THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS

Thank you to Heart_Rose, Slitherliggie and Chica de Nueva York for the lovely reviews and kind words. You have all made my day. So delighted you are enjoying the journey.

Here is the next chapter. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR Part One

Le Château D’Auberge Outskirts of Paris 1879

Erik’s wife and the four men rode abreast on the moonlit path to Le Château D’Auberge, which lay on the outskirts of Paris, not far from the old porcelain factory where Maurice D’Auberge had brought the little girls and the opium for Erik to inspect and sign the papers for their sale.

Mae made them recite the plan to her. Alain knew the layout of the Château and its grounds, so he would to help the Persian and Darius set their homemade bombs of mental containers filled with gunpowder. Also, Darius had loaded some of the cheaper bottles of wine for Molotov cocktails. They had plenty of matches between the five of them.

Raoul would accompany Mae in search of her husband and the girls. Obviously, they needed a means of transporting the cargo once they found them; therefore, Alain would check out the stables.

They still had an hour’s ride ahead of them, so the conversation turned to questions about each other.

“M. Persian, how did you come to know Erik, our notorious Opera Ghost?” asked Raoul, looking for a way to incriminate Mae’s husband.

“We served in the service of the Shah of Persia some years back,” Daroga, the Persian, answered carefully.

“Truly. What was his position there?”

“He was a master of many talents, so to name one would not do him justice. Let’s say he was the grand vizier.”

“Oh. He became a very powerful man.”

“And you, M. le Vicomte, how did you come to know Erik?” Daroga asked as he gave a knowing look to Mae. They both knew Raoul had feelings for her and tried to find as much fault to Erik as possible.

“I first met him in Christine’s dressing room as Mae and I tried to communicate with her friends through the mirror. Upon our second meeting he tried to strangle me with his lasso,” Raoul rubbed his neck at the thought.

“We have something in common, M. le Vicomte,” Alain gave a knowing smile. “I too have felt the lasso around my neck.”

“And yet you ride with us to rescue this man?” Raoul puzzled.

“And yet YOU come to rescue this man. Why?” Alain tossed the question back to him.

“Touché, my friend, I am here at Madame’s request,” he took Mae’s hand and kissed it tenderly. She gave a faint smile as she politely claimed her hand.

“M. Persian, do you have a name we may call you? I feel awkward calling you the Persian,” Alain turned the subject.

“You may call me Daroga, which means police commissioner, the title of my old position. My given name would be too difficult to pronounce,” the Persian smiled.

Mae leaned over to him and whispered softly, “Are you the spellcaster?”

He gave her a look that said nothing.

“Spellcaster, Madame? To what do you refer?”

“You told Erik to speak to Mitra and she showed him things in that pool,” Mae retorted, knowing full well that he knew what she meant.

“Ah, yes, Mitra. Good woman. Very helpful.”

“Please answer the question. Are you the spellcaster?”

“All truth will be made known. Be patient.”

“You’re going all cryptic again,” Mae sighed. “Were you always like this? The book says nothing about you being cryptic.

“Ah, the book,” the Persian smiled. They all waited for his take on the book, but no comment.

Alain frowned. “What book?”

“Never mind,” Mae huffed.

“Did it mention the assassins?” Alain continued.

“Assassins?” Raoul and the Persian cried in unison.

“I don’t recall you mentioning assassins,” Raoul looked worried.

“We took care of them,” came the retort.

“She held her own. My Laurette calls her Lady Death.”
“Thanks for the announcement, Alain,” again Mae huffed.

“How many assassins?” asked the Persian as he and his servant Darius exchanged looks.

“I saw three,” Alain offered. “Erik killed two with his lasso and Madame killed one protecting my beloved.”

“You killed one?” Raoul’s eyes grew big.

“Broadsword,” the young bride patted the weapon strapped to her back. “Standard hack and slash or slice and dice,” she grinned. Raoul swallowed hard. The Persian threw back his head in hearty laughter.

“No wonder Erik said ‘she can hold her own’,” the Persian bowed to the Lady Death.

“I guess we’ll see. Looks like company again!” Mae drew her sword as the others followed her gaze.

In the pale moonlight, some five or six shadow riders appeared in the roadway up ahead. Had Maurice D’Auberge found someone stupid enough to pick up the contract on Erik and his wife?

The others drew their weapons, Alain, the Persian and Darius their pistols. Raoul had both sword and pistol.

As they came closer, they discovered the riders did not seek them, but seemed occupied with a fine brougham. The riders came to rob not assassinate.

Mae and company surrounded the band of thieves, taking them by surprise. Only two shots fired wounding one highwayman.

The six seemed very willing to give up. They surrendered their pistols and left quickly with their wounded, muttering something about Death and his wife roaming the countryside.

“Did I hear them correctly? Did they say something about Death and his wife roaming the countryside?” Mae felt insulted.

“It appears your reputation precedes you, Madame. They seemed more frightened of you and your sword than of us and the pistols,” the Persian smiled. “You should be flattered. I know of no woman so revered.”

“Revered nothing. They’re totally wigged.”

“Wigged?” the Persian looked confused.


CONTINUED IN THE FOLLOWING POST

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR CONCLUSION

“More speech from her time,” Raoul added with a faint smile.

Mae ignored them and turned to the carriage. Unbeknown to Mae and her band, the brougham transported Brianna, Snow White’s wicked stepmother and witch; the same sorceress currently battling Doone and the others in the 21st Century.

Etienne drove, looking as handsome as ever in his Victorian dress of the late 1800’s. He flashed a smile at Mae. Something about her seemed familiar making him feel like he knew her, but not.

Inside the brougham sat Brianna dressed in all of the finery of a wealthy lady. Her emerald green velvet dress clung to her luscious curves. She sported emeralds and diamonds whose brilliance rivaled the sun and moon put together. A heavy woolen cloak with a satin lining enveloped her, and a dainty chapeau of lace and feathers covered her head.

Next to her, of course, sat Landru dressed as Etienne in a handsome Victorian suite and cloak.

“Thank you Madame et Monsieurs. It is most kind of you to aid in our rescue,” Brianna smiled as Landru stepped from the carriage and helped her down. Etienne climbed down to join them.

“I am Brianna, fiancée to one of Paris’ greatest nobleman, Maurice D’Auberge.”

Mae and the others exchanged looks at the mention of the name and dismounted. Raoul and the others each bowed to the sorceress and kissed her hand.

Mae eyed the newcomers suspiciously. She too felt something familiar about them, but couldn’t put her finger on it.

At last she tried to curtsey, but it felt awkward wearing men’s apparel. They all laughed, including Mae.

“I beg your pardon, Lady Brianna. Perhaps I should bow instead,” Mae grinned.

“Not at all. You are quite proper. I should like to reward you.”

“That is not necessary. Are you en route to Paris?” Mae asked coyly.

“Why no. My cousins and I are on our way to my fiancé’s château.”

The Persian and Mae exchanged looks. What were they going to do now? They had only planned to combat Maurice and his men, hence the gunpowder, bomb accessories and weapons.
“Tonight may not be the night for a visit. Especially since you’ve just encountered highwaymen,” said the Persian.

“I don’t believe your cousins are armed, are they?” asked Raoul straining to see beneath their cloaks.

“Not with weapons familiar to you. We will be safe. If you will not take a reward, please excuse us. We must be on our way. However, if you change your mind or if you should need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask,” Brianna curtsied to Mae.

“Anything, mademoiselle?” Mae said, thinking ahead.

“Anything,” came the reply.

“Grant to me this, that you and your cousins will return to Paris instead of going to your fiancé. Please, I implore you,” the Lady Death requested in a rather ominous tone, insomuch that it sent a chill through the witch, in spite of all her magick.

“I gave my word to grant you anything you wished, so let it be. We will return to Paris immediately. There is urgency in your voice, which disturbs me. Is there something you’d like to share?” Brianna’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight. All of Mae’s men swallowed hard and loosened their collars from the heat the seductress had created.

“Perhaps, when this night has ended,” the Persian bowed and kissed her hand. The other men followed suite and mounted their horses.

Mae smiled and bowed her head in thanks. “Thank you. Be safe.”

“Wait you have not told me your name. Nor have your men,” she waited for an answer. The glint of the broadsword caught her eye. “You are the one who has killed the assassins Maurice sent. You are the wife of Death, he who haunts the Opera House!”

Mae hefted the sword. “Call me what you wish. Go now, for I have granted you your life once, I will not do it again.” With that, Mae sheathed the sword and mounted her horse.

As Mae and her men rode away, Landru helped the sorceress back into the carriage.

“Are we really returning to Paris?” he asked as he sat next to her and closed the carriage door.

“Of course not. The fake robbery brought them to us as I knew it would. Now we know what allies fight against us. We will proceed to Maurice as planned.” She turned to Etienne who looked in from outside. “Proceed to the château. There might be a bit of excitement. If Madame Death is bound there, so is her spouse. Aw, death, how...”

“…morbid,” finished Etienne as he sadly resumed his place as the driver.

