Chapter Eighteen

The days tumbled into one another without much division; soon a warm rain fell, causing a sticky mess of melting snow that adhered to everything.

Their routine had become commonplace. They traveled by night mostly, unless sure they were not being tracked, and then they’d move in daylight. Home included the camps of other roamers. Now that spring was upon them, Erik, Anna, and Pappy sought to move as much as possible instead of seeking out another Samaritan to take them in. Erik’s indiscretion in Lyon had only spurred the manhunt forward. Since leaving Dijon two months prior, they’d been forced to move at a steady pace. Marksmen met them at every village and byway, but for the moment they were blissfully alone. The slower pace was a welcomed relief despite the miserable weather. Anna attempted to shake off the dirty snow and mud caked on her boot. Her impromptu jig only worsened the pain growing in her lower back.

“Anna?” Erik turned and called back to her as soon as she lagged behind. “We can stop if you need.”

She snapped her head back and forth. Her ability to form words had disappeared an hour ago; the pain having edged in on her like an unrelenting python around her middle. Aches and pains had been commonplace for the last few weeks whether it was sore feet or a throbbing back. Anna wrote it off as too much traveling over rough ground. When this new ache began, she thought nothing of it at first. Now the pain crushed her lower back. Anna gnashed her teeth together and waited for it to subside.

“Anna?” Erik asked, his voice filling with concern. “Is your back hurting again?”

Anna opened her mouth to reply but snapped it shut when the pain spiraled up to her throat. She staggered into a tree and, gasping for breath, braced her back against it.

“Erik, I think… I think…”

Her words were drowned away by a loud groan. Anna clawed at the bark behind her, as the wave of pain grew stronger around her body. She looked up and down, then straight out to either side as she tried to focus, but even Erik was a blurry mass as he made his way toward her. Anna blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of his expression. The python cinched tighter as Erik’s form wove in and out of her vision.

Anna managed to focus when he stopped in front of her. “I think… the baby…”

“You are not due for another month!” he exclaimed, enveloping her face with his hands.

A curse soared from her lips as soon as he touched her. Anna flung her head side to side, shaking his hands off her face. With each cramp came thousands of imagined ants crawling across her skin, making the slightest touch maddening. Each time he tried to make eye contact with her, she’d whip her head in the opposite direction. Nothing mattered but the pain.

“We thought we had another month!” he exclaimed again, but to Anna, the words were a dull buzz. Truth be told, they had no idea how far along she was and at the moment she wanted to be far away from the all-encompassing pain.

Anna barely heard him shout for Pappy’s attention. Jerking his head, Erik indicated a dilapidated barn on the rim of the property they skirted. At least it looked like a barn to her. It could have been the mouth of a dragon for all she knew.

“Help me get her inside,” Erik said.

Anna, on fire from the inside out, tried to fight them off as they reached for her arms. She swore the vertebrae in her back were popping one by one, shattering apart and sending the shards of bone out her abdomen. Erik and Pappy’s arguments whirred dully in her ears as they got a hold of her and pointed her toward the barn. She had no idea how long it took to walk across the field, only that each step she made her want to bear down and push—hard. Occasionally, she tried to sputter out a sentence, but she wasn’t in command of her body; the infant trying to claw its way out was.

They must have made it inside for the scent of mildewed wood and old earth joined with her ants and the python around her waist, jumbling her senses even more. Her knees shook the instant Pappy and Erik guided her to the ground. Chills ran in passes across her brow despite the fire Pappy had worked frantically to build.

“This is not happening,” Erik cursed. “We can make it to a village that does not know of us. We can do this there!”

Anna pawed at the air as the pain grew. She didn’t stop her frantic pantomime until Erik dropped to his knees beside her and grabbed her hand. With each contraction, she squeezed his hand harder, but nothing gave her any counter to the pain growing around her. She jerked her head toward the side, catching sight of Pappy as he rummaged through the satchel. Anna moaned as he tossed a rag over his shoulder and shoved a knife into the fire.

“Have you ever done this before?” Erik barked, his voice sounding to Anna like it was miles away. Everything was shutting down on her—her sight, her hearing, and her sense of smell. All she was commanded to do was focus on what the contractions wanted her to do.

