Page 52 of Angel's Fall

The last time they had walked this street had been in the other direction, the night they had sent Joseph Buquet to his doom. Erik had already absolved her of that, taking the sin for her and adding it to the catalogue of his own. He would do anything for her, to keep her safe, even walk with her in the terrible mortal world until he could bear it no more.

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Shaya clenched hisfists in triumph from his place in the alleyway across from Adèle Valerius’s flat. He had them. He had them both – Erik and his whore. He had waited in the cold for hours, hoping to confirm that Daaé was absent from the flat before she had arrived in a fine carriage and his confidence had faltered. Maybe, he had thought, just maybe, she would leave, and he could spring his snare.

Then lo and behold, a miracle. Erik himself had descended on the flat to accost her and force her back. He had watched in horror as the fiend had broken in, and then disgust as he hauled the girl out and claimed her mouth. He shuddered to think how Erik had warped the poor thing’s mind and corrupted her soul. It would be up to de Chagny to save her if he still wanted to. But now, finally, he would know what she was.

Shaya headed in the opposite direction from the lovers and managed to hail a cab at thePlace Des Victoires. The driver made no comment when Shaya told him to head to theFaubourg Saint Germain. The entire ride, Shaya felt more excitement than he had in years, his mind buzzing. Now, Raoul would act. Whatever he did, it would shatter all the illusions.

It appeared some sort of party just ending as Shaya’s cab deposited him in front of the Chagny manor, with well-dressed ladies and gentlemen awaiting their carriages near the gate. Shaya pushed through the crowd, ignoring the scandalized huffs of the departing guests, and found a footman.

“Where is Monsieur le Vicomte? I need to speak with him urgently.” The man rolled his eyes, but went inside, and no one chided Shaya for following. He waited, nearly bouncing until the young Vicomte emerged from a side room in a cloud of cigar smoke with a tall, blond man beside him.

“What is the meaning of this, Motlagh? You didn’t even give the man your card!” Raoul demanded. Shaya did not like the way the other man looked him up and down.

“I have what you demanded.” Shaya watched Raoul’s face harden in interest.

“This way,” Raoul hissed, nodding towards a much smaller drawing room, opposite where he’d emerged from. To Shaya’s shock, the other man followed.

“Monsieur, I must insist this discussion be in private,” Shaya said as Raoul closed them all in.

“Anything you have to say about Erik, Monsieur de Martiniac can hear. He is just as invested in bringing the creature to justice as I am. Antoine can be trusted.”

“Come now,Monsieur le Perse. Tell us what your spying has revealed,” the other man – Antoine – said with a cool sneer, and Shaya bristled. Raoul nodded for Shaya to speak.

“You’ve claimed over and over that your Mademoiselle Daaé is good and pure. Even that she spends her nights at home when she is not in his grasp.” Shaya savored the way Raoul’s noble jawline began to twitch. “What if I were to tell you she no longer lives with Madame Valerius and has not slept under that roof for at least two weeks?”

“I have seen her home personally,” Raoul snarled. “I sent her in my carriage tonight!”

“And she enjoyed her friend’s company briefly before her teacher came to escort her back to his kingdom,” Shaya declared. “I saw it myself.”

“You saw him take her? How?” Raoul sputtered, wringing his hands through his hair.

“I told you she was a lying little minx.” Raoul and Shaya turned to see Antoine smiling dangerously. “She’s been playing you for a fool, just like he has.”

“Shut up, you don’t know that. Neither of you know! Who told you this?” Raoul demanded, rounding on Shaya.

“I have my sources. You can go look right now and find her bed at that house empty.”

“What a wonderful idea,” Antoine purred and that made Shaya cold. “Raoul, it’s time to finally act.”

“What?” Raoul asked, but Antoine was already hauling him away.

“You’ll need me if you’re going after him,” Shaya protested as he followed the men out the door.

“We’ll come find you if that’s the case,” Antoine called over his shoulder. Shaya watched the men rush away, his excitement now replaced by dread. It was not de Chagny’s rage at fully discovering Christine’s betrayal that he feared, but the unknown factor of the man he had just met. He was so cold, and yet, so familiar in a way Shaya could not place, and it filled him with fear.

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The dream, as so manydreams were, was the same and different every time. Christine knew it wasn’t real. She knew her father lay dead and buried, but Christine still worried that he would be mad at her for not practicing. She hadn’t played violin in years. Now he was demanding she perform for everyone.

The theater was crowded and cavernous at the same time, and the instrument was huge in her small hands.

“I don’t want to anymore. I’m scared.”

“Again, from the beginning. Don’t disappoint me again,” her father ordered from the conductor’s podium. She began to play, the notes ofThe Resurrection of Lazarusas familiar as breathing.

“Stop!” Raoul cried as he struck the instrument from her hands, and her father jumped onto the stage in rage.

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