Chapter one
The darkness of the catacombs was thick with suppressed venom. From the depths of it black fingers of deep midnight threatened to force her to remain forever within its bitter embrace. Although surrounded by the flickering of slowly melting candles their light barely proved sufficient against the monsters that were closing in around her. Why she remained there, in that place of perpetual night, she did not know. Its master had surrendered his power upon her and her fiancé was eager to carry her swiftly towards the surface, but she hesitated. Metal bars remained present upon her mind and she found herself unable to maneuver herself past their guarded influence. Try as he might, Raoul could not reach her there – locked in a prison cell of her own creation. Instead, he had been forced to submit himself to her meek insistence that she could not go, not until she bid one final farewell to her dethroned Angel of Music. His reluctance she understood, to allow her to return to the murderous man's lair was to trust his promise of freedom. Unlike her fiancé, she trusted that the one-time Phantom would not hurt her. Drawn back to that place of magic and music, she felt as if she was truly seeing it all for the first time. The wealth and meticulousness of the arrangement of things was astounding and she was reminded of how little she knew of the man that hid within the shadows of his own creation. She climbed the stone staircase with half-halted steps, her hand gripping the carved balustrade with white knuckled intensity.
Her steps grew weary as they carried her to the top of the stairs. It was easy to find him there, crumpled and defeated in a heap upon a gold fringed pillow. Toppled candelabras created bars around him and strewn pieces of scribbled parchment created a carpet upon the floor. She froze as she studied the slight tremble of his back as emotion chipped away his carefully placed facade. The building groaned, a cruel reminder of the tragedy that persisted just above their heads. Still he lay, completely ignorant to the reality of his mortality and her heart clenched to see him so entirely unlike himself. The tinkling of a softly strummed song filled the air and she watched as the Phantom's hand-crafted Persian monkey music box swayed in time to the melody. The familiarity of it's haunting refrain drew her back to a time when all she'd had was her tiny cot in the dormitories and the lullabies her Angel sung to her nightly. His voice would chase away her childlike fears and helped restore her hope in tomorrow.
But it was all to evident that she had rebuilt herself upon lies and manipulation. The realization that she had allowed a man capable of murder to dictate her so fluidly was startling and she knew there was no hope of reconciliation to be found. Raoul had humanized the ghost that had haunted her in the midst of her vulnerability and as she quietly approached the man who had stalked her, she was no longer fooled by his illusions.
Through a maze of disarranged furniture of misplaced works of art, she picked a path toward him, her eyes firmly upon his back. Her steps were clumsy as the stone beneath her feet roiled in complaint. The thickness of her tulle gown only served to add to the difficulty of her movement. The fabric brushed along and pulled on anything within reach, inevitably catching upon the leafy detailing of one particularly unlucky candelabra. As Christine pulled, the hem tore and pulled, sending the expensive golden spire crashing to the ground. The metallic clatter filled her ears with it's harsh sound as it reverberated off the surrounding walls. Her resulting gasp was fragile in comparison as she clumsily moved to unhook herself from her captor. Gathering the rest of the fabric into her arms she rose her gaze and was unsurprised to see her Phantom's eyes hard upon her. Pain slowly intermingled with sudden disbelief, his eyes almost staring straight through her. Her heart beat quickened. In one fluid movement he swooped to his feet, his body coiled and tense. Uncertainty spread between them as they both struggled to determine the meaning of her presence there. Digging within her own consciousness, she found no givable answer.
There was a sudden blur of black and white as he flung himself toward him, the tension surrounding them breaking even as his steps stumbled and faltered in their uncertainty. Watching him, there was no urge to run as his tear stained eyes studied her with renewed hope.
"Christine, I love you."
The eeriness of his hypnotic voice broke through the silence of their shared confusion. Fresh tears fell past her lids, wetting her face as the intensity of his attention drilled holes into her resolve. His confession was not surprising, nor did it offer the clarity that she lacked. That year alone she had been gifted with two profession of love and there had been a brief moment in time when she'd trusted her belief of the emotion. However sure she had been, it all seemed insignificant when she was forced to face the reality of all that had just transpired.
Everything she had trusted seemed poised and ready to cave in around her. His face, however gruesome, no longer remained a source of unending terror. Even as she prepared to leave him behind she knew that he would forever remain her Angel of Music – a man disguised as a father's gift. But a new possibility began to offer its realizations. Perhaps she had been the gift sent to release a tormented soul from the grip of his demons. Admittedly she had not played her part well and she feared that the moment had already past.
