Epilogue

You are my blackbird. The world will dismiss you because of the nature of your plumage, but you will have a song of such intense beauty you will entice in ways unknown. Sing it, and men will love you so deeply they will throw themselves upon the nearest thorn bush to save their souls. Your legacy, tiny blackbird, will be played upon Apollo’s Lyre.—Erik

The screams.

Erik sat at the far end of the table, his hands balled into tight fists in front of him. Not even the pain of his nails biting into his palms could block out those screams. He tried not to look to his side where Philippe cowered in a corner, cradled in Pappy’s arms. The screaming was already too much to bear; add to it the whimpers of his son and the tension was unbearable. The old man comforted the boy, explaining that the sounds were a natural part of the process of having a baby; no one was purposely harming his mother. The pain had to come in anticipation of the joy.

Erik found nothing natural in the sound of those screams. He leapt up and kicked the chair across the room with such force a leg broke. Philippe yelped, and Erik’s hand shot up in silent apology. Anna didn’t scream this painfully with Philippe. Every sound coming from the far room sank into his marrow; he couldn’t take it any longer, he had to go in. It only took five strides of his long legs to bring him to the door. Erik pounded on it with everything he had left in him.

The doctor behind it ignored him.

Something was wrong. He could feel it. Philippe’s cries intensified as the sounds in the other room got worse. That was the last straw. He had had enough. No one was going to separate him from his Anna, not while she was in pain. Erik rounded all his might against the door causing it to crack inward. He tumbled into the room.

“Anna?” The blood rushed down his spine at the sight of her clinging to the headboard behind her. Anna’s body arched in agony.

“Brother Lukas, get him out of here,” the doctor shouted, moving enough for Erik to see the amount of blood.

“Erik, come, leave them be.” The Brother left his spot by Anna’s side and gently took Erik’s arm.

Erik’s eyes narrowed in on that blood. “Anna!”

“Brother Lukas, get him out now!”

This time the Brother was not so gentle with his grip. He forced all his body weight against Erik’s protest and didn’t stop shoving him until they were near the front door. “Outside, now.”

Once in the yard, Erik paced out his frustration, gesturing wildly toward where Anna labored. “Why? Why? Why is she screaming like that? Why is there so much blood?” He grabbed the monk when he didn’t reply right away. “What is happening to my Anna?”

It seemed like Erik waited forever as the monk took a calming breath. “The baby is wedged Erik; it won’t come.” When Erik swerved, Brother forced him to his knees. “Breathe, Erik. The doctor knows what he is doing. You need to stay calm and keep faith that in our Lord has her in good hands.”

Erik looked up, horrified. None of that sounded good. For the first time in his life, his genius was paralyzed. He tried to reply with the screaming stopped. Erik froze.

Brother Lukas looked toward the house when the doctor’s wife appeared in the open doorway. “Stay here.”

The doctor’s wife intercepted him halfway. “You need to come,” she said. Pale and shaking, she added in Erik’s direction, “Stay there.”

Leaping to his feet, Erik was through the front door before any of them, pushing them aside in his haste reach Anna.

He stopped dead as soon as he saw her. She was ash gray but turned her head when he called her name.

“Erik?” she whispered. “My baby?”

Erik commanded his leaden legs to move to her side. He searched the room, his eyes falling on where the doctor huddled over a silent infant. Erik swallowed hard as Brother Lukas entered and began chanting his prayers. Both made attempts at blocking the infant from his view.

Anna reached up to Erik with a shaking hand. “Why can’t I hear my baby?”

Erik brushed the mat of sweat-drenched hair from her face. He looked over to the table where the doctor was moving his hands at a frantic pace. The room grew painfully silent despite Anna’s labored breathing and the doctor’s cursing.

“Breathe damn it, breathe.”

A chill coated Erik’s cheeks as he stared at Anna. She closed her weary eyes, oblivious through her exhaustion to the horror in the room.

The sounds of the monk’s prayers floated on the air as Erik counted the length of time his infant had been without taking its first breath, and without the life-giving connection to its mother.

They were losing their baby.