“I delivered my daughter,” Pappy replied. “Have you?”

“I am many things but not a midwife!”

“Well, you’re about to be one.”

Anna grabbed at the air with her free hand; squeezing Erik’s with the other as the contraction rolled over her in wild waves.

“She needs to push with the contractions, or the baby won’t come,” Pappy instructed.

A contraction took over the moment making Anna writhe worse than a nest of angry snakes. A cuss tried to sputter out her lips as Pappy removed her boots and pantaloons, but all she succeeded in doing was jamming her teeth into her tongue. The pressure between her legs was spiraling out of control. Every move Pappy to get her ready caused her body to want to crack in two. Tossing the garments aside, he crawled behind her.

“Anna, grab behind your knees,” he whispered. “Push when you feel the need.”

That was all she needed to hear. Anna filled her lungs and bore down. The pushing relieved the urgent feeling consuming her until the new pain set in. A cry ripped its way past her lips.

The pain! The burning, unrelenting, searing pain…

Her lower body plunged into a pit of fire, and she had no escape from the flames. The scorching pain shot between her legs as flesh ripped. Anna fell back against Pappy, praying it was over, but only seconds passed before the cycle repeated. The last things Anna saw as she bore down again were Erik’s hands fly to his temple before she lost all sense of space and time.

Nothing in his life had prepared Erik for this moment, and he’d done a lot in his years. He’d seen a lifetime of pain, even caused his fair share, but the panic that settled around him as he watched her face turn bright red had no name. Strange sounds gargled passed her lips as she pushed. Fear-driven, Erik’s arms and legs propelled him backward from what he saw faster than a spider could crawl.

“Jesus Christ, Maestro, grow a spine!” Pappy’s tone stopped Erik in his tracks. “Is the head coming?” Every muscle shivered as Erik moved to look. He nodded. “Ease it out when you can, then turn it slightly and use your finger to guide out the shoulder. The baby should do the rest of the work.”

Erik tried to get his shaking under control as the infant’s head came into view. Pappy’s commands and Anna’s struggles were not nearly as loud as the beat of his heart.

“I cannot. I cannot do this.” Erik crawled farther away.

“I delivered my daughter only to watch her be taken from me years later by a murderer like you,” Pappy roared over Anna’s cry. “You will deliver this baby!”

“What if he is…” Erik couldn’t finish the thought. Anna’s face turned a sickly mix of ash white that colored to bright crimson with the next push. Never had he seen such an expression.

“Maestro now is not the time! Whatever comes—” Pappy clung tighter to Anna as she pushed again, “—comes. Anna needs you now!”

Erik shook his head clear as Pappy’s shout hit the rafters. There was something about the old man’s razor sharp stare that yanked the terrified part of Erik back to reality. Sweating behind his mask, Erik crawled forward, his heart slowing with the seconds that ticked by. He didn’t know how, but he did as Pappy instructed, feeling his way through it rather than looking. Erik’s eyes had snapped tightly closed; he couldn’t bear to watch his image enter into the world. Swallowing hard against the emotion ramming a rock down his throat, he guided the infant’s head. Erik turned it, aiding the shoulder out and with a great rush of fluid, and a cry of relief from Anna, the infant slid into his arms. A rag hit Erik in the side of his face.

“Smack it between the shoulders!” Pappy commanded. “Get it to cry, then use the rag and clean out its mouth.”

Warm, moist life pulsed in Erik’s hand. He allowed a few seconds for the fear to take control, and then commanded himself to open his eyes and tend to his child. Taking a deep breath, he issued one firm slap between the shoulders, and the barn filled with wails. Erik rolled off his knees and turned the tiny life writhing against a cold, new, world up to meet face.

At that moment, the world stopped. Nothing existed except for the fragile creature he held in his arms. Erik’s breath escaped the prison of his lungs in such a rush it left him cold. His shoulders slumped forward. The baby’s pasty yellow skin and small wrinkles gradually turned to pink, thriving flesh. Erik stared awe-struck at the crying infant and watched in amazement as life pulsed out of the cord that connected his son to the woman he loved.

His… son.