Despite her readiness to sacrifice her freedom in exchange of Raoul's life the feared Phantom had set her free. She doubted that he knew that it was in that moment, as her lips pressed affectionately against his own, that she was struck with the realization that she did not know the true meaning of love. Faced with an opportunity to bid him farewell she found herself unable to utter the phrase.
"Angel," she whispered breathlessly the only name she knew him by. A single step carried her towards him. "I want to help you – I need to know that you will be safe."
A recklessness was birthed within her in that moment. She understood the insignificance of her offer, how truly incapable she actually was, but she had to try. Newly perplexed the fold of jutted flesh that served as a brow fell into a frown, almost as if he were afraid in the truth of her words. Her mouth gaped open as words presented themselves to be spoken only to flee from her before she managed to utter a single one.
Above them another tremor shook the whole of the lair, lurching her unexpectedly forward. Falling forward she gasped as she managed to catch herself upon the cornered edge of his beloved organ. Breathing heavily, she waited there for the shaking to stop, her eyes coming to rest upon a frightened figure hidden beneath a mahogany bench. The cat's eyes were wide as they watched Christine warily. Summoning her courage, the young woman reached forward and as the ground continued to shake, pulled the frightened animal into the crook of her elbow. Balancing the creature within the firmness of her grip she hoisted herself upward and through loosened strands of curls she spotted the Phantom frozen with his arm's outstretched. His sterling eyes tracked a trail along her frame, his gaze pausing only momentarily upon his beloved pet before they locked onto her face.
"I cannot guarantee your safety." His voice was almost distracted, but he remained stoic and she felt
strangely vulnerable in his presence.
"You will keep me safe." You always have.
It did not shock her to find that she believed the words she had spoken almost too quickly. For all the
fear she had felt it had never been for herself. It was because of his actions that she knew that there was no line he was unwilling to cross to ensure she was out of harm's way. He continued to stare at her, his expression guarded. Then, as quickly as he had before, he moved towards her. She stiffened but remained planted where she stood as he halted only to tilt himself toward her. Her skin bristled with anticipation, half expecting him kiss her, only to have him gently pry the cat free from her arms. Balancing the cat in his hold he peeled away from her and her stomach clenched, her body underwhelmed by his reaction. Without word he sat at a messy desk and pulled out a piece of crisp stationary from within its top drawer. She watched with growing interest as he began to heat a cube of blood red wax and commenced writing with long measured strokes. Filled with anxiety she drew nearer to him, her arms wrapping around her petite frame as it fluttered and faded. Pieces of mortar and stone rained down from the ceiling above them and sprinkled its dust upon every surface signaling the progression of the fire above. There was a renewed urgency as she realized that soon their escape would be impossible.
"We cannot stay here," he stated evenly what she had already concluded. With methodical concentration he gently eased his folded note into it's matching black framed envelope and poured the hot melted wax onto its lip, carefully pressing his copper stamp to seal it. "I will escort you to the home of an old associate of mine by the name of Jules Bernard. Give him this letter and the rest shall be tended."
He extended the fresh envelope towards her and she eyed it like it was fanged serpent. The weight of the paper felt suddenly empty as she took it into her hand cautiously flipping so that the hideous skull faced away from her. Again, his movement redrew her attention and she watched as he began gather various items into a leather strapped messenger bag, the cat being one. Her words caught in her throat as he moved to an on wooden chest and opened it to retrieve a familiar black wig and mask from within its cavity. With practiced hands he set them both in place and in the single blink of an eye his dignity and mysticism returned. Her breath caught at the sight of him appearing exactly as he had the first time she had ever laid eyes upon him.
Phantom once more he turned to witness the shamelessness of her ogling, his expression impossible to read beneath the curves of his ivory façade. Confidence renewed he reached and took hold of her hand pulling her gently towards a wall of black fringed curtains. Quiet so as to conceal their movements he freed the fabric from its trappings and it fell to the floor to reveal a wall of tall mirrors. Each ornately and uniquely framed he singled out a single situated near the center of the others. Carefully he fingered along the edges of the glass and slide it effortlessly aside to reveal a long dark passageway. Fear gripped her.
"Angel -." Her words caught in her throat as he wasted no time in pulling her into the unknown.
Enveloped in the still deep dark she felt hauntingly alone as he slid the mirror back into place. As the final remnants of light faded she realized, with a shuddering clarity, that she had willingly returned herself to his will. Lost in the suffocating darkness her panic rose in fresh waves of auburn as she contemplated how easy it would be for him to abduct her then. Raoul could never find her there – hidden away as another of the Phantom's relics. Her breath quickened as her senses became charged. Quickly she calculated the success of an escape. She could run and stumble her way through the darkness – but he knew the secrets of the Opera House better than she and would surely find her. It seemed her freedom no longer belonged to her.
