Unmasqued: An Erotic Novel of The Phantom of The Opera (32 page)

But when Philippe opened the door and François came in, he knew immediately that the news was not what he’d anticipated.

“What is it?” he demanded. “Is he dead?”

François, a burly man with quick fists, stood near the door but met his eyes squarely. To his credit, he did not even glance toward the trussed-up, spread-eagled Carlotta, who obviously was either too frightened or too intelligent to beg for help. “No, my lord
comte
, he ain’t. We followed the orders you gave us, even followed the trail from his underground hideaway, but the bastard got away. We never even saw him.”

“You do not know where he is? You have not even seen him?”

“No, my lord.”

“
Find him.
I do not want to see you until he is found!” Philippe turned from his man, his fingers shaking with rage. He had sent three carefully selected members of the mob after Erik last night, intending to have them put an end to the man once Christine believed he’d escaped…but somehow he’d eluded them.

And now Erik, the half brother of the Chagnys, was loose upon the world, out from the darkness, and bent on revenge.

Philippe turned toward Carlotta. The expression on his face must have spoken for itself, for when she saw him, she began to cry and struggle anew.

I
t was well past sunset on the second day since Erik had lost Christine, but the rising of the full moon had given him plenty of light to ride from Paris, where the Opera House still smoldered and stewed in its remains, to the estate where he’d been raised.

As he approached the edge of the vast Chagny holdings, Erik watched the southwestern horizon closely. In the distance, he saw two riders leaving the estate, and quickly directed Cesar toward a clump of trees that edged a thicker forest. He couldn’t be certain the riders were looking for him, but they were coming from the direction of Philippe’s home, and it was an odd time for anyone to be out.

If they weren’t looking for him now, they would be soon.

Cesar had been traveling for several hours with Erik on his back, but he still responded to the urgent press of his master’s knees
and kicked up his speed to a low canter. It was too dangerous for a full-out gallop through an unfamiliar wood, but Erik knew he must put as much distance as he could between himself and the possible pursuers, while circling around to the village of Chagny.

He was to meet Maude Giry at midnight behind the stable at Le Vache Dormante, the only inn located in the small town spread beneath the château’s bump of a hill.

Upon reaching their meeting place, Erik positioned himself and Cesar behind a cluster of trees near enough that he could watch the stable and see who came and went. He was cold, and hungry—he’d eaten nothing but a stale hunk of bread since leaving his little house two nights ago.

The orb of the moon cast a full, bluish glow over the fields. After a long while, Erik saw the erect figure in a dark cloak walking quickly toward him. He recognized her right away despite the heavy coverings. Thank God she’d come.

When Maude came near enough to the stable, Erik tossed a rock from his hiding place so that it landed near her. When she looked over, he peered around the edge of the brush to signal her.

“This way,” she said, and walked past him as if she’d not seen his gesture. Erik followed and she led him away from the inn and its stable, down a little hill, and to a small structure. “We’ll be safe here,” she said, opening the door as he approached, and gesturing him inside.

The little hut was hidden from the main road, and looked as though it had not been used for some time.

“One of the girls at the château told me her brother left his house when he went to join a merchant ship. At least you’ll be out of the cold here and not be seen,” Maude told him, pulling Cesar in with them. “He will have to stay in here with you for a bit, for that white coat will be seen anywhere.”

“Christine? Have you seen Christine?” Erik asked the moment he was in the house, even speaking over Maude’s explanation.

“I have seen her and spoken with her. She is well. Your hands are freezing, Erik, and you look as if you are ready to collapse. Sit.” Maude pushed him toward a small pallet in the tiny one-room building.

When she would have gone to the fireplace, Erik stopped her. “No. The smoke will alert them that this house isn’t empty; I don’t need a fire. Now tell me of Christine.” He knew he didn’t want to hear it, but he must.

“She is not injured or hurt in any way,” Maude told him, reaching under her cloak. “Here. Eat something, you foolish man. And here is some wine too. You’ll be no good for her if you’re weak from hunger. Why did you not take anything with you when you left Paris?”

