Page 68 of Angel's Fall
“Erik.”
Reality came back into focus slowly as he stared down at his lover’s glorious face on the pillow beneath him. The last rays of the sunset were fading, and the shadows were returning to steal the vision of her away once again. For the first time in years, he hated the darkness.
“Will you do something for me, tonight?” Christine murmured, sweeping a hair from his face.
“Anything,” Erik replied instantly, even if it wasn’t true. “If it is within my power.”
“I just want him to hear you play. I have his violin and I...” Erik kissed her forehead before more tears could come to her eyes.
“The Resurrection of Lazarus?” he asked by way of reply, and Christine nodded. “Of course.”
Erik wished more than anything that he could do more than play for her departed father at his grave. He wished he was brave enough to walk with her in the daylight world. Would that he could play himself to a real resurrection, not this temporary reprieve. But he could still only summon ghosts.
––––––––
Raoul had never likedtrain rides; they were loud and shaky. At least the first-class cabin was somewhat comfortable. He didn’t want to think what the Persian was enduring in the inferior accommodations in the back. It hadn’t just been appropriate for them to separate, it had given Raoul and Antoine ample time to discuss the different options for what they were about to do before the older man fell asleep.
Raoul didn’t know how Antoine could sleep at a time like this, but finally, the train screeched to a halt at the Perros station. Raoul kicked his coconspirator in the ankles to wake him.
“We’re here,” Raoul said as Antoine yawned and stretched languidly.
“So I gathered. Did you sleep at all?” he asked, annoyingly relaxed.
“I had too much to think about,” Raoul grumbled in reply. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever sleep again after the last few days. He’d stolen a few hours, but every time dreams took him, he was tortured by visions ofthem– of Christine being ravaged and defiled by that monster. The only thing that kept him from going mad was the knowledge that soon he would be the one to hold Christine. Soon, she would be his, and it would be the monster who spent his remaining nights tortured by the idea of his beloved in another man’s bed.
Antoine grunted as he took down his bag and handed another valise to Raoul. “God, these things are heavy.”
“Stop whining and move,” Raoul huffed. “I still want to know why you had all of this.”
“No, you don’t,” Antoine replied with a sneer that made Raoul’s skin crawl. They spotted Motlagh waiting on the platform, and Raoul did not break his pace to greet the man. They were so close he could feel it. Did soldiers feel like this going into battle? Tense and tight and strangely excited.
“Where are we going?” Motlagh asked as they left the station.
“There’s only one inn. Unless she’s taken a room with that doctor they used to live with, she’ll be there,” Raoul declared. “We’ll start there. It’s not far.”
“You still haven’t told me what you mean to do when you find her,” the Persian demanded. Raoul quickened his pace and Antoine snickered. “Are you armed at least, in case he is here?”
“Very much so,” Antoine answered. “Though of course we hope it will not come to pistols.”
“Are you?” Raoul asked, and the Persian nodded. Raoul felt the weight of the gun in the inner pocket of his heavy coat and the bullets in the other. How his finger itched for the trigger.
“I still hope he’s not beat us here, but if he has, we must be prepared,” Motlagh said. “He is more dangerous, now that he knows what you know. After what he did to Valerius...”
Raoul’s stride faltered, nearly tripping as he looked back at Antoine. “Valerius?”
“Did you not hear? She was beaten.” The Persian looked sharply between the two. “I... assumed Erik found out that she revealed Christine’s secrets. And took revenge.”
“You – you think he would do that?” Raoul stammered and turned away. It would be much better if Motlagh thought it was Erik and not Antoine who had abused Valerius.
“Adèle didn’t receive anything she hadn’t begged for in the past,” Antoine drawled, securing a look of horror from Shaya. “I’m sure.”
“Erik is capable of anything,” Raoul grunted as they turned onto the main street of Perros-Guirec. It had been over six years since he had set foot there. Six years since Erik had taken his father at the height of summer and Raoul had been summoned away, just days after Christine had been torn from him. He would not let it happen again.
“That is why I would like to know what you intend to do if we find him with her already,” Motlagh demanded.
Antoine snickered. “You’re not in charge here, Monsieur. You’re just extra muscle.”
“I had two men with me when I tried to take him before, and they were both dead within half a minute when we confronted him,” the Persian said.
