Gankutsuou Fan Fiction ❯ Gankutsuou Reborn ❯ Two Friends' Visit ( Chapter 5 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
GANKUTSUOU REBORN
© September 12, 2005 By Rory V. Pascual
CHAPTER FIVE: Two Friends' Visit
Albert determinedly placed the copy of "Le Fantome de l'Opera" inside his coat pocket. He had been seeing Etienne for the past three Sundays, but, always, he kept on forgetting to give it to the singer. He was already feeling guilty. Etienne had been giving him privileged, albeit secret, performances at the Order's small church, and yet he could not do something as simple as return a book to its rightful owner.
He patted the book in his pocket. This time, I won't forget.
The door to his chamber quietly opened and his housekeeper entered. "Your Excellency, you have two visitors waiting for you downstairs."
"Hildegarde, I thought I informed the staff that I do not entertain guests on a Sunday," Albert reminded the stern-faced woman with a trace of irritation.
The housekeeper bowed in apology. "Forgive me, but they were very insistent. They said they were friends of yours from Paris."
Albert whirled. "From Paris?" Despite his impatience to go to church, he hurried outside his room, down the stairs, heading for the front parlor. There, two people he never expected to see greeted him.
"Lucien! Beauchamp!" the young Ambassador gave his friends tight embraces. "You're a sight for sore eyes! What brings you here to Luna?"
Beauchamp grinned as he tucked his ever-inseparable camera under his arm. "We just thought we'd pay a visit to our dear friend, the Ambassador to Luna." He trained his gaze on the lovely landscapes and portraits adorning the walls of Albert's modest estate. "I must say this place is a lot more cheerful-looking than when I was last here. Old Benilde preferred military paintings – the bloodier, the better."
"True," Albert agreed with the journalist. The former envoy's taste in art was too similar to his late father's. "I had everything shipped to him in Paris."
"Is it true what your housekeeper told us?" Interior Ministry Chief Secretary Lucien Dupre put in with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "You are going to church today? I know how painful it is for you to enter any place of worship. Something must have happened to make you return to the faith."
"Yes, in a way," Albert reluctantly admitted. "I hope you won't think me rude, but I don't want to be late."
"Why don't we go there together?" Beauchamp suggested, much to Albert's chagrin. "My soul is in need of a little cleansing."
"Beauchamp! I never knew you had a soul!"
It was Lucien who became serious. "To be honest, this is not a courtesy call, Albert. There is an official matter that we need to discuss with you about."
© September 12, 2005 By Rory V. Pascual
CHAPTER FIVE: Two Friends' Visit
Albert determinedly placed the copy of "Le Fantome de l'Opera" inside his coat pocket. He had been seeing Etienne for the past three Sundays, but, always, he kept on forgetting to give it to the singer. He was already feeling guilty. Etienne had been giving him privileged, albeit secret, performances at the Order's small church, and yet he could not do something as simple as return a book to its rightful owner.
He patted the book in his pocket. This time, I won't forget.
The door to his chamber quietly opened and his housekeeper entered. "Your Excellency, you have two visitors waiting for you downstairs."
"Hildegarde, I thought I informed the staff that I do not entertain guests on a Sunday," Albert reminded the stern-faced woman with a trace of irritation.
The housekeeper bowed in apology. "Forgive me, but they were very insistent. They said they were friends of yours from Paris."
Albert whirled. "From Paris?" Despite his impatience to go to church, he hurried outside his room, down the stairs, heading for the front parlor. There, two people he never expected to see greeted him.
"Lucien! Beauchamp!" the young Ambassador gave his friends tight embraces. "You're a sight for sore eyes! What brings you here to Luna?"
Beauchamp grinned as he tucked his ever-inseparable camera under his arm. "We just thought we'd pay a visit to our dear friend, the Ambassador to Luna." He trained his gaze on the lovely landscapes and portraits adorning the walls of Albert's modest estate. "I must say this place is a lot more cheerful-looking than when I was last here. Old Benilde preferred military paintings – the bloodier, the better."
"True," Albert agreed with the journalist. The former envoy's taste in art was too similar to his late father's. "I had everything shipped to him in Paris."
