From Shadows to Starlight

Familiar Face

Chapter Sixteen

A real friend is someone who walks in when the rest of the world walks out-- Walter Winchell

Familiar Face

Spinning around to face this new attacker, panicked but determined to destroy the opponent in hand-to-hand combat, Erik suddenly found himself facing a slender woman leaning on a walking cane, her long hair tightly braided.

“Good evening, Monsieur Erik,” said Madame Giry.

Erik felt a strange combination of extreme surprise and immense relief as he stood face to face once more with the person he had known longer than any other. His heart hammered in his ears and he tried to speak, but nothing would come out but a single word.

“You.”

Madame Giry raised an eyebrow. “I can see your manners haven’t improved since I saw you last.” She looked knowingly at the wanted poster he still clutched in his hand. “What are you doing here?”

“It doesn’t matter. I have to get out of here, now. I was just shot at, and whoever the shot came from could still be after me.” He heard shouting from somewhere nearby and turned to run off, but Madame Giry seized his wrist.

“Come with me,” she said, and wordlessly Erik followed her. The shouts grew nearer, and the two of them broke into a run, Madame Giry pulling Erik along by the arm through the winding alleyways. In time, it seemed they’d lost Erik’s pursuers, but neither one of them slowed the pace for a second. By now they’d come out of the dark alleys, but Madame Giry led him through a series of backstreets, making sure to stay out of sight. As they ran, Erik couldn’t help but be reminded of a time, long ago, when a younger Antoinette had helped to rescue him and led him to safety.

In spite of the breakneck pace Erik noticed the buildings around them becoming finer and finer. Finally Madame Giry stopped at the back of a large building. As they both stopped to catch their breath, Erik set down his suitcase and looked at the wanted poster in his hands once more. He glanced nervously over his shoulder, but there was no one else in the backstreet at the moment. He wondered how many people were out there, looking for him. Hunted down by everyone, met with hatred everywhere…

He tore the paper to shreds, and the pieces blew away with the summer breeze.

“Wait here,” Madame Giry told him as she opened a back door and disappeared inside, leaving Erik standing in the street. He looked up at the building…it was huge, and its architecture was old-fashioned, but it was in excellent condition. If there wasn’t the threat of him being arrested or shot on sight, he would have liked to go around and see the front of the building, which had to be stunning if the back was this impressive.

Then Madame Giry opened the door again, looking nervously to her left and right, and behind her. “Come inside, quickly. The hallway is empty for now but we must hurry.” Erik took the suitcase and rushed inside, following her at a brisk pace through a hallway and down a flight of stairs that led into another hall, dimly lit. Surprising, for a building that had appeared so fine on the outside.

They came to the last door and Madame Giry went to open it, but it was locked. She muttered something under her breath and felt around for what should have been her key, but she couldn’t find it. Then they heard it…footsteps coming down the stairs. They exchanged panicked glances, but Erik had a solution. He reached into his cloak and pulled out his skeleton key. He fiddled with the lock, but his hands shook and were slippery with sweat.

“Hurry!” Madame Giry urged him through clenched teeth.

Why couldn’t he open the blasted lock? The footsteps had almost reached the bottom of the stairs…they would be here in seconds and the game would be up. He, and probably Madame Giry too for helping him, would be dragged off to prison, and…