| The Wedding Thief ~ Chapter 2 |
| The Daroga of Mazanderan was sitting calmly in his Parisian parlor, enjoying a cup of tea, when he heard a ferocious knock on the door. He nodded to his servant, Darius, who cautiously opened the door and peered into the darkness. At first it seemed as if no one was there, but then the shadows seemed to take on a human shape, and a brilliant white half-mask came into view. “Monsieur Erik,” Darius exclaimed, taking a step back in surprise. “My old friend,” Nadir called out, and he rose to his feet to greet Erik with a warm smile. “This is an unexpected pleasure!” The Phantom hesitated in the doorway, as if deciding whether or not he should cross the threshold. He had rarely visited Nadir before, and was not at ease in social settings, but he was in desperate need of a friend, and could not decline the Persian’s hospitality. “Daroga,” Erik murmured, as he gave Nadir a formal bow. He handed his cloak and hat to Darius, and struggled to keep his emotions in check. It was such a normal gesture to give one’s protective garments to a valet, but Erik felt quite naked without his phantom mantle. He looked to Nadir for reassurance, and was overwhelmed by the look of compassionate concern on the Persian’s face. It humbled him and made him feel all the more vulnerable. “Would you like a cup of tea?” Nadir offered graciously. “Very well…” Erik said, trying to shake off his discomfort. Nadir gave a nod to Darius, who quietly left the room. Then he turned his attention to the Phantom. “I did not know if I would ever see you again,” he said softly. “I have been quite worried....” “I know,” Erik replied brusquely. He had found traces of the Persian’s investigations in the caverns surrounding his lair (after their last unfortunate encounter), but Erik had closed his heart and mind to all company but Death, and he did not want to bother Nadir with such matters. “Are you all right, my friend?” Nadir asked gently, rousing the Phantom from his troubled thoughts. Erik shook his head and struggled to maintain his composure. “I have loved and lost,” he answered in a broken voice. His body was beginning to shake from the suppressed sobs, and he feared he would lose all composure. Nadir moved beside him and guided Erik into a chair. Then he resumed his own seat. “You are better for this,” he said softly, regarding the Phantom with gentle eyes. “I don’t feel any better!” Erik growled. He wanted to shout to high Heaven that it wasn’t fair, that he had been denied so much in life because of the deformity of his face. But as soon as his anger came, it left. He knew Nadir was right. Christine’s kiss had changed him. And oh, how he longed for that kiss again! To see her, to touch her, to revel in the bliss of her accepting kiss! But he could not force her to stay with him. And she left, Erik reminded himself. She left. The Phantom slumped over in defeat, and Nadir sighed, longing to reach out to him. But how? He sipped his tea and scanned the room, looking for some kind of answer. Then an idea struck him and he turned to the chessboard that rested on the table between them. “Perhaps a game of chess might ease your troubles,” Nadir said simply. “I have found that life is quite like this game. Don’t you think?” “What?” Erik asked, looking up in consternation. “One can lay down in defeat,” the Daroga continued as he assembled the chess pieces. “Or one can keep trying to play the game. C’est la vie, no?” Unbidden, the Phantom found himself nodding in agreement. “I suppose you are right, Nadir,” he conceded, and he reached out to pick up a white pawn. After a moment’s thought, he moved the piece forward, and then sat back to regard his friend with sparkling eyes. “I haven’t been beaten yet.” * Christine awoke to find herself in a dark room. A single candle flickered on the table beside her and a small patch of moonlight shone from the only window in the place. Framed in the moonlight was the silhouette of a man in a black cloak. He was gazing intently out the window and did not seem to notice her. Christine’s thoughts flashed back to the disturbance at the wedding, and she assumed she must have fainted when she was carried off. A strange joy flooded through her as she realized that the man by the window had to be her beloved Phantom. She stirred and tried to sit up, preparing to greet her absent lover with a smile, but she discovered that her arms were fastened to the chair that she was propped up in. “Erik?” she called out gently. “Why have you tied me up? You don’t have to worry about me running away...” She tested her bonds and became distressed when she found that they were quite tight. “Please, my love,” she said in earnest. “Untie me.” The figure at the window turned towards her, and Christine shrank back in fear. The man was dressed in the Phantom’s garb, but he wore a strange black mask instead of Erik’s white half-mask, and she could not see his face. “Erik?” Christine asked hesitantly. The figure placed a finger to his lips, indicating that she should be silent. Then he walked towards her, his black cloak swirling seductively about him. To Christine, he looked like a giant cobra slithering towards its prey. His entire manner unnerved her. “Are you trying to frighten me?” she asked, trying to sound bold. “You will not succeed...” Again she squirmed in the chair, her terror mounting as the man moved closer to her. “Erik, please!” she cried. “I do not like this game!” The man suddenly lunged towards Christine, causing her to cry out. As she struggled against him, the villain withdrew a handkerchief from his cloak and pressed it to her mouth, easily muffling her cries. The kerchief reeked of chloroform, and Christine found herself losing consciousness. As she peered wide-eyed into her captor’s masked face, she caught sight of his dark eyes, and noticed for the first time that they were not mismatched at all, but were black and dangerous like pools of midnight. ~ Chapter 3 ~ |