"Is it true what your housekeeper told us?" Interior Ministry Chief Secretary Lucien Dupre put in with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "You are going to church today? I know how painful it is for you to enter any place of worship. Something must have happened to make you return to the faith."
"Yes, in a way," Albert reluctantly admitted. "I hope you won't think me rude, but I don't want to be late."
"Why don't we go there together?" Beauchamp suggested, much to Albert's chagrin. "My soul is in need of a little cleansing."
"Beauchamp! I never knew you had a soul!"
It was Lucien who became serious. "To be honest, this is not a courtesy call, Albert. There is an official matter that we need to discuss with you about."
~~~~~~~~~~
Albert was stunned by what his friends revealed to him. "A white slavery ring? Here in Luna?"
Lucien nodded solemnly. "It's been in operation for the past five years. I believe you are aware of the spate of kidnappings occurring in this city. You were once a victim yourself."
"Yes, but in my case, it was more of a kidnap-for-ransom."
"Well, not anymore. The Interior Ministry has an agent here. According to him, the syndicate targets young, attractive nobles – men, women and even children. They wipe out their memories through an unknown brainwashing procedure and sell them to brothels all over the galaxy."
"I came from the planet Aurelius recently," Beauchamp then said. "A young prostitute had been found brutally raped and murdered in the sewer. It turned out to be the son of Baron D'Estaing who had been missing for five months now."
Albert's handsome face became grim as he gazed out into the passing streets from the carriage window. "Who'd ever thought that such atrocities are being committed here? Do you have any idea on where their base of operations is?"
"Unfortunately, no," answered Lucien in disappointment. "Our agent has yet to dig up its location."
"However," Beauchamp interrupted, "from my own investigation, I've discovered that all the missing nobles shared one thing in common."
"And what's that?" Albert inquired.
"That they were all regular patrons of a popular nightclub here – the La Decadenza."
"LA DECADENZA?"
Lucien readily observed the shock on his friend's face. "So you know the place. Have you been there?"
Albert shook his head. "No, I haven't. The club's booked for two months."
"It seems that the owner is good friends with whoever is running the syndicate." Beauchamp raised his eyebrows in suspicion. "Why do you seem disappointed that you couldn't enter the club?"
"I wouldn't say that I'm…disappointed. Eugenie wanted me to go there because… I don't think there's a pressing reason for me to get a reservation at La Decadenza now, especially after I… But still I want to…"
Lucien's lips pursed in a disapproving grimace. "Are you ever going to finish what you're going to say, Albert? What does Eugenie have to do with La Decadenza?"
Albert breathed out a defeated sigh as the carriage rolled over to a stop before the church. "I would've wanted to come here alone, but I guess I have no choice. There is someone I would like you to meet. However, please do not tell him anything about me, like that I'm the ambassador and that I'm also a friend of Eugenie's. And one other thing…" He turned to Beauchamp. "This matter stays out of the press. Do I make myself clear?"
The two men were surprised by Albert's strong requests. "You don't have anything to worry about, Albert," Beauchamp reassured the younger man. "I can be discreet if I want to. Besides, I'm working with the Ministry on this." The journalist frowned. "After I saw Viscount d'Estaing's body, I swore to myself that no other boy or girl would suffer his fate."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, Beauchamp," Albert praised his friend, smiling in relief, as he got down from the carriage.
Following after their young friend, Lucien and Beauchamp's ears instantly caught the most wonderful voice they had ever heard coming from within the church. The minute they entered, they looked at once for the singer.
Etienne, who was singing in the choir box, seemed crestfallen at first, thinking that his friend wouldn't be showing up, until he saw Albert at the door. His face brightened as he gave Albert a shy wave.
As Albert expected, collective gasps rose from the two men behind him.
"My God!" Lucien exclaimed. "It's the Count of Monte Cristo!"
"No, that's not the Count," Albert told a shocked Lucien. "His name is Etienne Delacroix, but he is more popularly known as the 'Nightingale of Luna.'"
Beauchamp stared at his young friend in disbelief. "He's the 'Nightingale of Luna'? The star of La Decadenza?" The journalist could not stop himself from slapping his hand to his forehead, the sharp sound warranting a "Shush!" from disturbed churchgoers. "Damn it, Albert! You always live dangerously!"
