There was a loud thud.

Erik glanced over his shoulder to find the vampire crouched down, groaning.  He debated whether to laugh or roll his eyes, but settled for a long-suffering sigh.

The construction of the Palais Garnier was in truth a cover to create the domain of the Opera Ghost.  From the underground lair to every corner of this magnificent edifice ran secret passageways, allowing Erik to stalk abroad freely.  Everything was built to his specifications and measurements.  He never dreamt that the need would arise to walk through these corridors with someone else.  Not that Erik was short by any means.  In fact, he would be considered taller than average, and those very few who knew him all looked up at him.  The only exception was the vampire.  It was a minute detail, and something he could not do anything about at that.  But it was enough to turn Erik’s mood ugly.

“Why did I let myself talked into this…?” he cursed under his breath, not hiding his displeasure.

“I knew for certain that I would lose my way,” the vampire said as he stood gingerly, rubbing his forehead.

“Some confidence,” Erik did roll his eyes then, “but at least you know your limits, I suppose…”

It all started out with a casual request.

“Would you do me a favor?” the vampire asked as he dropped by unannounced.  That was almost an hour ago.  Seeing Erik narrow his eyes with caution, the vampire laughed quietly.  “Nothing to get your hackles up, really.  Would you take me to the roof?”

“To the roof?”

“I could probably climb the outer wall to get there, but the weather is getting milder, you know…,” the vampire let his words peter out.  Erik was just about to ask the relationship between the outer wall and the early spring climate when the vampire added meekly.  “The streets around here are rather busy, even at this time of the night.  It is a bit … noticeable.”

“…True.”

It has been a while since ominous rumors about the mysterious Phantom reigning over the Opera Populaire started to circulate.  Only a handful of them, if that, were planted on purpose, and the rest simply followed their wake.  Erik left them alone for the most part, finding them to be an excellent cloak, and, he guiltily admitted, somewhat amusing.  But ‘the Phantom scaling the outer wall of the Opera in the middle of the night’ was certainly a rumor he could do without.

Thus he reluctantly agreed to take the vampire up to the roof himself.  Erik heaved another sigh as he turned to resume the ascent, only to be stopped by the vampire’s remark:  “Besides, this is your sanctuary.  I could not just wander around.”

The sanctuary it may be, but the Phantom’s domain was the shadowy world that lurked just beyond the grandeur of the Opera Populaire.  Light and shadow were separated by a mere wall.  It was a wall Erik erected himself, but every now and then he would despair at the thickness of it.  And scoffed at himself for not being able to extinguish the longing for the other side, after all these years.

“You’ll just end up caught in one of the traps,” Erik muttered, pushing aside the turmoil within.

“I thought so, too.”

The vampire’s reply did manage to bring a small upward twist of Erik’s lips.  This was true; and what was worse, the trap may catch the vampire, but most likely would not be able to finish him off.  This, of course, meant Erik would have to extricate the vampire from the trap and reset it.  All things considered, taking the vampire up to the roof now and getting him out of his hair as quickly as possible did seem like the best course of action.

“We’re almost there,” said Erik and started walking again.  Having a second thought, however, made him stop to shoot an almost chiding look to the vampire.  “Mind your head.”

They made their way through the labyrinth of narrow corridors, stairs and ladders.  When the heavy brass door appeared before them, at long last, Erik drew out a set of keys to unlock it.  The door opened with a tired groan, leading them up to the throne of Apollo.  Stars adorned the sky above the patron god of music and poetry; the lights of Paris spread at his feet.

Looking up to the clear sky, the vampire whispered softly.  “I was right.”

“About what?” Erik frowned at him.

“You do have the best view in Paris,” the vampire smiled, his scarlet eyes twinkling like the stars above them.

“For now, anyway,” Erik grunted, directing his glare towards the steel tower being constructed on the left bank.

A mild surprise crossed the vampire’s pale features.  “You do not like it?”

“It is not aesthetically appealing,” Erik’s reply was curt.

“I heard it will be over 300 meters in height when completed.”

“Tower of Babel it isn’t.”

