Page 75 of Angel's Fall

“I must speak to Monsieur Richard immediately,” Raoul said before the man could open his mouth. “Tell him it is the Vicomte de Chagny, here on a matter of life and death.”

Raoul spent the tortuous minutes waiting in Richard’s parlor rehearsing his words in his head. He needed Richard to go with him to the police – otherwise, no one would believe the fantastic story. Without someone to corroborate the tales of the Opera’s ‘hauntings’ Raoul would sound like a madman, especially when he explained he had a man chained in a church crypt leagues away.

“Did you find our ghost?”

Raoul spun to face Richard, whose countenance was grim (even more so than usual). “Better. We caught him in the wild and we’re holding him. We just need a force of some kind to bring him back to be jailed and stand trial.”

“And you expect me to procure this force for you?” Richard asked back with a sigh.

“It’s essential.”

The man did not seem convinced. “What about my lead soprano? What have you done with her? She has a performance tomorrow, and I refuse to cancel it. No matter how much I’d like to fire the little baggage.”

Raoul had not thought about that. “She’s... recovering. It’s been an ordeal.”

“I’m sure,” Richard sneered. “But unless you can assure me that she will singFausttomorrow, I don’t know about helping you. Can’t you just kill the thing and end all our miseries?”

“Death is too good for him,” Raoul countered. “I assure you – she will sing. Will you come with me to the police?”

“When the hour is decent and I have seen Mademoiselle Daaé. To make my own assurances,” Richard answered with a scowl as Raoul groaned. “Do not mistake me, Monsieur, I am glad to hear you have captured the creature, but I have important business to see to.”

“What interests could possibly be more important than sending the criminal that has tormented your Opera for years to jail?” Raoul cried, and Richard rolled his eyes.

“You’ll understand when you’re older and you aren’t living off a hoard of money that your ancestors stole for you.”

Raoul opened his mouth to protest but Richard raised a hand. “I will see you and Mademoiselle Daaé in a few hours. I’m sure you can wait that long. It’s not as if your prey is going anywhere, is he?”

At that Raoul smiled and let out a breath. “You’re right. It won’t hurt to let him linger in pain for a while. Waiting for the blow to fall, knowing that Christine is out of his reach. I’m sure it’s torture. He deserves to enjoy it for a good stretch. I need to see a man atL’Époquebefore the evening paper is set as well.”

“You’re starting to see,” Richard replied. Raoul’s smile spread into a grin as he let himself imagine what Erik was thinking right now.

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The light woke him, even though it was weak, along with the creak and slam of a door. Erik grunted as he forced his eyes open, resenting the stiffness in his bones and ache in his muscles that accompanied his more acute sources of pain. His temporary prison was slightly brighter now, pale shards of daylight sneaking in through hundred-year-old cracks in the stone foundation of the crypt. Along with the lantern that still burned, it gave Erik a decent view of Antoine de Martiniac as he walked towards him, a bundle in his hand.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The man’s voice was conspicuously cheerful, as was his handsome face. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t bring any for you,” Antoine went on, gesturing to the bread protruding from the bundle before setting it down. “The priest was happy to share. That, or he just threw it in for good measure along with what I paid for his silence.”

“I was wondering how you’d deal with that,” Erik muttered. “Plain bribery is so common though. I thought you at least would have more panache.”

“You’d be amazed at what people will do for money.” Antoine knelt so his face was at the same level as Erik’s but remained safely out of reach. “Does that hurt?”

With difficulty, Erik followed Antoine’s gaze to the bullet wound on his upper arm. It had scabbed but still looked angry. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have.” To Erik’s mild surprise, there was no snideness in the comment. “I’d offer to bandage it up if I thought I’d survive it.”

“Why would you do that? It’s not going to kill me if you’re worried about me dying before all your glorious plans come crashing down around you.”

Antoine chuckled and peered at Erik with a curious smile. “Perhaps I’m feeling brotherly.”

Erik could not help but catch his breath at the words and the look of clear recognition in the eyes of his father’s second son. “You know?”

“I wasn’t sure – even with all the evidence – that you were the Erik our dear father called out for in his last moments. Until I saw this.” Antoine picked the gold ring up off the ground where the boy had thrown it the night before and examined it thoughtfully.

“Amor ultra astra,” Erik intoned as Antoine read the engraving.

“A match to Grandfather’s.” Surprising Erik once more, the other man reached into his jacket and pulled out a matching band. “Sic itur ad astra.”

“I always wondered where that went.”

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