Summary: Erik is given a gift from the sea that has the potential to give him everything he wants or destroy him permanently. Will love turn a phantom into a man? Will a phantom welcome an angel once again into his heart?

Angel From the Sea

Chapter One

Mermaids and Phantoms

The storm around the man was no more violent or potentially destructive than the storm churning within his mind and heart. Lightening ripped across the darkness splintering the continuity of the sky above just as the storm within the man tore through the sinew and muscle of an organ still but rendered useless as far as the broken man was concerned.

Stretching arms out to his sides as if inviting that destructive force from the heavens to come battle with him head-on perhaps hoping to end life's miserable continuation. He would willingly take on God's and nature's fierce powers that could strike and destroy with one shaft of crackling light if in the battle mercy could this one time be granted. He felt that fury or the storm to be no match for the fury within him, a fury brought on by loss, rejection and the ending of hopeless dreams.

He would pit his life against any power God could create. He had no fear of dying, his fear had to do with living, living alone for the rest of his days, lifing with memories that would not be cast out.

What good was a life that had nothing of living in it? What use was an existence that was only that, an existence? No longer did there seem to be a purpose for the music, his precious music, that at one time gave solace in solitude. Life had no substance, no meaning, no one who claimed any regard for him personally. Madame did not count for he thought her guilt kept her at his side, not concern for the lonely reclusive Phantom.

His music had been gone from his life the same length of time his beloved had been taken from him in reality but not from his mind or heart. Cursing that still beating organ again as he thumped his chest with his fists Erik railed against what God had condemned his life to be.

Standing on the cliff overlooking the small strip of beach his eyes contemplated the churning waves crashing against the rocks below. He challenged the heavy gusts of wind to topple him over the edge relieving him of a life born in solitude and misery.

One name filled the night with a painful sorrow. He sobbed out that dreaded and cherished name. The wind carried his sobs of want out over the storm tossed waves. He dropped to the ground pounding with his clenched fists into the rocky outcropping beneath him.

"Christine. My beloved why? Why could you not love me as I needed to be loved? Why did God send you into my life only to force you out when I needed you the most? Oh my love, hear me now. If any mercy is within your heart find me now. I cannot bear this life any longer. It must end soon or I will go truly mad. Please come my love, my heart. Save your Angel of Music, save this loathsome creature, your Angel in Hell."

Erik tossed his pleadings toward the thunderous crash of lightening and towering waves that beat against the rocks wearing the substance of the shore away so slowly it would not be noticed until years of this constant bashing had done its work, unlike the beating his heart had taken at the hands of his beloved which showed immediate destruction within and without the hunched form shrouded with black billowing cape.

The wearing away of his power and will to live had not stood against the cruel beating his heart had taken. The force that had wore away at him with constant annihilation had been a delicate sweet angel. He could withstand man's punishments, humanity's rejection of him. What had brought him to this present weak state had been a soft spoken, warm angel of song.

She had wrapped her tendrils around his heart enmeshing him in bindings that he could not fight nor break. She had woven her spell about him just as he thought he wove his about her.

Christine had sliced through those tightly wound bonds with swift cutting precision. Unlike him she had been able to remove those chains from her. Her boy had given her the strength to fight against her angel, to resist his seductive web that had been set to trap her in the monsters dark world.

The key to the chains he had wrapped around her had been unlocked in the end by two sweet kisses from her lips to his. With those offerings she had given him something he had never had before, the warm touch of another human being.

Christine had rendered him unable to do anything other than stand there shaking and sobbing while she kissed him then looked at his horrid face bared before her eyes by her own hand. Ub that moment for an instant love reflected back at him or so delusion persuaded a mind made mad by years of wanting and not having what other men so freely receive, love.

In the end it had been pity clearly reflecting back at him. Behind the shimmer of tears he had thought he saw a glimmer of some deeper emotion but too many years of self doubt gave him a truth he did not want to acknowledge. Before he could lose himself in her sweetness again Erik had sent her and her Vicomte away from his grasping hands. If she had not gone Erik would have killed that boy without any remorse. It had been best to send her away while she still had some kind regards toward him.

Even though she had taken from him that one possession that would surely drive him to the brink of insanity, his pride, he loved her still. Mask and man were one and the same. Take away one the other will perish. That cut Erik felt to be the deepest, her willingness to expose him in such a hurtful way had nearly left him powerless to move. She knew what that thin shield between him and the world meant. Her love for her young Vicomte had won out over her pity for her poor disfigured Angel in Hell.

Christine knew not what hell really was and neither had Erik. Now he began to see just how deep hell's fiery ache could lived, breathed and smelled the brimstone daily. Why he did not become engulfed in the flame thus ending his earthly damnation he could only guess that his hated enemy, God, had further agonies to place before him.

