Disclaimer: I absolutely do NOT own, nor do I gain any monetary subsidies, for this fan fiction story. The characters, setting, names belong to the author that created them (Leroux, Kay), BUT the plot is all mine!
Author's Note: Once again, I am postponing my stories to write a short piece…vignette if you will. College work has me swamped, but I did not want my wonderful readers and reviewers to think I was gone. I tried my hand in oneshots before and was successful. Here is another oneshot where Erik's madness once again takes wing…
Summary: Christine accidentally stumbles upon the truth about Erik's siren by the lake. What she discovers is truly horrifying.
Rating: M for a reason!
The Siren's Call
Chapter One- Serendipitous Stumbling
Three days…It had been three days since she had seen or felt the sun's warm rays. It had been three days since she had seen Erik's masked figure. Locked away in the Louis-Philippe room, Christine had begun to wonder if she had been left to die in the cold prison of Erik's underground home.
Three days ago, she had removed his mask to reveal his contorted and disfigured flesh. Once he threw her in the room and locked her inside, she had thrown up the bile that she had held down. The last time she saw Erik, he was curled into a ball, weeping in his arms. She had been such a fool!
Sitting in front of her dresser, she stared into the glass's reflection of a face she did not recognize anymore. Hideous black bags sagged beneath her eyes while her once porcelain skin now as a pallid white. Her blue eyes dulled incomparison to the light that once glistened in them. The bones of her face protruded now with her weight loss within the past few days. Brushing her now dull hair, she wondered if she would be spend another long day in her personal prison.
To her shock, her white wooden door swung open and Erik stepped into the room. All of the air in her lungs rushed out at the right of her looming music maestro. Dressed in his all black tuxedo, the only remnant of color was the maroon waistcoat. His black mask glared at her menacingly with those two fiery gold eyes observing her every move. The black velvet cloak swirled around him as an ominous shadow that swallowed anything around it while he moved with grace of a lithe cat.
He said not a word as he elegantly sat in the armchair that was next to the nightstand and bed. Folding his pale, skeletal hands, he perceived her before speaking in that beautiful, yet lethal voice.
"I see you are not fairing well…On our last meeting, we did not part well."
As much as she tried to hold it back, her tongue moved before her brain could silence it.
"We did not part well? You have been keeping me prisoner in your house for three days! I thought you had left me to die!"
Cocking his head to the side at an irregular angle, Christine shrank back. She never knew what to expect from him. His gold eyes never blinked, never flickered in those abysmal black eye sockets. His pale lips set in a firm line tightened in irritation and that worried her.
Standing, he approached her cautiously, suddenly reminding her of a predator stalking his prey. Kneeling before her sitting form, he grasped her pale hands in his even paler ones. Looking up into her blue eyes, the black mask glowered at her; yet, his eyes held a genteel light.
"Erik forgets that you need more nourishment and attention than he does. He is accustomed to a life of solitude I never intended to hurt you, Christine. You must know that you are the one person I would never harm. I have not kept you prisoner…My home is your home. It is not a prison…."
"Maybe not to you, Erik, but it is to me. I cannot live in darkness…I love the sunlight. I love being with people, my friend Meg…Madame Giry…"
His hands jerked away as those eyes glowed with rage. Standing up, he began to pace furiously.
"And the boy, am I right? You want to leave Erik to go back to that blasted boy! You want Erik to die…You do not care about me…You never have…All you care about is that viscount. You don't love me…you love him!"
"Erik, that's not true. You are my music teacher. My career and my voice are magnificent because of you! I would not turn my back on you after all that you have done for me."
He stopped and for a moment, Christine felt that he believed her. However, he turned his back to her to return to his chair. Once seated, he looked back at her with an air of subtle aggravation. Folding his bony white hands in his lap, he shook his head solemnly. Twisting his gold onyx ring around his finger, he then buried his head in his arms in anguish.
At that point, Christine felt her heart ache for her tormented maestro. Raising his head, he swallowed uncomfortably before speaking. His exquisite voice now cracked beneath the weight of his heartache.
"Leave Erik, Christine. We both know that you want to go. Leave him in this abysmal hell to suffer and die alone. Don Juan is almost finished and I can be buried with my work. Just go…"
Shaking her head, she stood and kneeled in front of his looming form. As he did, she grasped his cold hands in hers. Looking at her, she saw his forlorn, and her heart was touched.
