Chapter 25

The Sideshow

Erik's POV

It is amazing how in 36 years one moment alone can change the course of one man's life forever; in the space of seven months less than a single year I had gone from the creature that lived under ground; the opera ghost to Erik Mansart. Erik Leopold Mansart; preacher's son husband of the greatest opera singer of all time and father of four; my head was still reeling from all that had happened and for the first time in nearly twenty years I found myself thanking God that I had not ended my life when I had first desired to back in that log cabin where I had been the night Christine had come to find me. I had been so close to the edge; alone and hoping for death in the depths of my internal. eternal dungeon I had looked at the wickedness of my Punjab lasso and thought of being on the other end the sweet release of it all. Death holding me in the only embrace I had ever had, death the sweet rest my own living would not provide had been such a sweet temptation then. But just as I had hung my rope on the hanging torchlight, not caring if it fell and turned my cabin to cinders with me inside a true miracle occurred.

If God had ever cared for me at all he had shown me so much in that one moment, that moment when I heard that voice. Her voice, the one voice which I longed to hear the most and never even dreamed I would again. He had sent her to save me, and I tore down my noose and hid it beneath the bed where she would never see it and dared to hope for an instant that it was really her and not some tormenting dream. I was frightened, too scared to hope much that she was really there; for her presence haunted me endlessly; and hadn't I dared to hope, to pray to dream so many times before only to be left alone? But then something in my head gave me one moment of courage and I opened the door to that all-consuming torturous voice calling to me from beyond the threshold of the little hideaway which had become my death-house; calling for me, crying out to me as clear and real as the rainfall outside of my home.

I had opened the door and seen there with my own silver eyes the Daroga, carrying the only person I had ever truly loved in his arms. as she reached toward me with frightened eyes as I took her into my arms and slammed the door in the man's face. The rest is a night I will keep in my fondest dreams; my angel golden, naked and standing before me in all her mortal perfection. Mine to touch, mine to hold, mine to love and love her I did. I smiled as I recalled the sounds of her wanton moans and cries of pleasure beneath my hands as she allowed me in that absolute darkness to find the perfection that had always been just beyond my reach. What a wonderful night that had been, her soft thick hair falling like pure sunshine in my hands, the roses of her nipples hard and blooming as my passion watered them and then I made what I now hold in my hands. Two small babies, both male, my own sons, brilliant and handsome and so utterly the mark of physical perfection that had Christine not been a virgin when we first made love I would have questioned their paternity.

But these were indeed my own sons, both as perfect and golden as their mother with her deep blue eyes I stroked the delicate blossoms in their cheeks and marveled at the angular statuesque features of my boys. They were images of me, had I been born normal with golden hair and blue eyes I would have rivaled even that handsome young fop Christine had loved so much. I grimaced as I thought of the boy and imagined that he did not take kindly to being snubbed as he had been; not that I really cared to be honest but I was worried that young man with that much power was now my enemy. Love can make one do the most ludicrous things and I should know; I had literally murdered for this woman, nearly died for want of her and there was no telling what a De Changy in all his spoiled power would do when he was jealous and now it was not only Christine I head to worry about but my family as well.

Speaking of Christine, I found myself wondering where she was and laying both my boys down I set about looking for her. It wasn't long before I found her fast asleep in a steaming bath, her eyes fluttering tenderly in some pleasant restful dream whose narrative caused a smile to appear at the corners of her mouth. I had to grin when she moaned, turned her head to the side and let out a long deep snore before drooling down her chin. I do so very much enjoy seeing Christine as peaceful as she is at the moment. Still relaxing though the water may be and much needed after birthing four babies to sleep in a wet-room was not the best idea, if she rolled over she could drown or crack her head on the iron tub. Neither option seemed very appealing so I bent down and pulled my sleepy wife from the water, she stirred a little, inhaled my cologne but otherwise did not wake; snuggling into my arms at the smell of my French fragrance to which she had become so accustomed to.