As the carriage began to move, the beautiful witch looked to Landru. “It appears that Etienne is no longer amused with our sadistic pleasure. Can he still be trusted?”

Landru brushed his lips against her delicate cheek. “He would do nothing I wouldn’t do. Look at me, my beloved. Can you trust me?”

She turned and looked into his pleading eyes and melted into his arms, their lips met, hungry for each other.

Mae caught up with the others in time to hear their mummer of distrust for Brianna.

“Do you believe she will turn back?” asked the Persian as Mae caught up to him.

“Of course not. She’ll be there in a bit.”

“You are not concerned?” asked a worried Alain.

“No. We proceed as planned. If they get in the way, they become casualties,” Erik’s bride answered coldly.

Alain kicked his horse to catch up with Mae. “You sound more and more like Erik by the minute. You have that…” his voice trailed.

“I have what?” she wouldn’t look at him.

“Coldness. Almost heartless,” Raoul interjected.

“Thanks for the analysis guys. If I need a shrink I’ll get one.”

“Shrink? More speech from your time?” Raoul felt a little afraid of her.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll send you a dictionary.”

“Do you know her, Mae?” asked the Persian sensing her concern. Indeed she acted like Erik in many ways. Even her tone of voice.

“I know that you are the spellcaster. Brianna is not what she appears. She feels a magical creature. Being what you are, you know this, too.”

“How do you know?”

“The eyes are the give away. I look into your eyes and see answers you keep from me. I look into her eyes…she’s a witch and a liar.”

“You see all of this in her eyes?”

“If you knew what a movie was I’d reference you one.”

“I know what a movie is. Moving pictures, unlike the still photographs,” replied the Persian, knowingly.

Alain and the others stared at him. Raoul shook his head in disbelief and muttered to himself. If he had not been so attracted to Mae and owed her his life, he would have declined the offer of tonight’s journey.

“So, you know what a movie is, huh? How? And don’t go all cryptic,” Mae looked him in the eye as the horses kept a quick and steady gait.

“The Mystic Pool of Mazenderan. I saw you watching one.”

“Wow! That must be some pool. Was this in wide screen Technicolor and surround sound, too?” she asked sarcastically.

“My, aren’t we sarcastic. I would never have thought this of you,” the Persian smiled. For the moment, he withheld the answers a little longer.

“Something isn’t right about the highwaymen. They really didn’t put up a fight and seemed surprised with the exchange of gunfire,” Alain thought aloud.

“He’s right. Do you think the robbery was for our benefit?” Raoul looked to Mae and the Persian.

“Mae knew it, Brianna is a witch. I’ve heard of her in mystic circles. And you are right, M. le Vicomte, the robbery was for our benefit,” the Persian seemed thoughtful. “Tonight will be more than what we’ve bargained for.”

“I don’t know anything about magic. All I can do is pray for God’s help,” the young bride remarked. “And do the standard hack and slash or slice and dice, depending on the sitch,” she patted the sword.

“Hack and slash or slice and dice? Interesting use of words. What does ‘sitch’ mean?” Raoul puzzled. Mae ignored him.

“I know some magicks, so with the help of Allah we will defeat them,” added the Persian. They all agreed.

“Okay, let’s go. No telling what my Erik is up against,” Mae kicked her horse to go faster. The others followed suite.

very nice more soon?

Finally I`ve caught up with you guys and this is as amazing as always. You never fail in keeping me on the edge.

I love this cross between this century and theirs.... So great!
Loved it, would like more Please!!!!!!!!

Very very cool. and also interesting how Brianna also features in that time, although it shouldn't have surprised me; we are busy with a "looking glass" after all...

Please continue soon, my friend, I can't wait to see how that battle goes...


D

Heart_Rose, good to see you again. Thank you. Glad you enjoyed.

Silver Moon, it's been a long time. So happy to see you. Thank you for the kind words.

Devine_Muse always a pleasure. Thank you for a grand review. Glad you like the two stories which intertwine. My publisher said American young adults would not understand the two stories. Obviously he's never met the sharp group of friends I have here.

Slytherliggie glad you made it. Thank you for a lovely review. All of you make my entire week. Whoo hoo!

Now for the next chapter, where we look in on Doone and the gang challenging Briana in the present. Lets see what happens.

This will be posted in two parts as in previous times.

Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE PART ONE

Sacré Coeur Paris 2006

As Doone disappeared into the shadows, swirling white mist encircled Brianna as she slowly transformed herself into a huge panther. Sitting on its haunches it stood the height of Doone. A monstrous cat!

Twanda and Kimee could not contain their screams. Micha tried to ignore them, as he continued to chant while moving his fingers in circles toward the suspended mirrors.

With inhuman powers the panther leapt upon the frightened Etienne, howling and clawing as it proceeded to maul him. Landru tried every spell he knew against the panther, but still it pawed and bloodied its victim. It didn’t want to kill him right away. That would be too quick. He needed to suffer. Fear had to devour him before the cat did.

Etienne’s screams filled the basilica. Linda Peters fainted at the horror of the gory attack. Twanda and Kimee scrambled for her and finally caught hold of her arm and drug her behind the pulpit.

A small, distant voice seemed to start out softly, gently then increased in volume, beckoning from the mirror in the secret room behind the crucifix. The sweet, angelic voice lifted in strains of heavenly ecstasy. The voice enveloped the panther and drowned out its cries of attack and Etienne’s cries of pain and terror.

The panther tried to ignore the voice, but couldn’t. Its cries grew faint as the golden tones wrapped itself around the big cat. It began to purr as sweet peace engulfed it.

Etienne fell quiet and still, as if dead. His body lay limp and bloody before them.

At last Micha succeeded in turning the suspended mirrors toward the partially opened entrance behind the crucifix. An eerie aura emanated from them. Pale translucent bars from one suspended mirror hit the one in the hidden room then bounced to the last one suspended creating a triangle of energy.

Landru realized what Micha did and joined him in the final chant. The voice continued to fill every corner of the church. Even Christine felt drawn to it, but Father Orestes restrained her as she started for the door as if in a trance.

By now the panther had fallen silent and still. Slowly, reluctantly it reverted back to the devastatingly beautiful woman it really was. With closed eyes she walked unseeing toward the opened door of the hidden room, drawn not only by the voice but also the triangle of energy, the eerie aura created by the mirrors.

Those golden tones filled her soul and groins with unbridled passion. An intense wave of heat washed over Brianna. She not only wanted, but needed the man who belonged to the voice.

Linda remained unconscious since Twanda and Kimee had stuffed earplugs into her ears and their own so as not to fall under the spell of the Opera Ghost.

Slowly the door to the hidden room opened wide to receive its rebellious and reluctant guest. Her eyes popped open as she reached out for the mirror.

Twanda and Kimee followed the still chanting Micha and Landru into the secret room. They spread out, trying hard not to get caught in the triangle of mystical energy.

In the looking glass a reflection formed within the emanating energy, revealing Doone as the Phantom, wearing a death’s head, dark clothing and a black flowing cape. His voice continued to mesmerize the sorceress as he reached out to her.

Over and over he repeated the refrain, “Come to me, can’t you see, surrendering to this ecstasy? Don’t resist, I must insist, my undying desire for thee,” until her fingertips touched the glass. Then his hand wrapped around hers, pulling her through. The energy began to pulse drawing in a shrieking shadow that passed through the glass after her, and then with a quick flash of brilliant light it vanished.

Brianna vanished, but in her place stood Inèz, Micha’s lost love. Her silky long hair looked wind swept and she cleared a blonde strand from her blue eyes. She wore a dainty pastel sundress, the same one as when she disappeared through the glass.

Overwhelmed with joy Micha and Inèz both ran to each other, embracing and kissing like they’d been apart an eternity. Even though it had only been a few months, it felt like forever!

Father Orestes and Cerise had witnessed the event. They too rejoiced with the others. Twanda and Kimee removed their earplugs.

Landru turned to the staggering, bloodied Etienne who drug himself into the room. Landru caught and supported him. They laughed and slapped each other on the back. Once again they had freedom, this time, forever.

Poor Linda Peters rallied and yanked the earplugs from her ears. Upon hearing the laughter and rejoicing she pulled herself up and attempted to approach the secret room, when Doone, dressed as the Phantom reflected in the mirror, loomed up before her in the semi-darkness. She jumped back and gasped.

“Linda, it’s me, Erik,” Doone said in his seductive Phantom voice. She took a deep breath and smiled. He took her hand and brought it just under the mask to his lips.

She giggled and blushed as the ache in her loins increased for him. At the main doors a faint pounding and shouting pierced their ears. Tommy, locked out of the church and missing all of the fun, made as much noise as possible to get inside. He prayed his friends had won and not the witch.

Doone waved his hand and the doors flew open, nearly knocking the young man off his feet. Realizing the doors hung open, he dashed inside the church. At that moment, all the lights popped on at once.

“What happened? Did we win? Did we win?” Tommy looked around the room, his look ticked from one to the other.

“We won,” Doone replied as he and Linda stepped into the mirror room. Then he turned to Micha and his love. “And you, gypsy boy, no more mirror magick.”