Growing chilled from the rain beating down Erik shivered. Perhaps if he stayed out long enough an illness so wretched would befall him that he would not survive. He sneered when he imagined what Antoinette would make of that. She who had betrayed his trust now served him once again as his housekeeper. Erik thought if he let her stay he might exact some revenge for her treachery one day when he could bring himself to care for such things.

Just now he cared not for seeking revenge or continuing with any sort of life. He had always teetered on the edge of severe depression. He had been able to keep the shroud of dark desires from taking over completely. Only when he pursued Christine had he let his better judgment waiver. He and many others had paid the price.

Hanging his head in despair Erik let his eyes once again return to those churning waters that seemed at times to beckon with open arms as he heard a soft voice encouraging him to take that small step into nothingness. This would be a quick end to his life then freedom from all this damn earthly pain. He snorted as the idea came to him that God in his cruelty would have him survive perhaps without the use of his limbs or nimble mind. That would be the ultimate insult to one such as Erik.

Erik came away from his dark thoughts as he noticed the waves pushing something toward shore. It seemed to be a mass of white material. He guessed some unlucky sailor had lost a piece of his mast. The white material he could see was draped across what appeared to be a long piece of wood. The suns first rays were just beginning to peep through the parting clouds as the once furious storm quieted.

His curiosity peaked to have something other than his dark thoughts to occupy a few minutes of his time. Glancing down curiosity led to a somewhat safe path being plotted out mentally. Climbing became second nature from the day Antoinette had brought a young boy to the opera house after freeing him from his cage.

Lying down on his stomach Erik scooted backward until he felt the edge of the cliff. Letting a dangling foot search out purchase with the toe of his boot Erik found the rock that jutted out about two feet from the face of the cliff. Adrenaline raced into Erik's bloodstream making him feel more alive than he had in nearly a year.

Erik could not help but think that perhaps dangerous pursuits would give him back some semblance of living. Challenging death could be such a rush to the system. Many times the dark one had been challenged with Erik coming out the victor.

Slowly making his way downward, taking small steps as he found one foothold after another, every successful inch brought another surge of wreckless adrenline to heat veins thought filled with ice. Looking down only about ten feet of sand remained of the shore. In another half hour it would be swallowed by the tide.

Jumping down onto his feet he landed on the toes of his boots and hands. Rising to his feet Erik approached the object he sought. If it only proved to be the mast he thought it, well at least he had a bit of excitement to end this long dreary day.

Standing over what he thought had only been a large piece of sail he found himself somewhat shocked to see short dark hair atop what appeared to be a young boy. Taking note of the voluminous dress-like garment, his mind argued perhaps not a male.

Bending down to his haunches Erik reached out to turn over the still as death body. The front view of the prone figure proved without doubt to be female. Her womanly form was outlined through the transparent garment. It looked as if there was some sort of binding across her chest. Odd but not unheard of in certain countries or sects even here in England.

The features were delicate although now covered in purpling bruises at the temple. Around her neck there hung a chain at the end of which rested a crucifix. Her appearance suggested her to be a part of some religious order. Perhaps a novice waiting to become a nun? Erik could not help the grimace of distaste that pulled at his mouth. He had his fill of those wretched, ruler swinging harridan's of God's work when he was a young boy still in his mother's home.

His mother had thought religion would drive out whatever evil had marked his face. Erik could have told her the only evil that had marked him had been the hand of God. As a child he had been an innocent. Only later after years of abuse and rejection had he become the monstrous demon everyone thought possessed him.

Hands on hips with brow wrinkled in comtemplation his mind wrestled with the best option. Preferrence being to leave her to fate warred with reason. All he would need was for someone to come along and find her days later dead on his small outcrop of beach. Luck being a stranger no doubt the body would snag on a rock only to land on shore for some trespasser to find then report to the authorities.

Antoinette would point her mental finger at him. Soon the villagers would follow. They thought him some sort of hell spawn as it was. Only the priest's intervention and sermon on generosity to the less fortunate had stayed their gathering around his home with torches and pitchforks in those first few months of occupation.

At the time Erik could not resist laughing at the irony of the priest stepping up on his behalf. He had nearly killed himself choking on the laughter when Antoinette had told him what had taken place during her early morning mass.

Erik wondered what spell had held the building erect when leniency and prayer had been requested on his behalf. He and God had a hate/hate relationship.

Knowing there was no other solution Erik placed his hands under her fragile knees and shoulders. She weighed practically nothing. Incongruously he took note that she only had one ugly black boot on her foot. Thick white leggings were covering her legs. Holes dotted them all the way from thigh to what he could see above the boot on one foot and he could see her toe sticking out of the other legging.

To preserve her modesty Erik did the best he could to draw the cloth together to hide as much as he could. Something had torn a large piece of the dress's skirt away leaving only a remnant.

Resentment in every angry step measured his steps in wide strides toward the cave hidden behind a large pile of rocks. The cave he had discovered within only a few weeks of living on this stormy English coast. A mediocre pile of rocks grew much larger as he had discovered the cave led to the cellar of his home. It wound its way for a mile or so before coming to a large heavy door.

