Page 91 of Angel's Flight

11.Temptation

Sligo

Their lodgings in Sligocould be called a hotel as much as Sligo might be called a city, in Erik’s opinion.Which was to say: only by the greatest stretch of the imagination.The Oak and Ash was a bustling inn at best, just as Sligo was barely more than a large town.It had a rail station and a sizable church (as well as dozens of smaller ones), held the county seat, and was, in general, the center of life in the coastal county of the same name, tucked away in the far west of the country.The inn was central to the city, with a large common hall on the bottom floor serving food and drink, where musicians were currently in session.

The space – all worn, caramel-colored wood and plaster – was full of people even at this late an hour, and the music was as lively as the fire crackling in the great stone hearth.Christine had insisted on staying to listen, much to Erik’s distress.The whiskey he found in his hand didn’t do much to tame the anxious creature inside him that wanted to be anywhere but here.

“Do you know any of these songs?”Christine asked as the fiddler on the makeshift stage in the center of the room flew through a solo, accompanied by a bodhrán drum and penny whistle.

“A few,” Erik replied, attempting to sound mysterious and unmoved.The spell Christine had cast with her candles and kisses on the ship had worn off, leaving him antsier and angrier than before that he was here.He could still feel the smart of the red marks on his skin under his shirt, but the echoes of the pain weren’t enough to ground him or keep his dark thoughts at bay anymore.

“You could at least pretend to enjoy yourself,” Christine admonished.

“You know how I feel about being here, but I’m here,” Erik said, taking another slug of whiskey on the chorus.

“I do, but what I don’t know is why you’re trying so hard to dislike even the pleasant bits.”

Erik peered over at his wife.She seemed utterly charmed by everything around them and had been all day.Her eyes were hopeful and expectant, and Erik hated himself for how annoyed that made him.He wanted to pull himself back to her – why was it so difficult?

“I’m still cross that we have to do this,” Erik muttered.

“No.You’re afraid of something.You always turn your fear into anger,” Christine countered.Erik was glad the mask concealed the thunderstruck look he gave her.Sometimes it was quite troublesome how well she knew him.“Are you afraid of these people more than others?”

“Yes,” Erik said, almost against his will.It was pointless to lie to her, even if he could lie to himself.He looked around the common room from where they were stationed in a dark corner.He felt like he was back at the Opéra, a ghost cut off from a world he so wanted to influence and belong to.A world he longed for, despite knowing it wasn’t meant for him, even if he had a claim.

“Because your mother’s country is special.”

“The people here aren’t like others we’ve had to endure.And I do still hate to endure people,” Erik began, swirling the whiskey in his glass and letting the smell of smoke and peat waft through the air.Like everything here, it triggered something familiar and sad in his memories.“I have roots here, however distant, and that creates...expectations.Or perhaps hopes.”He felt silly saying it, but he was glad she’d got it out of him.

“You don’t want them to disappoint you.”Christine’s eyes were kind and knowing in a way that made Erik feel marginally less embarrassed by his fears.“Maybe they won’t, if you give it a chance.”

“I’ve given humanity enough chances.”

“And some of them turned out well,” Christine countered.“Or have you forgotten who you’re here with?”

The poor woman I have ensnared and dragged across the world in my shadow, Erik wanted to answer.Christine took his hand before he could, forcing him to look at her.“Your wife, who loves you, you fool.Who wants you to give something a chance.”

Erik wasn’t sure that was possible, given the circumstances that had brought them here, but he was out of excuses.“I’ll try,” Erik whispered.

Christine’s eyes narrowed.“You’ll succeed.Because I want you to,” Christine replied in a tone that gave Erik a chill.

“Yes, my love,” Erik breathed.

“Finish your drink, listen to the band, and come up to the room when you’re done,” Christine ordered, rising with a twinkle in her eye.“I’m going to see what I can find in terms of a bath, so take your time.I’ll be in our bed when you’re ready.”

Erik did like the sound of that, and the way Christine smirked at him before walking away.He watched her go as he sipped the whiskey, the warmth of the liquor burning down his throat as even warmer ideas of what he’d like to do to her later seeped into his mind.

The band finished one song and began another, the leader singing of robbing Captain Farrell on Kilgary mountain.Erik had to smile just a bit.He did know this one, and he raised his glass for another sip.

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