“Right. No more mirror magick. I’m done,” Micha smiled with his arms wrapped around Inèz.

“What was the shriek and passing shadow?” Christine tossed the question to the room.

Father Orestes finally smiled and replied, “I believe a demon passed through with the witch when she entered our time. When she left, she took it with her.”

“He’s right,” confirmed Doone. “All is as it should be with Micha, but not with us,” his gaze turned to Christine. “We still need to return to our time.”

As if partially in a trance, Christine moved to him. “You belong to me, my angel of music,” he took both hands, kissed them, then turned them over and kissed each palm.

Twanda puzzled. “How’d you get into the mirror, Doone? And how’d you sing like that?”

“Parlor tricks and ventriloquism,” came the reply. A murmur of questions arose, but Doone waved his hand and all fell quiet.

He motioned for the priest to lead the way out of the room. Then the door closed behind them. The crucifix moved back in place. Doone’s people shook hands with the Father and thanked him for his help and prayers.

Etienne refused to go to a hospital, so they took him to Micha’s grandmother, who did not look happy to see him in the least. She praised God that the caged creature had gone, but now bringing the victim of a powerful witch for her to doctor and again bringing with it, Death, made her shiver and cross herself for the umpteenth time.

As she washed the wounds of the ex-warlock, she mumbled in French and crossed herself now and again. Etienne gave a faint smile. He understood the fear of an old woman, alone, with only her grandson to care for her. Softly he spoke to her in low tones, calming her. Then she dressed the wounds with a poultice made of special herbs tied in the bandages.

Micha brought out a tray of tea and sweets for the group, which squeezed into the tiny shop. Grandma refused to allow anyone in the back where they lived. No one minded. They understood. It felt cozy this way, all huddled up together in the stuffy little shop.

The doctoring done, grandma finally hugged Inèz. Tears came to her eyes. Hesitantly, she turned to Doone, who had since removed the death’s head, and said, “Merci beaucoup, M. Erik. I am grateful for your help. I also thank you for not taking me or my grandson.” The old woman’s eyes looked weak and watery as she had also revered him as Death.

Doone gave a faint smile. “I am not Death, although I resemble it. I mean you no harm. Please do not cry. I only wish to return to my own time. Micha had agreed to help me, but I had made him promise not to use mirror magick. Will you keep his promise and help me?”

“Do you know the spellcaster?” the old woman wiped away her tears with a napkin Christine had handed her.

“I may. Then I need the original spellcaster?”

“It’s safer. This was why Micha was able to return Inèz, with your help. I know the spells, but they are dangerous, as you’ve seen,” she tried to look away, but Doone gently made her look at him.

“You are a very special and gifted woman. Do not fear me. Am I not a man, like any other man?”

“But…you weren’t always. You were…different. Please…”she tried to turn away, but he made her look at him again.

“How do I contact the original spellcaster? Through the mirror?”

“You said your friend had traded places with this young woman,” she referred to Christine. “Were you able to contact your friend?”

Twanda spoke up. “We did. Me and Kimee. We spoke to her.” She pushed her way to the old woman. “She brought Chrissy’s boyfriend, Raoul.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. The vision faded after a bit.”


CONCLUSION IN THE FOLLOWING POST.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE CONCLUSIONB

“Chrissy, were you there. Did you talk to your boyfriend” asked the old grandma.

“Christine. My name is Christine,” she narrowed her eyes at Twanda and Kimee who had started the nickname. “No, unfortunately I wasn’t there. Should I have been?”

“I don’t know, but I would suggest that all of you go to the mirror until your friend and boyfriend come.”

“That’s what Snow White told me. Something in the old witch’s books said if we cannot find the spellcaster, continue to go to the mirror with whoever met you when first you passed through,” volunteered Inèz with a slight French accent.

“Snow White was the first person to meet me when I first passed through. We kept coming to the mirror every hour of the day, except when we slept,” she continued.

“What was it like being with Snow and the dwarfs?” Twanda munched on cookies.

“The visit was unbelievable. It seemed like being in Middle Earth, you know, Lord of the Rings? Magick was everywhere. I even learned a spell or two,” the young woman blushed shyly. “I did miss my Micha very much.”

They stayed only a little while longer before parting ways. Landru took Etienne back to their apartment. With Brianna gone, they would both have time to heal, mentally and physically.

Linda, still in awe of what she had experienced and heard, felt too dazed to ask questions. One thing for sure, she had finally found love and didn’t want to let go, so she left with Landru and Etienne, with her promise to call Betty Carlyle, her fellow chaperone, and explain. No one wanted to comment. Carlyle would probably never believe her anyway, let alone any of them.

“Who knew? Miss Peters and the witch-boy,” commented Kimee while leaving the gypsy shop.

“Love is many a splintered thing,” laughed Tommy.

“Splendored thing, not splintered,” corrected Kimee, as she too laughed.

“Whatever!” Now everybody laughed.

They walked to the corner and hailed a taxi. After all they’d been through, no one wanted to walk.

Tommy always seemed like a good-natured lad, who made decent grades and never mixed with bad company or ever got in trouble with the law. Even though he laughed and joked, nothing would ever be the same. He hadn’t bargained for an adventure like this.

Neither magic nor magick had ever been taken seriously, but after this, Tommy had no doubts. The trip had its terrifying moments, but he wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

And now, he even took a second look at Kimee. He never knew that she liked him more than a friend. A smile passed between them, and he held her hand as they sat next to each other in the taxi. Her heart thrilled. ‘The City of Lights’ referred not only to Paris, but also, a true place to find romance. L’amour, l’amour, toujour l’amour! ”

Twanda had a sweetheart back in the states; so finding love in Paris never crossed her mind. Descending from an African-American heritage, Twanda, excelled as a student, never allowing race, color, creed, or religion to stand in her way. She loved her friends no matter what.

Since middle school, Emma had always been close to her. Aside from Doone, Twanda probably took the blow of Emma missing in action harder than the others.

As the taxi sped by, she stared out the window, watching the stores and sidewalk cafés become a blur. Would she ever see her best friend again? What had happened to her? Would they find her safe and happy?

She thought about how overjoyed Micha looked when he reunited with Inèz. Fighting back the tears, she sat back and closed her eyes.

Kimee met Emma in middle school as did Tommy, but they never knew her as well as Twanda. She watched Twanda fight back the tears with closed eyes and squeezed Tommy’s hand to bring notice of their friend’s pain.

They both touched Twanda’s arm lightly. She opened her eyes and wiped away the tears, and smiled. She understood that they tried to comfort her.

Doone watched all of this, while Christine napped with her head on his shoulder. He knew full well who he was and who he had become. Each day seemed to bring the memories closer and closer. Yet, Mae never left his mind. He still loved her like he would never love anyone else.

He recalled the few times that she had been alone with him as they went for fast food and a movie. Not exactly a date. The others couldn’t join them and they both wanted to see the same film.

He cherished those moments alone with her. She had opened up and revealed the kind of man she looked for in a boyfriend and a husband, and poor Doone didn’t fit the bill. Not even in looks. He stood too tall and gangly; seemed too lazy to work, and had no visible means of support with only a junk-heap for a car.

When the taxi dropped them off at the hotel, Doone paid the driver and motioned for the others to go on. At five in the morning he still couldn’t sleep. The others didn’t want him wandering the streets alone, so he agreed to stay in the hotel restaurant, which now served a true Continental breakfast.

He gave a long sigh, as he watched the others enter the elevator before he disappeared into the restaurant. It had been a long, hard day!

Very good chapter once again, my friend.

Shame, I feel sorry for Doone, I know how he feels, poor soul. Although I think he'd be better off with Christine... Well, that's now, if she doesn't go "Christine" on him and chooses Raoul instead.


Please do continue soon, I can't wait to see what follows.


D

wonderful!

Thank you Slitherliggie for your kind words. I feel for Doone as well, but he could never stand in for Erik if he had love returned as he wanted. Poor unhappy Doone!

Thank you Heart_Rose. So happy to see you.

We're nearly finished. I'm pleased to present Chapter Thirty-seven. Please R&R. Enjoy!

Because of its length, the chapter will take two posts.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX PART 1

Le Château D’Auberge 1879

The clock struck one in the morning when Maurice received the lovely enchantress, Brianna. They greeted each other with passionate kisses and heated caresses.

Landru and Etienne left them and wandered to the men’s quarters. They had become accustomed to Brianna using them when she wanted and then tossing them aside when another opportunity presented itself.

They murmured and plotted their escape from her as they settled into the lounge. Derrell and several others greeted and passed them, without even noticing a hint of the treachery brewing.

Brianna was an opportunist. Maurice had promised her many things, including the reign of France. His small time smuggling was nothing compared to the coup d’état he was planning with the reigning magistrate of Paris.

His small time smuggling didn’t compared to the coup d’état he had planned with the reigning magistrate of Paris. Brianna had heard of the Phantom, but after meeting his allies, he seemed insignificant and meant nothing to her. She had staged the fake robbery only to get a look at those her fiancé feared so much. When Maurice tried to explain his dilemma with his troublesome partner, she turned the subject. If the Phantom in no way brought her power or riches, she could care less.

