chapter 25

H ungry lions circle me as she waits for my truth. Why do I wish the beasts would take me now?

"It wasn't as bad when I was a child. Even the beatings my father gifted me before he left never changed it."

Bewitched I was when she befriended me before she knew I was the reason for her survival. That was the reason I never gave mention of our first encounter.

It was astonishing how many firsts there had been with this stranger. A story only told once before, vaguely, was about to come to light in its unedited wholeness, just for her.

Hate would burn in me with her pity. Her love for me, for who she's made me, is all I wanted. Not for who I was made into before her.

"It was contained to my face after birth. Catholic guilt and stigma led my mother to keep me. From what I can recollect, maybe tried to love me. I wore a makeshift mask cut from my father's old jacket. But it may have only made things worse. The constant ridicule from children and adults paired with the inability to find a new husband, weighed on her. It was hard to care for a child and herself when she wasn't able to work much more. And despite having tried, I was too young or hideous to aid in that."

Fire danced in brown eyes, filled with worried anticipation. To stop had crossed my mind, though this had been her wish for some time.

"The circus had come to town. I remember the excitement when my mother mentioned taking me for the first time. She dressed us up in our best. I can't see her face anymore, but I remember thinking how beautiful she looked, and yet so sad. I was in awe when we arrived. Never had I thought such a place could exist. Lights. Food. Animals like I had never seen. I would like to think I saw it as you do."

It was hard to focus on the unwanted memories, when the soft glow kissed this angel's skin the way I would prefer to do right now. Kiss away the tears she blinked back as I spoke, in dread for what was to come. Her obliging, tired smile urged me on.

"When the show ended, she was quiet as she took me outside. A man met us there, Radu Laurentiu, the Ringmaster. The flee. The Gollum. Unfeeling was my mother's face when she handed me off to him, taking the coin purse he offered." I choked on the memory and recomposed myself. "She did say goodbye. And called me by a name that fails me. I couldn't have been more than ten years of age."

I did know the name. But it belonged to a boy no one wanted. Someone that died the day the world proved no love for him.

"For the next several years, I traveled with the show as I told you. Found out quickly that I had a gift for music. Who knew the little rotting corpse could play in such likenesses as Mozart. Wagner." I set my finger under her tortured face, running my thumb across her chin and winked. "And Beethoven."

I fight unseen restraints to kiss away the sad smile which now graced her sweet face. Would time be so kind once more that we would have that chance again.

Perhaps that time had gone.

I dropped my hand and stared at the crackling, dancing flames.

"No matter how well I did, the heavy hands never stopped. But I preferred the unprovoked whippings over what it became. Something no one should ever endure. Until one day when the Flee came to visit my cell after everyone had drowned themselves in the bottle. Much to my surprise, a bit of rope I'd taken from the tack tent before the matinee earlier that day, and some pressure was all it took. I thought the guilt would eat me. It never came. I bathed in the hate as it imbedded within me, and I enjoyed it."

The lift at the corner of my lips surprised me at the retelling. Not in joy of the memory, but remembrance of pride.

"Things were a bit better after that. With my face and talents it wasn't hard to find another show. I was still roughed around for a while, but nothing like before. And I had even made a few friends. There was a time I was proud of this face," I said, holding my chin up, falling into the memory of it. "The crowd would recoil as I came out and sat at my piano. I delighted in the terror and disgust it brought the patrons that frequented our shows. I hated them. I hated their perfect faces. Normal lives. I pitied them all the same. In my mind it was a small bit of revenge to be proud of it. For years it was like that."

The glow of the fire had begun to dim. More or less procrastinating, I added another log. Pity would follow soon enough and the moment, over.

"In 1857 we came to Paris. It was like any other place. Except, during a performance one night, a lovely young heiress, Josephine Dubois, spoke to me . Told me how amazing I was and that she would like to hear me play again. Privately. The following night, I did just that. Trying to wow her with everything in my arsenal. After her private show, she had invited me to join her at her home later that night. Being a silly child and never having…"

I halted, averting my eyes. It was not shame that turned me. Perhaps embarrassment of which I had forgotten. Pleasures of the flesh had remained a suppressed memory since my youth. That was, until this Angel graced my world.

"I was over the moon. Not only was she beautiful, but she wanted to spend an evening with me . No woman had ever spoken to me before then, not like that. A mentor of mine, The Amazing Raphael, lent me his best suit once I told him. He warned me to be careful, but the headstrong fool I was, paid him no mind and ran off. I stood at the back of the door to this giant building wearing a borrowed suit that was a tad big and holding stolen flowers I had snatched from a garden. Not for a moment did I think it odd she lived in a hotel. I lived in a wagon. She had snuck me around through the kitchen and into a large suite off the main floor. I should have worried then, particularly when she wouldn't let me touch her after she'd ripped her hand away. But adolescence."

"And hormones," my sweet Melody jested with a hint of sadness.

"Yes," I answered. "She teased me. It was sweet. Dared me to get undressed first, since it was her first time as well, and she was scared.