Albert simply shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry. You know I could never resist an adventure."
Lucien nodded solemnly. "It's been in operation for the past five years. I believe you are aware of the spate of kidnappings occurring in this city. You were once a victim yourself."
"Yes, but in my case, it was more of a kidnap-for-ransom."
"Well, not anymore. The Interior Ministry has an agent here. According to him, the syndicate targets young, attractive nobles – men, women and even children. They wipe out their memories through an unknown brainwashing procedure and sell them to brothels all over the galaxy."
"I came from the planet Aurelius recently," Beauchamp then said. "A young prostitute had been found brutally raped and murdered in the sewer. It turned out to be the son of Baron D'Estaing who had been missing for five months now."
Albert's handsome face became grim as he gazed out into the passing streets from the carriage window. "Who'd ever thought that such atrocities are being committed here? Do you have any idea on where their base of operations is?"
"Unfortunately, no," answered Lucien in disappointment. "Our agent has yet to dig up its location."
"However," Beauchamp interrupted, "from my own investigation, I've discovered that all the missing nobles shared one thing in common."
"And what's that?" Albert inquired.
"That they were all regular patrons of a popular nightclub here – the La Decadenza."
"LA DECADENZA?"
Lucien readily observed the shock on his friend's face. "So you know the place. Have you been there?"
Albert shook his head. "No, I haven't. The club's booked for two months."
"It seems that the owner is good friends with whoever is running the syndicate." Beauchamp raised his eyebrows in suspicion. "Why do you seem disappointed that you couldn't enter the club?"
"I wouldn't say that I'm…disappointed. Eugenie wanted me to go there because… I don't think there's a pressing reason for me to get a reservation at La Decadenza now, especially after I… But still I want to…"
Lucien's lips pursed in a disapproving grimace. "Are you ever going to finish what you're going to say, Albert? What does Eugenie have to do with La Decadenza?"
Albert breathed out a defeated sigh as the carriage rolled over to a stop before the church. "I would've wanted to come here alone, but I guess I have no choice. There is someone I would like you to meet. However, please do not tell him anything about me, like that I'm the ambassador and that I'm also a friend of Eugenie's. And one other thing…" He turned to Beauchamp. "This matter stays out of the press. Do I make myself clear?"
The two men were surprised by Albert's strong requests. "You don't have anything to worry about, Albert," Beauchamp reassured the younger man. "I can be discreet if I want to. Besides, I'm working with the Ministry on this." The journalist frowned. "After I saw Viscount d'Estaing's body, I swore to myself that no other boy or girl would suffer his fate."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, Beauchamp," Albert praised his friend, smiling in relief, as he got down from the carriage.
Following after their young friend, Lucien and Beauchamp's ears instantly caught the most wonderful voice they had ever heard coming from within the church. The minute they entered, they looked at once for the singer.
Etienne, who was singing in the choir box, seemed crestfallen at first, thinking that his friend wouldn't be showing up, until he saw Albert at the door. His face brightened as he gave Albert a shy wave.
As Albert expected, collective gasps rose from the two men behind him.
"My God!" Lucien exclaimed. "It's the Count of Monte Cristo!"
"No, that's not the Count," Albert told a shocked Lucien. "His name is Etienne Delacroix, but he is more popularly known as the 'Nightingale of Luna.'"
Beauchamp stared at his young friend in disbelief. "He's the 'Nightingale of Luna'? The star of La Decadenza?" The journalist could not stop himself from slapping his hand to his forehead, the sharp sound warranting a "Shush!" from disturbed churchgoers. "Damn it, Albert! You always live dangerously!"
Albert simply shrugged and gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry. You know I could never resist an adventure."
~~~~~~~~~~
"Etienne, I would like you to meet two good friends of mine from Paris – Lucien Dupre and Beauchamp."
Albert saw a brief flash of resentment on the singer's face at having unwanted guests during their Sunday tryst. Still, Etienne gave Lucien and Beauchamp a warm smile and a gracious bow.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen," the Nightingale said in greeting. "Any friends of Albert's are friends of mine as well."
