In the name of our love

8. Ahemq shemar (Stupid Count)

      Erik slowly closed the door to the house in Rouen and leaned against it. Was this going to become his haven now that the Palais Garnier was unavailable? He had a feeling that it would.

      "But now Christine knows where I am he said to the open air. "But Christine always knew where I was. Like I always knew where she was. Where she is." he corrected. Then he corrected that correction, "No, I don't know where she is. Not really. If I knew where she was I would have put the address on the envelope. At least she still knows where I am. "

      He stopped. If Christine knew where Erik was, then so would that ahemq waakeanet (stupid viscount.) Or rather that ahemq shemar (stupid Count). Raoul de Chagny. That stupid man who had gotten trapped in the Torture Chamber with the Daroga. If only it had been him who had been victim to the Siren of the Lake, not his brother Philippe. Philippe de Chagney wouldn't have been so stupid as to keep searching. He would have died in that forest of mirrors. That forest of mirrors with its metal tree and hangman's rope on a gibbet. 

      He went straight to the piano, angrily composing, trying desperatly to let out his frustrations before he left the house. Before he left the home that was never a home. He wouldn't do that, of course. There was nowhere else to go, but if Erik got angry enough, only God knew what he'd do or what he'd do next. 

                                             ***

     It had already been a few months since Erik had first started to inhabit the old house of his childhood. He had been quick to wipe away the dust from everywhere--except for his parent's room. He couldn't bring himself to go in there, much less to clean it. But above all, the piano was kept spotless, his constant playing had made sure of that fact. He had been right. It had become his haven, his undiscovered home. 

     He hadn't gone to town much, but when he did he made sure to where his realistic mask--the one that made him look almost normal. He had been quick to buy more clothes. Ones that would help him blend into the small french town. 

     It hadn't been long before he started to get bored, what with no one to haunt, no one to play tricks on. His inner child was left to rot. That was, until he got an idea. He hadn't heard from Christine yet. It had been more than long enough for a postman to seek him out from the place where he hid. The address was stated clearly on the envolope, for Faust's sake! He would go after her. It hadn't taken him long before he found out where she was, anyways! She had been one of his first priorities after shelter and clothing. No food, even Aref had realized how little he ate, what with the endless questions and poking. The Persian who couldn't even kill a rabbit. Who couldn't even throw a lasso. Faust, that man had been nearly useless. Useless, but dangerous. That was probably an oxymoron, but it was true. 

        It didn't take long for the Living Corpse to pack a bag and head out the door. He hailed a cab, determined to find his lost love. The woman which he loved, but whom didn't love him in return. He told the driver the address in barely more than a whisper, then leaned back in the seat, looking at the scenery and trying to determine what he would say to Christine when he saw her. After a while of thinking, he gave up. Erik knew himself. He wouldn't remember the practiced words when he saw his love and he knew that. So what was the point in rehearsing words that would never be put to the open air, to the ears of the person that they were directed towards? 

       The cab ground to a halt and Erik clambered out of the cab, paying the cabbie the francs that he was due. With that, he stared up at the grand house that Christine now lived in. Erik took a deep, shuddering breath. He hadn't realized on the ride over how scared he would be. What if the Count was home? He shook his head. Why was he scared of some little shemar? He was the one who had controlled the Torture Chamber those years ago. He was the one who had seen the Count go mad in the heat and stress of the mirrored forest. He clearly had the advantage.