This must have been used to either smuggle contraband or people in and out of England, perhaps both. Wanting to keep the knowledge of the cave to himself necessitated many trips with wheelbarrows filled with rocks. Since the former owners of his estate had died leaving no heirs, Erik felt he need not be overly concerned about anyone knowing about the cave as the former owner had been as reclusive as he was and equally as unwelcoming to have trespassers in his domain. Still, life had proven not to be on the side of a formerly powerful ghost and phantom.

The former owner had been said to shoot the unfortunate person who accidentally crossed the boundary lines of his property. He also had a pair of vicious wolfhounds that he set upon the unwary. Erik had inherited those devil's disciples when he purchased the estate. He could not get them to leave or make peace with them. They came and went as they pleased. If the door opened they came in. When they needed to go out to pay heed to nature's call someone let them out. No one dare touch them as growls of warning emitted from deep within their chests whenever anyone got too close for their comfort.

Those two bitches were the foulest tempered animals Erik had ever come across. What had been done to them to make them these bad tempered beasts he imagined could be likened to what had driven him to become a reclusive ghost and phantom. He too had shunned any human touch, all but Christine's. He had nearly died for want of her touch. He had committed murder and many other heinous crimes to win her devotion and promote her career.

Mentally calling a halt to this line of thought Erik carried his burden along the path lit with torches here and there. Erik liked to keep the torches burning when he could as it discouraged bats from roosting on the caves walls and ceilings. He hated bats almost as much as he hated rats. Both were vermin the world could well do without.

Laying his burden down Erik wrestled with the stiff door. The weight of it strained even Erik's considerable muscles. It had to be at least four inches thick. He kept the hinges oiled so the swinging of the door would be nearly silent while the oil also helped to move the door a bit easier. Reclaiming his burden Erik eyed the ladder going up into the ceiling of his cellar with an evil look. Damnation, could nothing be simple?

Hoisting the still unconscious woman over his shoulder he then began the climb upward. The trapdoor at the top would lead into a storage room just off the kitchen. Erik had made sure to cover the door by building a cabinet over the opening. Nosey housekeepers were the very devil when trying to escape unseen into the night.

It looked like an ordinary cabinet and indeed was used as such. The only difference from any other cabinet was that there was a three foot space behind the back side of the cabinet. Once in the space behind the cabinet it was a simple matter of tripping the lever so the whole wall swung outward.

Erik used his peephole to make sure no one was about before he sprang the lever. It would not do for anyone to discover his secret. Erik was a master of keeping secrets, his own at least.

Not wanting to take her to the upper floors Erik strode to one of the servant's rooms. He did not care whose privacy he invaded. He'd not have anyone invading his sanctuary. Not even Antoinette had a room upstairs. He had placed her in a small cottage at the end of the garden.

He had not forgiven her entirely for the part she had played in his humiliation, but he also knew he shared in the blame for all that happened. Antoinette had been a loyal friend who did service for him without asking for recompense. He had paid her for her services but not once had she ever asked for anything from him other than he leave her daughter alone, then later she had begged him to release Christine from her childish belief in him as her Angel of Music.

Erik of course had by then fallen completely in love with Christine. He had first given her his music, then his heart and soul. She had wanted none of him. She had taken his music then trod upon his heart leaving him wounded to his very core.

Having seen no one lurking about Erik left the cabinet to carry his burden to the room at the end of the hall. Opening the door then stepping inside to cross to the small cot in the corner hurredly the catch of the day dropped unceremoniously down onto not only a small cot but a rickety on as well. There was not even a bed in the room only the very uncomfortable looking cot.

Feeling an uncomfortable emotion wash over him that felt suspiciously like shame, Erik made a mental note to see that the servants had proper beds. A servant who lacked sleep would no doubt sooner of later make disagreeable mistakes or heaven forbid, demands to speak to him personally. Erik could not tolerate anything less than perfection, be it in his possessions or the service he received from those under his rule.

Erik picked up the pale thin wrist to check her pulse. She had a strong beat for one who looked so breakable and one coming through a horrendous experience of some sort.

Sighing as he looked down at his sea nymph Erik turned to go find Antoinette so he could hand over responsibility of his charge to her.

If he thought he could remove the woman from his residence sight unseen he would take her to the church in town and drop her at their door. They'd know what to do with her seeing as how she was one of them.

This task Erik did not look forward to at all. Antoinette like as not would think he had something to do with the woman's condition. Every woman Erik even looked at briefly garnered him Antoinette's suspicions.

Perhaps she thought Erik sought a replacement for Christine. If she had bothered to ask Erik could have given her his solemn vow that he would not dip his heart into that cauldron of brewing torment and unfulfilled dreams ever again.

A/N: This being one of my earlier works the quality is medicre at best. Be gentle in your critism please.