Page 70 of Angel's Flight

“Rumors might spread.If we’re lucky, the de Chagnys are so isolated now they won’t hear,” Darius offered.

Shaya shook his head and sighed.“We can only pray,” he lamented.He didn’t want this blowing up.He didn’t want the Comte or his sister to know they were being investigated and spied upon right back.He wanted no reason for them to come anywhere near the Opéra.

If this new ghost was Firmin Richard, that was one thing.It would be a relief, in a way, for the source of this confusion to come from within that house.Because if it was some other phantom who could make Raoul de Chagny think his work was not done, Shaya shuddered to think of what chaos would fall.

9.Damnation

London

Erik had become accustomedto the streets of London, but he still didn’t know his way exactly, a status he found frustrating.In his youth, he had learned a city in a matter of days, pouring over maps and wandering the streets (usually at night).Apparently, that skill required practice or the energy of youth to maintain, or at least a willingness to amble about alone.London herself was a sprawling city made up of villages and neighborhoods that had been slowly devoured by the beast of progress, shrouded in the veil of fog and dust from coal factories and gray clouds, which made navigating it even harder.

For Christine, though, Erik would try.An evening walk didn’t appall him either.As well-appointed as their rooms were, with their view of the Queen’s stables and prim blue wallpaper, Erik was beginning to feel confined and anxious.It was good for him to get out and make his way to Christine.He had promised to meet her at her friend’s, even if part of him wouldn’t mind being punished for being late...

Erik’s steps sped up through the winding, gaslit streets.His spine straightened as he recalled what they had done two nights before.What she had done to him and for him.There were still moments when he stepped outside himself with confusion and disgust, aghast that he had enjoyed such humiliation and pain.There was more wrong with him than he had ever thought, and he had spent his whole life aware of his monstrousness.

The shame had manifested the morning after, when Erik’s skin had smarted against the sheets as he awoke.The comfort of holding Christine had become arousal at that feeling, but his desire had felt different in the cool light of morning and an awful shame had hit him like a wave.Within minutes of waking, he had found himself fighting for breath as panic enveloped him.

She had known, of course; his Christine always knew when something was wrong.She had broken through his panic and reminded him that there was nothing to be ashamed of if what they had done had been what he wanted.It had been, he assured her, reminding her and himself that she could never really hurt him.They had enjoyed it, both of them, and they were not alone in enjoying such pursuits.More importantly, she had assured him of his goodness.

That was the word he still couldn’t understand.His Christine loved him and redeemed him and that was so hard to believe, but he did believe it when she commanded him and demanded his submission.She had punished him so beautifully for not believing that he was worthy of her, she had to be right.She had made him into someone good and that wasn’t a crime.It was a miracle.

Erik turned down a street, reasonably sure it would take him the right way.He couldn’t afford to be this distracted walking alone at night, even if the memories dimmed the edges of the world most pleasantly.It felt so good to be hers, and yet it felt good to be free and unencumbered on the streets of a great city, his fate safely his own.

London was dark, and he was a dark figure within it.He was in his accustomed cape and wide hat, and it was foggy and cool enough here to justify a scarf around his chin, obscuring the edges of his mask.He could have worn the special one, but the spectacles and beard were so cumbersome and he wasn’t going somewhere where people would care.

He wanted to be ignored, but alas, he wasn’t alone.There were steps behind him.Steady on the cobblestones and in pace with his.Erik tensed.How long had a stranger been behind him?Was it a thief or another agent like Bidaut?Or was it nothing?

Erik took the next turn down a narrow alley and found a shadowed doorway in which to disappear.He still knew how to be a ghost.In a heartbeat, he was concealed in the safety of the dark, waiting for the steps to turn.

His pursuer was a man.Short and stocky with a workman’s cap upon his head.The man paused at the entrance of the alley, sniffing the air like a predator.He had been following Erik, but what for?He peered into the dark for a few moments longer before moving on.Erik waited several beats before he emerged, but soon enough, he was on his way again and it was he who was following.The man ambled along slowly, observing people as they passed while Erik remained a silent shadow behind him.

It wasn’t until Erik saw the man take notice of a woman walking alone that he understood.This was no spy or an assassin.He was merely a common criminal who had seen a man walking alone looking wealthy enough to rob.Now he had a better prospect.

Erik continued to follow, wondering what the thief intended.Was he a pickpocket?Erik doubted that.This man didn’t display the skill needed for such work.As a master pickpocket, Erik would know.Relieving someone of their purse or watch was best done in crowded places, where no one noticed when one nudged by and slipped a hand into a coat.No, this man moved with aggressive audaciousness and he was getting closer to the woman.She was older, above working class, and unaware of her danger.

What was Erik to do?He had gone on a simple walk to meet his wife, and the universe had seen fit to present him with a test for which he did not have an easy answer.Christine told him to be good, that he was good, but what would a good man do here?

---