His eyes dipped shut to the unimaginable grief. Lowering himself to the bedside, he cradled Anna’s head in his arms, not wanting her to hear the prayers or the desperate pleas of the doctor. The minutes ticked by and Erik knew.

He knew his baby was gone.

Anna tried to mumble through her exhaustion, but Erik shushed her silent. Too many minutes had passed. He knew what the damage would be. He did all he could by kissing Anna’s temple as his lips trembled through the hollow space in his heart. Looking up, he saw the monk lay a hand on the doctor’s shoulder and heard him plea to let the child go to God. The doctor backed away from the table clutching his hands behind his neck, his deep breaths causing his shoulders to heave.

And Erik knew.

His baby was gone.

Erik, his face cold beneath his leather mask, stared into the failure and pain behind doctor’s eyes.

“Erik?” Anna muttered.

The lump in Erik’s throat threatened to choke him as he tore his eyes from the doctor to read the question forming over and over on Anna’s pale lips.

“Why can’t I hear my baby?”

Laying a trembling hand on her lips, he attempted to stop those words from forming. Erik gathered her in his arms, his own body shaking with the effort not to cry. He stroked Anna’s hair, following its tangled length to the empty womb that had once given his child life and security. A low moan caught in his chest as he fought to maintain control. He couldn’t tell her. They had waited so many years for this second blessing. He couldn’t tell his Anna that their baby was gone. Desperate he looked over at the doctor as if staring him down would somehow reverse time.

The doctor’s face grew hard as he shook his head and swung back toward the infant. He leaned his elbows on the table and buried his head in his hands. Erik’s eyes stung even more as he watched the doctor hover over the baby.

Anna whispered the question again. Erik’s breath shook as he turned to her. How? How does he tell her their baby was dead? His eyes closed and tasted the salt of his tears as they found their way down hidden checks to his quivering lips.

“Dies irae, dies illa.” Erik’s grief softly sang into her ear. “Solvet saeclum in favilla.”

Anna rolled her head to the side and pressed her cheek against the leather of his mask. She mouthed ‘no’ over and over again as Erik sang a private requiem through his sorrow. He rocked Anna’s head in his arms as he forced the music from his soul. He clung to her as desperately as those notes clung to the room, trying to crush her heart into his so to numb the pain.

“Teste David cum Sibylla.”

A wrenching pain filled his chest as he leaned over her, as he finally wept openly in her arms. His tears soaked her neck. Deeper and deeper Erik drowned in the current of his sobs until a loud and pained wail filled the room. Erik’s head shot up in time to see the doctor breath a sigh of relief and collapse against his forearms. Erik frantically searched Anna’s eyes to make hopeful that she heard what he did. A light came back into her watery eyes.

The pain in Erik’s heart released its stranglehold and never had Erik felt his chest inflate with so much joy. He rushed across the room to greet his child his arms aching as they never did before when the world came to a screeching halt for the second time.

Everything around him faded to black. He slowly turned and met Anna’s confused gaze before stumbling over himself to make it out the door. Disoriented he collided with Pappy.

“Erik? What is it? What’s been going on?”

Erik shoved the old man aside and fell through the front door, collapsing in a heap in the courtyard. The yard became a whorl of blurry images. Acid inched up his throat as a new agony kicked Erik in the stomach. Tighter and tighter the shackles of sin wound around his body. What had he done? Erik tried to fight it down, but nausea overcame him, and he retched with violent convulsions. Erik knelt, staring at the ground with each wave of vomit that came. His palms pressed into the earth, bracing him from a complete undoing.

How could he have done that to that woman? Give her a child that tore her body apart and give an infant a life that was cursed? How could he have been so selfish? Erik barely even saw, but what he saw was enough. Boy or Girl? He didn’t even know. Erik’s remorse shook his body so violently his arms threatened to give up their strength. He dug and clawed at the dirt until his fingers nearly bled, trying to grasp hold of something that would stop his world from spinning out of control.

God Almighty why did the doctor fight? If he saw that, why did he fight? The infant was born dead, and it should have remained dead! Erik’s stomached emptied again.