A hand gripped her wrist and a strangled scream formed at the back of her throat as another hand quickly clapped itself over her mouth. Quiet. He implored, his voice sounding as uniform as her own thoughts. The startling reminder of his power did little to still her nerves as he gently began to lead her down the impossibly dark path. Encumbered by the weight of her dress she struggled to match the Phantom's pace. The many twists and turns of the path were dizzying, but he pressed confidently onward unhindered by the impossibility of sight. With every step her fatigue grew, and she began to feel as though she might never again gaze upon the sky. When he halted, the lack of motion was so startling that she found herself bristle with the release of her arm. A series of sharp shuffling noises accompanied the movement of the air as the stone wall before them glided obediently away to reveal a star littered sky. She held her hands up to stave off the sudden gust of gold air, the shock of it stinging her moistened lungs. Taking hold of her once more the Phantom assisted her up the three chipped stone steps and out from behind the concealing branches of a bush. Safely confined within an abandoned alleyway her body relaxed as he drew away from her.
"Follow the road until you are able to turn left," he instructed his back offered to her. She followed the direction of his pointed body and spotted the lamp lip cobbled street. "You will find Jules within number twenty-seven."
Christine clutched the envelope tight against her bare chest, the feel of it warm and soft. "Are you not coming with me?"
"I have included instructions to ensure your safe return," he continued without pausing to acknowledge her question. His silence was answer enough and she understood that he was saying goodbye.
All previous inhibitions towards his intentions melted at the finality of his tone. With every unspoken syllable he implored her to leave him there, to marry Raoul and to forget the only home she had ever known. A fist gripped her heart, the small tickling at the back of her mind voiced it assurance that ignorance would never grant her its bliss. Ashamed she peeled her blue framed gaze away from him and made a study of the path she'd been instructed to take. Completely abandoned the modest street appeared before her as treacherous as a raging river, impossible to cross. The bubbling of a protest rose up from the depths of her and she turned to protest only to find air where he had once stood.
Once again, her Angel had removed her from power, evaporating like vapor with only one hastily written note as proof that he had ever existed. The pain of his sudden absence was like a knife to her heart and she found herself achingly unprepared to face a world without him.
Suddenly, the night's sharp cold grew in its intensity and her long-exhaled breaths rose in a could about her face. It seemed she had two choices and they taunted her mercilessly, each one begging to be chosen. She could easily double back and deliver the letter to the authorities and they might be able to apprehend him -. Even as the thought formed she knew the impossibility of it. He would know, he always knew. Swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat and forced her feet forward.
The clatter of her footsteps upon stone was uncomfortably loud in her ears and her pace quickened. She was thankful that the streets were empty, most sane people choosing to remain comfortably within their warmed homes. Just as he had said, another road emerged to her left and she veered onto it, her eyes instantly scanning the gold platted numbers secured above every door frame. Nestled between two nearly identical apartments, twenty-seven rose like a beacon of hope. Her pace had grown weary, her skin a soft shade of blue. Lights glowed from beyond the fogged window panes and she entered the garden in the hopes of finally finding warmth. Gently she knocked upon the wood of the door her impatience growing with every drawn second. A lifetime felt to have passed before the large door swung open to reveal a sour faced woman within. Her expression offered no hint of surprise, her eyes pinched in a permanent expression of displeasure as she examined the inappropriately dressed Christine. The young soprano's discomfort climbed.
"I beg your pardon, madam," Christine offered with forced formality as her voice cracked in the cold. "I have a message for Monsieur Bernard."
The stoutly woman remained still in her silence, her eyes hardening with every passing moment. Slowly, and without fanfare, she pushed the door open wider and granted Christine admittance. Unspoken disapproval lingered between them as the young woman stepped into the warmth of the cozy house. The chill deep in her bones fought against the sudden comfort and her body responded, shaking her with new energy. Madam Bernard, as Christine presumed her to be, maintained her quiet disposition as she shut the door and started down the hall. Like a starved child, she followed eagerly anticipating the end of the night's horror. The pair entered a cozy fire lit office, the familiarity of its book lined shelves offered her the odd comfort of normality amidst so many unknowns. Turning once more she found the woman replaced by the figure of a dark-skinned man draped in red and gold robes. His expression as he gazed upon her was even, void of any sign of surprise or anticipation.
He approached her, his disposition belonging to someone afraid that she might flee. When he did speak his voice was heavily accented and reassuring. "Hello, mademoiselle Daae."