She produced a packet of cheese and beef, wrapped in cloth, and then a hunk of bread along with a small bottle of wine.

“Thank you for meeting me,” he told her, forcing his attention to the matter at hand now that he knew Christine was uninjured. He would suffer through the details later. “You have had no problems?”

“Indeed, no. All has gone smoothly. The morning after the fire, I left Paris as we’d planned, and came here to the town. I sent word to Rose and she met me, then brought me back to recommend me as an upstairs maid.”

“You did not tell her why,” Erik said.

“No, no, she knows only that the Opera House burned, and that I was in need of a position, at least for a time.”

“Other than Rose, no one knows who you are?”

“Not at all. I have been very discreet and quite busy,” she added, looking at her red hands with obvious annoyance. “I’m not used to
such work. But, Erik, we will have to move quickly. Philippe will not be held at bay by his brother for much longer.”

“Raoul has been protecting Christine?” A mixture of relief and jealousy poured through him. Christine with Raoul was hardly a better image to dwell on than Christine with Philippe; although with Raoul, she was at least likely to remain free of scars.

But what else might she give to him, the Vicomte de Chagny? Her heart? What would become of her love for Erik now that she was away from the Opera House and her poor accommodations, now that she was housed in the luxurious château with all of her wants and needs attended to…maids, clothing, all the food she could wish for, a chamber to herself, jewels…a man who could walk the streets in the day, and escort her to parties and soirees and to the shops in Paris…a man who did not let fear make him cower in the darkness for a decade?

The cheese crumbled in his fingers, scattering on the floor before him. It would be much easier for Christine to choose a man of light. Better for her. What sort of future could she have with a man who remained in the dark?

“Stop it, Erik,” Maude snapped as though reading his mind. “You have come too far to give it up now. I vow to you, she is the stronger of the two of you at this moment—much to my surprise. I thought she would be wailing in the corner, frightened like a little kitten—but no, she is determined to do what she must until you can come for her. She truly loves you.”

Maude was right, of course, and he was annoyed with his momentary lapse. “I know she does,” he said quietly, suddenly desperate for Christine. Erik forced himself to take a bite of cheese. It tasted little better than paper, but it was sustenance. And he trusted Maude like he trusted no one else, for she’d been as much of a mother as he’d had since his own had died nearly fifteen years ago.
It was Maude who’d helped him find sanctuary in the depths of the Opera House when he’d finally had to get away from the Chagnys. She had been against his love for Christine from the beginning; if she was supporting it now, it was the right thing.

Maude touched his hand; her fingers were warm on his skin. “You’ve been so used to hiding from the
comte
and his threats that it’s no wonder you hesitate.”

“But it has been ten years since he forced me into hiding—ten years of living underground because of something I didn’t do. The images of the bodies of those three women—no, girls, for they could not have been more than fifteen—have never left my mind. It was abominable what he did to them.”

“What proof does the
comte
claim to have that would implicate you for those crimes?”

Erik shrugged, taking another bite of the cheese. “I have not seen it, of course, but who would believe the innocence of a hideous monster over the wealth and power of a Chagny?” he said angrily. “I’ve wondered every day whether I should step out into the world and take my chances, try to take back even the mean life that I had and at least be able to call it my own, instead of cowering in the darkness because of my wicked half brother. I think of these years I’ve lost because of my fear of him and his wealth and power and I berate myself for my weakness.”

Maude closed her fingers around his wrist, her touch so comforting to a man who’d had little affection. “Strong in mind and heart, so strong in so many ways, you are, Erik…but one great weakness, one thing you haven’t been willing to risk—your freedom, or going back to a life of ridicule, and loss of yourself. That’s not so surprising, nor is it a great failing. Who among us would not do what we must to keep our persons free?

“You were young, then, remember, Erik? You could not have
been more than seventeen, perhaps eighteen, when you had to take refuge. And what was your life like before then? Full of derision and pain…it’s no wonder you made the choice you did. No wonder.”

