Chapter Ten It was late afternoon the day after the attack that Erik brought his daughter home to her safe canopied bed, and gave her a bit of sedatives which the doctor had promised him would do no harm to her body, even though it was still not completely recovered from the laudanum overdose she�d been given by Elan. She had barely slept since awakening in his company the night before. He had barely slept himself. In fact, he doubted if anyone close to her had slept well that night. Charles was gone, undoubtedly to hide in his fathers� mansion somewhere upstate in upstate New York. Isabelle was so overwhelmed with grief that all she could do was cry, at least until the three of them had returned home. Then she had promptly collapsed in bed from exhaustion. Erik himself was restless with so many different concerns that to name only one of them would mean nothing to the calmer minds. Allyriane, of course, was afraid to sleep. She�d slept after he�d sung to her, yet woken not an hour afterwards, sweating and weeping from nightmares. She had been afraid to sleep after that. Even the mild sedative Erik had given her took time to affect her tense frame. After nightfall, Erik was the only one still awake. His body ached with tiredness, and bruises of exhaustion were forming black circles under his eyes. He didn�t care. He could still go another full day without rest and not suffer any long-term affects from it. He was too troubled to sleep just yet. He wanted to make sure that his wife and child would continue to sleep peacefully. He wanted to solve his daughters� new problem with Charles, so that in some way he might help the distressed couple. Most of all, however, he wanted to know what to do about William Sanchez. His hands had been around the little bastards� throat, and yet he had not killed him. Even had the police not interfered, Erik was not entirely certain he would have been able to do it. The moment he started crushing the windpipe of the obnoxious rapist, his entire body had started to tingle and throb, just enough to annoy him and let him know of its� presence. It had been a vague rendition of what he had experienced that night eighteen years ago, when he was transforming from Phantom to man. Only when he�d pulled away did the throbbing � which had begun to build rapidly within the space of a few seconds � dissipate. The throbbing had been nothing but a distraction. Yet he didn�t know what it had meant. To have only felt it twice in his life, Erik wondered if he ought to go look at himself in the mirror, and make sure there was not some semblance of the Angel of Doom in his reflection once again. Certainly he hadn�t changed again. His wife and daughter had recognized him. Everyone had recognized him without screaming in shock terror or horror. Besides, he couldn�t think for the world why his handsome physique would desert him after eighteen years of a blissful life that had been interrupted only by short moments of torment. There was only one connection that he could make. In Eighteen years, he had not felt the murderous rage within him as he had when William stood before him. He hadn�t felt like that since he had been the Phantom of the Opera. The connection was dim, but it nearly made sense to him. There was no proof to say it was what had caused him to change once. Yet he wasn�t going to test the theory and kill just to see if he would again turn old and ugly. No, he�d had enough strange events occurring around him to try and solve this new mystery. He�d given up that type of mischief when he became a normal man. A knock came to the door, and Erik snapped out of his reverie, realizing he�d been standing for some time with his forehead against the cool glass of the parlor bay window. Turning, he looked out into the hall and the outer door directly opposite. Another knock sounded and he sighed. He�d better answer it before the stranger callers woke up his family. Slowly moving to the door, he cracked it open just enough to peer outside. �Who is it?� He demanded in a low voice. �When you spared, for the first time, a life which you could have taken, you were given your gift of a handsome face.� Erik swung the door open, having to catch it before it slammed into the wall. He was so startled. Yet even when the door opened completely, he could not see anyone outside. Yet he had known that voice. As impossible as it was, he�d heard the voice of his friend Nadir, who had passed away when Allyriane was eleven. There was no movement or sound after the first sentence, yet Erik still listened carefully. Finally, the voice did come again. �To show no mercy now, even when you face the guilty; to play the role of the Higher Being, and pass judgment, you will renounce the world you�ve come to love, and perhaps you will be again forced into shadow.� �Nadir?� Carefully, Erik stepped out into the hall. It crossed his mind that he may have fallen asleep while he�d been sitting in his chair in the parlor. Perhaps this was all a dream. Still, his friend had rarely steered him wrong, however stubborn or sarcastic Erik had been when it come to listening to him. �Nadir, is that you?