Maurice persisted. Erik posed a threat to him, to them and their plans. He knew of the powers she possessed and wanted her to use them against his partner. And what had become of Erik?

Maurice had caught him rescuing the kidnapped girls and immobilized the automaton made in the Phantom’s likeness.

While four guards escorted Erik to the dungeons below the château, he made his escape after skillfully using the lasso to eliminate them.

It seemed nearly impossible to leave the grounds with so many men guarding, watching. This made him reminiscent of Persia and Turkey only there he broke out, not in.

He slipped into the night and melted into the shadows, creeping silently, looking for a way to rid himself of those in his path. The lasso could take out just so many before he’d be overwhelmed. If only he could animate the automaton. “Where did they put it?” he wondered.

Erik’s escape unnerved Maurice and made him consult with the enchantress in the first place. Perhaps one supernatural being could rid him of the other.
Unbeknown to his partner, the Phantom lurked just outside the window of the study where the nobleman entertained his lady. After a moment of eavesdropping, he realized that Brianna was a witch, a very powerful one. Did he believe in such magicks? His stay with the gypsies said ‘yes’. After all, most of what he had learned from them they only called tricks, illusions if you will.

During his containment on the château grounds, the Phantom had used his lasso some forty-five times and he grew tired. His wounded side ached, but at least it didn’t bleed.
“Where is my wife and Daroga?” He wondered. He counted on them as his Plan B and now worried that some ill had befallen the two.

Alain led Emma and the others to the iron gate of the château. Strangely enough no one stood guard, and the gate remained locked.

Mae dismounted and drew her husband’s letter from her pocket. Folding it into a funnel or cone she poked the corner into the lock and motioned for Alain, who poured a small bit of the gunpowder into the paper funnel, filling the lock. After removing the paper, she took a strip of the precut material they carried for Molotov cocktails, and stuffed it into the hole, struck a match and lit it.

As the makeshift fuse burned, Mae motioned for the men to move back. A small ‘poof’ sounded with a tiny spark that popped open the lock and the gate swung open.

Quietly, they tied their horses to some nearby trees and slipped through the gate, passing the bodies of two dead guards. The Persian stopped briefly to see how they died. He nodded, as he turned to the others and whispered, “The lasso has done the deed.” Alain and Raoul exchanged looks, rubbed their own throats and shivered.

Then the Persian repeated what he, Darius and Alain would do. Since Alain having the most knowledge of the grounds, would lead them to the men’s quarters at the rear of the château where they’d set the small bombs of gunpowder encased in metal containers they’d fashioned on the way. Mae reminded them to make the fuses long enough to give them time to clear the area or they would be victims of shrapnel.

Mae took Raoul with her to find her husband. The Vicomte delighted in that she had chosen him. He still longed for her and Mae began to figure out why.

The longer she stayed in this century the more she became connected with Christine. This made her recognize Brianna as a witch. At selected times flashes of whatever Christine witnessed popped into Mae’s mind. Almost as if she and Christine had swapped places for a moment, and then back. Raoul unwittingly sensed this, making his desire for Christine turn to Mae instead.

At times Mae could feel Christine’s emotions, her fears, her love, her pain. It made her favor Raoul. Maybe even have feelings for him.
When they’d pause in the darkness from time to time to get their bearings, she would look at Raoul lovingly. Beneath his rigid noble, military upbringing laid a kind, gentle and loving man. A man you could depend on in times of need.

Even at this, her heart ached for her husband, her Angel of Music, the man whose voice set her soul a glow, whose touch aroused her to raw, unbridled passion. He still lived. She knew it and had to find him.

This mélange of feelings must have been what plagued Christine. Two men, both equally in love with her, enough to die for her, set her mind spinning and her heart in pain. Can a woman equally love two men at the same time?

Alain had told them to encircle the château and enter from the rear. Since it appeared that the guards had been taken out, they would have no trouble entering.

As they crept closer to the back door, about six men swarmed the area. Raoul’s pistol would be noisy, but his sword would be silent; they needed silence at this point.

The two separated while drawing their swords, Mae hefted her two-edged broadsword, used best for hack and slash, and Raoul his rapier, also double-edged, but slimmer, used for some slice and dice, but better for thrusting.

Before they knew what had happened, the men attacked from both sides. In spite of her hatred for bloodshed, Mae swung with all of her might, striking a killing blow each time. From her training she remembered how to hack into bone at an angle so she could pull it out quickly, ready for the next blow.

Skilled as a swordsman as well as a marksman, Raoul proved so in mere moments, when six men lay dead at their feet. Their movements had been swift and sure, leaving no time for anyone to scream.

They moved to enter the château, but a ruckus arose from the men’s quarters way out past the gardens. Raoul had only been there once with Philippe, his brother le Comte de Chagny, but he remembered how to get there.

Mae shook her head. “The Persian and the others must be in trouble”, she thought. What bad timing!

Raoul and Mae sighed and headed out toward the disruption, fading into the darkness.

Just as the night claimed them, Erik appeared, his lasso at the ready. He puzzled a moment at the dead men. He hadn’t killed them. They looked bloody. Mae had come! His heart rejoiced. Carefully his eyes searched the darkness for her.

Now, he too, heard the calamity past the gardens and headed that way.

Alain had explained to the Persian and Darius where to set the charges around the building. However, to ensure no one escaped alive, charges had to be set at four corners of the building, inside. Yes, inside, while Maurice’s employees milled around and in and out.

Alain had agreed to enter the structure. Even if someone recognized him, no one would think anything of Maurice’s nephew coming and going. Not all of the men knew of his dissention.

He walked in with the small bombs in his coat pocket. No one paid any attention to him, especially when he went to each corner and set the bombs, lighting each fuse.

The Persian and Darius were to give him exactly five minutes to do his part, and regardless of whether or not he came out, they would light their fuses. Their fuses would set off the first explosion that would ignite the trail of gunpowder using the domino effect to set off the others causing an explosive change reaction.

Therefore, with the bombs going off inside and out, the explosion would trap and kill anyone inside. The concussion and shrapnel would be felt for at least ten feet.

All seemed to go as planned, until Derrell met Alain as he attempted to leave the building. Their eyes locked and the fight began.

Derrell shouted at Alain, when he threw a punch. Alain ducked. His heart raced in panic. He only had seconds to get out of there. As he turned his back to run, Derrell grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around for another jab to the jaw.

Etienne and Landru emerged from the lounge. They noticed the burning fuses and bolted for the door, grabbing both fighting men, dragging them outside to safety.

The first explosions literally went off with a bang, then like clock work, the others followed. Screams, shattering glass, and gunfire ripped through the night.

Mae and Raoul hit the ground at the first explosion. Remembering her warning of the shrapnel, another name for flying metal debris resulting from an explosion, Raoul covered Mae with his body. A sharp, burning pain bore into his left shoulder. Fighting back the urge to scream, he bit his lip, and asked Mae if she was hurt. Since he had protected her, she never got a scratch.

In the pale moonlight, they found themselves staring into each other’s face. Even with the ruckus and chaos in the background, and the pain in his shoulder, Raoul’s loins ached for her. Without thinking, his lips claimed hers. Flames of passion rolled over them.

Mae first thought but his soft, warm lips made her mind spin. She put her arms around him, moving her hands up to his shoulders. He broke the kiss and winced, at the same time she touched the piece of metal embedded into his flesh.

CONTINUED IN THE FOLLOWING POST

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX CONCLUSION

Gently, she pushed him back and gasped as she tried to grab hold of it, but the sharp edge cut her hand. At that moment, a huge winged shadow blotted out the moon.

At that moment, a huge winged shadow blotted out the moon. Mae and Raoul flinched in unison.

“It is I, Erik. Mae, Raoul are you hurt?” came the whisper.

“Raoul was hit by the shrapnel. It’s jammed in his shoulder. I can’t get it out,” replied his wife.

Erik knelt beside them and examined the wound. Since he wore gloves, he grabbed the jagged piece of metal and yanked it quick and straight from his shoulder. Raoul bit his lip to keep from screaming.

“It must be cleaned or it will become infected.”

“Daroga brought some bottles of cheap wine for Molotov cocktails,” his bride remembered.

“Molotov cocktails?” Erik puzzled.

“I’m bleeding here,” Raoul reminded.

Erik ripped off a strip of his own shirt and wadded up some of it and applied it to the wound to absorb the blood. Then he used the rest to secure the wadded up strip.

Without warning, the Vicomte pulled his gun and aimed it straight at the Phantom. Mae and her husband could say nothing, even when the gun went off. A dead man hit the ground next to the Phantom.

“He was sneaking up behind you, Erik,” Raoul scrambled to get up, jamming the gun into his belt.

“You saved my life,” Erik forced the words, nearly speechless. No one other than Mae and Daroga had ever done that.

“Let’s go. The others may need our help,” Raoul drew himself up to his full height and took a deep breath. Bleeding took a lot out of him.

“You could say ‘thank you’,” said Mae, as she hugged her man. He squeezed her tight, but said nothing.

