Author's Note: This Chapter was a hard fought one. I struggled with it all week. 2000 words written—and not one of them fit. They dawdled into some Character development between father and son, but offered little to advance the story. Whether those strained words ever make it into the story? Who knows.
All this to say, this is Hot of the 'presses,' aka my Frantic fingers typing this last night with my fabulous Beta, PhantomoftheBroadgrass, being a wonderful sounding board to my thoughts as I was having them(and largely overthinking each one.) If it were not for her being there, this likely would not have made it out to you until next week.
As such– the ideas for what's next, are Very Much There, but the chapters are unwritten. If delays in weekly posts come, understand my priority is quality – Not just quality of the chapter, but the story itself.
MarilynKC - As far as I know, you are my only reader still here. Hope you enjoy and spot the secret.
The Guardian
The weather the following morning was proving to be just as miserable with thick dark clouds shrouding the sky, only the thinnest sections allowing a bit of sunlight to crack through and teasing the pebbled shapes in the silhouettes above. Although many did not favor dreary atmosphere, Erik often found overcast skies soothing by its diffused lighting. Furthermore, the familiar smell of threatening rain in the cool, crisp air left him feeling invigorated. This was his favorite cluster of the elements, all that was missing was the rain and claps of thunder.
Spring hinted an early arrival in the slight warming of ambient temperatures that kept them a few degrees above freezing. Nature delighted in this by the sounds of chirping Ortolan Buntings and other birds singing beautiful melodies in harmony to one another, basking in what little warmth they had. Squirrels added to the music by the rhythm of their claws scrapping against thick bark as they darted up and down various trees, chittering their slights as males were likely bickering over an available female. Were they really trying to mate this early?
Water lapped at the stones along the creek's edge, where it flowed in a steady current. Its banks were near overflowing from the steady stream of storms that continued to pass through, along with the melting ice and snow that oversaturated the grounds.
César, Deimos, and Phobos were all nearby, lipping at the thin grasses that they grazed over time and again throughout the winter. Their hooves suctioned to the mud as they moved around leisurely to find any spare blade that had not yet fallen victim to the muck or their chronic hunger; their tails would swish at irregular intervals that sounded like reeds whistling at a beach.
These sounds that danced to his ears were the heartbeats of his secluded sanctuary, buried deep into the countryside. It was what gave his home a constant of music and inspired what he often played on violin during his morning serenades to the forest around him.
Playing music back to the home that gave him the greatest sense of place was a daily ritual as quiet thanks.
He did not play today.
Instead, Erik stood in the middle of the field with his cloak catching in the constant cold breeze, eyes shut and his ears pricked. While the music of home reached his eardrums, Erik did not hear any of it, not even the grunts and nickers his equines made amongst themselves as they attempted to graze.
Not one single sound registered in Erik's mind.
No.
He listened for the irregular pulse.
One of the horses moved to stand before him, nudging his face into Erik's arms, which was when his mind registered the small drags of a back hoof that he heard just prior to contact.
"Hello, old friend," Erik greeted the old stallion warmly. Keeping his eyes shut, Erik's hand rose from his side, following the heat of César's breathing until he found the whiskers and fine velvet fur of that warm muzzle.
César's lips mouthed at Erik's fingertips before he fully pressed his head into Erik's chest and rubbed his face up and down, until Erik wrapped his arms around that massive head.
"Bribery will not work," Erik smiled, scratching the full length of César's mandible.
César made an insulted noise with a little jerk of his head.
"I fed you plenty this morning, and there is hay in your stall."
The old Lipizzaner nudged him.
Erik continued giving César scratches in all the equine's favorite places, while the horse nuzzled in for more, with more contented sounds. The feeling was mutual, as Erik felt his own tension begin to drain away, as he often found the stallion's presence therapeutic.
"I will miss you, you know," Erik whispered, as he closed his eyes and rested his head to César's, with his hand now caressing the equine's face. "We have a few months, at best? Perhaps to the end of summer, so you can gorge yourself on all the sweet grass? I would like that. I might be ready for it then."
César gave a nicker that feigned youth.
"I had come to believe that we might go together," Erik continued, with a small sigh, "but that is not an option for me anymore, is it? Not when the boy needs me to see him into adulthood. He has already lost two parents prematurely. He does not need to lose a third…"
César made a grunted whine in a strange agreement.
At thirty-three or so years old, the stallion was at the end of his lifespan. In a sense, César was already on borrowed time from the amount of apothecary effort Erik put into his care. In turn, Erik was coming up on his fifty-eighth year and drifting into the frame of time where most men seemed content to drop dead.
During the course of the last decade of suffering the agony of Christine's absence, Erik made no effort to manage his aging. There was no point to needlessly prolong his life with no one to share in it— not after tasting just what normalcy felt like…with her. He'd spent these last several years just existing and waiting for eternal darkness to finally claim him.
Sparing César a cruel end when the Garnier retired him gave Erik some sense of purpose; not much of one, but the horse was forever dear to him.
Now, with his infinitely precious son giving him more meaning to his life than ever before, more than even her, Erik was determined to see this task through. He would somehow guide that boy into becoming a respectable young man.
Certainly, more than he ever was.
