Chapter Fifteen

After pouring over every last second of what had happened in the room to the catacombs they now walked in, Erik had only made one concrete conclusion. He was positive that buffoon Loup had squawked loudly about what had transpired in Christine’s dressing room and soon Chagny would be tearing the opera house apart looking for him much as they had done in Paris.

Everything else was too complicated. Matters of the heart, he’d learned, were messy subjects.

Erik had allowed Anna to rest in the room for as long as he dared. He’d left what little coin he could to buy the young maid’s silence before they departed but would pay a king’s ransom to get Anna to speak with him now. She’d not said a word since they fled the room. Although she was walking beside him, there was a canyon’s worth of distance between their hearts. Erik focused on the sound of their footsteps sloshing through stagnate puddles as he pondered what to do next.

Once she was safely returned to that nuisance Pappy, he’d worry about getting the horses. There wasn’t much time before Chagny knew of his whereabouts. Even the sanctuary of the catacombs was in question now. Lost in his thoughts, Erik didn’t register the glint of torchlight in a puddle and was startled when a voice called out.

“Anna? Are you out here?”

Erik stopped short, his arm automatically jutting out to his right to stop Anna. The light from the torch came into view first, before Pappy rounded a corner.

“For the love of Christ, Anna! I’ve been looking all over the blasted place for—” Pappy stopped mid-sentence, his eyes zooming in on Erik. “Well, our humming wonder makes an encore.”

Erik lowered his arm and moved it around to rest on the small of Anna’s back. He needed to keep his focus on Anna and stay one step ahead of Chagny. The last thing he needed was to deal with this persistent pest’s attitude.

“Old man,” he rumbled.

“What made you return?” Pappy lifted his torch higher casting the tunnel in a yellow light. Erik was unimpressed by the snap to his voice.

“My Anna and my child. What do you think?”

“Your Anna?” A puff of breath shot out the old man’s mouth as he shook his head. “She’s not property, Maestro.”

Erik balled his opposite hand into a fist and glanced down at Anna as a reminder to keep his cool. He looked at her in time to see her touch her temple before she held up a single hand.

“Pappy, enough,” she said.

“No, it’s not enough,” Pappy shot back at her as he approached. “He runs off leaving you behind pregnant and upset and then waltzes back in again like nothing happened? I don’t think so. Wait a minute, you’ve been crying!”

Erik’s eyes wandered to Anna’s face where her puffy eyes twisted his thoughts into knots. He hadn’t had much instinct when it came to understanding women, or what they were doing when silent. That she’d been walking next to him in tears all this time made him feel like a fool.

Pappy stopped in front of them his gaze going from her face to her small drops of dried blood coloring the dress cuff peeking out from under her cloak. He whirled the torch in front of Erik’s face making him recoil from the blast of light.

“What happened? You know what, nevermind! I’ve had enough of this. This manhunt can’t continue with you, Anna. You and that baby have suffered enough. You’re coming with me. I’ll find a place to stay away from this bumbling maestro and the jeopardy he puts you in. I’ll see to your every need, and raise that baby like my own.”

Erik felt his rage coming on as soon as Pappy reached to take Anna’s hand. No-one would take her and his child away from him. His anger kicked up before his thoughts kicked in. Erik’s hands sprung open before his face, stripping his mask away.

“You will never be able to call him your own!”

Erik didn’t hear Anna’s condemnation over the blood pumping in his ears. The old man’s breathing quickened. Pappy’s eyes slid to and fro as he backed away. Erik smiled as every ounce of color drained from that craggy face. He took great pleasure in the way those wrinkles rearranged into horrified shock.

“Something wrong old man?” Erik taunted. “It seems now you do not want to raise that baby. Not when he will look like this.” Erik circled and paused from behind, keeping his mouth close to the old man’s ear. Pappy remained frozen in his spot. “Oh yes, be it known that I am made up of Death from head to toe. This monstrosity is not just on my face.”

“Erik, stop it,” Anna said sternly, her voice as annoyed as he’d ever heard it.