Shouts and more explosions came from the men’s quarters. The Phantom and the others pushed stealthily through the smoke. The dead and dying lay all around them. It looked like a battlefield, especially since the building lay in rubble and debris.

They stepped over bodies searching for Daroga and the others in the dimness of the moon and burning remains of the structure. Through the smoke a faint silhouette waved to them. They ran toward it.

Darius greeted them and led them into the gardens where Daroga and the others waited.

The shrapnel had hit Alain, like Raoul, but the wound would quickly heal. His arm barely bled.

Derrell had been hit the worse. He lay on the ground gasping. Shrapnel embedded deep into his back, one settled near his heart and yet another, lodged in one of his lungs.

Landru and Etienne had escaped unscathed.

“Erik, Mae, Raoul are you well?” asked Daroga.

“We are, but Raoul’s been hit by the shrapnel. Erik pulled it out, but the wound needs to been cleaned,” Mae answered, as her eyes rested on Derrell. “He’s been hit.”

“We know. He’s done for. He’s my uncle’s right hand,” Alain snarled with contempt.

Derrell drew his last ragged breath and died. Mae stood horrified and turned away.

“Mae, we could do nothing. He was too far gone,” Daroga explained, putting a comforting arm around her.

“We must hurry. Who are they?” Erik referred to Landru and Etienne.

“Allies, I hope,” Daroga turned to the newcomers.

Mae and Raoul recognized them from the carriage they’d rescued. The two warlocks offered to remove the witch from the grounds, to make their rescue of the girls easier.

“Brianna? If you’re her cousins, why would you betray her?” questioned Raoul, holding his shoulder.

“We’re not her cousins. We’re...more than that…” Landru hesitated to reveal their promiscuous lifestyle with the enchantress.

Erik puzzled, and then came the dawn. “You are both her lovers?”

“When she chooses it. Tonight she has other opportunities.”

“So I’ve heard.”

From the pack he carried, Daroga removed a bottle of his less expensive wine and using more of poor Erik’s shirt, cleaned Raoul’s wound, then redressed it the best he could without medicine.

A few men still lived at the rear of the château itself. Some worked as servants, but most acted as bodyguards for D’Auberge.

The majority of D’Auberge’s men had been taken out with the explosions at the men’s quarters. And Erik had eliminated all of the exterior guards.

The Phantom didn’t trust the newcomers. He had overheard Maurice and Brianna’s plan for the coup. And this did not convince him that Landru and Etienne would betray her so easily.

Mae held him back to whisper her thoughts. She knew that his first and foremost reaction to resolve the problem involved using the Punjab lasso. However, she believed in giving them the benefit of a doubt. But as Erik put it, he gave them plenty of doubt, but could he trust them?

Landru and Etienne felt the mistrust and now they wondered if they had made a mistake to ally with those led by the infamous Opera Ghost. They shuddered.

They knew of the Ghost’s reputation, not only from the Opera House, but from the gypsies with whom Brianna had disputed territorial rights, and from Persia, where they had made their abode before meeting the enchantress. They regarded the Phantom as the “living corpse”. Death personified.

Since Plan A and Plan B had come together, with the addition of Landru and Etienne, the next phase; to get the girls. Erik told the Persian to take Darius and Landru with him to the stables to find and prepare the caravans and to meet them at the main gate where they had entered.

Erik attempted to take his wife, Raoul, Alain and Etienne with him to the rear entrance of the château, when out of the night several men jumped them.

Erik used his lasso with swift precision accuracy. Raoul used his sword again, since he hadn’t reloaded the single-shot pistol. Alain and Etienne met their attackers with hand-to-hand combat.

Several more joined the fray and tried to capture the Phantom, but before they could turn around, a sickening ‘crack’ rang out. Two dropped dead before they hit the ground.

The Phantom jerked around releasing his kill, and there stood Alain with the two dead men at his feet.

“You saved my life,” he hissed, not wanting to give in to gratitude.

Alain gave a nod and returned to the fight.

“How many more, M. Phantom? They are like ants. The more you kill, the more advance,” Raoul remarked as he ran another man through with his rapier.

“Remember, D’Auberge has more than a hundred in his employ,” came the answer.

In the skirmish, no one had noticed that after Mae felled two, and became overpowered by shadows that emerged from the darkness and carried her off to the château.

As Erik turned around for the next attacker, the man fell dead in his arms. Raoul pulled out his rapier from the dead man’s back.

“Once again, Vicomte, you have saved my life,” he hissed.

“It’s becoming a habit, I’m afraid,” the young man gave a faint smile.

When the attackers all lay dead, the Phantom and Raoul realized Mae had vanished.

Maurice escorted Brianna from the study when two ruffians burst in from the rear, dragging Ehrich’s struggling wife into the hall, near the main entrance and the study.

The enchantress smiled an evil smile. “Ah, Maurice, how delightful! A gift from you?” She circled the now motionless young woman. “There are so many ways to torture a sweet child like her.”

“Remember what I said, Brianna. I granted you your life once. I won’t do it again,” Mae’s voice sounded direct and ominous. The enchantress felt a chill run through her and she fell silent.

Maurice eyed Erik’s bride suspiciously. Then, trying not the offend his lover, he asked her to wait for him upstairs. He would give her time to make herself comfortable. With this, he collected the beautiful sorceress into his arms and crushed her lips with his.

“Oh, please, do I have to watch this?” Mae asked sarcastically, all the while the wheels turned in her head. Even though her captors out did her in strength, broadsword training said leverage and the element of surprise would win over muscle.

D’Auberge broke the kiss, and then stared at the arrogant child. He puzzled at such blatant boldness and rudeness from one so young and female.

Brianna saw the look on his face, and thought it best to let him handle things. After all, how much harm could a little girl do? So, she sashayed upstairs with visions of lovemaking and treachery in her mind.

D’Auberge motioned for the ruffians to bring the young woman into his study. Unbeknown to them, Erik, Raoul, Alain and Etienne stole into the château from the rear.

Raoul wanted to charge in for the rescue, but Erik stopped him. He wanted to see if his beloved could handle the situation. So they hid in the shadows by the open door of the study.

Etienne got a whiff of Brianna’s perfume and figured she’d gone upstairs, as usual. Seeing his chance, he whispered something to the Phantom, who grudgingly agreed.

In the study, Maurice moved to the cabinet where he kept his liquor. After pouring a little cognac into a couple of snifters, he picked them up and turned to Mae, motioning for her captors to release her. The ruffians obeyed but only took a couple of steps back, in case he needed them.

“Cognac mam’selle?” he offered her the snifter.

She refused. “I don’t drink”

“Oh, yes, it’s not proper for a lady to drink in public. But I won’t tell,” he persisted, holding the snifter in her face.

“I’ll rephrase my answer. I only drink with my friends,” she answered venomously, recalling an old western film.

“Haven’t you ever been taught to be polite?”

No answer.

Maurice sat on his desk and put down one of the snifters and sipped the other. “Who are you? How did you get past my guards?”

“What guards?” She gave him a cold steely glare. He ticked a look to the ruffian at his right. The burly guy related brief details of the explosions and the causality count.

“You killed six of my men?” D’Auberge acted surprised. After looking her up and down, he continued, “Tell me your name and why you’re here.”

“I came for Erik.”

Inside, his stomach drew up in knots and a chill ran through him. “You came for Erik. What would you say if I told you he was dead?”

“I’d say you were a liar. Since I barged in, I should be asking the questions.”

The tough guy on her right stepped up and caught her wrist. Anticipating his move, she twisted her wrist out of his hand, grabbed his wrist, jerking him forward, simultaneously throwing a sharp kick to his groins. He doubled over in agony, to which she spun around and rammed an elbow into his ribs. He went down for the count.

The second man charged her instantly. Waiting until she could smell his fetid breath, she quickly sidestepped, grabbed one of his extended arms and led him through, crashing him into the nearby wall. Quickly, he recovered and turned on her again, growling like a wild animal.

Mae looked around for something to hit him with. When he got close enough for her to smell his fetid breath, she sidestepped him again, and grabbed a rather large vase from a small table and slammed him in the head with it.

As the man went down, Maurice screamed at the loss of the vase, while Mae kicked her attacker in the face. He went out like a light. She scanned the room for her weapon. The broadsword lay on the floor near the first man she downed.

Maurice went for the pistol in his belt, by the time Mae took a dive, rolled to the sword, and grabbed it on the way up. We now had a Mexican stand off. Mae hefted the sword as the nobleman aimed his pistol.

“You are quick woman. You surprise me. I shall enjoy taming you.”

“Taming me? Get real. I came for Erik and the girls.”

“Oh, the girls. That’s it. You’re an opportunist as I am.”

“I came to rescue them, not sell them.” At that moment, Erik and Raoul peered into the study; Raoul aimed a gun at Maurice.

“Are you well my beloved?” Erik smirked beneath his mask.

“I’m good.”

“Maurice needs to sign the contract to release me as his partner and he owes me 30,000 francs to buy out my share. He also owes Alain 20,000 francs for the last journey overseas,” Erik moved into the room, with Raoul behind him. Alain remained in the doorway.