Despite what the two had been through, she felt he was not a crazed lunatic, just a lonely man. He closed his eyes in ecstasy from her simple touch, and she felt surprised when her heart swelled by his reaction.
Pulling his hands out of her grasp, he handed her a gold key. Confused she looked at him inquisitively before he touched her face. Closing her eyes, she felt his love and reverence for her by his gentle caress.
"This is the key to the Rue Scribe gate. You will need it to get out when you leave. I ask only one thing from you."
Opening her eyes when he removed his hand, she nodded.
"Wear my ring. It will comfort Erik. As long as he knows you wear his ring, he knows you will return. As long as you wear the ring, no malevolence will befall anyone. If the ring disappears…Erik will emerge and violence will occur."
Taking the onyx ring from the palm of his hand, she put it on her finger. Before thinking about her actions, she embraced Erik to his shock, thanking him profusely. Grabbing some of her personal items, she walked to the threshold while her pitiful lonely teacher sat.
His gold eyes twinkled strangely in the light. He nodded to her, and even forced a small smirk, the closest thing to a smile for him. Erik truly was an enigma, and the last thing he said to her proved just that.
"Christine, I must warn you before you go."
"Yes, I am listening."
"Ignore the siren's call."
When she turned around, her teacher was gone. He truly was an enigma that she would never fully understand. Tucking the key in the folds of her pale blue dress, she put on the cloak Erik had gifted to her before exiting the underground home.
Even the warmth of the cloak could not prevent the frigid air from seeping into Christine's warm body. Shivering from the unnerving silence and cold, she rubbed her arms in a futile effort. Looking back at Erik's dark and desolate house, she was almost inclined to go back into the home and declare his company to the gate. However, his strange behavior did nothing to soothe her anxiety. Turning to the shoreline of black mud and scum, she struggled to see out amidst the lake, which dense fog hid the majority. There was the dock and a lone lantern that creaked as it moved from side to side. When the boat hit the side of the dock as ripples traveled through the lake, it provided the only sound in the deserted underground.
Erik once told her that the underground lake would rise and fall in accordance to the balance of the theater. It aided in the processes upon the stage by leveling it when needed. There was a chamber where more water would pass or lower the water levels that led to the outskirts of Paris, so there were occasional breezes that would pass through.
Untying the ropes, she stepped on the boat. She had made this trip dozens of times before, but this time it was different. She could not explain or put into words what unnerving feeling she felt. Using the oar, she pushed herself from the deck. Slowly rowing into the fog, she turned the lantern up in an unsuccessful attempt to calm her nerves.
All of the sudden, an unearthly singing arose in the chamber, startling Christine. Whipping her head in all directions, she tried to decipher where it was coming from. Steering the boat to the left, she used the oar to steer toward the sound. The singing got louder and louder as well as shriller. As she approached the source of the voice, she set the oar down in the boat and lifted the lantern to get a better glimpse.
The fog began to dissipate, and she was astounded when she saw a passage. Pulling the boat to the side, she secured its place before stepping out into the pathway. Gripping the handle of the lantern, she cautiously ambled down the pathway where the haunting singing resounded.
There were no words, just a slight humming. The voice was haunting and alluring. Traveling down the path for what seemed like ages, she worried that she should probably turn back; however, a door finally appeared in the lantern light. Touching her hand on the wooden door, she felt it vibrate as the singing became boisterous. Pressing her ear, she heard the less muffled and shrill singing that seemed to call her to enter.
Biting her lip, she debated whether she should open the door. She remembered the devastating consequences her curiosity caused her the last time when she removed Erik's mask.
Yet, she would never forgive herself if it was someone trapped in the room and she left. Inhaling deeply, she grasped the brass knob and turned it. The door was heavy and required some pushing on her part to drive the door open. Squeaking on the hinges, the door finally opened.
Picking up the lantern, she entered the room. At first, she could not see anything and she stopped cold when the once deafening singing ceased. Turning around, she flashed the lantern in all directions, which resulted in flashing the walls all around.
Suddenly, the room lit up with candlelight causing Christine to drop her lantern in shock. What was going on? Out of nowhere, a dark figure appeared next to her as Christine screamed.
Then, two gold eyes flashed and she knew it was her music maestro. She began to ctach her breath as she spoke to him.