It knocked enough sense into him to back off, though not before giving Pappy a stare that could have melted flesh.

“Death creates life, how macabre.” Erik eased Anna closer to his side, knowing he deserved the weary sigh that came out of her mouth. Still, the old man deserved the rude awakening. Erik made it a point of replacing the mask extremely slowly. “You cannot raise what you do not understand, old man.”

Pappy rubbed his wrinkles, forcing a pink flush back to his face. “Makes me want to raise him all the more. More arms to hold him.”

Anna may have a tender spot for Pappy, but Erik didn’t. He wasn’t about to let a comment like that slide, no matter Anna’s warning.

“Pity? Is that it, old man? My child will be born dejected? My arms will hold him!”

“Get in line then. That baby isn’t even born yet, and it already has three people clambering to raise him.”

“Who says you will have any part in raising my child?” Erik quipped, taking one step toward Pappy despite Anna’s insistent plea that they stop arguing. Pappy didn’t flinch.

“I guess I won’t be raising him with you around now anyway,” Pappy grumped, lifting one arm and letting it slap against his side. “I’ll have my hands full. Because before you can raise that baby, someone has to raise you.”

The words formed two invisible arms and shoved Erik backward. He opened and closed his mouth in dumb stammers.

Pappy sniffed loudly and squared his shoulders. “Now, you two better tell me what’s going on. You look like you’ve been through hell and back and I tend to get ornery when women show up bloodied. If you’re not used to my prying ways, boy, I suggest you get used to them.” He nodded toward Anna. “She made her choice and asked me to make mine. You’ve finally met your maestro, son.”

Anna held her hand in front of her eyes, shielding herself from the glaring world of white. Sunlight shone with blinding intensity on a fresh dusting of snow. She stayed half in half out of the shadow of the Church of St. Iréné scanning the hillside for Erik and Pappy’s return with the horses.

Though Erik had left with the old man, he’d done so with a look shining behind his unearthly eyes that combined murderous rage, with remarkable respect. Never had Anna seen Erik rendered mute, but Pappy’s stubborn fatherly streak had cracked a tiny hole in the tight wall Erik constructed around himself.

Anna was still convinced if left alone in a sword filled room, the two would do their best to kill each other, but a journey to get the horses moved in the right direction. She trusted Pappy wouldn’t say a word about Brussels but found she was unable to settle her agitated nerves. They’d be on the run again soon, but this time with even more weighing down her heart. Every so often she’d recall standing in the doorway to that dressing room seeing the object of her worst nightmares pointing a gun at Erik’s face. Then the shot would ring out, and she’d shiver from just how close Loup had come to winning. So when she saw Pappy plodding up the path, the mare and stallion flanking either side of him, she was more than relieved.

“Where’s Erik?” she asked.

Pappy nodded behind him and tapped his temple with a crooked index finger. “He handed me the horses and told me to fetch you. He spotting something in the cemetery he wanted to check out. That man is crazy, Anna. Wandering a damn cemetery, talking to himself; he’s sideshow freak, crazy!”

Anna smiled and reassuringly patted him on the forearm though kept her concern from showing on her face. Even she thought that was odd for Erik. Squinting against the glare of the snow, she headed toward the tombs leaving Pappy to ready the horses. When she got deeper into the cemetery, Anna stopped in her tracks.

The headstones were laughing.

“Problem, Monsieur?”

Anna turned in her spot looking for any sign of Erik or to whom he called. She had a bad feeling about this.

“Are you going to linger in the shadows of these vaults all morning, Erik?” A heavily accented, perturbed voice snapped back.

Anna pulled her eyes wide, the cold air nearly cracking them in two. She dashed behind a stone angel as she heard Erik reply.

“What makes you so sure who is lingering, Monsieur?”

Anna darted her head in every direction following Erik’s laughter as it hopped like an invisible grasshopper from stone to stone. She searched for the source of the foreign voice but couldn’t see him either.

“Damn you, Erik,” the voice replied. “You already know I’m here. Show yourself.”

“If you insist.”