“That’s it, you’ve brought reinforcements. Clever, very clever,” Maurice kept the gun trained on Mae.

“My dear Erik, allow me,” Mae indicated she could handle D’Auberge. Erik bowed, and motioned for Raoul to step back.

Before D’Auberge knew what happened, Mae whipped the pistol out of his hand with the tip of the blade. Then she took a fighting stance, the sword poised a little above her left ear.

“You’re both mad. You’re murders!” he shouted fearfully.

“And you’re not? Get real!”

“Where did you come from?”

“Again with the questions? Don’t you ever shut up? I’m holding the sword. Sign the stinking papers and pay up!”

In the stables, the Persian and Darius made the caravans ready for the trip. Landru helped, but stopped suddenly when Etienne sent him a message by telepathy.

The two warlocks had been friends for a long time, and had developed strong telepathic communications. Etienne had told him the whereabouts of Brianna and him. He had no plan, but knew that Brianna hungered for power and would try to destroy the world if she couldn’t obtain it.

Landru thought quickly. Certainly they had no qualm with Erik and his band. Nor did they really want a coup d’etat. The witch would not be easy to deceive, nor easily persuaded. What to do?

As Landru rounded the corner to another stall he gasped and jumped back. The Persian and Darius rushed to him. They found him wide-eyed, pointing, and speechless. They followed his gaze.

There in the far corner of the stall, camouflaged with hay slumped the Phantom automaton, quiet and still. The Persian moved to it and removed the hay. He recognized the Phantom’s work and marveled at it. After careful examination, he found a small key in its breast pocket. Upon removing the key, he looked for the place to insert it and found it in the belly button of the automaton. After inserting the key, he twisted it until it could go no further. The mechanical creature straightened up immediately, and turned to the others.

“Quiet real, isn’t he?” The Persian laughed. Finally the others did as well. The Persian had an idea, but they had to hurry.

As the Persian moved from the stall, the mechanical Phantom followed.

Very good chapter, once again, my friend. I must congratulate you, the battle was quite good.

Please continue again soon, I can't wait to see what happens next...



D

very good. I love the Erik automaton. I need to get me once of those.

Thank you Slitherliggie for the lovely review. So happy you enjoyed and that I still held your attention.

Heart_Rose thank you for the kind words. I'll ask Erik to create an Phantom automaton for you.

Now for your reading pleasure, I give you the next chapter which is a short one. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Hotel Restaurant Paris 2006

Doone sat alone at a table in the corner of the hotel restaurant. All seemed quiet, as the world had not completely awakened. He sipped orange juice and munched on a croissant.

As the events of the last few days, which rid the world of the evil enchantress, swirled through his mind, Micha suddenly appeared at the entrance of the restaurant. After spying Doone, he moved to him and plopped down at his table.

“I wanted to thank you Doone, or Erik, or whatever you call yourself,” Micha smiled and placed a small book on the table and pushed it to him. “My spell book. I want you to have it.”

Doone looked up from his croissant and stared at Micha for a moment, then he cast his eyes to the book. . It looked like an address book with small tabs marking special sections and had a blank cover the color of milk chocolate.

“Gypsy boy? Why? You don’t have to do this. You should be with Inèz.” Doone gave a pleasant look, not quite a smile. “Coffee? Orange juice?”

“I promised I’d help you and grand-mère wasn’t much help. I know you made me promise not to use magick, but there is one last thing I can do with your permission.”

Doone puzzled. A waiter came to Micha, took his order for coffee and left. Doone opened the book. Each spell had a tab, with very neat, handwritten text on every page.

“Is this your way of swearing off all magick?” he finally smiled at Micha.

“You’ll need it when you get to where you’re going. Pay particular attention to the page I’ve marked,” he returned the smile.

Doone flipped to the section marked with a strip of black ribbon, entitled “Through the Looking Glass: A Walk Through Dimensions”. He looked up just as the waiter brought Micha’s coffee and left. Questions crossed his mind, but before he could ask, Micha spoke up.

“You don’t have to have a one way ticket. Now you have an option to return.”

“Then you think I’ll get there?”

“You’ll get there. You must. You haven’t given me permission,” the gypsy smiled again.

Doone nodded. “Whatever it is, you have my permission. Where’s your sweetheart?”

“At grand-mère’s, asleep.” They didn’t say anything else for awhile. Doone carefully looked through the book, stopping now and again to read a spell. More distant memories flooded his mind. As he read he seemed to remember them. Like the one he used to push Tommy out the door at Sacré Coeur.

The last words Micha left with Doone as they parted company was, “Sometimes you have to go home to know who you are. Then you’ll know where you belong.” They shook hands and Micha left.

Ahhh, where's the rest? Come on, Fay, where does Doone belong? Who cast the original spell? Is the Persian and Micha the same man? No, wait cause he's a gypsy so no. Fay!!!! More is needed, all there is to say.

Oh, there is more. I'm not done yet. There are three or four more chapters besides the Epilogue.

Thank you for your kind words Heart_Rose.

Very interesting... So, Doone doesn't belong in this world? I might have a hunch as to where he belongs...

A bit short, my friend, , but interesting, can't wait to see what will happen now... I hope he doesn't end up like Erik in the original story...


D

Slitherliggie greetings and thank you for a grand review. Yes, yes this was short, only because I will now have time to treat you to chapter thirty-nine. There are only three more chapters and the epilogue left.

You do know that Doone is the Erik we know from the novel, right? Doone is Leroux's Erik.

Heart_Rose, once again, thank you. Always a pleasure.

Now I shall treat you to a second chapter posting this weekend. Due to it's length, it will be posted in two posts. Please R&R. Enjoy!

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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

D’Auberge’s Study 1879

In the study, Mae stood facing Maurice D’Auberge with her sword at the ready. The Phantom and Raoul stayed by the door in case she needed them.

D’Auberge trembled, his eyes darting from the young woman with a sword to the men coming to her aid. He wanted to cry out for Brianna’s help, but that would make him look like a coward.

No matter what the rumors said, he’d never been a brave man. As a pirate captain he won his battles by trickery, lying, and cheating. He never could fight face to face.

“They call her Lady Death,” snickered Alain, bracing himself in the doorway. “She took down your assassins faster than they could fire a pistol.” He taunted his uncle to watch him squirm and sweat.

“Sign the contract and pay my Erik and Alain what you owe them. Do it willingly or not, makes no difference to me,” her voice rang hard and cold.

“If you haven’t noticed, you don’t have many men left. I’ve killed six tonight and two of your assassins. Not to mention anyone in the men’s quarters. You would only be one more notch on my sword’s hilt.”

Maurice tried to be brave and asked for a weapon to defend himself. Mae scoffed. He went for the pistol on the floor near the shattered pieces of his priceless vase, but the tip of the broadsword sliced his hand. Grabbing his wound, he screamed like a woman.

“You have no conscience woman? You would kill me in cold blood?” Mae didn’t answer, but sent a slice down the side of the stuffed chair near him. Stuffing flew everywhere as Maurice screamed again.

“You guys are enjoying this aren’t you?” she tossed the question to her men.

“Yes,” they answered in unison.

Maurice’s mind raced. A knife lay in his desk drawer and a hidden rapier had been secured to the desk where he usually sat. If he went around it as if to sit down and comply with the cries of the crazy woman wielding the sword; he could remove the rapier and perhaps get the upper hand, or die trying. Another chill ran through him.

Slowly he straightened himself, still grasping his bleeding hand, and moved around the desk as if to sit down. With lightening speed, he freed the rapier, vaulted over the desk, and charged Mae.

Erik started to intervene, but his wife stopped him. “I’m good. I can take this creep.” Her husband gave a hearty laugh beneath his mask, Raoul and Alain joined in.

Maurice tried all of his fencing moves, but Mae either sidestepped him or blocked him with her sword. After about five minutes of this, she grew tired of the game and wrapped his rapier around her broadsword and sent it flying into the wall near the Vicomte.

“Sorry Raoul!”

“It’s okay. Did I say that right? Okay?” he looked to Erik who nodded.

“Sign the stinking papers. I’m tired of your games,” and with that she sliced his leg open, which sent him howling in agony.

“I’m bleeding.”

“No fooling. Erik, where are the papers?” his wife looked to him. Erik moved to the desk and rummaged around. Upon finding the knife, he drew it out and threw it into the wall where he had stood.

“You never were good at contact fighting were you Maurice?” Erik mocked as he found the papers and spread them out on the desk.

With a quivering hand, Maurice signed the contract releasing Erik from the partnership. The Phantom’s wife tapped the tip of the sword on the table as a reminder to pay the money owed. Even with his life at stake, he still wanted to cling to the all mighty dollar or franc in this case.

He motioned for Erik to pull out the bottom desk drawer where a heavy metal box rested. Erik pulled it out and set it on the desktop. Maurice drew a key from his pocket and opened it.

Money, money, money! The box overflowed with paper currency. Erik counted out exactly what he owed Alain and himself and then slammed the lid down on the rest.

