No Going Back

"Erik? What on earth are you doing here?" Nadir says, holding the door open for the man who he can never quite describe to his own satisfaction. Former prisoner, essentially the cause of his need to leave Persia by helping that prisoner escape. Connected once again by happenstance when the former daroga of Manzadaran Province went to the opera house at Phantasma to hear the Soprano of the Century sing once again.

Never did he think Erik, the tortured genius he sought out at the demand of the Shah, finding him in Russia and bringing him back to be both architect and prisoner, would not only be the creator of the amusement park on Coney Island, but the father of the young boy he would wind up rescuing from drowning ten years earlier. That he would wind up marrying the mother of the woman who sought to murder the child was yet another one of fate's strange plans for his life's journey.

"May I come in, or do you intend to speak to me here on the porch?"

"Of course. Of course, come in," the Persian says, stepping aside to allow the taller man passage. Even with age setting in for both of them, Erik still moved with incredible grace. Were it not for the deformity ruining half of his face, the man might have been anything he chose. Although Phantasma was the world he created for himself and his large family – so the face was not the handicap he thought. Christine adores him and, whatever rejection he faced in his earlier years was but a memory – however dismal.

"I remember when you grumbled over my suggestion you buy this place – too large for two people."

"We have certainly filled it with a variety of family members," Nadir says, leading Erik to the study just off the main foyer. "Gregory will be moving in tomorrow with little Louisa. Despite his anger with her, I suspect Meg will be returning as well, once she has recovered. I cannot imagine him leaving her on her own and Adele will likely support that."

"Where is Adele, if I might ask?" Erik says, looking around the cozy study. Despite the spring weather, a fire is burning in the hearth to dispel the chill still present in the air at nightfall. "May I sit?"

"Of course, please," Nadir says, eyeing Erik carefully. "Adele has gone to bed. She was overwrought at Meg's accident. After a walk on the pier, she only wanted to return home and rest."

"This has indeed been a stressful day for everyone," Erik says.

"Would you care for a brandy? I keep some Armagnac just for you in the event you might come to call."

"Most thoughtful of you. Yes, please. Have one yourself."

"You know I do not indulge, besides I have my tea…and sugar. My own personal vice."

"Perhaps tonight you may wish to do so," Erik says, taking a seat in one of the matching leather wing-backed chairs set across from one another, a small gaming table with a chessboard set up between them.

A burst of adrenalin rises through Nadir's body. Of course Erik would not appear at his home unannounced without some sort of news, likely bad. Bad enough to suggest he imbibe in alcohol. "Has Meg taken a turn for the worse? Adele seemed to think she was fine when we left."

"Did she?"

"Of course. If anything had been amiss, we would have contacted you immediately," Nadir says, handing Erik a crystal snifter with two fingers of the Armagnac to him.

"You did not see her?"

"Meg is not someone I choose to engage with under the best of circumstances," Nadir says. "Frankly, I do not understand how you deal with her, but that is your concern. So, no, I did not see her."

"Please sit down, my friend," Erik says, swirling the amber liquid before taking a sip.

"I prefer standing," Nadir snaps. "Stop beating around the bush. What is going on? What has happened."

"Meg is dead, as you may have supposed," Erik says slowly.

Nadir frowns, taking a seat in the chair across from the masked man, whose look is unsettling. "How? Heart attack. More bleeding? What?"

"Chloroform poisoning."

"Too much anesthetic? Would she not have been affected by that during the surgery?"

"If that had been when the overdose was given."

"Please, Erik, do not torture me with this guessing game."

"Was there anyone hanging around the infirmary when you left."

"No. I do not know." Nadir rises to his feet again. "What are you getting at?"

"Was there some reason you did not wait for Yasmine to return?"

"Adele said Meg was fine. Sleeping. There was no need. She wanted to get some air," Nadir growls. "Damn it, Erik."

After taking a long moment, Erik sighs deeply. "When Yasmine returned to the examining room, she found Meg dead."

Nadir shakes his head., raising a hand to stop the words. Words he no longer wants to hear. "No." Returning to the chair, he presses his hands over his face. Eyes filling with tears, he looks up. "You do not think…. Not Adele? You do not think Adele killed her."