"Oh, no! The pleasure is ours, I assure you!" Lucien declared, waving his hands. "Your reputation precedes you, Monsieur Delacroix. I never imagined that Beauchamp and I would be meeting Luna's talented Nightingale, much more that you and Albert are friends."
"Please call me 'Etienne'," the singer encouraged them. "Actually, I owe Albert my life. He saved me from being run over by a carriage. His carriage, I might add." He gave Albert a wry grin. "Besides, I couldn't ignore his offers of friendship even if I wanted to. He is very persistent."
Beauchamp's laughter echoed in the empty church. "Yes, Albert is indeed that. A pest!"
"How dare you!" Albert declared in grievous affront.
Clearing his throat, Lucien carefully began, "Please don't think me rude if I say this, Etienne, but after hearing you sing, I'm convinced that your great talent is being wasted in a small club like La Decadenza. You should be singing in the greatest opera houses in Paris."
"That's what Eugenie told Signore Tintoretto, my employer."
"You know Eugenie Danglars?" Lucien absentmindedly inquired. He would have said more if Albert had not shot him a warning glance. "Why, she's a good friend of…of Beauchamp and I. We met her during one of her concerts, right, Beauchamp?"
Beauchamp swiftly nodded.
A hopeful smile lit up Etienne's face. "Then, you're the friends that Eugenie wrote to me about!" To their surprise, the singer took their hands in an earnest grasp. Both Lucien and Beauchamp looked to Albert, the confusion written on their faces.
"I know we just met," Etienne exclaimed in utter desperation. "But please, I'm begging you! Help me to leave La Decadenza! I…I'll do anything!"
Albert saw his two friends blanch at that entreaty. They knew exactly what the poor singer was offering in exchange for their assistance. Albert must admit the scene he had just beheld surprised him as well. Etienne had never told him about Eugenie's letter, perhaps because Albert himself had never introduced himself as a friend of the pianist. In retrospect, he was glad he had not done so. Thankfully, Lucien and Beauchamp knew better than to divulge his true identity. If Etienne was this desperate to leave La Decadenza, then they needed him to be close to the singer.
The same thoughts were running through the minds of Beauchamp and Lucien. Together, they urged Etienne towards pew.
As they sat down, Beauchamp began gently and with much concern, "Please do tell us why you are so desperate to leave the club, Etienne?"
For a moment, the singer hesitated, glancing back at Albert, who gave him an encouraging nod. Etienne's voice trembled as he told them about his life at La Decadenza – Tintoretto's cruelty, his other 'duties'. Despite his talent, the singer was nothing more than a common whore. Despite careful inquiry, they were able to glean nothing about the white slavery ring or its connection with the club.
"Eugenie told me that I deserved a better life than this," Etienne's voice was strained, on the verge of tears. "Am I wrong to desire freedom?" He whirled around to look at Albert. "Tell me, Albert! Do I not deserve to be free like everyone else?"
Albert took the singer's gloved hands and squeezed them gently. "Of course you do! It's wrong for Tintoretto to keep you locked up like this for him to do as he pleases."
"Very true," Beauchamp nodded in complete approval. "You are not his property."
"So…" Etienne began hopefully. "Will you help me?"
"Let me be frank with you, Etienne." Lucien laid his elbow on the armrest of the pew and sighed. "This won't be easy. If we are to free you from Tintoretto, we need to know if he is doing something illegal, charges that will stick when we have him arrested. We would need your help on this."
"You're talking about that white slavery ring, am I right?"
"Yes. I won't lie to you. It's going to be dangerous. But this is the only way that I could think of to get you out of that damned club. Can we count on your assistance in this, Etienne?"
The singer nodded eagerly. "Like I said, I will do anything to be free. Even if Tintoretto catches me…" A tearful smile formed on his lips. "If he…kills me, death would be another form of escape, isn't it?"
"Don't you dare think about death!" Albert blurted out, shocked that the singer would even suggest such a thing. "Nothing's going to happen to you! I won't let Tintoretto or anyone else do you harm!"
