Page 96 of Angel's Fall

“You can find a way! Please! Our lives are in your hands!” Shaya called, but Raoul was silent.

Was Christine hesitant because she knew what Raoul would do if he was freed? His pistol remained in his coat pocket, with its bullets still ready to fill Erik’s skull. Did she honestly think this night would end with everyone alive?

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Erik was going mad, he was sure of it. His head was full of screaming, a hundred ghosts and demons howling at him to kill or to flee, and he did not know who to listen to. The cool dark of the dock by the lake should have cleared his head, but he was now certain he had lost his mind, because the boat was gone. He had poled them across the lake in it on purpose, hadn’t he? Because he didn’t want anyone following the wrong way. His guests had to be shown right into the house – it was polite. Now, the boat was gone, and someone was on his lake.

Had he moved it? Was that the reason he now saw the slow progress of a light towards him? The lake was not dark. It never really was, thanks to the air holes that let in the light from above on the street or in the theater. In the glowing gloom, he saw the boat and the man polling it awkwardly with a lantern hung on the prow.

“Stop where you are and turn back,” Erik heard himself say, his voice echoing like, well, a ghost, between the dark arches rising from the water.

“Who is there?” the interloper cried in return, flustered and furious. Erik knew that voice. As the boat drew closer to where it would trigger the trap, he began to make out Philippe de Chagny’s features, though he was still far away. Of course he had come to save his brother’s miserable life.

“Turn back now, Monsieur – I am warning you!” Erik called. To his surprise, the man stopped rowing and slowed. Again, Erik was certain he was losing his grip on reality because, despite his warnings, in the water he saw... himself. He saw the shadow – a black, inky stain – moving quickly through the water towards the unsuspecting Comte de Chagny.

“Where is my brother?!” Philippe bellowed as Erik tried to make sense of the vision. Was it a dream or a wish or madness?

“Go back,” Erik began again. “And I promise—”

The boat overturned before Erik could finish, Philippe splashing violently into the dark water with a cry of shock. The Comte breached the surface, sputtering for air, before two pale arms pulled him under.

Erik dove into the lake, the cold of the water stabbing into his guts and stealing the air from his lungs. Swimming as fast as he could, he raced towards the struggle. Each time his head rose from the water was a new moment of terror and relief as the splashing continued again and again. And again. And...

Stillness, sudden and horrible. Erik increased his speed but he knew before he reached the body that it was too late. The shadow was gone, dissolved like some siren into the sea, and all that remained was the floating corpse of Philippe de Chagny.

Dead bodies are easier to move in the water – when they are limp and offer no resistance. Even as Erik hauled the man as fast as he could to the shore, he recognized the signs. His face was blue, his neck was bruised, and no matter how Erik pounded on his chest, he did not breathe or surrender the water filling his lungs.

Erik fell back from the corpse, unsure how long they had been on the shore or which shore it was. He had to go back. He had to tell Christine, but would she even believe him if he claimed a shadow had killed the man he had come out to save? Again he had fallen into the trap of mercy! Again the world of men had spit in his face for his efforts. It was all in vain now. It was all for nothing, because now there was no going back. Now, there was a crime on Erik’s hands he could never undo.

Now, truly, everything was over.

13. Lux Æterna

“There has to be a wayout. Where are you hiding it, Erik, you bastard?” Shaya muttered to Erik, wherever he was, and himself.

“Why would there be a door in a jungle?” The question from Shaya’s noble companion was delivered with both derision and a not-insubstantial amount of delirium. “Why are you even bothering?”

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