliever as well, Daroga and yet you remain my closest friend. You don't mind being separated from me in the afterlife? Even if I were to convert to Islam, I would most certainly, still be consigned to Hell. I will no doubt taste all seven levels that you claim that Jahannam contains. Yet you are my friend in this life, perhaps you should not worry so much about seeing her in the afterlife and just pursue your heart."

I laughed. My dark friend had grown so philosophical, so desirous of sharing his new found happiness with everyone around him. I could not help myself; I had never seen this side of my masked friend. I was enjoying this incarnation of him immensely. Who would suspect that Erik could actually be happy? I prayed that he would remain so.

Christine's POV

The music returned to me with a vengeance. Who could have believed that I would come to accept my feelings for Erik with such gusto? Now that I had fully embraced him, I could see that my previous fear of him was unfounded and based almost completely on his face. The same face that once filled my nightmares with terror became most dear to me. Unlike Raoul who had always treated me like a fragile doll which could crack with the least bit of handling, Erik treated me with loving respect. We would argue over the most mundane of matters, not because we were truly angry with one another; but because Erik wanted to challenge my most rudimentary perceptions. He expected me to be better than I was, and I wanted to please him. A man with his supreme intellect could not settle for a wife who was just a beautiful ornament, but that was exactly what most husbands searched for in a wife, but not Erik.

I was proud that I could finally see the man for the unique and beautiful soul that he was. If he had been gifted with a handsome visage, he would have had his choice of almost any woman. We had never really had the chance to be together despite our long and fruitful relationship. For much of our acquaintance he had been only a voice in the dark, and finally when he did reveal himself to me, we were together for only a night before I cast him aside for Raoul. When he was a voice I could not see the vast spectacle of emotions which would play before me in his magnificent green eyes. I loved his tender look the most, but when he laughed his entire face became animated, and he looked very handsome even on his deformed side. His stormy moods no longer frightened me because I could see that he would never harm me no matter what the provocation. It was he who protected my virtue mindful that he would not shun proprieties even if we were engaged. When I told him that I did not mind if he took liberties, he reminded me that life was fragile and precious, and that if something could come to part us before we were married I would remain unsullied. It was difficult for both of us to remain restrained. Many times I wanted to lose myself in his adoring green eyes and forget that such rules of propriety existed. I wanted to explore him in every way.

With Raoul, I had the opposite feelings. I was very content to wait until our marriage, even when I thought that I loved him. I had been warned by others that the physical acts usually resulted in pain for the woman. Raoul had been very clumsy with his caresses. Erik used his hands as if I were the most prized of instruments, he was slow and gentle and mindful of giving me pleasure, even at the expense of his own. When I would do the same he would gaze upon me in surprise and wonderment. I do not think that anyone had ever touched him with the intent of giving him pleasure and affection in his entire existence. I wanted to make up for a lifetime of depravation and also for my own betrayals of this kind and sensitive creature. I fully believed that if he received love and affection as a child that he would have never have developed into the fearsome Phantom but would have remained warm and gentle.

His capacity to both give and to receive love was endless. It was hard to believe that this man was the same spiteful and vindictive Phantom who so terrorized both me, and the opera house. I remember how I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise as I heard his maniacal laughter fill the theatre when he made Carlotta croak like a frog, and when Joseph Buquet was found. His laughter had changed, and was gentle and musical, much like his voice. I could content myself with listening to it for a lifetime and more.

My relationship with the others was still very awkward. Meg made little effort to conceal her lingering mistrust for me. Right after we announced our engagement she hugged me, yet whispered to me "You had better not betray him yet again or you will answer to me."

It did not get better after that; I could feel the coldness in her gaze, her mother's as well. It wasn't that they were overtly mean to me, it was just that they treated me much differently than before, with little attempt to bridge the gap that had opened between us. A short time ago Meg would have gushed to me about her budding relationship with Christian, yet she avoided speaking of it to me at all. I could see the tender looks pass between them, but when I would ask her she would just smile at me.

I knew that Meg did not trust me and I damned my own self for creating the wedge between us. I did tell her over and over again, how afraid I was of Erik and how repulsed I was by his face. I admit that if I were in her shoes I might be skeptical as well. I was so afraid of him, that I did sound overly hysterical; but I did not know that he was innocent of killing Buquet. It was just a bunch of changes that had come over me quickly, I went from chorus girl to Prima Donna, Erik went from Angel to Phantom, Raoul reappeared in my life and then there were all of the murders and other happenings. I was only eighteen years old and very sheltered and protected for so long. I was angry at her too, she was my best friend, and yet she did not tell me that Erik did not kill Buquet. It might have changed what I felt sooner, by driving the fear and hysteria from me. Erik admitted that he had made a mistake in not attempting to tell me about Buquet, and in overreacting when I first removed his mask.

Admittedly, I would not have given him the chance to be alone with me to tell me about Buquet; but Meg and her mother had countless opportunities. Not a day went by when I did not see them and yet they remained completely silent even when I expressed my fears about what had happened. Their silence helped to widen the large gulf of understanding between Erik and me; yet I was willing to forgive them. When I tried to get Meg alone to clear the air, as Erik and I had done, she would excuse herself claiming to be busy with some sort of task. I did not tell Erik of it because I knew that he would be angry at Meg for treating me that way. I did not want to break the aura of happiness which had engulfed us with a minor issue which I hoped would be eventually resolved. It was strange how Erik could forgive my past betrayals without even a backwards glance, and yet Meg could not do so. I prayed that the problems between us would be resolved; I wanted and needed to have my best friend back.