Page 116 of Angel's Flight

“You seem to be on your own now,” Christine quipped as Pauline turned to her with a scowl.

“Do you have it?”she demanded.

Erik held out an envelope and Pauline snatched it.

“There.Happy?”Christine said, and Shaya could feel the animosity between the women.Pauline reminded Shaya in that moment of Raoul de Chagny of all people.Blinded by a vendetta and self-deception.At least this woman was giving it up, though not without cost to her targets.

“I’ll be happy knowing that you two are stuck in that hellhole, rotting away into obscurity,” Pauline replied.“Remember, I have corresponded with people in that village and I will be keeping tabs.I’ll know any move you make.”

“Of course you will,” Christine said, looking at the woman from head to toe and shaking her head.“I do hope that somehow, someday, you learn to be happy.”

It struck Shaya as perhaps the most devastating insult Christine could have delivered.Shaya had known Pauline for a matter of hours, but he was quite sure she was the sort that would never truly be happy.They were too angry and too lost.

“I hope you wither up and rot in a life as barren as your belly,” Pauline spat back, and for a second, Christine looked like she was ready for violence.

“Come along,” Erik whispered, placing an arm around his wife.“We have a long journey home.”

They turned without another word, leaving Shaya to give Pauline a final bow.“Perhaps we will meet again in Paris.I keep my eye on things there,” he said, as polite a warning as he could manage.

Shaya had to trot to catch up with Erik and Christine, who thankfully seemed to know where they were going.He’d been transported to and fro in rickety carriages all day, and he had the sneaking suspicion they were bound for another one.

“Well, that was an exciting conclusion,” Erik muttered.“Thank you for your assistance, Daroga.”

“I hope I didn’t make things too much worse,” Shaya replied, and was grateful when Christine gave him a gentle smile.

“I think you helped immensely.”Christine looked back and forth between her husband and the man who had once hunted him.“Though I would like to know what it was you said that changed his mind.”

Shaya met Erik’s eyes and saw a rare look of panic there.It had been the simplest thing, back in that glen, to tell Erik in Persian that Sabine was with child and confirm it was Antoine’s.He didn’t know why, but Shaya had been sure Erik would be moved to do something for the child.The poor thing was not unlike himself; the product of violence from a de Martiniac man.Erik would want to give the babe a chance.Or at least a portion of the fortune that came from his blood.

But Shaya had also noted Pauline’s passing barb and had, indeed, been surprised not to find Christine in the same state as Sabine.There was a wound there, he was sure of it.Perhaps Erik didn’t want his wife to know that Sabine was pregnant when Christine couldn’t become so herself.

“I told him they would take a portion, not all,” Shaya lied, trying to keep his voice light.

“Why is that?”Christine pushed, inherently curious.Now this, Shaya did have a theory on.

“Well, the Opera Ghost may have something to do with it,” Shaya replied, and Erik’s gaze snapped to him.“Not you.As I wrote to you in the first place, you’ve been replaced.This imposter is a much bolder thief than you and is somehow tied up in all of this intrigue.”

“Do you think that getting you to alert me of this was part of this foolish game?”Erik asked, voice dripping with derision.“Or did they just want to besmirch my reputation?”

“For a while, I thought it might not be about you at all.”Shaya took a moment to look around and enjoy the evening air – and annoying his old quarry.“Not everything is.”

“Wait,” Christine said, stopping in her tracks.“You wrote when we were already in Florence, according to the date in the letter.After Pauline had already found me.”

Shaya paused too, gears in his mind clicking and whirring.“Have you heard from anyone else back in Paris?”

“I wrote to Julianne through Tissot, but I never heard back.I’ve been worried about her,” Christine answered, face falling.“I should have tried again, but everything was so chaotic.I thought maybe she was traveling with Adèle, but she hasn’t heard anything either.”

“She’s no longer at the Opéra,” Shaya offered, but it made Christine visibly more worried.

“Will you please look in on her and tell her I haven’t forgotten her as soon as you’re back?”Christine looked over to Erik, whose eyes held a certain level of regret.“Since we can’t go.”

“Which is all the more of a torture, knowing my reputation is being trod upon,” Erik muttered.Christine gave him a gentle glare that spoke volumes, and he sighed.“Which I will endure happily.”

“You think you can survive in that little village?”Shaya asked.

“I don’t know, honestly,” Erik answered, eyes still on his wife, softening.“But for love, I shall try.I think that is the most any of us can do.”

Paris

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