� No reply. There was also no one out in the hallway. �Love, Erik. Just love. Don�t let anything or anyone get in the way.� He whirled to face his apartment door, which he�d left open. That was where the voice had come from. Yet still, there was no one standing there. Quickly stepping inside, Erik shut and bolted the apartment door, and began to search every room and closet as silently as he could. He looked in every possible place that someone might hide, and found nothing. Finally, he simply stood in the middle of his parlor, waiting to hear the voice speak again. Nadir did not speak to him again. /////////////-------------///////////// �Charles, Father is going to be furious if you don�t write that letter.� Katherine gently touched her brothers� arm as they sat side-by-side on the sofa in her private sitting room. Tonight she wore a brilliant emerald green dress with little counterfeit amethysts aligning the collar and cuffs. Her honey-golden hair was pulled back into a braid, although the shortest curls of her bangs, and those around her ears, remained loose to frame her face beautifully. She had just turned fifteen only a week before the whole attack had taken place. Although Charles� had bought her a present, he�d left it at the school by accident, and they were now talking about what had happened to Lyre. �I know.� He whispered softly. �I want to write to her, but what am I supposed to say to her? Tell her that I�m sorry I walked out on her but I�m too weak to deal with this?� �No.� Katherine replied thoughtfully, insistently taking his hand between both of her own, and squeezing gently. �Why don�t you invite them here for the summer, just as you�ve been planning to do? You don�t have to talk about what happened at all. Just let yourself deal with that silently. Surely Madame Isabelle will come with her. I know that Monsieur Erik will probably be too busy with his business to accompany them, but surely you can invite her. Father has always been amiable with the idea of having her family visit. And surely your Lyre will forgive you for being so confused.� Charles stared at his sister in wonder. With all the ways she looked like Christine; what Erik had told him about their mothers� personality was the exact opposite of his sister. She seemed to be wiser beyond her years, and bolder than their mother had been. She knew what she wanted, and was emotionally much stronger than Christine. Yet Katherine had not grown up poor as Christine had. She had not lost her father at a young age, and certainly had not grown up with fairy tales whispered to her every single night. Her mind was not filled with flights of fancy. �Kat, do you think that she will forgive me?� Charles finally whispered. �I made the biggest mistake of my life. I know I did. Yet I still cannot face her even now.� �Then ask her to come in a month. That should be time enough.� Kat shrugged, tossing her braid back over her shoulder. She could sound so flippant when she said things like that. Short and simple, as though there were no other answers to their dilemma. �And you should apologize for leaving the way you did. My idea is to tell her that you simply could not stand for her to see your grief over her torment.� �Have you been reading those romance novels that Father forbid you ever touch?� Charles chuckled. �You are a true romantic, I think.� �My dear brother, I get it from you!� Katherine challenged. �I know she�ll forgive you. Her entire family will. Besides, it�s about time I had the chance to ask this man about our mother. I�d like to hear him tell me about her himself. Perhaps he will tell me thinks that he wouldn�t share with another boy!� Charles rolled his eyes and stood, kissing his sisters� cheek. It was early in the day, and he was dressed to go out riding. Two days had gone by since he had arrived at home. Two days had passed in which he had struggled with at least three hundred sheets of paper, all crumpled now and thrown in the trash; three hundred sheets of paper with scribbled notes to Allyriane that made no sense or simply sounded pathetic or false. �Will you go riding with me if I promise to have the letter written, sealed, and addressed by the time you�re ready to go?� Katherine smiled, and nodded quickly. �At least father lets me do things like that when you�re home.� She said with relief. �If I want to go out riding alone, he never lets me leave the pasture.� �Ah, well, we�ll see if the usual summer arguments can change his mind about that.� ////////////----------//////////////// �Papa, are you certain that you�re all right?� It was the following Friday since the attack, which had happened almost exactly a week before � right down to the hour. Allyriane had healed amazingly well both physically and mentally, although she did still have frequent nightmares. Now, at least she was able to get to sleep without the aid of a sedative, and could often go back to sleep after her nightmares. Erik did what he could to help, but he hadn�t necessarily been himself since that strange voice had spoken to him Saturday evening. �Seeing ghosts, you ancient fool?