Etienne looked at Albert, stunned. "Albert…"
"Albert's right. Don't think that way." Beauchamp patted Etienne's back. "We swear we'll free you from that bastard somehow. Just be patient and hope for the best. And never give in to fear or despair."
"Why should I be afraid," Etienne asked, "when I now have very good friends who would help me?" The Nightingale's odd-colored eyes focused on Beauchamp's camera. "May I ask you one small favor, Beauchamp?"
"Certainly! What is it?"
Etienne blushed in embarrassment. "I've never had my picture taken before. Signore Tintoretto does not want my photo to appear in the posters at the club. Just one picture, please? Together with Albert?"
Beauchamp readied his camera. "Why just one? I think I still have enough film in here." Standing, he invited the singer and Albert, "Come on, you two! Let's capture some memories for posterity!"
Albert saw a brief flash of resentment on the singer's face at having unwanted guests during their Sunday tryst. Still, Etienne gave Lucien and Beauchamp a warm smile and a gracious bow.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen," the Nightingale said in greeting. "Any friends of Albert's are friends of mine as well."
"Oh, no! The pleasure is ours, I assure you!" Lucien declared, waving his hands. "Your reputation precedes you, Monsieur Delacroix. I never imagined that Beauchamp and I would be meeting Luna's talented Nightingale, much more that you and Albert are friends."
"Please call me 'Etienne'," the singer encouraged them. "Actually, I owe Albert my life. He saved me from being run over by a carriage. His carriage, I might add." He gave Albert a wry grin. "Besides, I couldn't ignore his offers of friendship even if I wanted to. He is very persistent."
Beauchamp's laughter echoed in the empty church. "Yes, Albert is indeed that. A pest!"
"How dare you!" Albert declared in grievous affront.
Clearing his throat, Lucien carefully began, "Please don't think me rude if I say this, Etienne, but after hearing you sing, I'm convinced that your great talent is being wasted in a small club like La Decadenza. You should be singing in the greatest opera houses in Paris."
"That's what Eugenie told Signore Tintoretto, my employer."
"You know Eugenie Danglars?" Lucien absentmindedly inquired. He would have said more if Albert had not shot him a warning glance. "Why, she's a good friend of…of Beauchamp and I. We met her during one of her concerts, right, Beauchamp?"
Beauchamp swiftly nodded.
A hopeful smile lit up Etienne's face. "Then, you're the friends that Eugenie wrote to me about!" To their surprise, the singer took their hands in an earnest grasp. Both Lucien and Beauchamp looked to Albert, the confusion written on their faces.
"I know we just met," Etienne exclaimed in utter desperation. "But please, I'm begging you! Help me to leave La Decadenza! I…I'll do anything!"
Albert saw his two friends blanch at that entreaty. They knew exactly what the poor singer was offering in exchange for their assistance. Albert must admit the scene he had just beheld surprised him as well. Etienne had never told him about Eugenie's letter, perhaps because Albert himself had never introduced himself as a friend of the pianist. In retrospect, he was glad he had not done so. Thankfully, Lucien and Beauchamp knew better than to divulge his true identity. If Etienne was this desperate to leave La Decadenza, then they needed him to be close to the singer.
The same thoughts were running through the minds of Beauchamp and Lucien. Together, they urged Etienne towards pew.
As they sat down, Beauchamp began gently and with much concern, "Please do tell us why you are so desperate to leave the club, Etienne?"
For a moment, the singer hesitated, glancing back at Albert, who gave him an encouraging nod. Etienne's voice trembled as he told them about his life at La Decadenza – Tintoretto's cruelty, his other 'duties'. Despite his talent, the singer was nothing more than a common whore. Despite careful inquiry, they were able to glean nothing about the white slavery ring or its connection with the club.
"Eugenie told me that I deserved a better life than this," Etienne's voice was strained, on the verge of tears. "Am I wrong to desire freedom?" He whirled around to look at Albert. "Tell me, Albert! Do I not deserve to be free like everyone else?"
Albert took the singer's gloved hands and squeezed them gently. "Of course you do! It's wrong for Tintoretto to keep you locked up like this for him to do as he pleases."
"Very true," Beauchamp nodded in complete approval. "You are not his property."
"So…" Etienne began hopefully. "Will you help me?"