"Oh, Erik, thank goodness you are here. I was so scared. I heard this singing and it led me here."
Yet, as she looked into his flashing eyes, she saw something was off. He was dressed in a black tuxedo and a blood red dress shirt. His black mask and glowing eyes gave him a menacing supernatural aura.
His entire body was tense with rage or some other intense emotion. His lips were set in such a firm line, that they seemed to disappear while his black holes for eyes bore into her very soul as he spoke with a quiet tone that held lethal undertones. His apathetic words frightened her tremendously.
"Did I not warn you to ignore the siren's call?"
"Who was singing? What siren, Erik, are you talking about?"
Cocking his head, he glared at her before responding in his dangerous low voice. "I warned you about the siren's call. You never listen to me. I suppose you must suffer the consequences of your damn curiosity once again."
Turning his back to her, Christine fought her trepidation as the cloak swirled around his intimidating form. Having no choice, she followed him warily deeper in the room. Making it to the far wall, he removed a brick from the wall and opened a hidden door. Looking back at her, he laughed maniacally before thrusting the door wide open.
Christine immediately screamed and turned her head away, traumatized by the horrific sight before her eyes while Erik's psychotic laughter pounded her skull. Within the hidden room, there hung Raoul.
Upon the ceilings wires hung down. Raoul's body was suspended in the air by hooks embedded in his arms and legs. A pool of blood had collected below his suspended form. His eyes were wide open in fright while his bloodied face drooped down. His tattered clothing confirmed her suspicions that he had been beaten as well.
Erik merely smiled, cocking his head at her. With tears in her eyes, she looked at him with utter hatred.
"How could you kill him! He did not do anything wrong…anything to deserve this fate!"
His head jerked and the gold eyes flashed dangerously. Speaking with a strange tone, he responded, "Kill him? My dear, I believe you have misjudged me."
Looking at her with a curious glance, he smiled a crazed grin before strolling past the blood to the wall. Grabbing a wire from others that hung from Raoul's body, he spoke, "See, my dear, he is very much alive."
Yanking the wire caused the hooks embedded in his limbs to jerk his body. Raoul's bloodied and lifeless body came to life with a sudden rush of pain. He screamed in utter agony as blood poured from his reopened wounds. Erik continued to yank the wires, each lifting a different limb. This made the viscount resemble some disgusting bloody marionette while Erik was the puppet master that brought him to life.
Christine screamed for Erik to stop. Cocking his head in that familiar crazed way, he only laughed.
"What? Do you not like the siren's call? Who would have thought our young viscount here would have a voice? Well, my dear, since he is exhausted, I will show you what happened to those who also fell to the allure of the siren's call."
Yanking her to her feet, he pulled her away from the door and blood into the room. The room was empty; yet, he laughed all the while pointing towards the ceiling. He turned on more lights until the room was lit. Christine now could see the entire four walls were covered with wires.
Raising her eyes above, she let out an anguished cry. There were more bodies dangling in the same manner as her beloved Raoul. One body was his brother, Philippe, whose eyes bulged out of his skull. The next was the Persian man, who was missing a finger. The last body was of Joseph Buquet, a stagehand. His tongue dangled out of his mouth as his protuberant eyes stared at Christine in their agony.
Despite her screaming, Erik began to grab various wires from the bodies and tug each. Each man emitted an anguished and bloodcurdling yell until the 'puppet master' had made these men's suffering into some sick and twisted symphony. Out of their individual screams, he used them to create a revolting requiem that turned Christine's stomach.
He suddenly stopped and stared at her. A feeling of fright coursed through her body like lightning. Erik approached her cautiously, the black mask continued to loom over her.
"You see, my siren's call is almost perfect. I need one more voice…I have a tenor…an alto…a baritone…Now, I need a soprano."
Christine's eyes widened as she realized his meaning. Screaming not to do it, Erik grabbed her despite her pleas. As he prepared her body to join the others, he caressed her cheeks lovingly and spoke to her like a lover to his wife.
"My dear, I would not have had to do this had you not heeded the siren's call. Like all the rest who did not ignore it, you must become part of the siren."
With that said, he drove the first hook into her wrist…
---The End---
A/N: Well, what did you think about this? It was some sort of disturbing thoughts of mine based of some other criminal serial killers. I hope you enjoyed it like you enjoy a scary movie. Sleep well!