My mind is completely blanking on anything to say sooooooooo...

Onward!

xxvii

It took every bit of self-control for him to keep from running to her. He knew how this worked—knew that it was his reactions that would determine her ultimate fate. The Shah was correct about his weakness. It was something so newly acquired, something he now valued above all others. Only to now have it exploited.

Erik doubted the door would be open for long. Soon the Shah would seal his Christine and that man inside, and he would cross to the mirror, a flip of a switch enabling him to suddenly see into the room beyond. He would make him watch, make him see her hurt and pleading for help, but to react would only give the Shah more pleasure—the acts entirely the same.

But with the door open, at the very least he could offer the most simple of assurances to his beloved. He threw his voice to her ear, even as Samuel approached her—her eyes so wide and fearful even as Erik would like nothing more than to charge at him, to pummel with his fists until they bled and the man who threatened her was no longer for this world. But he could not. Not when that was precisely what the Shah was desiring of him.

His Christine did not make him weak.

She simply provided him his very reason for living.

And for her sake, for his own, he could be patient. He could wait.

Until the time was right for him to strike, to kill, to destroy.

To save them. All that was required for now was that they endure.

"I am so sorry, little wife," he murmured to her, and when he noticed her looking at him, he knew that she had heard. He had not learned this skill for this purpose. Not for whispering endearments and assurances in the midst of a deplorable situation. He had learned ventriloquism for the sake of instilling fear in his victims—to throw them off balance before he even took the time to strike. It was an effective measure, keeping him safe and distracting those he was charged to kill so he could do so with efficiency.

But now it would offer the only comfort to his wife he could supply. "I love you most sincerely, my Christine. But to show it, to protest further, would only cause them to hurt you more."

He watched as she gave a barely perceptible nod, Samuel coming toward her with that damnable knife. He eased it down Christine's arm, teasing, not quite breaking the skin, and Erik watched as Christine's breath came in short pants. Her position would make breathing all the more difficult, her hands pulled so tautly above her, and he hoped she could find some measure of calm before she gave way to hyperventilation.

She flinched and cried out when at last the knife found purchase against her upper arm. It was a long, shallow cut that did not immediately begin to bleed. So Samuel brought his hand to the wound, squeezing tightly until she moaned as blood bubbled forth, wetting the blade and christening it with her crimson blood.

Samuel walked back toward his master, providing him the evidence of his obedience.

Erik could not bring himself to look at it, instead focusing on his sobbing wife in the room beyond.

"Erik, do pay attention," the Shah snapped, forcing Erik to turn and look at him. "Samuel, return to our charming guest and shut the door. Await my further instructions." The man obeyed, sealing off Erik's last connection to Christine.

The Shah held the knife by the handle, looking at the blade at various angles, even as his eyes flickered frequently to meet Erik's. "Beautiful, isn't it? You chose very well. Surprisingly well, actually. I never would have thought a girl like her would willingly be with a man with your... affliction." His lips curled into a cruel semblance of a smile. "Or perhaps not so willingly? Was that the trouble with the girls I offered you? They were paid well enough to at least pretend to enjoy it?"

Erik's lips thinned and he refused to think about his wedding night. That was sacred—something wholly between his Christine and himself with no place in this room. This nightmare. She had been willing, and he would not let this man twist something so meaningful until it bore no resemblance to what truly had been.

"I do not care for whores. I explained that to you."

The Shah ran his finger through Christine's blood, seeming to savor the texture. "I do seem to recall such a sentiment, though I cannot say I have ever understood your vehement denial. A warm body is much the same as another, regardless of its history." His head tilted and his gaze was sharp, causing Erik to prepare himself for whatever depraved thing he would suggest next. "Tell me, if your little flower in there was suddenly to know the... pleasures of other men, would you spurn her as well?"

Erik closed his eyes and prayed for calm. Prayed that she would at least be spared that. Prayed that he could answer in a way that would see the least harm come to her.