“I only want what’s mine,” the Phantom moved away from the desk, leaving the shakened nobleman favoring his bleeding hand and holding his bloody leg with the other.

“Don’t bleed on the carpet. It’s murder to get the blood out,” Mae tossed him a mocking grin as she left with her men. “Oh and stitches, Maurice. You’ll need stitches!”

The Phantom looked back menacingly at his former partner and warned, “If you follow us, I will kill you.”

Mae poked her head in the doorway and added, “What’s more, I’ll let him.” Then they both left the sniveling coward howling in pain for his manservant to attend him.

Upstairs, Etienne had taken the appearance of D’Auberge and tricked the enchantress into drinking a drugged glass of wine. Now, she slumbered deep, without any knowledge of what went on downstairs.

Etienne met the Phantom and the others as they approached D’Auberge’s room where Brianna slept. Erik declared his knowledge of where the girls’ whereabouts and Etienne confirmed, for he had drugged the new guards to make the rescue easier. He asked Erik to go and do what he came to do quickly. For he and Landru would contend with the unconscious witch.

“How can we thank you?” asked Mae, clinging to her husband’s strong arm.

Etienne only smiled saying that when she retuned home she would know the debt had been repaid. She didn’t understand this, but moved on with her husband and the others to find the girls.

Etienne didn’t know exactly how they connected, but she felt familiar. He couldn’t think about that now. Brianna would be out for the rest of the night, but what to do with her afterwards presented another problem.

Quietly, the Phantom removed the sleeping guards who had fallen where they stood in front of the door and tried the doorknob.

Locked.

He whispered softly to the girls to calm them and to ask them to move away from the door. A rustle and murmur of high-pitched voices grew distant.

With one swift, deliberate kick, the door caved in. Mae and Erik ushered the girls into the corridor as Alain and Raoul led the way to the staircase.

Landru met them at the foot, assuring them that the Persian and Darius waited for them at the main gate with the caravans.

Mae made him and Etienne welcome to go with them, but he knew that the sorceress would never allow their freedom as long as she could use her powers.

For some reason, Brianna stirred and began to rally from her sleep. She felt groggy, but tried to force herself awake. Etienne began to panic. Hadn’t he given her enough of the drug?

Quickly, he opened the door and stepped out into the corridor and ran to the head of the stairs. He could see Landru speaking to Mae and the others.

Softly, he called to his partner and told him to hurry for she had awakened. Maurice still moaned and howled in the study as his servants attended his wounds.

Landru bade them farewell and hastened to his friend and confidant. Mae, Erik and the others hurried the girls out into the night.

Just as Landru had said, the Persian and Darius waited outside the main gate on the two caravans with the reins of their horses tied to the rear of each.

The young girls happily climbed into the wagons. Blood curdling screams arose from the château. Terrible sounds of windows crashing and doors ripping from their hinges rang throughout the night.

The rescuers only hesitated a moment at the gut wrenching sounds, before they mounted the caravans themselves and headed out.

Upstairs, Brianna, pretty much fully awake, called for Maurice, when Etienne returned appearing like the nobleman Landru, not far behind, heard the ruckus which ensued downstairs, and leaned over the banisters to see the Master automaton tearing the place apart. Maurice screamed bloody murder, scrambling to get out of its way. He just knew that Ehrich had changed his mind and had come back to kill him.

By now, Brianna had heard the commotion. She jumped straight up with a start and bounced out of bed to see what made the disturbance. Etienne blocked the door and tried to bullshit her into having another glass of wine. She didn’t buy it and shoved him aside.

When she got to the head of the stairs and saw the automaton, she too, believed the Opera Ghost wreaked vengeance and with a wave of her hand, she slammed it into the wall.

Landru hid in the shadows, the wheels turning in his mind, trying to think of how to stop her. Even though he and Etienne had become seasoned warlocks, their powers had never exceeded hers.

With a gesture of upward arms the witch changed into a gauzy ebony gown with a plunging neckline. She chanted an incantation and disappeared. Fortunately, she hadn’t seen Erik and the others and had no thought to look for them, she had gone to inspect the grounds, but wanted to show her power by teleporting instead of taking an old fashioned walk. The automaton made her concerned that something had gone amiss outside.

The caravans lumbered down the path as fast as they could away from the chaos at the château. Erik and his wife rode one caravan while Daroga and Darius drove the other. Raoul and Alain rode their horses, while the other horses, including César followed behind, their reigns tied to the caravans.

Some time passed before anyone spoke. They tried to settle their nerves from the battle fray. Mae had grown so tired that she closed her eyes and laid her head on her husband’s arm as he steered the horses.


TO BE CONTINUED IN FOLLOWING POST

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT CONCLUSION

Dawn arrived as baby rays of sun peered over distant hills and tenderly caressed the trees.

Finally, the Phantom asked Raoul if he still bled. Taken back at his concern, Raoul expressed his gratitude for asking and assured him that he bled at a minimum. Daroga had found some herbs on the château grounds, which he used to complete the dressing of the wound.

“I understand that Alain and Raoul saved your life in the battle,” the Persian gave a wry smile as he glanced at Erik.

No comment.

Mae’s ears perked up.

“I saved his life twice,” added Raoul, who also gave a wry smile. In his own way, he now viewed the Opera Ghost as man who had been sorely misunderstood, and who dearly loved his wife, the woman with whom he too had fallen in love.

Mae lifted her head and tugged at her man’s cloak. “Did you thank them? Erik, did you thank them?”

He didn’t want to show his gratitude. No one had ever cared and suddenly, this beautiful little woman comes into his life, loving and caring for him, and then everybody seemed to care. Especially, le Vicomte de Chagny. He had tried to take everything away from him, first Christine, then his wife, and now his reputation for being a cold-hearted ghost.

His wife whispered something that sounded like “I’m getting a headache,” which made him say his thanks so quickly that it sounded nearly incoherent.

Alain chuckled. “Did you say something Erik? Sounded like ‘thank you’.”

Mae nudged her man. “Yes, Alain, thank you for saving my life.”

“And me?” ask the Vicomte with a grin.

“Yes, Raoul, thank you for saving my life, twice,” the Phantom answered gruffly. “However, this does not make us friends.”

“Of course not.”

“I still don’t like you,” the Phantom interjected.

“Nor I you, sir.” Raoul chuckled too. He knew it would be difficult for Erik to be part of humanity after spending years to separate himself from it. Strangely enough, Erik found that he really did want to be part of humanity. And now he had become like every other man with a wife who loved him and friends who cared.

The Phantom listened carefully to the sounds around them as the others engaged in idle chatter. The Persian explained how he had animated the automaton to give them more time to escape.

The girls relaxed and drifted off to sleep. Erik had no time to secure the opium, but at least he had freed the children. That’s all that really mattered.

“Do you think that DeBarge will follow us?” asked Mae in a whisper.

“His name is D’Auberge and yes, he will follow us,” her husband put an arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “In fact, he should have been here by now. I’m going to take César and back track a ways.”

“No, Erik. I’m scared for you,” she slipped both arms around him.

“How is your wound?” She gingerly fingered the bandages through his tattered shirt.

“I believe you’d say, I’m good. Just very tired. Not bleeding. I can still use the lasso.”

“Are you smiling under that mask?”

“Of course not.” But he was. In fact he felt pretty good about himself. With one last squeeze, he handed her the reigns and motioned for Raoul to come closer. So as not to be heard, he whispered his plan and asked him to pass it on to the others.

Then the Phantom slipped through the caravan, past the sleeping girls, climbed on top of César and slipped into the sleepy shadows of daybreak.

Raoul passed Erik’s message to the others. Daroga looked behind them.
Erik and César had vanished from view. The road behind them looked clear and calm; maybe too calm.

Because he felt a little uneasy, Daroga handed the reigns to his servant and checked his pistol. Raoul and Alain followed suite.

With the caravans being so large, they took the same road they had taken to get to the château, where they had met Brianna’s carriage.

Now on the main road it was mostly wide-open space, making them and the wagons sitting ducks. A big bull’s eye painted on the wagons would have completed the picture.

A thicket of trees edged the road with the sun fully awake, smiling through the foliage.

A clump of trees loomed up ahead with what looked like a man standing under its lower branches. The Persian motioned for his servant to steer their caravan away from the trees, but too late. Maurice D’Auberge popped out in front of them, a pistol in each hand.

The caravans came to an abrupt halt. Aiming the pistols directly at Emma and Latimer, he stood way too close to miss.

“At last, you little demon girl, I have you. You dare challenge me! I am the most feared of the seven seas. I am Maurice D’Auberge!” shouted the crazed nobleman with his hand and leg wrapped in blood-soaked bandages. The pistols quivered as he tried to steady his hands.

“What kept you?” Mae piped up with sarcasm. The Persian looked at her and shook his head. He did not deem it wise to taunt the insane, especially when they had loaded pistols aimed at your heart.

“I will teach you some manners little girl, after I make you watch your friends die.”

“You presume to kill us alone? You will have to reload after two shots,” Alain smirked.

