Erik stared out of the small window in the bordello house, watching the rain hit against the window. He had always loved the rain, he just never knew why. He was well enough now to get out of bed but he had yet to leave the small room. The smell of cheap perfume was still in the air and occasionally he could hear a man and a woman in the next room doing what this place was built for. It was not really nice to listen to. He and Nadir had not spoken much to each other because they both found the silence comfortable, and both were too caught up in their own thoughts.
For the past few days Erik's thoughts had been all about what to do to get to Michael. The man definitely deserved a visit to the devil, and he would burn in hell for separating Erik from Christine. His first obstacle of course was finding out where Michael was hiding. Then he had found a way to get to Michael and make him slowly pay for what he had done. He knew he could do it; he was rather good at keeping to the shadows.
He was going to slowly drive Michael Delauney insane.
Michael stared into the flames of the fire before him. It was rather quiet now that Leroy was not there. The thought of his son caused his hand to clench into an angry fist. He had no one left, no family, nothing, and for the first time he truly did feel alone. Is this what his life had measured up to? Had he been put on this earth to lose everyone who ever meant anything to him. Michael had never had a noble heart, and his feelings were hard to come by, but he had loved his two sons, and he wished they were with him. He had known from the moment Emma had brought Desslar home that he was going to cause trouble for his family, and he had. That was why he felt no remorse about keeping Desslar away from his wife and unborn child.
The fact that a baby was going to be born to that monster was blasphemy. Why was he granted the gift of fatherhood when his two sons would never have that gift? Michael would give anything to slowly choke the life out of that whelp and let Desslar know that he was the one to do it; he was the one who killed that man's son. Erik was no longer a threat to him, he was locked away somewhere, wounded and miserable because he was not with his precious wife. How could that man see anything in Christine Daae? She was a whore just like her mother had been. He was sure the baby growing inside of her could be anyone's child, even the Chagny boys. That woman would never be any good, she was her mother's daughter.
He was torn from his thoughts by a rather loud sound coming from outside the room. With a frown on his face he stood up and walked to the door, wondering who in the world would be making such a noise. He had dismissed all of his servants that evening because he had wanted to be alone except for his head servant Julian, who he was sure had gone to bed for the night which meant there was no cause for the noise whatsoever. Opening the door he peered into the dark hallway, looking in both directions and only seeing darkness. He was sure he had heard a noise, it had been really loud. Frowning once more he shut the door and went back to his chair in front of the fire, knowing he just needed some rest.
"Christ!" he growled when he was startled out of his seat by something crashing against the window, causing it to rattle Rushing to the window Michael opened it and looked outside, the only thing he was greeted with was a few trees swaying from the wind, and dark ominous clouds, signaling a storm. Rubbing his eyes Michael shut the window and slowly made his way to his bed, he needed to get some sleep before he ended up giving himself a heart attack. Easing into bed he pulled the blankets up around him and closed his eyes with a sigh. Michael found himself reaching for his pistol when the fire in the fireplace suddenly went out from what he could only assume was a large gust of wind. The only thing about that was he had shut the window. He looked around the darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of something but finding nothing. Shoving his pistol angrily under his pillow once more Michael closes his eyes and tries to get some sleep.
"Delauney..."
His name was whispered into the surrounding darkness by a hoarse and husky voice, one he did not recognize.
"Whose there?" he demanded, sitting up and grabbing his pistol again.
"Delauney..."
"Show yourself this instant!" he shouted. He could feel someone approaching and he fired into the darkness. The echo of that shot lasted for several moments before there was silence once more. Scrambling off of the bed he fumbled around until he found a candle and lit it, looking around the room rather frantically. The thing he was faced with caused a cold fear to clutch at his heart.
Revenge is coming.
Three simple words written in rat's blood.