� he�d kept mocking himself. �Must have been a trick.� Yet he didn�t simply assume that hearing the voice of his deceased friend had been some strange trick. He�d thought over all that had been said to him very carefully. He had finally understood Nadir�s message to him, and wasn�t about to test the theory the voice had made. �Yes, ma Cherie, I swear to you, I�m perfectly fine.� He looked to see her standing in a very snug yet extremely modest night shift, with chin-high collar of ruffles. The entire bedclothes seemed to be nothing but ruffles, hiding the frame beneath almost perfectly. The only thing she could not hide was her elegant hands, petite feet, and beautiful elliptical face. She clutched a thick crotchet blanket of wool tight about her tiny shoulders. �Then why are you just sitting at the piano without making a sound?� Allyriane challenged gently, pulling a round ottoman close to the piano bench to sit down on it. �I miss your music, Papa. Can�t you play one of your old compositions for me?� �I don�t play my own compositions for audiences.� He insisted, giving her a gently scolding look. �You know that, ma petite. Would you prefer to hear Gounod�s Faust? Or perhaps Rigoletto?� �Andrea Ch�nier . . . Sing Andrea Ch�nier.� Erik�s eyebrows rose. �You know that opera?� He asked, astounded. Allyriane blushed, lowering her eyes a bit. Erik had never had a single scrap of that sheet music in the house through all of her life, although he did remember performing it at one time on the stage of the Paris Opera. �It was your last performance, Papa. Maman took me to see it. I remember it a little.� �Andrea Ch�nier it is.� Erik promised, and then swept into song. �You have struck me here; where I, jealous, conceal the most pure beating of my soul. Now you will see, young lady, what a poem is the word �love,� here for a reason to ridicule! One day to the blue spaces I looked profoundly, and to the fields filled with violets, rained the gold of the sun, and illuminated of gold the earth. It seemed the earth an immense treasure, and to her the skies served as a coffin.� He watched his daughter closely as her eyes closed. She swayed a bit with the music. This was the daughter he�d known for so long. He couldn�t help the smile of joy and relief that came across his features. Yet he didn�t stop singing. He couldn�t stop, not if his song made her happy once more. �Up from the earth to my face came a lively caress, a kiss. I shouted, overcome by love. I love you who kiss me divinely beautiful, my homeland! And I wanted, with great love, to pray! I passed through the door at a church; there a priest, in the alcove of the saints and of the Virgin �� �Erik?� He stopped abruptly, looking up to see that Isabelle was standing just over Allyriane. He hadn�t even seen her come in. He�d been too intently watching his daughter. �What is it, ma amour?� he asked with a loving smile. Isabelle held up an envelope, and then looked to their daughter. �I�ve a letter from New York.� She announced. �I thought Lyre might like to read it right away.� �From New York?� Leaping to her feet, Allyriane turned to snatch the letter from Isabelle�s hands in excitement. Coming round the piano, she tore the envelope open carelessly, and moved to read by the light of the window, as there was still a bit left from twilight � and the moon was already up, shiningly brightly over Boston, even in the purplish light of twilight. Erik watched his daughter with an intense gaze, reading her expression as she read the letter. She seemed to smile a few times, and tears filled her eyes. Yet he knew her. These weren�t tears of anguish. �What does he say, Lyre?� He finally asked curiously. Allyriane looked up at him sharply, as though startled by the sound of his voice, and then broke out into a brilliant smile as one tear dripped down her left cheek, catching the light of the oil lamp Erik had set on the piano top, and reflecting like a tiny crystal. �Papa, would you let me go to New York to meet his family? Could Maman and I go to New York?� Erik�s eyes widened a little, and heard a little muffled clap along with a soft gasp from his wife. Turning, he smiled at Isabelle, who had her gloved hands together just under her chin. She seemed to be almost giddy with happiness and relief for the sake of their daughters� happiness. �I don�t see why not.� He finally replied with a smile. �What about me? Am I not invited?� �On the contrary!� His daughter was fast to assure him, not realizing he�d been teasing. �Charles just thought that since you�re so busy with the business, that you�d be unable to attend.� �I could leave the business to run on its� own for at least a week.� Erik smiled. �I wouldn�t mind seeing Raoul again. I�ve . . . a surprisingly great deal to tell him!� He could imagine now the horror on Raoul�s face when he whispered into the Comte�s ear exactly whose daughter his son was courting. |