Page 15 of Angel's Fall
“I think you’re the one who’s being blind.” Darius looked so forlorn. Shaya could not understand it. “But say you’re right, and this is how he’s destroyed. What then?”
“What do you mean?” Shaya stared at the man who had followed an exile from Persia across the world, the most loyal and true person he’d ever known.
“I thought I made it clear: I don’t want to lose you.” Darius sighed. “Or for you to lose your soul.”
“You don’t think it’s already lost? After all the monsters I’ve served and the people I’ve failed?” Shaya found himself laughing, hollow and cold. “I was lost and fallen when Ramin died. All I’ve ever been meant to do since then is bring that monster down with me.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. By Allah, we can just... leave it. We can just move on from all this hate,” Darius entreated, his eyes watery and soft. Again, Shaya heard himself laugh.
“And what would I do then?” He had never considered it, the question of who he might be free of Erik’s shadow, however that came to be.
“We would live,” Darius said, like the optimist he had been decades ago when he had first come into Shaya’s employ. That was what Shaya cared for the most in him, but today, that hope was misplaced.
“I will live when Erik is dead or in a cage, not before.” Shaya grabbed his coat and yanked open the door.
He had never been good with fights. He was a spy, not a soldier. He preferred to hide away and avoid confrontation. When that didn’t work, he ran like he was doing now. It was a bad habit for Shaya to go to the Opera whenever his thoughts were unsettled. It wasn’t a long walk from his flat on theRue de Rivoli, and as the sun set it wasn’t terribly cold.
He found himself in his preferred alcove, searching his pockets for tobacco as he watched theRue Scribeside of the Opera, where there were entrances for everyone from performers to horses.
Shaya didn’t know what he was looking for. Just watching, as always. Waiting as he had for years. It was so close now: Erik’s demise. Maybe tonight he’d find something new to spur it on. Perhaps he’d see the little Vicomte sulking, or Christine sneaking back to her lover’s lair...
Or the fiend himself.
Shaya stood straighter, mesmerized by the sight of a tall figure in a black cape and felt hat slinking along the side of the Opera. Was he wearing a black mask for a change? The shadow made its way along the side of the Opera, as if inspecting it, until it came to the gate of the stables.
Shaya held his breath. Was this one of Erik’s secret ways into his domain? That would explain his tendency to steal the horses and disappear. Had the Phantom now made an error out of some misplaced sense of security? The figure in the felt hat and mask stepped into the stables and disappeared from view. Shaya sprang into action, jogging across the empty street and to the stable gate. The head groom was snoring loudly, reminding Shaya that anyone could come and go without notice.
Including the shadow, who had left the door into the Opera proper ajar.
Shaya should have felt triumphant, but it was another mistake, and Erik did not make mistakes that often. He considered following, but the Opera was a dark maze this time of night, and he had already pushed Erik’s hospitality too far in recent weeks. And if he died tonight, Darius would never let him hear the end of it.
Still, the image of the Phantom walking along theRue Scribeunsettled Shaya. Why would Erik be so bold or foolish? Why would he go in through a door when Shaya knew the villain had secret ways in and out of the Opera?
A horse whinnied, startling Shaya from his thoughts. He turned to see the white stallion Erik was fond of glaring at him from its stable. Shaya gave the beast a nod and stole back out through the gate into the darkening night.
He should go back home, he knew that. The best course was to apologize to Darius, tell him he was grateful for years of loyalty, and promise he would be careful. There was something anxious in his gut now though, a shadow of fear that he could not place. Was Darius right to fear that not everyone entangled in Erik’s web would escape with their lives?
––––––––
For once, there wasno music in Erik’s head to push him from the warmth of his bed with Christine beside him. Even if there was, he wouldn’t follow it. Not tonight. Tonight he just wanted to hold her, watch her as she rested peacefully and breathed. She was here for now, no matter what she had to undertake tomorrow to placate that awful boy.
Erik sighed. He didn’t want to keep thinking about it, but all the parts of his mind that were usually humming with song were focused on every way this could go wrong. How he might lose her. Even thinking back to the way she gave herself to him, to her dozens of promises that she was his, wouldn’t make the noise stop. It had been going for an hour.
He ran his hands through his hair and stifled a groan as he looked to the ceiling, crisscrossed by the branches of the bower that he had carved so carefully. He wanted to sleep. He had just started getting used to how safe and good it felt to rest next to someone he loved...
“You’re thinking very loudly, you know,” Christine’s soft voice cut through his turmoil, and he turned to her in surprise.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She gave a tired smile. “How many times must I tell you? Everything will be fine.”
“What if he doesn’t believe you? He knows so much already.”
“You’ve told me many times how people believe what they want, despite all the evidence to the contrary. There is nothing I can say that would make him believe I have chosen you of my own free will.”
“I still don’t believe that half the time.”
Christine sent him a scowl. “So we will use that. We will tell him the lie he’s told himself this whole time, the one he wants to hear.”
