Fellowship & Fairydust

It was a wild night, stormy, and the rain fell and overran the streets of Paris.  Patrons of the Paris Opera House stepped outside to find their carriage drivers waiting with umbrellas to lead them to their waiting conveyances.

Far below the raging storm, in the Opera House’s fifth cellar, Erik tried to contain the storm within. Having lost Christine to Raoul, his heart broken, he fought his murderous impulse to go after her, and it tortured him to know she had sung the lead in tonight’s opera. 

Once, she sang only for him. He helped her, taught her the range and sweep that her voice was capable of. Now all of Paris adored her, not just for her charm and beauty and a voice that could lure the angels out of heaven, but because she was still uncomfortable with all the attention, and blushed when she received the accolades she was so deserving of. She was no Carlotta, someone who demanded the public’s attention as her right. She was his shy and lovely Angel. 

Finally, he wrapped his cloak around him, and retrieved his mask from where he had thrown it in his rage at Raoul and his ability to court Christine so openly. Raoul could use his title and influence to secure the best tables in restaurants and could shower Christine with jewels and flowers.  Erik had money, a great deal of it, but he knew Christine. He knew a single rose tied with a black ribbon meant more to her than a room full of bouquets. Or it had. At one time.

He made his way through his secret passages to the door that led to the stables for the horses that often appeared in performances, or drew the Opera House’s carriages when the directors needed to appear at various events or functions to schmooze their patrons. At the far end of the stable was his favorite, the white stallion, Cesar.

The horse nickered at Erik, recognizing him, and stomped his foot with impatience, as he knew he was always in for an adventure with this particular man. He was bored with his domesticated role at the opera and longed for the late-night runs Erik took him on.

“Hush, Cesar. Are you as anxious as I am to leave these infernal walls?” He led Cesar out of the stall, slipped a bridle over his head and then silently lifted a black saddle from its resting place and secured it to Cesar’s back, buckling and tightening the cinch below his belly. Then he took the reins and directed Cesar up the ramp to the stable door which he opened, and then shut securely again once he and Cesar were outside. He swiftly stepped up and onto the saddle and they paused for a moment under the canopy where stable-hands harnessed horses onto the various carriages kept at the Opera House. The rain had let up. The night was black as pitch with just a few stars peeking out of the blackness.

And with a word from Erik and the reins directing him, Cesar was off, his hooves clattering through the rain-filled streets, splashing through the larger puddles, and in no time at all they were outside the city and heading for the countryside and the great woods that lay beyond.

As they came to these woods, Erik spoke gently to Cesar and the great white horse slowed to a trot and then to a walk. They meandered along the path, now illuminated by the moon now visible after the rain. It was full and bright.

Finally, Erik brought Cesar to a stone outbuilding, perhaps centuries old, and tethered him to a tree close by.
He had come across this place a few years back, on one of his midnight rides, and had meant to return and explore it further. Tonight seemed as good an opportunity as any.

He took an apple from inside his cloak and rewarded his companion with it. As he was about to enter the old building, he paused. He swore he heard something stirring within. Then he heard a low growl. He withdrew his black-gloved hand from the door that he was about to open, and stood looking at it. He looked at the stone entry way and saw what appeared to be spots of blood. Could there be a wounded animal inside? 

Erik, having been a part of the Gypsy tribe that had kept him prisoner, had come to know the animals also imprisoned for the entertainment of paying crowds. The dogs, the horses and a bear. When Erik escaped, the first thing he did, after murdering the man who kept him caged, was free the bear. He felt a kinship with animals.

Cautious but unafraid, Erik slowly pushed open the ancient wooden door and peered through the darkness. There was a large shape lying on the old stone hearth, its eyes glowing yellow. It stared at Erik, bared its teeth and growled, but somehow sensing that Erik was not its enemy, the creature went back to nursing its injured paw.  Erik could see it was a wolf, and unlike any wolf he had ever seen, this one was pale, a light grey, perhaps even white. 

“Let me see if I can help you…” Erik spoke so soothingly the creature stopped and stared, almost hypnotized by his voice. It allowed Erik to come and kneel beside it. Erik reached for the right paw, and frowned. This beautiful animal must have been caught in someone’s snare. He looked around, his catlike eyes able to see in the darkest of places, and saw nothing but cobwebs. 

He sighed and took hold of his cloak and withdrew a stiletto from a case strapped to his boot and cut a strip from the edge, long enough to wrap around the creature’s paw. Then he retrieved a flask of brandy from a pocket inside the cloak, opened it, gently took hold of the wolf’s paw and poured the brandy onto the cut to sterilize it. It winced but kept still, allowing Erik to then wrap the strip of cloth around the injury. Then it sighed and lay its head on its paws, watching Erik who sat back and contemplated the beast before him.

