It would be suicidal to release himself to a place of affection for another woman. He had learned a painful lesson with Christine Daaé and would rather die a torturous death in one of his former mirrored chambers than from the heat of desire that consumes a sexually, starved man. He loathed being denied the flesh of a female. He had come close to forcing himself upon women in Persia, but they spurned his murderous hands and appearance. Perhaps he should have raped and pillaged like other madmen, then he wouldn’t be in the current state of frustration.
If Désirée tempted his resolve, he could lose control and devour her without feeling an ounce of guilt afterward. He wanted to be a better man, but he knew his capabilities more than anyone else. Once he lost control, nothing could stop his actions.
Erik gulped the remaining drop in his glass and stood to get another. He feared losing control would be his undoing. Then the words came floating back in his mind, “Love you will find…”
He set the glass down, grabbed his cloak, and headed out the door ignoring the late hour. Erik had to discover if the woman had been a fraud, as he suspected. Otherwise, her pronouncement of his future would never cease taunting his mind.
Erik strode down the dark streets, remembering exactly where she lived. When he arrived, he saw lights illuminating the interior. He had no qualms about making his presence known outside the soothsayer’s residence. After balling his fist, he pounded on the door in relentless determination until it opened to reveal Madame Sybelle Renard standing in the threshold.
It did not appear as if he had awakened her from slumber, even though she wore a black dressing gown. Her face showed no outward shock over his arrival, and Erik thought that perhaps she had expected him to respond to her one day. A sly smile curled her lips, which peeved him.
“Why, Monsieur Dante,” she breathed with delight. “What a surprise! After all these years, you’ve finally come for a visit.” She eyed him up and down and then continued her patronizing words. “If you’re here for a reading,” she intoned, “I’m afraid it’s after hours, and you’ll have to return another time.”
She began to close the door in his face, but Erik thrust his hand against the wooden barrier and shoved it back open. He pushed his body forward until she stepped back into the foyer. Her facial expression spoke surprise over his actions but also of a satisfied expectation.
“I wish to speak with you,” he growled, shoving the door shut behind him. Quickly, he glanced about his surroundings and noticed a parlor to his right. Candles dimly lit the room and embers burned in the fireplace.
“I’d invite you in, but I see you’ve already decided to invite yourself.” She turned and sauntered into her parlor leading the way. Her hand pointed to a nearby chair. “Please do have a seat.”
“I prefer to stand,” he noted warily. He used caution, since he did not know whether she lived alone or with another.
“Very well, whatever you prefer,” she replied unmoved. “I prefer to sit.”
She sat in a chair and faced him, crossing her legs, and looking more relaxed than he wished. His presence did nothing to rile her apparently, and she displayed a cold, satisfied smirk across her face. He wasn’t surprised. If she had been steeped into the occult, as most soothsayers were, she had danced with the Devil before. No doubt, he presented no threat to her world; hence her unconcerned reaction. Erik sensed evil, and it sat in a chair only a few feet away from where he stood.
“What can I do for you?”
Erik cast his dark eyes at her figure and replied in a menacing tone. “I am here to discuss your fortune over my life, which you were so intent on giving me the night of the masquerade. I wish to know its meaning.”
After his declaration, he found himself in an awkward situation. He had professed upon their meeting that he did not believe in fortunetellers. Now, he stood there, demanding to know the truth about her so-called psychic skills.
“Was it a vision you saw or simply a ploy on your part to play a ruse?”
Her eyes sparkled deviously, and she tilted her head back and laughed. “Well, I thought you declared that fortunetellers were fakes, out to take the unsuspecting of their money, making up imaginary tales of the future to tickle the ears of gullible customers.”
Madame Renard stood from her chair and postured herself in front of his body. “Don’t tell me, Monsieur Dante, that my words are coming true, and they have sparked your interest in my abilities?”