Erik wiped the baby’s face with awesome reverence. Beneath his mask, his eyes filled with warm tears. He stared in amazement at the perfect little boy he held in his arms.

“Maestro?” Pappy craned to see, but Erik paid no attention.

Instead, he sobbed.

Erik remained stock still as Pappy moved quickly, taking the knife from the fire and cutting the cord. Baby wailing in one arm, Erik crawled toward Anna. Wrapping their son in the blanket Pappy shook at him, he handed her the baby before crushing Anna’s head with an intense hug.

“Anna, you made him beautiful!”

Rocking Anna in his arms, Erik knew he would forget to breathe for his son had stolen his mind and heart.

A gentle twilight eventually descended around the barn as the day moved forward. Pappy’s fire crackled cheerfully and the hours that had passed were serene as Anna rested. With Anna cradled protectively in his embrace, Erik marveled at his other precious possession wrapped in his opposite arm, confounded by the entire thought this creation was his.

“How long are you just going to look at him, Erik? What are you pondering?”

Erik glanced at Anna only briefly before replying with brutal honesty. “Christine. She will experience this moment soon.” Anna stiffened in his arms, so he knew his reply was not well met. “I always imagined a moment such as this would be with her.”

The baby’s hand jerked out from under the blanket and the multitude of rabbit pelts Anna had saved. Erik used his finger to tuck it back into the warmth

“With her,” Anna said, her voice low and serious. “So, I disappoint?”

“No, you misunderstand.” Erik traced her face with his thumb. “You have made everything perfect.” He pressed a finger pressed into the center of her temple, causing her to go cross-eyed. “You see, it is silent; my mind is quiet, and it has not been so since the moment I learned of Philippe’s death. Only the sounds I control are there now, and you have made it possible. This blissful euphoria, this indescribable silence, this—warmth, Anna, is this happiness? If it is, it frightens me.”

Anna didn’t reply. Instead, she smiled, and she reached out to stroke her son’s cheek. Erik stroked it as well; the contrasting image of the newborn’s face against his ugly hands made him feel alive. He couldn’t find a way in words—or music—to describe the sensation of holding Anna and his son.

“Instead of staring, might I suggest you name that mongrel?” Pappy said, interrupting the moment.

“There is only one name for my son,” Erik replied. “Philippe Georges Marie.”

Anna’s face warped before she shook her head “No. I won’t have my life forever associated with a Chagny.”

“I am not associating our lives with a Chagny; I am acknowledging a life because of a Chagny.”

Anna’s slow exhale didn’t go unnoticed. Erik had been grappling with how to put into words precisely who Philippe de Chagny was to him for a long time. He wasn’t exactly sure there was a way.

“If there is one thing we have to seek in this accursed affair it is the good that came out of it,” he declared. “There was only one true Comte de Chagny, and whether or not I want to admit it, I owe much to him. The one who holds that title now is not even worth the word “man” in my eyes. I will never be able to repay Philippe, not only because of his death but because his brother will never allow it.” Anna was looking up at him as Pappy slowly poked the fire. Erik knew he had their attention. “Raoul is not a Chagny in my eyes. He never will be and do not expect my hatred of him to wane. Because of him, I lost my opera house, my music, and my face—my weaknesses—are known. However, I was given an ally, a choice, and a chance because of a man who was a true Chagny.” He looked down at Anna. “I was given you. I was given my son. Like you I do not want to owe anything to the Chagny we know now, and I do not, but to Philippe and the Chagny he represented—I do.”

Their eyes locked in a battle of wills before Anna conceded defeat and nodded. “Then Philippe Georges Marie it is.”

“I took the name Erik at great risk,” he warned. “I never bothered with a surname.”

“Then he’ll have none,” Anna said sternly. “I’ll not give him my surname. You have one name and so do I now.”

Erik slid his eyes from Philippe’s peaceful face to give them all an intent stare. “My son will never know anything about my past and this manhunt, or the reasons behind it. That starts now.”

“You can’t be serious,” Anna gasped. “That’s impossible! We’re wanted fugitives; Chagny has no intention of stopping this. Besides, he’s a newborn. Why are we even discussing this?”

