The Treasure *Phantom of the Opera* (sequel to The Quest)

Chapter XIII

A/N: Here's another. Hope you guys are still enjoying this...

A Song in the Night

XIII

xXx

When griping grief the heart doth wound,
and doleful dumps the mind oppresses,
then music, with her silver sound,
with speedy help doth lend redress
~William Shakespeare

xXx

.

The beacon of the moon became lost to a film of dense cloud, and with scant light by which to see, Erik had little choice but to make camp for the night. He stood on the fringe of the small forest clearing and kept watch over Christine and the children, confident by this time that none of the Don's men pursued them, yet unable to relinquish his guard, even to rest. Their journey to the campsite proved slower than his departure from it, given the increase in their number as well as the wounded condition of the youngest child.

Arms crossed in front of him, feet planted a short distance apart, Erik observed his small band of runaways, just as he had so often observed his subjects in his opera kingdom. Hidden. Silent. Invisible.

His Angel sat near the warmth of a low fire beside the injured child who had yet to awaken. Staring soulfully into the dying flames, Lupita sat near her. On the other side of the fire, with his shoulders against a tree trunk, Armando toyed with the knotted cord from the black flamenco hat that never left either his head or his hand since he'd earned it from Erik in Seville. His sister, whom Armando called Nadya, continued her account of how she'd taken the Capitán of the Don's men to the wounded child at his appeal. Erik shelved the bizarre knowledge that they must have an ally in high command, hoping it would prove of future use, but wary of the prospect, nonetheless.

"He had seen you, Armando," Nadya explained. "I told him you were my brother and that you would not have returned to the villa, alone, after your escape. He told me to take Luminitsa and for us to run far from there, back to our people. But first he made a cut on his arm and told me to hit him over the head, to make it seem I had attacked him. I enjoyed that well." She smiled in grave satisfaction.

Erik strode into view and came to a stop near Christine, his arms still crossed, his eyes on the girl across the fire. "Why should he offer help, if indeed he is the man responsible for your capture and captivity?" he asked, also in her tongue. "Did he give his reasons?"

He did not discount the possibility of a trap. Perhaps the irksome girl had been sent as a spy to locate and betray her band, in return for her freedom.

Nadya looked up at him in shock, as though she'd forgotten his presence and just remembered he could understand her. Erik had listened while Armando shared all that commenced since the fateful day he and Christine had been seized and taken to their gypsy camp, ending with the Drabarni's tale of the ancient legend with regard to him, and Nadya made no mystery of her dislike and distrust.

The feeling was entirely mutual.

"He ... felt a bond to Luminitsa," she faltered, as if wishing she didn't have to speak but aware of his authority to force her. "At first I did not trust him. But he has done as he said and did not betray us to his men."

At mention of the pathetic waif, Erik stepped closer and looked down at the child. The motion cast his long shadow over her bandaged face. Her one uncovered eye opened with sudden awareness and widened in fear when she saw him. She let out a scream that would summon Hades from his underworld throne.