"You are the detective, my friend."

"Why would she do that?"

"You yourself have to admit your dislike for Meg."

"However much I despise her, I would not wish someone to kill her for that reason," he claims. "Damnable jinns. Yasmine was always going on about Meg being possessed. Darius and I would simply explain that was old-fashioned thinking. Meg's problems were drugs…alcohol."

"Whatever possessed her, I suspect the issue with Louisa may have been what pushed Adele over the edge."

"LuLu – the best thing Meg has done in the time I have known her," Nadir says. "Where is she? Where is Gangle? How is he? I assume he knows."

"Yasmine located both of us. He is devastated. We picked up the child and I took them home with Christine."

"They were coming here…tomorrow."

"Yes, you said that. Plans can change. For the moment now, they are fine."

"I suppose you would like to speak with Adele?

"And you?"

"I prefer not to be a policeman with my wife."

"Perhaps, then, as someone who has also killed," Erik remarks. "Like me."

"I never murdered."

"No?"

"Part of my job was meting out punishment according to the law."

"So ordering others to kill in the name of a hateful shah is not itself murder, even against those who committed no crime?"

"I will admit to killing, but not in cold blood. Not as a crime of passion." Nadir grits his teeth. "And you, can you say as much?"

"This is not a competition. I am by far the greatest sinner. I merely thought – as someone who has taken the life of another – you might provide some insights to Adele, since she now lives with the act as part of her."

"Compassion – you mean?"

"More like empathy. We are a strange pair are we not, my dearest, oldest friend?" The barest of smiles on Erik's lips. "We sit here arguing over what to call the taking of life – modifiers, if you will. Meg intended to murder Gustave, but for your intercession, she might have succeeded. We might have arrived at the pier in time, but your presence is what saved him."

"Adele might have died that night as well."

Erik nods. "Although I suspect I was her target, and Meg was a simply a bad marksman. Yet no one died. Was her desire to kill enough to haunt her – bring on that jinn you talk about?"

"What are you thinking? We have come full circle?" Nadir asks. "Adele alluded to something like that tonight – wanting to walk on the pier where it all began, I believe she said."

"Ah, my husband, you do listen to me," Adele says from the doorway. Long black hair falls down her back against the red velvet of her dressing gown giving her an almost youthful appearance. Still a handsome woman, even in her mid-sixties, even so, there is no denying she aged since Nadir saw her a mere hour or so ago.

Jumping to his feet, he draws her into the room, sitting her in the chair he just vacated. "A bit of the Armagnac?"

"I suppose that might be suitable, even comforting. However, if you made some of your tea, I think I would prefer that. I suspect I shall need my wits about me, and the brandy might be too soothing."

"Of course." Moving to the parson's table, he fills a delicate china teacup for his wife. Adding one cube of sugar and a twist of lemon, he carries the tea to Adele.

Taking a sip, she says. "Perfect. Thank you, my love." Pausing a moment before speaking again. "Somehow, I knew you would figure things out," she says to Erik. "Gregory would have been too wrapped up in his grief to notice anything awry. He always was under her spell. Even as far back as the journey here to America." A faint smile curves her lips. "Dear, sweet, all-too-loving man. He would have assumed a heart attack… or an overdose of that ridiculous cough syrup she was addicted to."

"Why?" Erik asks softly.

"I was listening at the door when you were talking about killing and murder." Adele looks at Nadir and smiles. "Perhaps I, like you, was simply performing an execution of someone who was guilty of so many crimes, someone who attempted murder or nearly caused a death, but lacked success. Perhaps I believed she no longer deserved to live. For years, I watched her, my own flesh and blood try to destroy people. What caused that hate in her I would wonder, but I knew."

"Adele," Nadir says. "You did nothing."

Ignoring him, she continues, "I always tried to protect her in France from the predators. Both of them – Meg and Christine. But the other girls…" She pushes aside memories, looking first to Nadir, then to Erik. "In any event, when we arrived here, I fell into my old habits. Permits were needed; patronage was essential to the success of the park."

"I never asked...you should have explained these things to me," Erik breaks in.