He jumped when a hand came across his shoulder. Erik could barely breathe as Brother Lukas sank to the ground and handed him a handkerchief. Erik’s hand trembled as he took it and wiped the bitter taste from his lips.

“Anna is fine. Hurting, but fine,” Brother Lukas’ voice was so soothing Erik swore he spoke of such things all the time. “She is resting now, cradling the miracle of a very fortunate and sleepy little girl.”

“Girl?”

“Girl.”

“I saw… I saw…” Erik swiped at the dirt in nervous circles. “How severe?”

Erik sheepishly looked up to see the monk’s pursed lips.

“Three-quarters of her face. It extends from her jawline to her ear which is not entirely there.”

Erik’s world nearly went black again. Unseen arms of guilt pressed him down until his forehead met the ground. He clamped his arms over his head trying to shield himself from the words as the monk continued.

“The deformity includes her forehead. As well, her nose is missin—”

Erik’s face yanked up as he cut Brother Lukas off. “Don’t. Don’t say it.” He thrust the monk backward as he and rolled to his feet.

How could a child he loved so much be cursed with his face? He swung toward Brother Lukas as he stood. “Her eyes,” Erik snapped.

“All infants are born with blue eyes, Erik.”

“Her. Eyes.”

“They were hard to see. Blue I assume, but—no, more of very pale yellow, I suppose.” He stopped when Erik cut him off with a frantic wave of his hands. “She is a blessed baby, Erik, in every way. The Lord has smiled upon her delivery, and will continue to smile on her recovery.”

“The Lord?” This man had to be kidding. “You believe in a Lord? What Lord punishes a child and takes pleasure in creating demons like me? The Lord wanted her! Was he trying to perfect the mistakes he made with me through my baby girl? You preach a Lord to me?” Erik ripped his mask off his face and slammed it to the ground. “Look at me you bumbling fool! You told me she is cursed with this?” He grabbed the monk by the robe and yanked him close. “Baby girls should not look like Death. I suppose now I should count my blessing that there is one who is just as cursed as I.”

“Then I suppose Anna is cursed as well?” Brother Lukas replied, his calmness making Erik more uncomfortable. “Let me know now if she is because I left a woman in there crying tears of joy over her child. A child she created with a part of her soul and spirit. And, as a man of the cloth, if she is cursed as well then let me know.” With strength Erik didn’t expect of him, Brother Lukas shoved Erik off of him. “Anna is in pain, but you’d never know by how she is gazing at that little girl. She sees nothing in her but the man who gave her a life and whose life she is now holding thanks to the efforts of a doctor who did not see a face of Death, but an innocent little Lamb of God! Now, I’m going to step outside my bounds and assume there were no arms to hold you when you were born that way. No one willing to fight to give you life, and if you so claim this child to be cursed then I’ll pray that all children are born cursed like that because I have never stood in a room filled with such love in my life!”

The monk turned on his heel and headed inside, but not before snatching the mask from the ground and shoving it in Erik’s hands.

Erik stared at the dirt left lingering in the air and then at soft leather in his hands, a lasting reminder of the first present from his mother. He brushed the dust from it and placed it on his face, imprisoning himself like his parents did years ago. With a downcast and empty gaze, he headed inside.

The doctor and his wife were clearing a spot by the fire for Brother Lukas to warm himself. The doctor was exhausted. His shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbows, his face still buried in his hands. He looked up when Erik entered and nodded him wearily toward the room where Anna lay.

Erik paused before pushing the door open. “When will we know?”

The doctor looked at the Brother before turning to Erik. Stiff shouldered, Erik stared at him and spoke again. “Anna does not know? She does not understand yet?” The doctor sadly nodded. “When will we know?”

“She didn’t breathe for some time, Herr Erik. We’ll not know for several months if any damage has been done. It will be obvious when she is strong enough to show development. Then we’ll know how her mind works.”

