Page 93 of Angel's Flight
“This case – you.You’ve changed me,” Pauline answered breathlessly.“The more I learn about you – how ruthless you are, how monstrous – the more it captivates me.I think about how you choked me in that cellar when I’m alone at night; the heat of you behind me and—”
“That’s quite enough,” Erik cut in, growing ill as he looked to the exits of the room.He tried to pull his hand back but Pauline snatched it in an iron grip, her eyes wide and feral.
“Oh, not enough at all,” Pauline whispered urgently.“I can give you things that a simpering soprano would never dream of.I will let you ruin me and ask for more.I want you to be a monster and destroy me.”
She looked as if she was ready to climb on him right there, which was disturbing in and of itself, but combined with her offer – her blackmail – it was worse.
“You think you can give me something she can’t,” Erik asked, stalling.
“I think that fool who gave up glory and gold wants you to be a lamb when you’re a lion,” Pauline replied.“All I ask is one night.”
“A night you think will win me over to you, so I will leave my wife behind,” Erik finished for her.“If she doesn’t turn me away when she finds out.”
Pauline shrugged, not denying it.“We’d be unstoppable, the two of us.We could burn the world down and dance among the ashes and corpses.With me, you’d be free.Would you rather keep up a war you know you will lose over a fortune you don’t need for a boring life with a wilting flower?”
“You make it sound so enticing,” Erik whispered, and Pauline’s mad eyes grew brighter.“Let us discuss this upstairs in my room.”
London
It was odd for Shayato be at the opera and not the Opéra.It was also disconcerting that this version of Verdi’sDon Carloswas in Italian and not in French, as he had heard it before, and omitted the first act and the ballet.At least that meant it was a shorter affair, especially considering the abruptness of the ending – as if the librettist had grown bored with the dramatics and simply decided to end the story mid-sentence.
Shaya was out of his seat before the curtain fell, rushing to the stage door he had scouted before the performance.He hadn’t wanted to gain admission then and disturb Adèle, but he couldn’t afford to miss her now.He’d been searching for her fruitlessly for days, unable to find her at any address she was associated with, and for a few hours, he had been worried beyond reason that he had been too late to protect her.Again.
The stage door was two doors actually.One leading to a small antechamber where a man was sitting behind a podium with a list, guarding the actual door inside.
“Sir?Are you here to see someone?”the attendant asked as Shaya entered the first door.He couldn’t hear the orchestra or applause anymore, which meant curtain call was over and he had limited time.Perhaps he was nervous because one too many sopranos had disappeared from under his nose after operas.
“I’m an old friend of Adèle Valerius,” Shaya replied, noting how the guard was taking in the color of his skin and his hat with some suspicion.He probably assumed Shaya was Indian, given the empire that Britain held there.
“You’re not on the list,” the man said after a beat.
“How would you know when you haven’t asked my name nor looked at your list?”Shaya replied, trying to remain calm.
“Madame Valerius was clear that she wanted no visitors.At all.”The man seemed honest, as far as Shaya could tell.This, combined with how hard it had been to find Adèle, meant she was being cautious, which made Shaya’s need to see her all the more urgent.
“Sir, on my honor, I’m an old friend of hers.If you take my name to her, she will admit me.It’s a matter of great importance that I see her.”Shaya didn’t know if this stranger would care about the honor of a foreigner he had never met, but he looked at least interested.
“Wait here,” the man said with a sigh and rose to stick his head through the second door.He yelled: “Oi, Jim, come here!”Through the glass in the door, Shaya saw a burly man approach.
“What?I got places to be,” Jim asked.
“I need to get a message to Mrs.Valerius.Tell her that— what did you say your name was?”
“Shaya Motlagh,” he replied, daring to feel some smidgen of hope.
“Shy-a mouth-lot – or something like that – is here and insists he’s got to see her.Foreign chap,” the guard said.Shaya fought against rolling his eyes.This was something.Adèle would say yes.
The man returned to his post, looking dubious and waving Shaya out of the way into a corner as another guest entered and approached the podium.Shaya made himself as unobtrusive as possible out of pure habit and observed the man.
“Good evening, has Mrs.Valerius left yet?”the new visitor asked, and Shaya’s eyes flew to the man’s face.It was one he recognized.He had seen this man go into Pomeroy’s office when he had sent Meg in.The day she had learned they were searching for Erik.
Shaya signaled as subtly as he could from behind the man, trying to get the guard’s attention.The man made a face as he met Shaya’s eyes and Shaya shook his head vigorously, mouthing “Say yes” as clearly as he could.
“Uh...yes.She was quick about it,” the guard stammered.“Wasn’t takin’ callers anyway so, best you’re on your way.”
Shaya spun away when the man turned around, making a show of checking his watch.He felt the other detective’s gaze linger upon him as he stepped out of the door without further questions.The moment he was gone, the door guard jumped from his perch.
“Now, what was that about?”the man asked, clearly not amused.“I went along with ya ’cause Miss Adèle said no men in glasses.She was very specific about that, but what—”