“I wonder how long it would take to climb to the top…”

“You’re going to climb up the stairs?” Erik looked to the vampire incredulously.  “Why use the stairs when there will be hydraulic lifts?  Especially the ones installed within the legs will be glassed and be on the angle of…”

He may pretend to be indifferent, if not downright critical, but being a creature of curiosity, Erik could never resist his thirst for knowledge.  More informed than he let on, the vampire stifled his laughter as Erik went into his lecture.  Noticing this, Erik muttered sullenly.  “I am merely interested in the technology and the structure of it.”

“Your eyes are always to the future,” the vampire spoke after a long pause.

A cynical smirk touched Erik’s misshapen lips.  “Fitting for a ghost without past or present, isn’t it?”

“All I have is the past,” the vampire uttered, returning his attention back to the Paris nightscape.  “The city has changed quite a bit.  It used to be a small town, no more than two kilometers in diameter, surrounded by ramparts.”  His pale, delicate fingers pointed to the southwest of the city.  “The ramparts of the right bank have been built and rebuilt number of times, but for a long while the ramparts on the left bank were the ones built by Philippe Auguste in the 13th century, later reinforced in Charles V’s time.  They started just beyond Pont Neuf; Nesle’s Tower facing the old castle of the Louvre on the right bank, protecting the west of the city.”

“The tower in Dumas’ melodrama?”

“Oui.  They continued on from Rue Mazarine to Rue Monsieur le Prince.  That was called Rue des Fossés de Nesle back then, but the moat it was named after was filled in because of the city expansion.”

Listening to the vampire’s velvety baritone, Erik let his thoughts fly to the Paris of the days gone by.

“After absolute monarchy was established and stabilized the country, the need for ramparts declined and they were taken down.  The Farmers-General Wall was constructed at the end of the 18th century, but that wasn’t for protection.  Its aim was to ensure the payment of a toll on goods entering Paris to the Ferme générale.  That is why it was called the tax-collector’s wall.  The burden of heavy taxation eventually exploded...”

“…The Revolution.”

Erik glanced over to the steel tower once more.  It was growing in height every day, all in the name of commemorating the centennial of the French Revolution.  But the man before him spoke of that hundred years as if it were just yesterday.

“That, too, gave way to the wave of expansion, becoming a distant memory.”  The scarlet gaze drifted from the lights of Paris to those of the heavens.  “There are so many manmade lights nowadays; they sometimes make me long for the natural ones.”

Surprised by the vampire’s words, Erik arched his brow behind the mask.  For someone who was trapped in darkness, he thought any light would be a solace.  “You don’t like artificial lights?”

“…To think none of them are lit for me can make a man quite lonely,” said the vampire, his smile both wise and rueful.  “People change, so do cities and times.  But the stars adorn the heavens and the moon wane and wax like clockwork.  I find that comforting.”

It was like relieving his loneliness by finding eternity in something other than himself.  It never really occurred to Erik, probably because the vampire was ever so timeless, but years have definitely passed since they first met.  Thinking back to himself, barely an adult, and the vampire, every bit as unchanged as he appeared before him today.  The gaze towards him remained upwards, albeit not as much as it used to be.  Even with all the years behind them, it did not sit well with Erik.  Has the distance shrank at all, he wondered.

“To see a world in a grain of sand,” Erik spoke quietly, quoting Blake, “And heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palms of your hand, And eternity in an hour.”  Taking a few steps to stand beside the vampire, he followed those crimson eyes.  “Where do I have to stand to see what you see?”

The vampire’s smile remained gentle and distant.  “The world is beautiful, and cruel, because it is beautiful.  Sometimes unbearably so to those in solitude.”

The evening breeze stirred the vampire’s cloak.  It almost seemed like a set of black wings, melting into the night, reminding Erik of the Angel of Death.  Was it the cool spring air that sent a small chill down his spine; or was it the ever alluring darkness?

Seeing Erik gather his own cloak, the vampire produced a flask from his pocket and offered it to him.  His laughter lilted in the air as he spied the suspicious look on Erik’s face.  “Brandy?”

“To the gaudy iron maiden,” Erik took the silver flask and raised it to the steel tower before taking a sip.  Amber liquid burnt the throat, warming his body from inside.

The vampire stood still, regarding the resurrected Tower of Babel as he uttered quietly.  “Perhaps they just wanted to feel the Heaven, just a little closer.”