From Shadows to Starlight

A Decision

Chapter Thirty-four

"The family is a haven in a heartless world.” --Christopher Lasch

A Decision

It was entirely too early for drinking. The sun had only just risen, and almost everyone, with the exception of the household servants, was still in their beds, recovering from the previous night’s revelry. But some had never gone to sleep that night, and now they were gathered in one of the many rooms of the house, laughing and drinking together as they celebrated. It may have been the birthday of one of their company, the son of the master of that estate, but the men were not celebrating a life.

They were celebrating a death.

The Comte de Bellamy sat in a chair in a dark corner of the room, a wine glass in his hand and a somber look on his face in contrast to the almost grotesquely gleeful faces of the drunken men. Damien had been the one to orchestrate their entire plan to finally get rid of the lunatic murderer whose death they now reveled in, but for some reason, now that it had succeeded, he found that he was not in the mood for celebrating.

Raoul came into the room and made his way over to where Damien sat by himself. “Christine’s locked herself in our room,” the Vicomte said. “She won’t speak to me.”

Damien just looked up at his friend, saying nothing.

“Are you going to drink that?” Raoul asked. Damien shook his head, so the other man took the glass and drained it. “Just look at them.” He gestured across the room at the men, who were recounting the night’s events, making vulgar remarks about the man they’d killed, the girl who’d seen them, and laughing hysterically at their own jokes. “You’d think we’d be as happy as they are, seeing as we’re the ones who came up with the entire plan in the first place. We’re the ones who wanted him gone more than anyone else.”

“All most of them wanted out of this was the money,” Damien said. “And now they have that, as well free drinks and room and board in this house, at least for today. I don’t blame them for being like that. Once this is over, they’ll go home, and their lives will return to normal.” The Comte sighed.

But will mine?

He was glad that Erik was dead; the thought filled him with immense relief. The sight of him lying bleeding, suffering on the ground, and then watching him disappear beneath the icy river, was the most morbidly satisfying thing he had ever seen. And yet, he was not as happy as he’d thought he would be.

Erik’s death did not take away the hatred Damien felt toward him. It did not take away the pain of losing Avery. He had thought his revenge would change everything, and that the justice in Erik paying a fatal price for the things he’d done would somehow make his own life better.

But it hadn’t.

He felt just as cold inside as ever.

Damien realized distantly that Raoul had been talking for a while now about who knew what. The Vicomte paused for breath and said, “I really am worried about Christine.” His tone was grimly serious. “She had such a strange…attachment to the Phantom. Somehow, he’d always been with her, haunting her, every day and night of her life since she came to that opera house. When I fell in love with her, she told me that she wanted to be free of him and yet, it seemed that she couldn’t live without him. I just don’t understand what he did to her, how he did it.”

“Some of those who are mad can have a powerful effect on others,” Damien said. “He couldn’t control his own life, his own self, so he learned to control all those around him instead.”

Raoul thought a moment, and then nodded. “That’s an interesting thought. Maybe it’s true.”

“It is true.” Damien rubbed his temples; he had a terrible headache. “He’s a master manipulator, from all you’ve told me and from what I’ve found. Just look at Alana. A perfectly normal girl, completely…fallen under his spell, if you will, drawn into his madness so deeply that she doesn’t even realize what he is. You saw her when she found us. She was absolutely hysterical at seeing him like that, and she wouldn’t believe us when we told her what he was, when he confessed it with his own lips.” He sighed again. “I only hope that she’s not a lost cause…”