“Even now, when the thing I love more than anything is at risk, I hide. I scuttle in corners like a beetle and rely on you to bring me news, and on you to speak to her, to soothe her.”

Maude looked at him, an unfamiliar glint in her eyes. “Erik. Do you need me to tell you that you are doing what you can? No, I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head. “I help you because I love you, and because I want you to have something
right
in your life, after all the years of anguish. When the time is right for you to come out of the darkness and fully into the light, you’ll do it.”

He had finished the cheese and now took a drink of wine to soothe his suddenly tight throat. No one had ever spoken to him with such kindness or confidence. “Thank you,” he said, with a short nod. Then he threw off the mantle of doubt and darkness that had come over him, and put his agile mind to work.

“I know all of the ways to enter the château, but I’m certain my brother will be expecting that,” he said. “He’ll be watching for me. We’ll have to find some way to get Christine out. Tell me…does she spend most of her time…alone? In her chamber? Or…” He took another drink of wine, his fingers tight on the smooth glass bottle.

“She dined with the Chagny brothers and the
comtesse
last evening, but today she has spent much time in her chamber, alone. Although I do not expect that will last for long, for as I said, Philippe is becoming impatient.”

“The moment Raoul’s back is turned, he will do what he wishes.” Erik bit into the last of the bread. “Christine must escape before then.…There must be a time when Philippe will be busy or otherwise distracted from her presence.”

“I heard mention that he expects visitors tomorrow. Perhaps when he is busy meeting with them—”

Erik was already nodding. “Yes, yes. That will be a good time. Philippe will make the grand gesture; he and Delia will dine with them…but what of Raoul? If he is there, Christine will likely be on his arm at the dinner table.”

“Raoul must return to Paris tomorrow morning, something related to his enlistment and upcoming voyage.”

Which meant that Christine would be without her protector. “Then we must do it tomorrow,” Erik said. “Do you know when the guests are to arrive?”

She was glancing out the window. “Late in the morning, I hear. The
comte
directed the staff to prepare a large dinner for them.”

Erik nodded. “Good. Raoul will be gone and that will make it easier. I’ll need you to make a distraction that will call the guards’ attention away from her escape—a fire in the barn would do it. The horses will be out to pasture, but the fire will be a threat nevertheless.”

“I can attend to that,” Maude agreed.

Cesar nickered nervously, his ears cocked and flickering, his feet prancing in the small cottage. Erik reached to pat him on the haunches. “Easy, boy,” he murmured, wondering if he’d sensed a wolf. “Take care on your return to the château; there have always been wolves about, and they have little fear.”

“I will indeed.”

He turned his mind back to the details. “If the fire is begun in the stable during dinner, that will pull Philippe from his meal and his guests. Start it a quarter hour before the meal is to be served, back in the upper loft. By the time it’s noticed, it will be a full-fledged blaze. Have Christine slip from her room through the
passageway I told you of, and she can leave the estate on the south side, farthest from the barn. Cesar and I will be waiting there for her.”

“I’ll do that.” Maude took his face in her hands, something she’d never done. Her fingers were cool on his bare skin and, on the other side, pressed the leather of his mask into his nerveless face. “Have a care, Erik.”

He nodded, and allowed her to draw him into an embrace. “Thank you, Maude. Thank you for all you’ve done.”

At the door of the cottage, he stopped her, listening. The faint rustle he thought he’d heard wasn’t repeated, and after a long moment of watching and waiting in silence, and noting that Cesar remained calm, he said, “Go now and beware the wolves.”

“Au revoir, Erik,” she said. And she was gone.

“C
hristine.”

The sound of her name wavered through the lull of sleep, and Christine opened her eyes, her heart pounding when she realized someone was in the dark bedchamber with her. It was a frightening moment before she ascertained that it wasn’t Philippe, or even Raoul. She smelled lilies.

“Madame?” Her voice was low by design and from sleep, but before she could say another syllable, a hand was pressed over her lips.