The Magician's Witch

Masquerade

Eilis waited alone just inside the main entrance of the Palais Garnier, searching the masked arrivals for her daughter and son. Erik planned on making his grand entrance a little while later. Eilis continued to scan the concealed faces until she spotted two familiar forms who were also craning their necks, looking for someone. She waved her hand in the air; Ronan was the first one to spot her, being a head taller than his sister.

Ronan was wearing his tails, freshly pressed, while Aria was wearing a light green dress that Eilis recognized from the polaroid she had found in Erik's vault.

Eilis hugged them both as they approached her; both Aria and Ronan seemed subdued.

"Are you alright," Eilis asked, her mother's intuition roused.

"Yes," Aria said a little too quickly. "We're fine."

Eilis narrowed her eyes at her daughter. Something was wrong.

Aria laughed nervously. "Really, Mom, it's nothing. We just stayed up too late last night. We didn't mean to, but Ronan challenged me to a chess game and before we knew it, it was after midnight! Sorry, we just got carried away."

"Mm hmm," Eilis responded. She knew a cover story when she heard one. But she shrugged. "Ok, then." She knew she would know the truth eventually, one way or the other.

"You look beautiful, Mom," Ronan said, attempting to distract her from their muted attitudes.

Eilis allowed the change in subject. She smiled at her son. "Your father saved this. Twenty years ago, he had this made for me. I'm just glad it still fits!"

Aria gasped. "Is that the dress? The one Papa had made to show you off to the shah?"

Eilis grinned and nodded. "The very same one."

Aria looked her mother up and down. "Wow," she breathed. "Papa has good taste."

All three of them made their way into the main foyer where the crème de la crème of Paris was gathering; the costumes were elaborate, decadent, made of costly materials. Live flowers, peacock feathers, jewels small and large, silks and furs all enveloped the occupants in various shapes and figures: clowns, pirates, animals, angels, butterflies, and every face obscured behind a mask, either held in place by ribbons or held up to the face by a staff.

As Eilis looked about the room at the flurry of gowns and tailcoats, she spotted someone who did not belong.

"I didn't know Nadir was going to be here," she said mostly to herself. Aria and Ronan turned to see the Persian standing off to the side, speaking to someone who was vaguely familiar to Eilis, although she was certain she had never met him before. The man was heavy-set with a trimmed beard; he looked like a caricature of a businessman.

"You two wait here," Eilis instructed her kids, making her way across the crowded space to where Nadir stood.

As Eilis approached, Nadir looked toward, not recognizing her at first. His eyes went wide, then took on a guarded countenance. He bowed to her. "Madame la Favre," he said formally just loud enough for her to hear.

Eilis smiled at him. "Where is your costume, Daroga," she inquired in French.

Nadir scoffed. "I have no need for this frivolity."

Eilis pursed her lips, amused by his taciturn attitude. "Then why are you here?"

Nadir gave her a knowing look. "I am investigating."

Her intuition pricked up. He was seeking Erik—but why? He couldn't have known about Christine's sudden appearance at their flat the other night, unless the girl told him about that incident.