I smiled (that seemed to be all I was doing nowadays) and lay her down in the bed where she frowned at the loss of my warmth and rolled over under the blankets. I kissed her head -the back of it- and went into the second bedroom of our little flat where our two daughters, Luna and Aria slept -and snored- in time with their mother and I felt something I had never before felt in my entire life. My heart which I had long-thought dead from disuse turned into a soft puddle of melted candle wax on the floor of my being. I kissed them both, marveling how my own darkness had created such visions of loveliness as my own resting daughters. Tears came to my eyes as I stroked the full heads of curly hair they had been graced with, both dark as a raven's wing and as curly as a spring meant for pushing piano keys up. It was as if God had splattered ink all over Christine's curls, his very finest ink.

My moment of joy was broken when Luna, or was it Aria -they are identical pairs the four of them- woke and began to wail loudly and most unattractively. I scooped her up and cuddled her but it did not good and pretty soon a giggling and very tired Christine was standing naked in the doorway as I bounced her and tried to get her calm. Christine came and took her from me placing her tiny lips to her naked breast and allowing her to suck there while she sat in an armchair sleepily. I watched the baby with awe and perhaps even the slightest bit of envy for my own mother had not allowed me to nurse much less touch her very much but still the picture was one that I would cherish to the rest of my days. Christine feeding my infant in my home, my own eyes closing as they reflected in our hungry child... my child, my hungry sleeping little child...and just like that realization hit me and my thoughts were suddenly broken.

Hungry!

The child was hungry, which meant that eventually Christine would be as well and we could not depend upon our friends forever. I knew very well that Mattie and Fabious were in love and would eventually marry and possibly have children of their own. When that day came Christine and I would have to take our children and go and I had no clue what we were going to do then. I had promised Christine the day the children were born that there would be no more criminal activity, so extortion was out of the question. But the fact remained that I was still jobless and now had five extra bellies to fill. I looked down at my other daughter still sleeping and back to the living room where my two boys napped on the mossy carpet and felt my stomach drop out from inside me. I needed to find work at once, and when I was sure that my family was resting I quickly wrote a note explaining to Christine that if I were not home when she woke then I had gone out to find work, that I loved her very much and not to worry. After assuring myself that everything was in order I jumped out the bedroom window for convenience sake and took off down the streets.

I started out uncharacteristically optimistic, for surely there would be work for someone like me in these parts but my spirits were dampened upon finding much to my despair that there were no help wanted signs about the area for the job market was indeed thriving and as such jobs for immigrants especially ones with thick Parisian accents were in very short they did have a help wanted sign for a shop assistant or a handyman I was invited in but quickly turned away the moment I opened my mouth. One sound of my voice and I was dismissed as little more than another wanderer trying to find the so-called American dream. American dream ha! This was more like the American nightmare as door after door was shut in my face and I was sent on my way, I must've tried at least a dozen places around the area, all to the same result; rejection and my eyes making the acquaintance of a freshly slammed door.

I walked and walked for hours only to be turned down over and over by Americans who had troubles of their own and did not need another foreigner taking the bread from their children's mouths. Immigrants took far too many jobs as it was they said, never mind that I had a family of my own who needed food and care that was not their problem. If my family was that poor then they could go to the poorhouse and the children to the orphanage. It did not help anything that my wife was what people in these parts called a 'normy.' Word had gotten out most likely from those ruffians from not too long ago that there was this weird Frenchman in town a traitor to his own kind and I had pretty much been blackballed by the whole of Coney Island. One woman, a fat old hunchback of a lady even suggested that I ought to take my normy and my half-breed children and go back to wherever the hell it was I came from.

I tried to explain to her, tell her that I was a fugitive running from the law that my wife and I were living in a hostel (I could not give them the names of our friends less they end up hurt on my account) and that I could no more go back than she could stand upright. She merely laughed and tossed her shawl over her shoulder in a show of snobbery which would have made La Carlotta look like an amateur and told me that I should have thought of that before I made babies I could not afford. She then slammed the door in my face without even so much as a good day and I was left again to my weary search. Finally at half-passed six well passed the time when I was to be home for supper I stumbled wearily into a seedy looking bar and sat there for I don't know how long with my head in my hands, cursing the land of opportunity for being so very inopportune when I needed it the most.

