As cast members gathered around the stage, sharing in Christine's joy, a dark figure kept to the shadows, watching silently from the rafters above. A smile tugged at the Phantom's lips as he watched Christine celebrate her newly appointed role. He was exceedingly glad that Giry had obeyed his order to suggest Christine for the role that was rightfully hers. Finally, his Angel would get the recognition she deserved, rather than that dreadful, shrieking creature Carlotta. He desired nothing more than to rip those hideous vocal chords from her throat. Just the thought of her shrill voice made the hunger flare painfully inside him, clawing through his insides like a dying animal. Clenching his fists, he took a step back, refusing to let the hunger break free.
Stealing one last glance at Christine's smiling face, he retreated into the shadows.
When he reached the depths of his lair, Erik sat at his organ and began to play. Slowly, his fingers glided over the bone white keys, pounding out a somber, ghostly aria. This was his music, a melody so dark it spoke the language of his sorrow. He leaned toward the instrument, his body swaying as the notes took flight. As the song reached a crescendo, he finally felt the hunger recede to a bearable level. As the notes faded, he looked over at the wall adorned with portraits of Christine that he'd drawn over the years. How they displayed the evolution of her face from child to woman, how she'd come to be the exquisite beauty she was now. Erik smiled to himself. It was a rare twinge of happiness that only thoughts of her could bring him. Tonight, his work would pay off. Tonight, she would shine.
"No!" Madame Giry nearly growled at the mob of fans clustered outside Christine's dressing room door. When she'd finally shut out the crowed, she turned toward Christine, a warm motherly smile lighting her features.
"You did very well, my dear." Giry moved away from the door to pick up the rose that sat on the gilded vanity. She handed it to Christine. "he is pleased with you."
Hesitantly, Christine took the rose from Giry, feeling her cheeks flush. Her small smile threatened to break into a grin as she fingered the black satin bow around its stem. He was pleased with her. Those words alone were enough to make her heart race.
Later that evening, Christine sat alone at her vanity, still entranced by the rose, by the concrete evidence of her Angel's approval.
"little lotte, let he mind wander," a voice jolted her from her thoughts. She looked up into the man's familiar, handsome face.
"Raoul!" Christine nearly jumped out of her seat at the shock of seeing him in her dressing room. She never thought she'd get as close to him again. Raoul knelt down next to her vanity, smiling. He leaned forward and she felt his strong wrap around her.
"Christine, you sang like an angel tonight." Raoul said. Christine beamed at him.
"Raoul it's true, I have been visited by the angel of music!"
"Oh, no doubt of it." Raoul said, grinning. Something in his eyes told Christine he wasn't taking her entirely seriously. "and now, we go to supper." He nodded as though the decision were final, then turned to leave.
Dinner? At this hour? Christine stood, panicked.
"No Raoul, the Angel of Music is very strict!" Raoul chuckled as he headed for the door. was he laughing at her?
"Well, I shan't keep you up late." Christine stared after him, frustrated that her pleas had fallen on deaf ears.
"No, Raoul." She said. He only chuckled at her bewildered expression.
"You must change! I'll order my carriage. Two minutes little lotte"
"No, Raoul wait!" Christine leaped out of her seat to follow him, but he was already out the door. Defeated, she slumped back down in the settee and brushed her fingertips over the rose petals. Perhaps the Angel of Music would be lenient and allow her a night out, just this once, especially after such a grand performance. Her angel wanted her to be happy, didn't he?
Suddenly, Christine felt the room drop in temperature, like someone had left a window open and let the cold winter air waft in. Goosebumps appeared on her flesh and she shivered, rubbing her arms. But it wasn't just the cold that made the room feel odd. It was the erie sensation in her gut that told her someone else was in the room with her, watching.
Christine shook her head. Maybe she really did need a night out. And, despite his cavalier attitude, she was happy to see Raoul again. He'd ignited a flame inside of her, a warm feeling she wasn't entirely sure of. As she slipped behind the dressing screen, she could only imagine what the night would bring.
Moments later, Christine emerged wearing a simple black dress with lace accents around the bust and wrists. Standing in front of the large, gilded mirror, she turned from side to side, assessing her appearance. The gown hugged her slender curves and dipped low in the chest, making her look much older than her seventeen years. She'd let her hair hang in loose ringlets down her back and shoulders. To her great disappointment, she didn't have time for anything more elaborate.
Grabbing a black shawl from across her chair, she quickly flung it around her shoulders. The room was still noticeably cold and the strange, omnipresent feeling still hung in the air, making her palms sweat despite the chill. Christine's eyes searched the room, but for what she didn't know. Everything was exactly as it should be, nothing out of place in her large, immacualte room. Christine sighed. it was only her anxiety over meeting Raoul again, or at least that was what she told herself as she surveyed the room one last time. Even as she slipped out the door, she couldn't shake the feeling of eyes burning into her.