Erik closed his eyes and forced himself to remain calm. He had destroyed that little girl’s face—and her mind. “You fought for her. Her face. No one tried to…” Erik had to clench his jaw to control his voice. “No one fought for me like that. No one tried to fix me. You are a doctor. You brought her back. You can fix her now.”

Hopeful anticipation hung in the air.

“No, I can’t fix her.”

The soft moan of agony made its way down Erik’s throat as he opened the door to Anna’s room. His family was there, gathered on the bed. Pappy’s arms were wrapped around Philippe as they looked up from Anna to him. Philippe smiled broadly at the tiny bundle his mother cradled. He began to speak, but Anna laid a hand on his arm. She called to Erik.

“Are you frightened?” she asked. Erik looked at Pappy and his son before nodding and settling his eyes on Anna. He never knew a question could be so intuitive. Anna smiled and waved him over with a weak flick of her hand. “She’s not.”

With legs heavy as lead for a second time, Erik apprehensively approached the bed and sank next to Anna. His daughter was bundled in a blanket, warm and content.

“When you’re ready,” Anna encouraged.

Erik reached out and cautiously stroked one tiny hand. His baby slept peacefully; totally oblivious to the way she entered the world. He took a deep breath and moved part of the blanket aside.

His heart bled as he stared at his mirror image save for a line of perfection extending from the corner of one eye down a pink and unblemished cheek to, ruby lips that jutted out in a tiny pout. Erik’s eyes welled with tears.

All he could mouth was, I am sorry, as his tears moistened his ravaged cheeks. Anna moved the blanket aside a bit more. The blast of cold air hitting the infant’s face made her wail in protest. Erik jumped at the sheer pitch behind her cries. Never had a voice been so determined to be heard.

“Erik? Anna asked, wrapping the baby once again. “What’s wrong?”

“Listen.” Such powerful sounds were coming from that tiny, marred face. Such intense, youthful beauty. Erik turned to Anna, awestruck and positive that his heart had stopped beating. He gently took his daughter in his arms. The baby’s face puckered with her cries coloring her thin-yellowed flesh a vibrant red. Dizzied by the desire he heard in her cries, Erik’s drew his eyes open wide. No man would resist the lure of that sound. “Can beauty have a voice?”

“What are we naming her?” Philippe asked, wiggling free from Pappy’s arms to clamber on the bed behind his father. He reached to touch his sister’s hand. She continued to cry and coo in tones that could not be described.

“Listen.” Erik cupped Philippe’s perfect face with his hand. “Do you hear her? One who hears has to listen.”

He closed his eyes to the tones hitting his heart. The world would hear her voice. It would force men to listen to her in ways man never had listened to him, and in return, she would hear their praise. The praise he was denied as a boy. He turned to Anna. “Simone. Her name is, Simone: one who hears.”

The monk appeared in the doorway to wave the room clear. “Doctor’s orders, let them rest. Out, everyone.” Pappy and Philippe reluctantly headed off as Brother Lukas came and laid a hand on Erik’s shoulder. Erik never took his eyes from his baby.

His Simone.

“She is quite the package, Erik,” he congratulated.

Erik reached for Anna’s hand, tears raining down his cheeks. “One of Anna’s packages.”

Cellars of the Opera Garnier, Spring 1885

Erik trudged through the darkness anticipating what he would find when he reached the spot. It was there again. He glowered at it, though in reality, he was relieved to see the blasted thing.

The package was there, like it was every month, waiting in the dark and dampness for its intended recipient. The consistency was flawless, the care taken to wrap it involved and deliberate. He found what he had always found: no markings, no card, no indications whatsoever of where it came from or who left it. He stalked circles around it. If Erik could scream at the damn things he would, but talking to inanimate objects would only prove he was venturing from madness to complete insanity. Instead, he scowled at it.

Deeply.

He glared at the archway but saw no one, as usual. Erik rumbled in frustration. Greedily swiping the package, he tucked it under his cloak to protect it from any further dampness. He hastened his way through the blackness, cradling his bundle like a helpless infant. The notes of his new Madrigal were already forming in his head. He thought to tear into the package right then and there, but there was no real need. He knew its contents.

Paper. Ink. Figs.