Erik braced himself against the witch that stood before him with her arrogant eyes. Evil against evil, he thought to himself. He could show no weakness in the presence of a snake attempting to wrap her coils of deceit about his mind. As he stood examining her dark eyes, he questioned his rash behavior for coming to her door.
“Seeking you out was a mistake,” he replied coldly. “You are a fake, a phony who enjoys toying with the minds of others.” Erik stepped away from her body.
“Now, now, Monsieur Dante,” she drawled. “You came for a reason, and I know why.”
Her finger reached out again and traced itself from the bottom of his neck down to his heart. Erik grabbed her wrist and squeezed it tightly, but she neither yelped nor tried to pull away. He watched her hand grow white as he obstructed the flow of blood to her fingers.
“You came,” she continued undaunted, “because an opportunity of love has presented itself to you for the first time in many years. Perhaps you are not sure what to do with that opportunity? Will it tear your heart? Will it be your death?”
Erik released his grip and flung her hand away.
“You’re mad,” he snarled. He turned to head for the door, but she followed after him and leaned into his ear to whisper her last taunting words. They spilled confidently from her lips in one seductive trail of torment.
“I told you love would come. However, I surmise it’s my prophecy that it will be your undoing and death that concerns you the most, eh?” She boldly placed her hand on his forearm. “You wish for love, Monsieur Dante. Don’t we all? It is a risk you will have to take, to fall in love or not. If this woman has caught your eye, then you must make a decision.”
Her hand rested on his forearm, and Erik felt a cold chill enter his body.
“Whether you believe that it will be your ultimate end is the path you must walk alone. I only speak what I see in my visions, Monsieur. Take them or leave them.”
Her hand slipped off his arm, and Erik stood motionless. His eyes stared at her, trying to sort out the myriad of emotions assaulting his mind.
“You appear speechless,” she finally observed. “Au revoir, Monsieur, you know the way out.” She pointed to the door.
Erik left without speaking a word, cursing himself repeatedly for having entered her door. He strode down the street back to the opera house, clothed in his hooded cloak, pondering the fortuneteller’s evil bile.
Already in a weakened state fighting the bewitching presence of Désirée, he felt drawn to a path of seduction that he could not avoid. She had begun to touch the core of his hardened exterior. He stopped briefly and pulled out his handkerchief stained by her tears. His heart pounded in his chest. Erik desired to mingle the essence of his soul with hers, yet feared the glorious rush of affection for another human being. He thirsted and hungered for an ounce of admiration from her in return, even though it frightened him deeply.
Erik shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket and continued down the dark street. Perhaps it would be his undoing and death, but he was dead already, so what did it matter?
Chapter Sixteen
Erik spent a sleepless night. He should have left well enough alone, but for some odd reason, he felt driven to confront his fortune. It only resulted in further confusion, because he could not discern whether he found truth or deceit. He did decide on one thing, though, while tossing and turning in the middle of the night. Fortune or no fortune, he would pursue his inclinations toward Désirée, but he needed Andrea’s help first.
He found her the next morning at
the dining table with Richard, drinking her tea and eating her usual muffin for breakfast. Interrupting the cozy scene between the two, he approached Andrea to convey his wishes.
“I want to speak with you.”
“Of course,” she replied eagerly. “Richard and I were just having breakfast. Why don’t you join us?”
“In private.”
“Oh,” she responded, raising one eyebrow.
She glanced at Richard. Erik knew when he used the word private with Andrea, Richard understood the meaning. She placed her napkin next to her plate, scooted her chair back, and rose to her feet.
“Excuse me, Richard,” she commented, shooting him a curious look.
“Yes, of course. If privacy is what you need, then by all means. I’ll remain here with my coffee and morning news.”
Thankful that Richard gave no objection, Erik escorted Andrea back to his quarters. He rarely allowed Andrea a glimpse inside his world unless necessary. Immediately, he sensed Andrea’s uneasiness as she glanced about his surroundings. Nothing much to see, he thought to himself, except for his usual strewn sheets of music, his violin, and other private endeavors he used for amusement. Of late, he had taken to reading the history of Malta, and Andrea curiously picked up one the books on a nearby table.