Anna peered around the wing of the cherub as a swirl of a black cape brought Erik face to face with the oddest man she’d ever seen.

Fanning his cloak aside, Erik propped one hip up on the lid of a stone crypt and regarded the Daroga. He chose to ignore Anna’s horrible attempt at hiding nearby. He found it rather amusing, actually. It reminded him of the way she used to hide in the shadows of his lair waiting for him to appear.

Erik had expected to have to take out a marksman when he spotted movement in the cemetery. The last thing he expected to find was the Persian. Erik folded his hands in his lap and studied the dumb expression on his old friend’s face. He always was a strange little clown.

“This is an unexpected surprise,” the Persian said. “I was hoping I was wrong when I set out to look for you this morning.”

“So you think to look in a cemetery? That is a bit cliché don’t you think?” Erik lifted a shoulder in bored acknowledgment. “Yes, it seems many believed that I was dead after that obituary was published. I am quite surprised you did not confirm that for yourself with your dealings with Philippe five years ago.” Erik clapped his hands together once then spread them wide. “Oh—but Philippe—that would have been a shock to you as well since you were so confident I killed him back then.” His sarcasm evaporated.

“But he is dead now.”

“Yes, what of it?” Erik snapped yanking his cloak aside so sharply it sent snow drifting back into the air. “Last I checked I was out here on the run, not in Paris killing a nobleman you withered little prune! Do you not have anything better to do with your time? Leave me in peace.”

“I would if you wouldn’t keep tangling me up in your messes. I’ve heard about this manhunt.”

“Should I be impressed? All of France knows of this manhunt. And you call yourself a Daroga?”

“Monsieur le Comte de Chagny came to Lyon looking for me and asking after you. First light today, he tracked me down again claiming that some woman was seen with Christine Daaé. His huntsman’s face was purple.”

“Purple you say? Is that bad? I am not exactly a judge of good faces.”

“I’ll not involve myself with you again, Erik! I figured if something happened you’d be in one of three places licking your wounds. The opera, a sewer or a cemetery.” The Persian shook his head as he paced in a small box. He poked a finger in Erik’s direction. “I’d rather be warm in bed right now. Who is she, Erik? What have you gotten yourself into?”

Erik shook snow from the hem of his cloak. “What I am involved in has nothing to do with you, Daroga. When we parted in Persia, you went your way I went mine. Let us leave it at that, shall we?”

“I’ll not leave this alone if you’re committing any crimes.”

“Once a man of law, always a man of law, eh, Daroga? I have not seen or heard from you in five years. You have no right to interfere in my life.”

“You killed Philippe de Chagny. You have no rights.”

Erik’s anger tasted like burnt spice. “Is that so? I am still some a heartless beast to you, permitted no rights; allowed nothing else but a life wallowing in blood? I have a life outside of that, Daroga.” Erik reeled toward the nearest stone angel. “Eavesdropping is most improper, Anna.” His scold drowned out her yelp of surprise as he twirled her into view.

“Allah have mercy! Let her go, Erik! Child, come to me.”

Erik laughed as his old acquaintance gestured for Anna with the wag of two dark hands. “Obey is not in her vocabulary. She is not Christine.” The Persian’s lips slipped open, struck stupid as Erik tipped his lips to Anna’s ear. “Erik does not want Christine.”

“You are as mad as the day we met. Let her go.”

“Mad or not I know what I want, and I want to you to forget we were ever here,” Erik said irritably, stepping away from Anna. The Persian’s face skewed when she made no move to run.

“Erik, I’m not leaving without her. Whatever you have done, you can undo it now.”

Erik leaned against a tombstone and looked in Anna’s direction, knowing the one pertinent fact that the Daroga did not. “No, that will have to wait a few more months.”

The longer the Daroga stood there glaring at him the more annoyed Erik became. He wanted to leave Lyon with as much ease as possible and having this part of his past show up assuming that he was some sort of crazed abductor was testing his patience.

Erik folded his arms and watched as Anna circled the Persian, knowing she’d probably had never seen a man from the Middle East. She looked him up and down with wonder painted on her face. It only made Erik angrier over what he couldn’t give her.