“Because the sooner it starts, the sooner it will become second nature. I will not have my son know of my past. And, as much I despise saying this, he will be raised strictly German as a precaution. If we need to speak of anything privately in front of him, we will speak French, but he will not.”

Anna laughed. “You’re insane!”

“Enough!” Erik snapped, sharper than intended. “Do not defy me on this, Anna. Not this. My children will be protected from this madness.”

Anna’s mouth dropped open before her lips crept upward. “Your children?”

Erik inched an arm around her and laid her head against his chest, his sheepish grin speaking for him.

“What now?” she asked. Pappy and Erik looked at her in question. Anna gestured impatiently. “No one is going to take pity on us because there is an infant involved. We can’t continue this pace with a baby. Chagny is not going to relent.”

“Österreich,” Pappy suggested grinning as Erik scowled. “Well, you said it starts now.”

“While I said we would raise him German, I will not head to Austria. I cannot leave France just yet.”

“We are wanted throughout France,” Anna replied. “You can’t tell me you expect to wander this country with an infant, speaking German as if nothing ever happened, without ever having a destination in mind?”

“My destination is wherever marksmen are not, and you are. We will head to the border, but not yet. I need time. When I returned to France after bidding on contracting the foundation for the Garnier, I retreated to its bowels, trading the various stages of misery I found across Europe for the misery of the opera cellars. Let me get my country back into my veins. We will find a way. Eventually, we will no longer be able to outrun this manhunt but that time is not upon us—yet.”

Pappy grumbled something in German toward the fire as Anna tucked the pelts around the baby.

“Must his name be Philippe?” she challenged.

Erik smiled, having expected her to try to have the last word. “Yes, it must.”

He stayed, contented with Anna against his chest for a long while, staring into the glow of the fire looking, as Philippe de Chagny had wished, toward a future.

The rain had settled, leaving thick drops of water hanging like jewels from the branches of still naked trees. They shimmered in the fading twilight. The warmer air hit the lingering snow creating low fogs against the saturated earth. Occasionally, a breeze kicked in sending those jewels tumbling to the ground in a soothing, rhythmic pattern.

Shoulder against the open barn door, Erik glanced back inside feeling his chest expand at everything around him. He reluctantly took his eyes off his son to continue to pour himself into a moment of creative glory. The rusty chain he had found and broken apart was turning his hands brown the longer he worked. Erik artfully wove two ends of his opera cloak in and out of a few links until the entire length of fabric draped in a weighty circle. All the while, his head swayed back and forth to the music he composed, blissfully aware of the undisturbed silence behind it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Erik saw Pappy stopped poking at the fire and toss his stick aside. “What are you doing?” the old man asked.

Erik waved him over, telling him to bring Philippe. Pappy gently pried the child from Anna’s grip, careful not to disturb her sleep.

“She is exhausted.” Erik looked beyond Pappy to where Anna slept on a pile of hay.

“Rightfully so,” Pappy remarked rocking the still slumbering child.

Draping the cloak like a sash across the old man’s chest mindful of the baby, Erik gestured with rusty hands toward his sleeping son. “Wrap, Philippe.”

Pappy shushed Philippe’s coos as he eased him into the cradle of fabric. “Maestro, you’re a genius.”

“Women have been carrying infants in slings like this for centuries. He will be safe and close to a heartbeat.”

Erik was quick to smile but dropped it once he surveyed their surroundings. Holes riddled the barn’s roof. It was no place for Anna to heal properly. “We will need to find better shelter if it continues to threaten rain.” He nodded toward Anna. “Is she well?”

“She’s bleeding a bit, but I think that’s normal.”

“She needs a decent meal, a warm bath, and rest.” Erik rubbed his mask in frustration. “We find the next village and take those things by force if we must. I will not bathe either of them in a cold stream.”

“A lover and a father,” Pappy chuckled.

“I still do not like you, old man.”

“Mutual, Maestro.” Pappy winked.

Erik held up his hands. “There is a well outside. I am going to get some fresh water and wash these.”