“Reading, I see,” she said, eyeing the title.
“Sit,” he commanded. His voice sounded curt and direct.
Andrea found a nearby chair and obediently sat down. Her curious eyes lifted to his face, and Erik cleared his throat in an attempt to convey his unorthodox request.
“I need a favor from you, Andrea, or perhaps two,” he admitted. “You’ll think I’m mad, but that’s unimportant. I’m just trying to make a point in what I am about to ask you.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, what is it, Erik?”
“I need you to purchase a small bottle of rose-scented perfume.”
“What?”
The look on her face incited the reaction he expected. “You heard me.”
“For goodness sake, why? What on Earth are you going to do with a bottle of rose-scented perfume?”
“It’s a gift,” he replied, pulling his gaze from her to look at the book on the table. He heard a long sigh escape her lungs.
“Erik, do you know what you’re doing?”
“Of course I know what I’m doing,” he snapped back.
“Is it for Désirée?”
Erik softened his exterior at the mention of her name. “She insists on wearing lilac fragrance, and I find it most annoying. I told her if she must douse herself with perfume, then rose is my preference.”
Andrea smiled at his explanation. Erik sounded like a youth with a crush. His eyes warily crawled back to look at her, and he immediately saw a mixture of emotions. No doubt, she would be running back to Richard soon to discuss his newest obsession.
“I assure you,” he explained slowly to cover his secret admiration. “It’s merely a kind gesture on my part. There are no hidden motives. We continue lessons. I am her tutor. She is my student.”
“Well,” Andrea exhaled, accepting his clarification without objection. “I shall make my way to the nearest perfume shop and make your purchase today. Is there anything else you require?”
“No, that will be all.”
Erik looked at his friend, his heart urging him to bear his next confession. He needed to tell someone what had happened. It tormented him with unanswered questions. He couldn’t shake her lack of reaction over his unmasked face. Would Andrea have an answer to her strange behavior?
“I stripped my mask and wig off before her, Andrea.” His voice hesitated while he dealt with his embarrassment.
“My God, Erik, why?” She jumped to her feet and came to his side. “What did she do?”
He shook his head trying to compose his response, which he feared would be unbelievable even for Andrea. “She did nothing. No reaction whatsoever.” Erik remembered her words clearly. “She only said, ‘You are not the ugliest human I have seen in my life.’”
At the mention of his appearance, he adjusted his mask and wig. He often unconsciously did so whenever he spoke of his deformity.
“I was stunned frankly. She merely wishes to continue her lessons and apparently can deal with a hideous teacher. I thought for sure she would react as most do, but she did not.”
“Well, I must say, that does surprise me,” she confessed. “I’m suddenly curious to know what makes her so confident that she did not react.”
“Then find out, Andrea,” he commanded. “I wish you to befriend her. I’m curious as to what lays beneath the exterior.” He paused and then revealed his thoughts. “I feel like a bumbling idiot when I’m in her presence. I want to know what she genuinely thinks of me. I…”
“Do you have feelings for her?” Andrea reached out to touch his arm, her faced filled with concern.
Erik shrugged his shoulders and turned his gaze from her eyes. “Well, I’m intrigued, but I think she merely has a crush upon an older man. When I play my violin, it seems to have a profound effect upon her. I will admit that much.” Erik’s mouth curled in a small smile over the thought of being able to touch her so profoundly through his playing.
In an out-of-character move, he reached over and placed his hand upon Andrea’s, still resting upon his forearm. “I will be careful, Andrea. My heart is not the type, as you know, to be released so readily to another. Beneath this hardened exterior is a man who still longs to be loved. An opportunity presents itself, and I cannot deny what I crave. I’ve tried. It’s useless.”