Waving him off, she tuts, "Yes. We have had this discussion. The money was there – you took care of that, but the politics…oh, the politics. For all your darkness and secrecy, you knew nothing of such things. Such a brilliant man, but such a fool at times. It was probably the same with Charles at the Garnier – you created, and he handled the business end taking credit for all of it in the end. You never did live in or understand the real world. Besides, that was my job. And I did it well."

"You cannot blame yourself for Meg's behavior," Nadir says. "Even with everyone supporting her, she continued to cause problems – not just for others, for herself."

"I was responsible for her. She was my child. I suppose we might all have gone along for another year or years, cleaning up after her. Making excuses, destroying our own happiness to appease her selfishness. When I saw what she did to herself – destroying her face. I knew she would not be able to bear living like that."

Erik touches a hand to his mask.

"You know." Adele's dark eyes focus on him.

"She might have recovered," Nadir says.

"My darling, it is hard to believe you were a hardened sheriff in an earlier life." A small noise sounding like a chuckle erupts from her pursed lips. "You hated her as much, if not more, than anyone else."

"Not enough to want her dead."

"So I heard you say," she says, reaching a hand out to him.

Kneeling on the floor next to her, he takes her hand pressing it to her lips. "I was not condemning you."

"You did not see her, my husband," Adele strokes his cheek. "Tell him."

"The damage to her face and upper body was substantial."

"You thought she could not bear her face?" Nadir asks.

"I saw the reaction to what she knew the glass had done to her face."

"Even so. She was not given a choice."

"Even so, I knew my daughter."

"Erik?"

"The deed has been done, what I think means nothing."

Rising abruptly, Adele puts her cup down on the table distancing herself from both men to stare into the fire.

"And then there was Louisa – our LuLu."

"Yes, LuLu," Nadir repeats softly.

"Where is she?"

"Louisa is with Christine and Gregory at our home."

"No. Meg. Where is Meg?"

"Gustave and Julia are sitting with her pending your instructions," Erik says. "We redid her bandaging and put her in a fresh gown – Christine felt you might want to choose a dress... A casket is being built in the workshop."

"The new costume, I think. Pink with lots of fringe and flash. A Juliet cap with a veil, I think."

The three remain silent for a long moment.

"Are you going to report this to the police?"

Erik shakes his head.

"Thank you."

"Yes, well, I believe I shall be returning home," Erik says, taking a final sip from the snifter before rising from the leather chair. "I will telephone in the morning for instructions about a wake – where you want us to bring the body for final farewells."

"I had not though of that."

"Perhaps the theater might be the best."

Adele nods, taking a deep breath. "I seem to be repeating myself over and over – thank you again."

Nadir moves to wrap an arm around her waist, preventing her from falling, returning her to the chair.

"You are family, Adele. I will always be here for you," Erik says, putting on his hat. "Both of you, as you have been there for me."

"Let me see you out," Nadir says, following Erik from the room.

"I will call you when everything is in place."

"I am not sure what I am supposed to do or feel."

"I suppose not. I do not believe she realizes what she did – not to Meg, but to herself."

"That is my concern."

"For now, best to simply just be with her. Watch over her."

"You do not think she might hurt herself?"

"That is why you must allow me to leave." Erik pats his friend on the shoulder. "Go to your wife."

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

With a short nod, Erik doffs his hat and walks down the stairs to the street.

Nadir presses his head against the door, taking a moment before returning to Adele and who she might be now. Grieving the death of a child he understood only too well. Even knowing Reza was dying, his actual passing was still a shock. Erik convinced him allowing Reza to live in pain was a greater sin than helping him die. Did Erik feel any remorse, he wondered. Talking tonight as he did about being someone who killed. He loved Reza – and yet he ended the boy's life. An act of mercy. There was no murderous intent. Once he saw the peace on his son's face, he felt grief, but was not sorry. Was this similar?

Best not to leave her alone for too long until he better understood what she was going through. Padding back to the sitting room, he stands in the doorway. The room feels empty. The flickering light from the fireplace reveals a shattered cup and saucer laying on the hearth.

A low moan – the wind? Another. No. Not the wind.

Heart racing, a cold sweat rises on his brow. "Adele?" he calls into the shadows.