"Let me be frank with you, Etienne." Lucien laid his elbow on the armrest of the pew and sighed. "This won't be easy. If we are to free you from Tintoretto, we need to know if he is doing something illegal, charges that will stick when we have him arrested. We would need your help on this."
"You're talking about that white slavery ring, am I right?"
"Yes. I won't lie to you. It's going to be dangerous. But this is the only way that I could think of to get you out of that damned club. Can we count on your assistance in this, Etienne?"
The singer nodded eagerly. "Like I said, I will do anything to be free. Even if Tintoretto catches me…" A tearful smile formed on his lips. "If he…kills me, death would be another form of escape, isn't it?"
"Don't you dare think about death!" Albert blurted out, shocked that the singer would even suggest such a thing. "Nothing's going to happen to you! I won't let Tintoretto or anyone else do you harm!"
Etienne looked at Albert, stunned. "Albert…"
"Albert's right. Don't think that way." Beauchamp patted Etienne's back. "We swear we'll free you from that bastard somehow. Just be patient and hope for the best. And never give in to fear or despair."
"Why should I be afraid," Etienne asked, "when I now have very good friends who would help me?" The Nightingale's odd-colored eyes focused on Beauchamp's camera. "May I ask you one small favor, Beauchamp?"
"Certainly! What is it?"
Etienne blushed in embarrassment. "I've never had my picture taken before. Signore Tintoretto does not want my photo to appear in the posters at the club. Just one picture, please? Together with Albert?"
Beauchamp readied his camera. "Why just one? I think I still have enough film in here." Standing, he invited the singer and Albert, "Come on, you two! Let's capture some memories for posterity!"
~~~~~~~~~~
Etienne could feel Albert's quiet presence behind him as he waved goodbye to the two men inside the departing carriage. Even when the carriage was already out of sight, he was apprehensive to face his dear friend.
"You never told me…" was Albert's softly spoken words.
"Albert, I never made any pretensions to be anything but a prostitute, you know that," Etienne told him bitterly. "I wish I didn't have to divulge what I do at the club, but your friends needed to know so that…"
"So that you can escape from La Decadenza. But my real question is why didn't you tell me that you wanted your freedom? I thought you and I were friends. I could help you. All you have to do is ask." Albert's face saddened. "Or is it because you don't trust me. When I told you before that I admired your voice, you mistook me for a potential…client. Is that how you see me, Etienne? Do I look like a man who would force his desires upon another who is unwilling?"
Etienne spun around on his heels at those pained queries. "No, Albert! I never thought of you in that way!"
"Then, why did you readily trust Beauchamp and Lucien? Why not me?"
"It's because…" The singer dropped his arms helplessly to his sides, his hands closing into tight fists. "I think of you as more than a friend, Albert. I didn't want you to get involved in this mixed up life of mine. And…I didn't tell your friends everything. Not even Sister Bertrille knows…."
Albert's brows knitted together in a frown. "What do you mean?"
"While Tintoretto may be my employer, he is not my true owner. It is someone else. Someone very dangerous. Someone who has no hesitations about killing." Tears streamed down Etienne's cheeks. "I don't want him to hurt you, Albert! That's why I've been keeping our friendship a secret! If anything should happen to you, I'll just die!"
Albert flung his arms around the poor singer. "Nothing's going to happen to me, Etienne. It's you I'm more worried about. Listen." He pinched Etienne's chin between his fingertips and bade him to look up. "I promise you we'll do everything we can to take you away from that place. I swear that I'll be careful, if you'll also promise that you'll be just as cautious yourself."
Etienne crushed Albert in a tight hug. "I promise, Albert. For both our sakes!"
Albert pulled away from the singer's embrace. Grinning, he said, "Before I forget, this belongs to you." Taking out the novel, he pressed it into the Nightingale's hands.
"My book!" Etienne exclaimed. "I completely forgot all about it! Have you been keeping this for me all this time? Thank you, Albert."
"There's something else that I want to give you." Albert reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny gold watch on a chain. "Keep this…as a token of my affection."
Etienne flipped open the lid and read the inscription, " 'Death is certain. The hour uncertain.' How morbid."