“We all want to be loved, Erik. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be loved.” She patted his hand and removed it from his arm. “I will get you the perfume and will befriend her as requested. Whatever I learn about her, I will tell you. You can be assured.”
“Thank you, dear friend.” Erik walked her to the door. “As I think about my request, I think perhaps it would make sense for you to give her the bottle. I’d rather not have the gift come from my hand. You may just say that her tutor wishes her to have it, so he will not gag at our next lesson.” Erik chuckled at his humorous statement. “Perhaps that will make light of it and not encourage her affections unnecessarily.”
“Of course, Erik, that sounds quite appropriate.”
Andrea departed, and Erik returned to his composition. The remainder of the day he spent locked behind closed doors lost in his music. He would compose a few measures and then play them on his violin. Tonight, if he felt so inclined, he would play his newest movement and see if it had the same effect upon Désirée.
* * *
Andrea made the purchase of perfume and returned to find Désirée working in the auditorium dusting the arms of the seats. As she watched her go about her duties, she stood for a few minutes observing her movements and paying close attention to her physical appearance. She was a beautiful woman, but Andrea did not like the mysterious aura of her personality. After she pushed her thoughts aside, she walked down the aisle and came up behind Désirée as she dusted an armchair.
“Might I have a word with you?”
The young woman whirled around startled by her presence with a look of shock on her face.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t wish to surprise you. I hate it when someone does that to me. Forgive me.” Andrea smiled and explained her presence. “I have something for you.” She held out a small white box tied with a pink ribbon.
“For me?” Désirée eyed the package.
Andrea noted her hesitation before accepting it. “Yes, your teacher requested that I procure for you a fragrance that is a bit more appealing to his sense of smell.” She smiled, satisfied with her explanation. “Sit and let’s talk,” she suggested, motioning to one of the seats.
Désirée examined the box curiously. “Go ahead and open it,” Andrea encouraged her.
She carefully untied the pink bow and lifted the lid slowly to see a bottle of Eau de Parfum of Rose inside. A smile spread across her face
, and she let out a girlish giggle.
“I guess he prefers that I toss out my lilac fragrance.” She removed the bottle and squeezed the aromatic ball sending a spray of fragrance to her wrist. Désirée took a sniff.
“A kind gesture, indeed, but it’s not my favorite scent,” she honestly confessed. “I will wear it for his sake, so I don’t gag him in our lessons.” She replaced the bottle and closed the box. “Will you thank him for me?” she asked, lifting her eyes to Andrea.
“Well, I think, dear, that is something you can do when you see him again at your next lesson.” She paused studying the young woman’s demeanor, trying to ascertain if she felt any affection for Erik. “Are you enjoying your lessons with him?”
“Oh, yes,” she blurted out, without hesitancy. “He’s been exceedingly kind to teach me, though I fear I will not be able to play with any proficiency. I only hope he continues to be patient, for I will never make the melodious sounds of his violin.” She paused thoughtfully and then confessed her heart. “I love to hear him play. It’s quite soothing.”
Andrea nodded her head in agreement. She noted Désirée’s term of love to describe Erik’s skill. “Yes, he is a genius in many ways. I’ve never heard anyone in my entire life bring forth such power and feeling from the violin. It’s a gift, I believe, to make up for what he lacks. Though, I think Erik would disagree.”
“You mean his deformity?”
Surprised that she mentioned it in such casual conversation, Andrea continued the discussion to ascertain her true feelings. “He told me that you saw him.”
Désirée pulled her eyes away and fiddled with the box sitting on her lap. “Yes,” she replied, lowering her voice. “We had a tiff over my fragrance and the meaning of lilac. He accused me of having emotions for him, and then pulled off his mask and hairpiece to discourage me.” She slowly lifted her gaze to Andrea, who sat on the edge of her seat, waiting to hear what she truly thought about Erik’s appearance.
The Phantom of Valletta Page 13