"No," he admitted. As if anything about Christine in the least compared to the types of women the Shah had entertained throughout the years.

The Shah's eyebrows rose, and he looked pointedly at the ring still residing on Erik's left hand. "Your wife is she? And still you wouldn't mind?"

Erik shook his head slowly. "That is not what I said." His blood pounded furiously in his ears simply to think of what this man might have in mind for his beauty, but he forced himself to keep himself from reacting.

The Shah leaned back in his chair, obviously displeased with his pert answers. "That is quite the mask you have fashioned. I'm sure Samuel would appreciate a few lessons in how to produce such a thing."

Erik crossed his arms. "I take it you were the one who blessed him with the burns?"

The man shrugged, obviously unrepentant. "My Angel of Death had deserted me. I wanted another." His eyes slid to the closed door. "He is not you, however. He lacks your... ingenuity. Obedient though, much more so than you."

In his earlier days, Erik might have bristled at that. He had desired to be the best, to seek out and maintain this man's approval—his good opinion. But no longer. Never again. "Why am I here?" He was attempting to keep his voice neutral, but from the way the Shah's eyes flashed, apparently it trespassed into boredom.

"They took my son away; did you know that? After you left. Before even the police came, the FBI, social services came and took away my boy."

Erik had not heard that. He was hardly a boy by the time the Shah had been pushed from the country, choosing to flee rather than face the justice system. If Erik remembered correctly, he must have neared sixteen. "I am surprised you did not dispense with them on the spot."

The Shah did not appear amused. "I was not home at the time. I was tending to other matters. Such as where you had gone. How you had escaped, and how I could bring you back."

Did he expect an apology?

"Tell me, Erik, did you enjoy plotting with that fool Nadir? Did you relish every time you colluded with him, fed him evidence until my conviction would have been secure?"

That did surprise him. "I must say, you suffer the same affliction as the Daroga. He too tends to jump to conclusions in regards to my person." The Shah eyed him angrily, and Erik was quick to continue lest their conversation dissolve into another demand for more of Christine's precious blood. "I have never worked with the authorities in any capacity. Not a single one. I had not spoken to Nadir since that last night in this very house—not until just recently. If you desire revenge, I suggest you seek it elsewhere." He very nearly stressed the Daroga's participation in his escape, but held his tongue. From gratitude perhaps? A strange thought. "The only insult I perpetrated against you was to leave your employ, and I must... request that you not permit Christine to suffer for that perceived slight."

There. That should be safe enough.

Except the Shah was far from a rational individual, and Erik's words did not seem to penetrate his already formed conclusions. "Oh, she will most certainly suffer, just as you will. I lost good men because of you. I lost my son because of you. I went and found him a few years ago... married now, with children. And do you know what he did?" Erik despised rhetorical questions. "He threatened to contact the police if I did not leave him be. As if I would harm my own son!"

Erik was not certain why familial bonds would hold any special distinction, but he remained silent on that subject.

He could not help but think of his poor Christine and how she must be faring. He wanted to bandage her arm, wanted to cut her free and hold her until she calmed and knew no more pain or fear. He wanted her safely tucked in her bed where he could guard her properly, both in sleep and in consciousness.

But instead he stood, coaxing this sadist to speak, biding time.

How he hated it.

The boy in question had been a gentle sort. While at first he had marveled at Erik's presence in the household, had found it great fun to press him for details of his grand adventure in the travelling fair, as he had grown older, he soon regarded Erik with an emotion that greatly bordered on pity. Erik had not requested it, not welcomed it, but he could not say that he was displeased that the boy rejected both his father and his methods in favor of a simpler life.

Much as he would have liked to do. Had attempted to do. Only to be dragged back here, forced to watch his Christine be abused. His resentment grew along with his anger.

"You said he rejected you years ago. Why act now?"