"Eager, like any young man, I did as told." I paused, trying to gather my thoughts. Would this be too much for her to hear?

As if reading my mind, she placed her gentle hand on my arm. "You don't have to keep going," her sweet lips whispered. "I know this isn't going anywhere good."

"You shared your secret with me, my Heart. I will hide nothing from you. You wanted to know me. I want you to know me."

She nodded, but there was a sense of guilt in her eyes. There was something else she hadn't told me and that was alright. She would, in time. This was enough for now.

"My trousers had just hit my ankles when I heard the faintest snickering from outside the door behind me. Josephine told me to pay it no mind and continue, that she was very excited, even taking off her indoor coat.

"The last thing I remember was a crowd of young faces, including Josephine's, staring down and laughing as flames seared the flesh from my body. As if it were a game."

At the moment of realization, her eyes widened. Glistening irises stared horrified. Despite having been next to the fire for some time, her lovely face was flushed of its color. Her head swung away as she tried to stifle the sobbing that threatened to come forth.

I moved closer to her, taking her hand in mine. "Shh. Dear. It is alright," I cooed. Tears blinded her eyes as she found mine. A small bit of glee filled me as I wiped an escaped bit of sadness away.

"I woke up several days later in a bed at le H?tel des Anges . Antoinette tended my wounds. It was her hotel the girl was staying at for a time. That large rug when you walk into the main foyer hides the past."

She fiddled with our hands and laid her head on my shoulder.

"The show had left without me once they got word. I was with Antoinette and Louis for several months. They told me what had happened. That nothing could be done because of who the girl's father was," I said. "I should warn you, the rest of this is more unpleasant than what you have heard."

"I will hear whatever it is you want me to know," she said.

"When I was able to move without what was left of my flesh attempting to peel itself from my bones, I snuck out one night. I had found Josephine alone in the giant tenement her father owned in the city.

"Gratification was the fear in her eyes when she realized it was me that played with her mind the entire evening. Her fear awakened something within me that I had not let sleep since.

"She pleaded for her life. Apologized. Begged. Offered money. Offered herself. Even offered up her friends.

"I was too ravaged by the red. Hands that played beautiful melodies, wrapped around her neck and squeezed until she changed color. A few times. And then she was gone. That was the only time I had ever used my hands.

"Revenge was the sweetest thing I'd ever tasted.

"Then I cried.

"When Antoinette heard of Josephine's death, I had already slipped into the night. I knew what it would do to her. I couldn't bear it nor did I care at the time.

"Amongst all of this, the Ghost was born. Within my mind he lives, guiding me. I have never been caught off guard again."

‘You lie,' the Ghost growls. ‘Evidence sits nearly in your arms now.'

I ignore the voice that spits the truth, though this time I do it with a light heart. "Eventually, I found a new traveling show and the rest you know. The King of Persia eventually brought me on as a means of entertainment. I built his palace. Became his prized assassin."

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked.

"Yes. Another talent of mine." I smiled smugly. "I came back to Paris in 1861 to help Charles Garnier build this palace. Then again, a few years later to call it home after the King put out a death command on all who aided in erecting his Palace of Illusions. I ran from him with Ardashir's help."

The crackling from the fireplace was the only sound for several moments.

"Did you find the rest of them?"

"That I know of," I answered.

"And Antoinette knows this? That you killed the people who did this to you?"

I nodded. "Until the night you arrived, I hadn't seen her since my departure. For her kindness, I had sent money over the years to help in some way. I had done some terrible things in her care and for that I deserved her silence.

"When asked to take you in, stories of the Ghost had reached her. Though she was scared, surprised even, she would never turn down the opportunity to help someone in need."

Tired eyes avoided my stare for a time. Looking everywhere but at the monster that sat with her.

Everything aside, it was nice to sit with her. Even in silence.

The few times Ardashir had come, it wasn't like this. Nothing could compare to the feeling this moment held.

"So, you really didn't kill that girl in the salon room?" she asked.

"I may not be a good man, Melody, but no one murders within my walls and escapes consequence. I had written Ardashir the day after you arrived. My dear daroga is the best at what he does. Even now, as I know, he is still trying to solve it. I hope you are given the chance to meet him one day."

With gentle fingers, she grazed my jaw. Desperate to focus on the touch, my lids grew heavy, and leaned into it. She trailed down my neck, to the collar of the shirt, pushing it to the side.

Unstable was my breathing at such an action, though frozen was my body. The faintest of tingles trailed behind her fingertips as she traveled along the reminder of the world's cruelty.

Sadness oozed from her. I never wanted this. Her soul should only ever know happiness.

Yet I did nothing to stop her.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked.

My hand found hers and locked it in place against my chest. "Not for many years."

She crawled closer, tucking herself beneath my arm, wrapping her free one around me.

Glad to be rid of that dead rodent she wore, my hand went immediately to her hair, snaking through to cradle her head. I pressed my cheek against her and sighed.

‘It could always be like this,' the Ghost said.

She would leave in the morning.

‘She does not have to.'