“I’m not alone. I brought four men with me,” justified Maurice, feeling the urge to look around, yet not wanting to take his eyes off his targets.

“What men?” Mae looked around. Maurice broke into a nervous sweat. By now the lump in his throat nearly strangled him and the urge to look about for his men got the better of him.

So, he called out to each one, but no answer came. Not only did his hands shake but now, so did his legs. He had definitely signed his death warrant when he defied the Phantom.

“I was fairly certain that my husband said he’d kill you if you followed us,” Mae gave a knowing look. She and the others saw a dark winged shadow jump down behind the terrified man.

“Y…y…you’re his wife? Mon Dieu! Le Mort a une femme!” he cried. At that moment something whipped over his head. He dropped the guns and clawed desperately at the lasso around his throat.

“Yes, Death has a wife,” grimaced the Phantom. In a second, they heard a gasp and a sickening crack. Maurice became limp in his grasp. The Phantom removed the lasso allowing the body to hit the ground with a gruesome ‘thud’.

“Erik, are you hurt?” asked the Persian as Mae leaped off the wagon and ran to him.

“I’m good,” he chuckled softly holding his wife close.

“And the men who came with him?” Raoul asked looking about.

“The lasso has claimed them all,” came the deadly reply. Erik turned to the trees and whistled. César came galloping at his master’s call.

Erik led the horse to the rear of the wagon and tied its reigns there. Then he resumed his place as the driver, next to his bride, taking the reigns, he gently flicked them and the journey continued.

Amid the ruins of the château grounds, the gorgeous sorceress milled through the debris surveying the death and destruction. She threw back her head and let out a piercing, earth shattering shriek. Whoever created the devastation surely thwarted her plans for a coup d’etat. She could try to secure France with magick alone, but she still needed mortal means to move things along, to command, to worship her. Once again, it all had to do with power.

Landru and Etienne knew better than to approach her in this state of mind. Hysterically she screamed for Maurice D’Auberge. When no answer came, she teleported herself back to the château, where she searched the study diligently. She had forgotten about the Phantom automaton, which had since recovered and lurked about the castle.

Just as Brianna discovered the blood stains on the carpet, the automaton silently rolled up behind her. Like a streak of lightening, the Punjab lasso caressed her neck and caught her off guard. She clawed and grabbed frantically at the lasso. Blackness engulfed her, then she lost consciousness.

Landru and Etienne entered the study as the automaton removed the lasso, allowing the body to hit the floor.

Ooh, very cool indeed. So now everyone who is important is dead, and I assume Brianna is only unconscious...

I wonder what will happen now...

Please continue soon, I can't wait to see what happens next...


D

*squeal* I love it! Everything seems to be falling into place, but alas I feel I am solving a puzzle with a blindfold on. I do like it but there are still pieces missing. I can't wait to finish it and then reread it.

How much more do you have left to post? I'm starting on Discovering A Legend right now. You are amazing, my dear friend!

Slitherliggie delighted I can still keep you entertained. Thank you for the kind words.

Heart_Rose thank you for a kind review. You would be blind folded for long.


Gabby81 so good to see you. Thank you for the compliment.

As stated at the beginning of Chapter thirty-eight there are only three more chapters and the epilogue left.

Thank you to all who have R&R'd. Here's the next chapter. Almost done.

Please R&R. Enjoy!


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CHAPTER FORTY

Paris Opera House 1879

The only place that could accommodate seven little girls would be the Opera House. Erik left Madame Giry with the task of looking out for them and giving them temporary living quarters.

A nice little note went to the managers explaining the girls’ situation and that their parents would be contacted; assuring them the girls’ parents would come to fetch their daughters as soon as possible.

And finally, the note ended with a reminder that his salary came due and as usual he signed it, O.G.

The mangers had nothing but fear of the Opera Ghost, so no one ever entertained the thought of disobeying his requests.

Laurette seemed overjoyed to see her man. As soon as Alain entered the room his little wife-to-be ran into his open arms and hugged him so tight he almost couldn’t breathe. Every moment away from her made the fear that he’d never return more and more prominent in her mind.

Although she never admitted it, she had no thought for his safety. Having no one to care for her and the unborn child she thought she may carry frightened her. And she would never see her parents again, but she just couldn’t tell him this. No way did she want him to think that she thought only of herself, that perhaps, she didn’t love him as he did her.

His tender kisses seemed sweet, yet still hungry for her taste, her smell, to melt inside of her. Each kiss made his loins throb and ache.

She knew what he wanted. Perhaps she would someday enjoy him as much as he enjoyed her, but for now, she gave him what he wanted, her body and in turn she would see her parents once again.

The Persian brought Raoul into his apartment so that his wound could be attended to properly. Erik’s wound needed attention as well.

As his wife attended him, Erik watched the Persian fumble with the cleaning and dressing of Raoul’s wound.

The Chinese powder had completely stopped the bleeding and the wound healed nicely, so Erik whispered to his wife and asked her to attend Raoul when she finished tying his bandages. She hesitated. Erik understood, but he trusted her and insisted.

Lifting the mask just a bit, Mae kissed her man, who eagerly took her lips. “I love you Mae. I’m glad you are here,” he said, holding her to him for a moment.

“I love you, too, Erik.” She didn’t want to go, but he pushed toward the Persian and Raoul.

Gently, Mae offered to take the cloth and finish cleaning the blood from the deep gash in the Vicomte’s shoulder. Happily, the Persian relinquished his duty.

“Erik, why are you allowing her to attend the Vicomte? You know that he’s…” started the Persian, but Erik cut him off.

“Daroga, I know he’s falling in love with her, but I trust her. He did save my life twice and didn’t have to. He could have let them kill me or killed me himself,” the Phantom said.

As they watched, Daroga whispered something to his old comrade, something that truly changed his feelings about the young Vicomte.

“Thank you for saving me and my husband,” Mae finished cleaning the wound and began to apply the salve and bandages.

“I would do anything for you, Mae. Anything. I know some sort of enchantment brought you here and makes me have feelings for you, but I can’t help it…” his voice trailed.

“Raoul. It’s okay. I understand. But we must return to the mirror. We’ve neglected that. You need your Christine.”

Her words brought him much guilt. She was right. They had neglected their quest to swap Mae and Christine through the mirror. He hadn’t even thought of Christine. How shameful for him to desire another man’s wife, when his own true love remained lost in another dimension.

He couldn’t blame Erik for hating him. All this time he believed the sightings of the Opera Ghost to be just gossip and idle chatter from the ballet rats and half-drunken stagehands. At times the stories sounded almost true. If so, then the being existed as a spirit, an apparition and not a man.

But now, he knew that the Opera Ghost yet lived as a man in love with his beautiful wife. A man who did have good in him, enough to risk his life to save seven frightened kidnapped girls and return them to their parents.

The bandages secured, Raoul put on his bloodstained shirt and moved to Erik and apologized. “I take back all of the evil things I’ve said about you. You have my sincere apologies, monsieur,” he bowed graciously.

Taken aback, Erik frowned. Raoul apologized? It couldn’t be. Not so. Had he dreamt it? His entire life felt like a sweet dream since his beloved wife came to him. Maybe he still dreamed, if so, he never wanted to wake up.

He hesitated a moment and stared at the young patron in surprise. Then he accepted the apology by returning the bow.

“This still doesn’t mean we’re friends,” Erik retorted. “I’m just accepting your apology.”

“Of course. I understand.”

“Erik!” Mae shot him a look.

“What? I accepted his apology.” Mae smiled and hugged her man. Old habits die hard. At least they didn’t go at each other’s throat or rather; Erik didn’t go at Raoul’s throat.

Le Vicomte departed to his own château, while the Phantom and his bride retuned to their home by the underground lake, leaving the Persian and Darius in good spirits.

The Persian had agreed to gather the addresses from the girls and write letters to their parents. One less thing for the Phantom to do.

It felt odd going to bed with the world around you wide-awake and bustling about with day-to-day activity. But in a world of never-ending night, time didn’t matter.

How good it felt to nestle in their soft comfy bed, even if it camouflaged the coffin Erik stored. Mae tried not to think about anything. The world drifted away as a cloud of exhaustion overpowered her.

Erik felt tired, but not as one would think. What a fight! How invigorating! It had been a long time since he’d engaged in such a battle and with allies. He had never had allies.

For a long time, he watched the sleeping beauty lying in his arms. Each movement of her heaving breast excited him. She wore one of his shirts, which hung loose about her smooth, tight naked body.

At home he no longer wore a mask. Gently he nuzzled her, tasting her sweet flesh as he kissed her. Her soft moan threw him into a fit of passion and his kisses became feverish and almost feral like an animal.

Even half asleep, his wife responded to his desires. His body literally enflamed with the heat of passion, as he ripped the shirt from her, exposing her nakedness to him. With his hands he explored every inch of her inside and out.

She still hadn’t gotten used to being awaken for a man’s pleasure, but if that’s what made him happy, she’d once again surrender to the man she loved. At times, he seemed demanding, yet she felt warm and secure with him. In his arms, the world stood still. Their love had indeed become eternal.