The Shah smirked. "My men found you a few months ago—remarkably difficult that. Samuel was the one who finally did it. Took out a few of the ones I suspect were part of the investigation as well. But imagine my surprise when he relayed to me where you lived. A hole in the ground was better than being in my employ?" The man clicked his tongue and shook his head in disapproval. "The insult only grew."

It most certainly was better. He had his music, had his solitude, and when the silence grew to be too much, when he could no longer remember what it was like to interact with another human soul, he would go out into the theatre and cause a little mischief. Little tricks to frighten the ballet rats, subtle manipulation of the managers so his salary was paid. The managers genuinely hated him, he was certain of that, even as much as they were afraid of what he could accomplish from within the walls of the opera house. The ballerinas however... more than once he would roll his eyes at how quickly they could go from screaming to relating tales of their horrifying experience to the other members, their eyes bright and hand movements robust as they regaled their enraptured audience with every terrifying moment.

And he would choose all of it again in an instant rather than be here with this man.

Except...

Except he did not have his Christine.

She was there, but he was cowardly, he was aloof, and he dismissed the small stirrings she instilled in him. He regretted not approaching her sooner, not going to her regardless of the pretense, and being her consolation when her father died. She had been miserable, even he could see that, but even that had not caused him to act.

And he regretted what finally had proved urgent enough to make him do so.

"And you thought my living arrangements were sufficient punishment?"

The Shah shook his head, his smirk fading. "On the contrary. But I had time. Until suddenly my little mole Buquet and Samuel informed me he had seen you stalking our girl over there. Imagine my surprise that after all this time, you had taken interest in someone."

Erik's lip almost curled. Christine was not theirs. She was his. And he was hers. And he hated that the Shah had yet to make it so he could see her. To assure himself that Samuel was not taking liberties without his permission.

There was a familiarity to the man. Perhaps not in his actual person, but in his mannerisms. He reminded Erik of himself when he had indulged the Shah most willingly. His actions lacked the pleasure, lacked the true desire for the destruction and death about to be inflicted, but still, he would obey.

And now that it was Christine within his clutches...

Erik could find little pity in himself for the man.

Realization came slowly. "Lana is not with you." His head tilted slightly to the side as he regarded the man who had once been his master. He had aged throughout the years, lines giving him a tired appearance. His clothing was still impeccable, his eyes held all the malice and intelligence they always had.

But there was no beautiful woman at his side, urging him on. There was no perfectly manicured hand curled about his arm as she bade him hurt, bade him entertain her.

"Has Lana left you?" Erik could barely keep the smile from his voice. It was too perfect. So many lives would have continued had this man before him not sought to indulge the woman far beyond his league. When first Lana had entered the household, Erik had thought her one of the most attractive women he had ever beheld. Dark hair, mysterious eyes, her very presence demanded a man look and appreciate. But she had a thirst for violence, for pain, to inflict it upon others, and quickly any admiration had dissolved into a sickening distrust.

For when would it be directed at him?

The Shah's expression proved perfectly adequate in confirming Erik's suspicion. "She claims she was only with me for so long because she believed I would find you again. You were interesting, an enigma. Apparently I was boring. And when it took too long, when I'd tried to offer her too many substitutes, she finally had enough and left." The man snorted, shaking his head with disgust. "I gave her everything..."

"Evidently, that was a mistake."

The Shah slapped his hands down upon the desk, his eyes murderous. "Do not speak against her. You wish to know why you're here? I'm going to make you disappear. I'm going to make you bleed, make you pay, because I lost the only people I'd cared about, all for your miserable hide." His gaze drifted to the mirror beyond and he rose, going to the wall and allowing light to change the view, revealing Christine and Samuel in the room beyond. He turned slightly, his mouth a twisted thing as he looked back at Erik and motioned him closer.

"And I think I'll begin with your lovely bride."

Sooo... Got a bit more glimpse on what's going on! So that... helps... right?

(Anybody ready for us to get a bit of hope? Mush, Erik, mush!)