Celi roused herself from her sleepy daze when the carriage turned onto a bumpy road. Her friend had been watching her, wondering what exactly he'd gotten himself into, and whether or not he could do it. He had the resources of course, and the more material things she'd need, but raising a child took patience, and - in some situations - patience had never come easily to him.

Little Celine reminded him so much of her... and of himself. However, Celi had a purity and natural sweetness to her that was all her own. An innocence and a kindness to be desired, envied, and found generally lacking among most individuals.

"What's your name?" Celi interupted his silent thoughts.

Names... what would he tell her? Christina didn't even know his name. "My name is Erik."

"Erin?"

"Yes." Now, Erik knew this was wrong. But he didn't bother to correct her. If this didn't work out between them, she would never know his identity.

"Just Erin?"

"Yes." 'Erin' smiled then. "You've lost all sense of direction, you have no idea where you are, yet the first thing you ask is my name?"

"Yes. And you can call me Celi. Instead of Celine, because I never really liked Celine. I didn't like how Red or Hen said it: they spit it out. Say-li-enne. Celi was shorter."

"Mais Céline est très belle."

"Oui, Monsieur. When you say it. You say it correctly, while others do not. And it is long. As a name, it's nice, but it doesn't fit me. I don't fit it. It's too pretty for me. You have a very nice name though, and it suits you."

"Thank you Celi." To be honest, Erik had no idea how to respond. He was appalled. "Did someone tell you it was too long for you, and that you were not pretty enough? Yes? I see you're nodding. Were these the same people who called you Celi? Who were they?"

"The ladies my mother worked with... Red and Hen."

"Ladies?" He snorted, but his smile fell as Celi grew somber. "What did they do for work, Celi?" Erin asked, pointedly. The fact he was having this conversation with a child... he never would have believed it.

"They were... I prefer not to say."

"Hmm. Exactly. They were not ladies."

Celi instantly became impassioned. "Yes they were!" She shouted. Under her new friend's intense glare she withdrew her eyes from his. "Excuse me, but they were." She practically whispered the next part. "Their hearts were kind."

Erin had softened, she found when she looked back at the man across from her. His gloved hands were folded over his cane.

"I understand and apologize. But do you still not trust me enough to tell me of your past? I did save you from a very bad future. What must I do next? Build you your own house?"

Celi's smile came back. "I was brought up to be distrustful. And I don't need a house. I shall be quite happy to live with you so long as you do not hit me or make any unwanted advances of displays of affection."

Erik was dragged back to his childhood. He never had the choice.

He had been wiser than his years too, though, he was a genius. But there was something about Celi that truly disturbed him, and that was her knowledge of the beastly side of men. She shouldn't know those kinds of things. Her kind, those whose gentle souls reflected in their large, curious eyes, should never know, even when they were grown.

"For a girl, and a girl of your age, you have quite an extensive vocabulary, and knowledge about things you shouldn't know. How did you learn them?"

"My mother did her best to speak appropriately around me, and to teach me proper grammar. She wanted me to be educated. As for the rest... there is a lot you can learn from the place I came from." The carriage stopped. Celi waited for Erin to move, but he did not, so she stayed in her seat.

"You didn't have much of a childhood, did you? Neither did I." He swore to himself he'd give her all he never had.

"Yes. I believe you said that not terribly long ago you were in a position similar to mine. I, however, have had a better childhood than some, and I'm sure it will get better. I am only seven, and I did expect to have at least a few hours more."

He laughed. "Yes, you probably do. Come, Celi, we are here. Welcome to your new... home." Erin nearly choked on the last word, but Celi didn't let on if she heard the faltering note.

He assisted her down from the carriage, a good thing too as she fell over when she saw his house.

Castle would have been a more accurate word. Erin's house was made of gray bricks, towers, stained glass windows, and black columns. It was the most gothic thing she had ever seen, and Celi instantly fell in love with it. Red rose bushes surrounded the house, and the black front door was decorated by a gargoyle knocker.

"It's beautiful," Celi whispered.

"Thank you. Welcome to my manor."

🌹

The inside of Erin's house was just as grand as outside. A staircase made of thick, black wood, with deep red carpet was the first sight that caught her eye. She loved the colors. Dark but elegant. Marble columns added a shock of paleness to the dark interior every so often. Statues from the Renaissance, paintings and portraits, scenes from Operas captured on canvas - though Celi did not yet know what an opera was - and bookcases full of compositions lined the long halls.