I must've fallen asleep because I was woken again by the sound of a glass being put in front of me and when I looked up I saw a man there. He was old and shriveled and looked to be the sort of character that one might see in the back-allies and sewage lines. His clothes were dusty and stained with what I guessed was either blood or leftover wine, either way the affect was prominent and chilling. I stood up, staring down at the glass he had set in front of me I knew better than to drink from it, had used that trick myself on many of the ballet rats when they wandered down my corridors in the dead of night. I stared at it, frowning when he offered me a crooked yellowing smile and winked at me with one human eye while the other stared sightless though a glass pupil. I stood up feeling the urge to leave but what the man said next stopped me.

"You're the one ain'tcha, the Frenchman looking for work?" he asked, he had a slippery voice which made me think of snakes and oil.

"Yes," I said, exhaustion making me open up to him, "I have a wife and four newborn children and no one will give me work."

He gave me an almost tisk-tisk, "Well I may be able to help you," he said in a sly tone.

Normally my good sense would have told me to tell him no, and get up and just go home but desperation and tiredness kept me where I was, "How?" I croaked.

"Have a drink," he answered by way of reply and gestured to the cup before me, I hesitated, "It's all right its not poisoned." he took the cup and had a swallow to prove it. I drank and he said, "come with me."

"But my wife...she will be expecting me." I protested and he waved me off.

"Does she and those brats of yers wanna eat tonight?" he asked, I nodded. "Then follow me."

He lead me to the very center of the Carnival where he had set up a series of tents, all labeled with different things. The human lizard, the bearded lady, the world's smallest man, the lobster boy. All these signs in bright colored letters and he put on a ringmaster's hat. I froze, wanting to run as I realized what I had just walked into. A freak show, a literal freak-show. Lobster boy came out and smiled grimly at me with a look as unfriendly as he could be and said to his master something along the lines of me being new blood. I wanted to run I tried to but Lobster Boy caught me in his claw-like hands and forced me t!o the ground. The man smiled with his lemon-colored teeth and gave me a good hard kick to the ribs knocking the wind out of my frail body.

"Now you listen here you fuckin' carnie-bastard, " he sneered, "you're gonna do what I say and you're gonna do it with a smile you got that!" He stepped on my back driving my face into the dirt before kneeling down and smiling at me, "You do that and you will get home to your little Normy wife in one piece with some money in your pocket."

I groaned, I had to get up had to get out of here had to run home to Christine but the promise of work, of being able to legally support my family was not something I could just walk away from. In defeat I nodded and he let me get up before pushing me into a tent and ordering me to 'be made ready' for work. I nearly asked what kind of readiness needed to be made at this hour but I found out soon enough. Lobster boy pulled off my shirt and Lizard took his tallonesque nails and sliced clean through my skin to the bone the pain was so bad that I screamed at the top of my lungs only to be gagged by my assailant. Next the bearded lady appeared and forced a shot of what tasted like laudanum to my lips, I swallowed helplessly as the Fat Lady, giggling like a hyena the reached inside my mouth, the gag was yanked from my lips.

Anything to stop the pain.

"Right then Frenchie!" Lobster boy told me in a decidedly Australian accent, " Welcome Aboard Rusty Nails' freak-appaloosa!" he said and clapped me hard on the back so that I fell right into the fold of the Fat Lady's gut. She giggled saying, 'oh my' before I was hauled onto my feet again.

I was so dizzy, everything appeared to be clouded in a fog of drugs and pain as the bearded lady held a bucket under my chin and I became violently sick. Christine, had to get back to Christine. Pulled I was being pulled, I heard laughter as Rusty threw me into the back of his coach and stole the slip of paper on which I had written my address for a future employer to call on me. My thoughts came in bits and pieces that I was hardly able to register. Sunrise... Christine worried sick...freak-show... tired... light hurts my eyes. Migraine... shut my eyes... cannot think clearly...wine...laudanum... so tired. Water... lips are drying out...so thirsty... Christine... children...hungry... marked... so tired... falling asleep... snoring...peace.

I woke again as I found myself tossed on the doorstep groaning I was hardly able to open my eyes let alone lift my throbbing head. The pain would only get worse as my poor Christine opened the door to find the Angel of Music gone and the Devil's Child in his place.

A/N And OFR is back after three years oh my god I am so sorry if anyone is reading this I hope you enjoyed it!