Although he allowed himself to relax into César's company, cherishing what little time they had left together, Erik still listened to the sounds of nature reverberating around him and tickling his sensitive ears.
Ever since Carriére paid that visit, Erik's guard was heightened, as he awaited the day of likely betrayal. He was always armed now, with more than just a cord of catgut concealed in his sleeve. Not only that, but in addition to his numerous and concealed armaments, Erik kept most of Christine's 'keepsakes' on him as well. In his vest pocket, opposite the tethered pocket watch, were the two keys and the dark opals pendants framed in gold.
The snips of hair in their ribbons were kept locked in a small box inside the house.
All the items were still perplexing to him, but the four Erik carried seemed the most important. Why? He was not certain, but he wanted them at hand if epiphany struck. With his nerves stirring, honed by a lifetime of survival and self-sufficiency, Erik was not about to leave them behind by accident.
Then, Erik heard it.
Rather, it was what he did not hear.
The pulse of nature changed its ambiance as merry birds ceased their song, while squirrels fell equally silent. In that sudden hush falling across them, Erik's skin now prickled and his hands curled into fists.
Something unfamiliar and unwelcome was nearby.
Plump rain droplets slowly began dripping from the sky.
In stark contrast to the silence which spoke its warning, a brilliant series of chirps and tweets drew Erik's attention to his home, a bubbly bird, and Charles. The boy was sitting under the small awning of the back stoop, pausing his sketches to look up at the small Ortolan Bunting prancing excitedly to-and-fro on the roof above the boy, with a few flaps of her tawny wings.
Erik eyed the strange songbird as she continued to make a scene, as though a snake was ready to capture her offspring from a nest.
Erik's gaze fell to his son, who appeared equally baffled. The back of his mind pieced it together in a surge of instinct, even if his foremost thoughts were still just warning of danger. "Charles, go inside!" he called, as he began moving towards the boy.
"But—"
"Inside, now!" he let his sudden urgent authority give weight to his voice, the unspoken warning of imminent threat.
Charles' eyes widened at the tone, and he popped to his feet without further question. As the boy turned to reach for the knob, Erik was already behind him, ushering him inside.
"Basement," Erik instructed firmly.
Charles obeyed, trotting to the front rooms and into the library where together, they moved a chair out of the way and pulled back the plush rug. Erik dropped to his knees with a deliberate placement of his hands over on two specific boards, which made a section of flooring sink down, with its edges concealed in the seams of the floorboards. When Erik lifted his weight off it, the joined boards swung down to reveal the stone cellar hidden below.
"Go, Charles," Erik ordered.
"Erik—"
"Go down," he snapped.
Charles shook his head and flung his arms around Erik's neck in a tight embrace.
The move stunned Erik a moment, as did the tremble he felt in Charles's small frame. Swallowing the urgency for just a moment, Erik hugged his son close, with a brief kiss to his cheek. "I will be fine, I promise you."
"You can't promise that."
"I am a hard man to kill."
Charles shivered, still clinging to Erik as though the world threatened its end. "You better be."
Erik grasped Charles by the shoulders and pushed him back to arm's length. "I am," he swore. "Now, I need you hide."
Charles nodded and shifted his feet into the opening, then dropped down with a kick of his legs.
"Good boy. Remember, bar the door as I have shown you, and do not open it again until you hear me say 'D'artagnan'."
"What if something happens to you?"
Erik did not have the time to give all the guidance he could. Instead, he resolved to the simplest rule that carried him through life, "Then…in that unlikely event, trust your instincts."
Charles gave a solemn nod, but before Erik shifted away to trigger the trapdoor to shut, the boy called his name again, "Erik!"
A sigh escaped the older man as he peered back down to his son.
"I love you," the boy said, his face etched in worry, eyes more sunken and skin paler.
Erik's features softened, and he fought the welling emotion in his throat. "I love you more than anything, Charles, and you have just made me invincible."
It pained him to seal his son beneath the world, but it was the safest place and best thing for him. While Erik dealt with whoever was coming, he could not be fretting over his son's whereabouts. That was more likely to be the cause of great detriment than anything else. Erik was skilled in both his defenses and offenses. He saw the shift in a stance or the turn of the torso, seeing the patterns of a posture that projected the intent, much like a skilled dog herded errant sheep back to the group.
That focus meant survival.
It was the only way to keep his promise to Charles.
Erik unrolled the rug back into place, and replaced the chair in a stereotypical manner. Even if someone managed to work their way into his home, or even incapacitate him, they would be hard pressed in finding the trapdoor or even the room below without the aid of an axe, at the minimum. He designed it to be as invisible as every other trapdoor and hidden passage he ever created.
If absolutely necessary, Charles had an alternative way out of the basement that would take him to the stables and César's stall. There was no way in without substantial effort, unless Charles granted permission. Erik would have it no other way.
The room was set two minutes before the knock came at his door, allowing just enough time for a few more minor preparations.
Rolling his shoulders and flexing his spine, Erik worked out his stiffness in a moment, although he hoped his precautions were not necessary and whoever came was someone of concern.
Instinct told him otherwise.
Fine.
Erik flexed his hand and opened his front door.