Grabbing what canteens they had, Erik headed out of the barn and across the field to an old stone well. Despite the damp air, a sense of great warmth swelled inside of him, knowing when he returned to the barn he’d be returning to his family. That word brought an indescribable feeling of purpose. Sitting down on the side of the well, such feelings of happiness seemed misplaced. Happiness had no dissonance in it at all. It was music in its purest form and, for Erik, a sort of peace. The pull of the Phantom had faded away. The birth of his son smothered the ever-present embers of darkness in his soul.

A twig snapped in the nearby brush interrupting the music rising and falling in his head. Erik looked around but didn’t see anything. Perhaps the deer were as curious about his newborn as he was. He watched the fog hover over the grass as he twisted the cap off the canteen, trying to liken it to some strain of music. As he reached for the pulley to draw water up from the well an odd metal-on-metal sound came from behind him. Erik paused. There was no way that sound came from him, he hadn’t even reached the rope yet, and it certainly didn’t come from any deer.

“You’re trespassing.”

Erik lifted his eyes from the pulley to meet the barrel of a rifle and the quivering youth barely strong enough to hold it. Erik stifled his annoyance. He had no tolerance for games. If he were going to be pursued, he’d rather it not be by boys trying to be men. Laying the canteens aside, Erik wove his hands neatly in his lap and remained calm. He shot a brief glance over his shoulder toward the barn before turning toward the brave little hunter.

“Monsieur,” he greeted.

“This is my land,” the youth replied. “You’re trespassing.”

Erik sighed loudly. “Your land, you say? Well, then, your land is ill kept and not posted, your well almost dry, and your barn in deplorable shape. You are a terrible farmer.” Erik reached for the canteens and began to twist the cap off another one.

“Don’t move!” the boy commanded.

“I doubt you have enough spirit in you to pull that trigger.” Erik flicked the second cap open before continuing. “Allow me to see the night out, and I will be on my way.”

“I already allowed you your time. I saw you cross my border! I know who you are.”

Erik’s lips pursed as he put the canteens down on the well wall. He rose. If this child were going to test his patience, he would need to be taught a lesson. Make believe shows of bravado wouldn’t be tolerated. Erik cocked his head and forced the muzzle of the rifle to the ground with one finger. “And who, exactly, might I be?”

“Turn. Slowly.”

That deep-voiced response didn’t come from the wide-eyed youth in front of him.

Erik pivoted as four rifles simultaneously cocked in his face.

Anna gingerly stirred awake. Her back stopped aching as if nothing ever happened, but a stinging pain occasionally ran between her legs as she moved. It was a happy pain, however, one that dimmed as she looked at the bundle wrapped in her arms. Anna lifted a brow, confused at first at the way her son rested. She smiled upon seeing the opera cloak swaddling Philippe, and couldn’t help but think of her son protected by his embrace. Erik was busy while she was asleep! She was about to ask about the new sling when Pappy’s low grumbling turned her head in the direction of the open door.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Maestro.” Pappy swung from the door and ran to douse the fire frantically. “Anna? Can you mount the mare or the stallion?”

“No,” she said incredulously. “I’m a bit sore. Why?”

Pappy rushed around the barn gathering their scattered belongings. He threw them into the satchel.

“Come,” he whispered, helping her up.

Anna struggled to her feet and stared at Pappy in confusion.

“Pappy, what’s going on?” When he glanced back to the door, Anna craned her neck to peer through it. Though Erik was a distance away, there was no mistaking the crowd around him or the rifles aimed at him. Anna’s blood ran cold. “Mein Gott. Pappy, we have to help him!”

“We are—by leaving.”

He pointed her toward the back of the barn. Moving as fast as Anna ever saw him, he shoved old hay bales and mounds of rusty tools away from an obstructed back door. He worked frantically, making enough space to free them and the horses.

“Pappy, we can’t leave him!”

“He’s keeping their attention away from us, Anna. With a newborn, we’re no matches against five rifles.” He gathered together the mare and stallion before forcing Anna toward the back of the barn.

“I’m not leaving him!” Anna shouted.

Pappy lunged forward and smothered her mouth with his hand. “You’re going to have to do this. We will move as far as we can and rest when we know we’re safe.” He gave her a warning glance to keep quiet before he lowered his hand.

Anna swallowed hard. “Pappy I just gave birth. If I can’t ride and I sure can’t run!”