"I thought so as well when it was first given to me. It belonged to someone who was very dear to me. I want you to have it."
The singer pressed the book and the watch close to his heart. "I shall cherish this forever."
Pulling Etienne into his embrace once more, Albert leaned forward and gave him a loving kiss.
So enrapt were the two men with each other that they did not notice the black car that was parked on the opposite side of the street. Signore Gasparde was seething in fury at the sight of his favorite whore kissing another man.
"Do you think you're too good enough for me, Etienne Delacroix?" he muttered ominously as he patted the thick billfold inside his pocket. "Well, we shall see about that!"
"You never told me…" was Albert's softly spoken words.
"Albert, I never made any pretensions to be anything but a prostitute, you know that," Etienne told him bitterly. "I wish I didn't have to divulge what I do at the club, but your friends needed to know so that…"
"So that you can escape from La Decadenza. But my real question is why didn't you tell me that you wanted your freedom? I thought you and I were friends. I could help you. All you have to do is ask." Albert's face saddened. "Or is it because you don't trust me. When I told you before that I admired your voice, you mistook me for a potential…client. Is that how you see me, Etienne? Do I look like a man who would force his desires upon another who is unwilling?"
Etienne spun around on his heels at those pained queries. "No, Albert! I never thought of you in that way!"
"Then, why did you readily trust Beauchamp and Lucien? Why not me?"
"It's because…" The singer dropped his arms helplessly to his sides, his hands closing into tight fists. "I think of you as more than a friend, Albert. I didn't want you to get involved in this mixed up life of mine. And…I didn't tell your friends everything. Not even Sister Bertrille knows…."
Albert's brows knitted together in a frown. "What do you mean?"
"While Tintoretto may be my employer, he is not my true owner. It is someone else. Someone very dangerous. Someone who has no hesitations about killing." Tears streamed down Etienne's cheeks. "I don't want him to hurt you, Albert! That's why I've been keeping our friendship a secret! If anything should happen to you, I'll just die!"
Albert flung his arms around the poor singer. "Nothing's going to happen to me, Etienne. It's you I'm more worried about. Listen." He pinched Etienne's chin between his fingertips and bade him to look up. "I promise you we'll do everything we can to take you away from that place. I swear that I'll be careful, if you'll also promise that you'll be just as cautious yourself."
Etienne crushed Albert in a tight hug. "I promise, Albert. For both our sakes!"
Albert pulled away from the singer's embrace. Grinning, he said, "Before I forget, this belongs to you." Taking out the novel, he pressed it into the Nightingale's hands.
"My book!" Etienne exclaimed. "I completely forgot all about it! Have you been keeping this for me all this time? Thank you, Albert."
"There's something else that I want to give you." Albert reached into his pocket and pulled out a shiny gold watch on a chain. "Keep this…as a token of my affection."
Etienne flipped open the lid and read the inscription, " 'Death is certain. The hour uncertain.' How morbid."
"I thought so as well when it was first given to me. It belonged to someone who was very dear to me. I want you to have it."
The singer pressed the book and the watch close to his heart. "I shall cherish this forever."
Pulling Etienne into his embrace once more, Albert leaned forward and gave him a loving kiss.
So enrapt were the two men with each other that they did not notice the black car that was parked on the opposite side of the street. Signore Gasparde was seething in fury at the sight of his favorite whore kissing another man.
"Do you think you're too good enough for me, Etienne Delacroix?" he muttered ominously as he patted the thick billfold inside his pocket. "Well, we shall see about that!"
~~~~~~~~~~
"Lucien! LUCIEN!"
Lucien almost jumped out of his skin as the door to Beauchamp's dark room banged open. "What the hell's the matter? You scared the shit out of me!"
"Come here, will you?" Beauchamp cried urgently.
"Alright, alright! I'm coming!" The flamboyant Chief Secretary sauntered over to the dark room, taking his time to go inside. Through the dim red glow of the lamp, he growled, "What is it?"
"I just developed the pictures of Etienne Delacroix, and…" Beauchamp hung up the photos one by one on the line. "Damn it! Just see for yourself!"
"What? I don't see anything," he argued, as he gazed at the picture of Etienne and Albert standing in front of the altar.