The carpeted floor, Celi was pleased to find, was soft under her bare feet as they climbed the stage, her trailing behind Erin's swishing black cloak. He reminded her of a vampire.

The second floor was even more beautiful. If she were trapped there, she would be thrilled. These paintings had landscapes, and beautiful men and women. She immediately guessed Erin's taste was what her mother would call classical, and refined, not rough like the deer skulls and cow horns that men usually liked. His preference was artistic, natural, and archaic. He bothered to be creative.

There were so many doors that Celi couldn't keep count of them all. So many carpets with dazzling patterns, objects from everywhere. There was such an abundance of beauty she could have cried. She didn't know what this was called, but there had to be a word for it. She was overwhelmed by emotion, having never known things like this could exist.

Erin was unlocking a door when Celi strayed from his side and approached a wall with a single portrait. A beautiful girl, about eleven years old, with thick blonde hair smiled serenely, wearing white. Her eyes were a dark blue, and while they did not show intelligence, they did show great emotion and kindness.

"Who is this?" Celi asked.

Erin made a choking sound and Celi turned around to make sure he was alright. "A-a friend. Here is your room."

Her room.

Celi never had a real bedroom. With a bed. Maybe a window. That was what she dared to hope for, a window.

Erin held the door and gestured for her to go in. When she did, she nearly fainted.

It was a princess's room, just as glorious as the one from The Sleeping Princess. Celi wondered if when she fell asleep, she'd fall under the same sleeping spell, for this room had to have come directly from a fairy tale.

A four poster bed sat on the left side, with black curtains pulled back to reveal floral linens and bedclothes covering a large bed with several pillows. A balcony over looked a rose garden, with French doors made of glass and covered by white lace curtains leading out to it. A nightstand, wardrobe, desk, and dresser made of heavy wood with swirling designs finished the room.

To Celi, who knew not of nice things, the room - the whole house - was so fantastical, she couldn't fathom how it could be real. And she couldn't see her dirty, ragged self in this room, spoiling its glory.

Erin thought his new friend was standing in the threshold with her tiny mouth open for just a little too long.

"Well - go in."

She didn't hear him.

"Celi? Is anything wrong?" He was suddenly confused. Maybe she didn't like her room? He asked.

"It's the most... ext... extra... extraordinary thing I ever saw. It's a room for a princess. A magical room, a fantasy. Are you sure I'm supposed to stay in here?"

Erin guessed the problem. "Yes, it is, and you are. You deserve this luxury, especially after what you've -"

"But this is a princess room!" She insisted. "Or a queen's! Why don't I sleep in the closet? I've done it before."

"You've slept in a closet?"

"Yes - it's a very long story."

"You will stay here - yes! You will."

"I belong on the street."

At that point, frustration took over Erik. He bent down so he was level with her and grabbed her shoulders, making her look at him.

"Let me tell you something. I belong on the street too. Do you honestly think my blood is any better than yours or Red's or the other kids in that hell hole I extracted you from? It's not. It might be worse in fact. But I have the choice between that and this," he gestured to the grand house around him. "I suggest you make the same choice if you ever want to make something of yourself. Is that clear?"

Make something of yourself

Make something of yourself.

"Yes. I promised I'd be something. But Erin, you don't belong on the street." She thought the notion to be quite absurd. "You are as fine, as nice, as lovely as this house. You aren't a rat."

"Oh my dear," Erin laughed, his voice back to it's normal, melodic tone. "It is only the clothes, my words, and the personal refinement that masks the madman within. You may see me as I really am one day, but I hope you don't. Then again, perhaps it will be good for you, to see filth at it's finest. I wear many masks, ma fille, to hide myself, what I am, and what I have done. I can assure you I am a rat."

Celi heard the threat disguised by his velvety voice, she saw his eyes, fill with coldness, and feel the warmth and gentleness leave the strong, fluid, capable hands on her shoulders. She took one step back, out of his grasp to demonstrate her fright.

"You are a smart one. You have a brain; this will help you in life." She leaned away as he stood. "Good girl. Adjust here a while. Someone or myself will be along in a little while to bring you to dinner. I assume you are hungry." His eyes roved her skinniness again, frowning. He patted her head, when he called her good. Now he was leaving. But before he exited completely, Celi grabbed his sleeve.

"You lie sir. Or withhold some truth. You are not a rat. Not if you're doing this."