“I know you can’t, but you have to. You have no choice.” Buckets and rakes flew aside as he continued to make way for them to leave unnoticed. “Erik will find us. Don’t think for one minute that he is going to allow anything to come between him and his son.”

Erik kept his hands in view and the marksmen’s backs to the barn door, though everything inside of him screamed to dismember everyone around him if they so much as made a move to the barn. With Anna sleeping inside and Pappy standing guard over his son, he didn’t want anything to draw attention across the field. Erik turned his head toward the orange glow approaching from the trees. More marksmen traipsed across the field; torches held high as they lit the way for the mounted huntsmen. Erik’s black rage rose as his eyes tapered on the coat of arms adorning the marksmen’s vests; Chagny and that scourge of the earth, Loup. Erik’s hands tighten into fists.

“Excellent work, lad,” Loup said as he dismounted.

The boy bobbed his head enthusiastically. “He is the one on that decree, isn’t he? The Phantom? I contacted you like it said. You’ll get me my reward now?”

Loup perched one leg up on the well next to Erik and indicated for him to sit. Erik didn’t move. Loup sniffed loudly in reaction and gestured around him. Erik narrowed his eyes. He knew damn well he was outnumbered. Barely containing his disgust, but not willing to cause any undue attention to the barn, Erik whisked his cloak aside and sat.

“You’ll get your money,” Loup replied. He patted the boy on the face and shoved him away, before turning his regard squarely on Erik. “You’ve been quite the fox. We’ve not delighted in such a hunt in a long time.”

“Your nose has healed,” Erik remarked. “Pity, I aimed to break it in Lyon.”

Loup’s smile glowed eerily in the torchlight. “I like your humor, but I regret I’m not in the mood for it. Where is she?”

Kill him. Go right for his throat and kill him with one snap. He had the speed, the strength, and the will. “She?” Erik replied coolly. “I travel alone. As you well know, I took my fill of women in Lyon.”

Loup pursed his lips and nodded, speaking louder so his men could hear him. “Is she in that barn perhaps?” He kept his eyes on Erik, but he refused to move a muscle. Loup wouldn’t read a thing in his body language. “Block the barn door, lock it from the outside.”

Erik’s jaw as his heart beat faster. Lock the door from the outside, and Anna and the baby were sitting ducks. He schooled what every ounce of him wanted to do to stay calm. “You wanted me; now you have me. I am traveling alone.” His throat turned as dry as desert sand as the marksmen jogged toward the barn. Once there they slid the door shut and slammed down the bar that would keep it locked. The only sound it made was a rotted, dull thud but it was enough to make Erik flinch.

“Alone?” Loup echoed. “Excellent.”

He swung without warning. His backhand was so violent it sent Erik spiraling off the wall. Hitting the dirt, he scrambled to all fours, and spit out the blood that flooded his mouth. Before Erik could make it to his feet, a savage kick to his ribs laid him flat. He clenched his teeth, hissing through the pain as he kept his instinct to kill in check.

“Bind him,” Loup commanded. “We’ll bring him to the village and keep him there until I make contact with Chagny.”

The men descended on him like vultures to rotted meat. Erik bit back a curse as a boot cracked into his lower back. Erik writhed under their assault as they wrenched his arms behind him. Erik swallowed an animal panic; he hated being restrained.

Loup waited until Erik was under control before he yanked him to his feet. “So you travel alone do you? Had your fill of women in Lyon? Then you won’t mind if we have a closer look at that barn.”

The acid tones of Erik’s hatred scorched the air. “I travel alone.”

“Then there’s no need to look now, is there?” He shoved Erik toward the trees and shouted over his shoulder to his men. “Burn it!”

The world moved in slow motion. Erik struggled to turn time to see the torches shatter what windows the barn had. The air filled with the scent of burning hay and wood. It took only seconds before the field and tree line raged orange. The barn went up like a tinderbox, its wood too old and dry to have benefited from despite the previous rain. The blazing fire flashed before Erik’s eyes as the heat of his panic burned through him. The roar of flame against wood was not loud enough to drown out his superhuman cry of rage and grief.

Erik saw nothing but flames consume his life before his world was swallowed in darkness.