Outside he could hear Cesar, stomping his feet nervously at the scent of the wolf he must have detected. The night was so late that dawn would soon be upon them. He wasn’t worried that Cesar would be missed because he knew that the horse would have them home in perhaps an hour or so, long before the staff awoke or arrived to perform their duties.

As the dawn slowly made its way through the trees, Erik held his breath. Something was happening to the injured wolf. It was undergoing some sort of transformation. He had heard the gypsies tell tales around the campfires late at night about were-wolves and demons that stalked the forests and woods of the countryside. He never believed these stories had any truth to them, but suddenly, instead of a wolf before him, lay a very beautiful and naked young woman, perhaps sixteen or seventeen years of age. Erik could not contain his gasp as the young woman sat up, looked at the cloth wrapped around her right hand, and then right at Erik and smiled.

“Thank you, Monsieur,” she said in a lilting voice.

Erik, still somewhat astounded, removed his cloak and handed it to the girl, who draped it around herself. She was slim and petite, her hair a pale white blond, her eyes a golden color, not unlike his own.  

“I was after a rabbit and got caught in a hunter’s trap. I managed to free myself, but the injury prevented me from hunting last night,” she said matter-of-factly.

“What is your name, child?“ Erik spoke gently. “Do you have a family, any place I can perhaps take you?”

“No, monsieur.  My mother turned me out when she saw what I was. I was just a girl and bringing home bread from the baker for my family, when a man stepped onto the path and accosted me. He kept me here, in this stone house, as his prisoner, and that night he transformed. He attacked me. I managed to escape, for I feared he would devour me, and ran home, weeping, and my mother bathed me and fed me; she did not even scold me for the lost bread. But at the first full moon, after my attack, I did not understand what was happening to me. I called to my mother; she came running and when she saw me, she screamed and tried to kill me. I had to flee for my life. Since that time, I have had to steal to live – food, clothing from wash lines, except for the times of month when I become as you saw me. I had not had time to retrieve my clothes.“  She did not even blush, and made no apologies for her nakedness. It was just a fact of her life.

“I can’t leave you here,” he said softly, wondering just where he could leave her. 

“I am fine. Do not worry about me. I have lived in and around these woods for three years now. Thirty-eight full moons, counting this one. I have tried to find work here and there. It is hard because I must be sure to be absent during that time. Townspeople around here are superstitious. More than once I have heard men talking about killing the wolf that has been after their sheep. The same men who have courted me would kill me without a second thought.” She looked up at Erik. She did not even blink at the mask he wore.

“I cannot let that happen. Come with me, girl. Do you have a name?”

“Once, I called myself Lisette. I liked that name. More than my given one. You may call me Lisette.”

“Take my hand, Lisette. I won’t hurt you. You will be safe with me.“ 

She drew the cloak more tightly around herself, and took the gloved hand Erik offered. He led her to where Cesar was staring at them with alarm. Erik whispered in Cesar’s ear and he stood still while Erik set the girl on the saddle and unwound Cesar’s reins, then climbed to seat himself with the girl before him. She glanced up at him, unafraid, and they were off like the wind. 

What have I gotten myself into? Erik wondered. 

They were back at the Opera House a bit later than Erik would have liked, although all was still quiet. He unsaddled and rubbed down Cesar before settling him back in his stable. He filled his grain and water and patted the horse, who snorted, shook his head, and then set about eating his breakfast.

Lisette had remained quiet. She obediently followed Erik down, down, down to his home beneath the Opera.

“Do not worry, my dear. For the time being you can stay with me. Over there,“ he gestured to a door, “is a bathing room. I will leave you towels and soap. I will also leave you some clean clothing. They may be a bit big on you. I also have boots that might fit you. Then, once you are clean, and, um…presentable, we shall see about feeding you.”

She stared at Erik, then smiling so brightly, it quite took his breath away, she threw her arms around him, letting the cloak drop. Erik tried not to notice, and then bent to retrieve it and draped it over her, turning her towards the bathroom. He stepped inside while she waited calmly, and he filled the tub for her. Then returned with a beautiful dress he had once purchased for Christine, plus under things, stockings and a sturdy pair of boots. He left these on a chair outside the bath. He could hear her splashing in the bath and singing to herself. He paused a moment. Her voice, he realized, was absolutely lovely.