Beneath the Porcelain Mask

15. The Phantom of the Opera (part two)

This chapter was split into two just to keep it short enough to read. Therefore this 'half' is cute and short. But without the cute (unless you find this stuff attractive, in which case, each to his own I guess.) 

As it's Christmas this week (an also because this chapter is short and a bit angsty oops), however, I have a double update for you! I can't believe how fast this year has gone by! Happy Christmas/ Hanukkah/ there are so many holidays and I have trouble keeping up with all the names, so whatever you believe and/or celebrate, have a good one!! 

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"You are in bigger trouble than ever before!" I snapped, marching right into Erik's dark bedroom. I'd left Jeremy in the hands of a very capable doctor in the nearby infirmary with the promise of checking in on him later. But for now, I was in the House, maskless, with fire streaking through my veins. "Even bigger than the time you set the bloody house on fire!"

He sat at the pianoforte, staring at a Mozart collection. "It wasn't supposed to go like that," he muttered, playing nervously with his gloves. "I didn't mean to kill anyone."

"You can't keep doing this, Erik!" I shouted, throwing a nearby penny-whistle at him. It hit his shoulder, but he sat still, barely even breathing. "You can't! You can't do such awful things! Erik, what could possess you to kill so horribly?"

My voice cracked as I yelled and another sting of tears pricked my eyes, accompanied by the sob I couldn't hold back any longer. Erik didn't move.

Don't cry, Nikki, never cry.

"It's not fair or right! Fine: Box Five and your salary need to be dealt with, but that doesn't mean you can kill people who have nothing to do with it!"He swallowed. "Christine-"

"-is a perfect example of how you manipulate and deceive people! "I am your Angel of Music," you said. "Follow me to my underground house!" That's abduction, not to mention a horrible lie! And the managers too! Twenty thousand francs a month? What were you thinking, Erik?"

I wiped my cheeks fiercely, ignoring every sting and burn as the back of my wrist opened up several wounds.

"You killed two men today, Erik Destler. Two innocent men, who had families that relied on them to bring money home. Did you ever realise that children were going to go hungry because you couldn't see past your lust for power? There are children that will have to grow up without their fathers now; some won't even remember their voices or the way they laughed! Children, Erik!"

He bit his lip, finally letting my eyes go in favour of looking at the piano and running a hand over the keys softly.

"You were a child once, remember?"

Erik pressed one of the higher keys, working his jaw forwards and back.

"I'm getting tired of this, Erik," I whispered, running a hand through my hair. "How will I ever be able to tell Jeremy about you now? First Joseph Buquet, then Antoinette tells me people have seen you walking about at midnight, and then you turn around and kill another two. I can't protect you from les gendarmes forever, you know I can't!"

He tensed at that and looked over his shoulder at me, his forehead creased into a deep frown. "Is it I who needs your protection, Nikki? Or you who needs mine? Let's not forget your own little habits."

"Erik!" I snarled. "I've warned you about cheeking me before! Let's not repeat that lesson, for your sakes."

"Erik is sorry," he muttered, slumping in his seat and resting his forehead in his gloved palms. "Erik never wanted to hurt his Kitty-"

"Save it," I said, struggling to keep the anger in my voice now as he hunched over like a tortured man. "You know you're in danger every minute of the day and if you continue to disregard my efforts, I shall leave you be next time something goes wrong. And there will be a next time, won't there? If you keep seeing Christine."

"Leave her out of it," he muttered. "She's done nothing to you and all you've been in return is rude and dismal."

"Erik," I said, my voice sharp and deep. For all he was menacing, he tensed at the piano and rested a hand on the keys. "You know you can't fend for yourself up there. I advise you to stay on my good side - you're hanging by a thread, and you know it! - or I shall hand you over to les gendarmes without a second thought."

"Your good side?" he muttered. "Sometimes I wonder if you have an ounce of good left in you."

I balled my hand into a fist and moved towards him, but caught myself and stepped back again. I let the rush of anger out in a long breath and continued.

"This is what you will do: you will write apologies to the families of those men and leave them by my bedside for me to deliver. Then you will write to Jeremy in regret of causing him an injury."

When he didn't reply, I cleared my throat purposefully. "Erik."

"So be it," he breathed, standing from the piano and heading for his coffin. "I will take my rest now, but you will have your letters by morning."

"I'm glad you see sense," I said, seeing myself to the door. I paused and looked back at him for a moment. "And Erik? No more midnight lessons. You know I worry."

He muttered a snarky reply, but I pretended not to hear and closed the door behind me, stifling a scream of annoyance with my palms. He'd wormed his way into my heart again, the little devil, taken away all my resolve to scold him without mercy.

You know I worry.

I was always worrying. Especially about Erik: the little boy I'd found cowering in the attic in Rouen, the child I'd taught to play the piano, the spritely young genius I'd considered my brother for so long. It seemed to me that his need to be guarded was still as strong as it had been twenty years ago and, once more, it fell to me to be responsible.

I raised my chin and went to sit on my bed, stroking the little monkey who had coiled himself up on my pillow.

Is it I who needs your protection, Nikki? Or you who needs mine?

I rolled my eyes. His point was completely invalid: I was, after all, his senior. I had raised him, not the other way around.

I settled on the mattress, propped against the headboard, and spent the evening wondering how I would deal with Erik's 'habits'. But each time I came to the murders and began to count the various atrocities I'd heard in the rumours or Nadir's letters, my mind darted back to Jeremy and by ten o'clock I felt so guilty that I pulled my cloak on and headed up a passageway to the exit in the Rue Scribe.

The rest of my night was spent at my dear friend's hospital bedside. Not long after, I fell asleep with his hand in mine, squeezing my glove gently, and a frown on my lips.