But as he looked at the other photographs, Lucien felt his blood run cold. The singer's head was shrouded by a dark pink halo, which slowly began to cover his face with each successive shot taken, eating away his handsome features.
It was the last photograph that caused Lucien to shudder involuntarily. It was supposed to be a close-up of the singer and Albert. The two men were laughing and smiling when Beauchamp had taken that picture. But Etienne's face was now completely covered by pink marks. Six eyes blazed from those eerie markings.
"Gankutsuou…" The Chief Secretary breathed out the dreaded name of the demon that had destroyed an innocent man's life and nearly ruined his friend's.
"God, I thought he was dead! Lucien, we must tell Albert about this," Beauchamp told Lucien. "His life could be in danger!"
Despite himself, Lucien gazed again at the photograph of Gankutsuou. There was something about that picture….
In the end, Lucien shook his head. "No. Not yet. This…is not the right time."
Beauchamp stared aghast at his friend. "What the hell are you talking about? Etienne Delacroix is Gankutsuou! We cannot let him harm Albert! This happened before with the Count of Monte Cristo. We knew something was dreadfully wrong with the Count, but we did nothing! Are we just going to sit back once more and let him destroy our friend?"
"No, Beauchamp. I'm just saying that we wait and see what Gankutsuou is up to."
"But Lucien…!"
Lucien did not say anything more as he took Gankutsuou's photograph and tucked it inside his pocket. Quietly, he went outside the dark room. Alone once more, he pulled out the picture and gazed at it closely.
No, Beauchamp would not understand, the Chief Secretary thought. How could he explain to his friend that he could not detect any aura of malevolence emanating from the creature in this photograph? How could he tell Beauchamp that Gankutsuou was regarding Albert beside him with undisguised fondness?
Lucien almost jumped out of his skin as the door to Beauchamp's dark room banged open. "What the hell's the matter? You scared the shit out of me!"
"Come here, will you?" Beauchamp cried urgently.
"Alright, alright! I'm coming!" The flamboyant Chief Secretary sauntered over to the dark room, taking his time to go inside. Through the dim red glow of the lamp, he growled, "What is it?"
"I just developed the pictures of Etienne Delacroix, and…" Beauchamp hung up the photos one by one on the line. "Damn it! Just see for yourself!"
"What? I don't see anything," he argued, as he gazed at the picture of Etienne and Albert standing in front of the altar.
But as he looked at the other photographs, Lucien felt his blood run cold. The singer's head was shrouded by a dark pink halo, which slowly began to cover his face with each successive shot taken, eating away his handsome features.
It was the last photograph that caused Lucien to shudder involuntarily. It was supposed to be a close-up of the singer and Albert. The two men were laughing and smiling when Beauchamp had taken that picture. But Etienne's face was now completely covered by pink marks. Six eyes blazed from those eerie markings.
"Gankutsuou…" The Chief Secretary breathed out the dreaded name of the demon that had destroyed an innocent man's life and nearly ruined his friend's.
"God, I thought he was dead! Lucien, we must tell Albert about this," Beauchamp told Lucien. "His life could be in danger!"
Despite himself, Lucien gazed again at the photograph of Gankutsuou. There was something about that picture….
In the end, Lucien shook his head. "No. Not yet. This…is not the right time."
Beauchamp stared aghast at his friend. "What the hell are you talking about? Etienne Delacroix is Gankutsuou! We cannot let him harm Albert! This happened before with the Count of Monte Cristo. We knew something was dreadfully wrong with the Count, but we did nothing! Are we just going to sit back once more and let him destroy our friend?"
"No, Beauchamp. I'm just saying that we wait and see what Gankutsuou is up to."
"But Lucien…!"
Lucien did not say anything more as he took Gankutsuou's photograph and tucked it inside his pocket. Quietly, he went outside the dark room. Alone once more, he pulled out the picture and gazed at it closely.
No, Beauchamp would not understand, the Chief Secretary thought. How could he explain to his friend that he could not detect any aura of malevolence emanating from the creature in this photograph? How could he tell Beauchamp that Gankutsuou was regarding Albert beside him with undisguised fondness?
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