“She is not any prisoner. Mind your own business about her, Daroga, and keep silent on ever seeing me. And for that matter, I would not undo a thing that has happened. I would do it all again if it meant finding her.”

“You refer to Daaé,” the Daroga said matter-of-fact, watching as Anna backed away from him. “Why? There’s nothing you can offer her so why keep pursuing her?”

They both looked at Erik as if anticipating an answer.

“I refer to Anna, you unimpressive little fart! And I can offer her a muddy hair ribbon!” Erik yanked his hand out of the pocket of his cloak slapped the cursed piece of silk on top of the tomb. He knew he couldn’t give Anna what she wanted out of him or anything that would match all she had done for him, but if he could he’d give her the world and more.

Erik was about to urge Anna to leave when she picked up the silk and ran it through her fingers. For a brief moment, their eyes locked. No matter how hard Erik tried, he couldn’t hide the shame he felt. There was a gentle understanding on her face making his heart heavy as she turned and looked cautiously at the Persian.

“Who are you?” she bid.

“A disagreeable part of Erik’s past. Come with me; a manhunt is no place for a lady. I’ll take you wherever you desire to go.”

“Why is it everyone assumes my desires lie elsewhere?” She leaned away from the Persian’s extended hand and fixed him with an icy stare. “I suggest you be on your way, Monsieur, and do as Erik says. Speak of us to no one. For your sake.”

“You’re a woman of sharp tongue.” The Daroga lifted a single brow, pulling one green eye open wider. “You don’t cave to Erik’s whims, do you?”

“As Erik said, I’m not Christine.”

Both the Persian’s brows flew up as he looked at Erik. “You’ve taken a scorpion to your side.”

A low rumbled emitted from Erik’s throat.

“Don’t judge either of us,” Anna snapped.

“If I passed judgment against him, the course of his life would have changed long ago, Mademoiselle.”

Erik clamped down on his teeth. For a moment, he worried Anna might question the Persian of the years he spent in Mazanderan entertaining a little sultana and participating in several important political maneuvers Erik would rather forget. There were elements of his past he preferred to keep buried, even from her.

“Erik’s past is done, Monsieur,” she said, her comment making Erik scowl. It perplexed him still as to why she blindly accepted him. “It’s not in my way, but you are. If you will excuse me.”

“You still desire to stay with me, Anna?” Erik asked sadly as she passed him. She stopped at his side. “The Daroga is an annoying, yet genuine man. Everything he does has a noble reason. He is offering you a way out of this manhunt. Perhaps, you should take it.”

It killed him to say it, but the thought of placing her in harm’s way killed him even more. She turned to face him, her hand clutched tightly against her chest. The frayed end of a muddy ribbon dangled out the bottom of her fist.

“This is the first gift I have ever received.”

Nothing else was added to that statement as she walked off. Erik tore his eyes away from her boot prints to stare at the Persian. His face had gentled.

“North of Lyon is the village of Dijon,” he said quietly. “There you’ll find my old servant, Darius. He’ll keep your anonymity and see to it you’re cared for. You’ve my word.”

Erik laughed shortly. “Your scales are tipped easily, Daroga. What happened to me being a murderer with no rights?”

“She happened.” He stared beyond him toward Anna. “There’s something in her voice that speaks the truth. I told Chagny I wanted nothing more to do with you and I still don’t, even if I had to see for myself if you were in Lyon.”

“And now you regret looking?”

“No. I’m more at ease for it. No woman would look at a man with that much love in her eyes if he were a cold-blooded killer and no man on her with such admiration who had not repented his past.”

Erik stepped out of the way to allow the Daroga by. He should follow, chase down this part of his dark past and make sure it never surfaced in his life again, but instead Erik only had supreme gratitude for second chances.

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt that.

“Daroga.” Erik turned to see his old friend stop. The Persian half turned. “I did not kill Philippe.”

He watched the Daroga’s back for a long time as the breezed swirled his snowy footprints away.

Time wasted.

He needed to get to Dijon before the winds changed.