CHAPTER 1
"Easy
there sir...easy..." He awoke to a soft female voice as he
coughing, his vision blurry as it slowly came into focus.
"Christine?" He asked groggily, feeling a small hand feel his
forehead. His very unmasked forehead. He shot up in the bed, groaning
at the dizziness he still felt.
"Goodness sir...you gave me
quite a scare there for a minute...I was afraid you weren't going
to wake." He studied her, glaring at her as she came into focus.
"Who are you girl? And where am I?"He barked, almost an
order. Her dark, dark eyes blazed.
"Well you're welcome "
She said, folding her arms under her breasts. His eyes moved to the
shining gold ring on her left ring finger.
"Does your husband
know you are harboring strange men in the house woman?" He asked,
scanning the room desperately for his mask.
"No I only save
that for when he's away..." She shot back, her black hair flowing
down her back. Her skin was a beautiful light amber, telling him she
was of mixed heritage.
"What is your name girl?" He asked
much softer and she looked a bit surprised but sighed.
"Roxana.
And yours?" She asked, staying firm and cool. He looked at his
hands, unsure of how to answer.
"It's Erik." He said. She
nodded.
"Now we are getting somewhere..." She said, sitting
beside him and pressing a cool rag which he didn't even know he had
to his forehead.
"You're touching me." He said, almost
surprised to hear it. She raised a cool black eyebrow at him.
"Yes...that's generally what you do when you're nursing
someone. I found you crumpled outside the opera house just at the Rue
Scribe when I was in town two days ago." She said, careful to be
more gentle on the marred flesh of his right cheek.
"You'll
tell me if I hurt you, won't you?" She asked and he nodded,
numbly. "Good, now then...this Christine..." She said, her silky
alto voice coming through. He looked into the dark abyss of her eyes.
"I don't want to talk about it..." He said and she bit her
lip.
"Fair enough, I won't ask. Past is past and the only way
left to go is forward." She said, looking toward the door. "Are
you hungry?" She asked and he thought a moment.
"Actually I
am." He said and she nodded, getting up and leaving the room he was
in. He finally looked around at his surroundings. It was a large
estate, very well kept and decorated. He was in an elaborate bedroom
with a beautiful vanity, a mirror and a wardrobe. Roxana returned a
moment later in the doorway.
"If you come into the kitchen,
we can eat." She said, waving for him to follow her. He couldn't
help but notice she was dressed in a beautiful long sleeved gown of
all black which meant one thing. She was in mourning. He got up,
swaying a moment at his dizziness and walked through the door,
keeping her full black skirts in his sight. They walked into the
kitchen which was just a plain kitchen with a wooden table in it.
There were a few maids setting up, one of them started when they saw
him standing there until Roxana shot her a look and pointed to the
door for her to leave.
"Sit Erik." She said, gesturing to the
chair across from her. He did so, and tried to get used to the
feeling of not having his face covered by his mask.
"I usually
wear a mask." He said apologetically to her and she looked up from
her plate.
"Not in this house, you don't." She said, taking
a dainty bite of her eggs. "Ana knows that sort of behavior isn't
accepted in my household." She said, looking at him again and
noticing he was still sitting there.
"Well, aren't you
going to eat?" She asked and he looked at the food as if it were
repulsive.
"Actually, I'm not as hungry as I thought." He
said, beginning to get up. Before he had a chance, however, she had
come around the table and pushed him back down by his shoulders.
"I
don't think so Monsieur. You will eat or you will not leave this
table." She said, seeing his shakiness. He had to eat or he could
die. Who knew how long it had been since he'd eaten. His green eyes
shot fire up at her but he took the biggest scoop of eggs he could
manage and swallowed them whole.
"Woman, if you proceed to
order me around, I swear to God I'll..."
"You'll what?"
She asked, a gleam in her eye. He stopped and looked down into his
food for a minute before glaring up at her again. Never taking the
burning green eyes off of her nearly black eyes, he took a huge
spoonful of eggs and swallowed them practically whole, washing them
down with a large drink of milk. A look of satisfaction came to her
exotic face.
"That's better." She said, leaving his side
and regally returning to her seat.
He looked at her intently
for a moment. She too, like Christine, was but a child. A girl. A
young woman aged by the obstacles life had thrown at her.
"What
are you looking at?" She asked, annoyed by his stare. He sighed.
"Your skin. It's so...I've never seen anything like it."
He said, his eyebrows furrowed. She let out a low laugh.
"My
mother was Persian actually. My father was French. She died in
childbirth and he raised me on his own. He died about six months
before..." She stopped, her eyes darkening before correcting
herself. "I mean he died about three years ago." She took a
breath, but did not begin to cry.
"What of your husband?"
Erik asked, eating some more. Inspired by his will to eat, she
nodded.
"Justin. He also passed away...about two and a half
years ago." Erik bit his lip.
"Sorry." He said and sat the
rest of the meal in silence.
"Do you have a wife and family
I could take you to? I am sure they are horribly worried." He shook
his head, solemnly.
"No, someone like me is not meant for a
wife and children." He said and she nodded.
"I know the
feeling. I have no use for men. Useless horrid creatures they are,
well but for my father and Justin." She said, bowing her head
slightly at their mention.
"So where do we go from here then
dear girl?" He asked formally and she folded her arms.
"Indeed...well you shall need a place to stay...do you have a
house?" She asked and again he shook his head.
"Afraid not."
He said and she sighed.
"Well...you may stay here...until you
get on your feet." She said turning and he grabbed her arm.
"Girl.
Do you know what you are getting yourself into?" He asked and she
looked up at him.
"What do you mean?" She asked and
he looked around to make sure there were no servants.
"Have you
ever heard of the Opera Ghost at the Opera Populaire?" He asked and
she rolled her eyes.
"Yes the Chagny girls are full of
incessant nonsense about that garbage." All color drained from his
face.
"The Chagnys?" He asked and she nodded.
"Elisabeth,
Alana, Rosaline and Raoul. I grew up with them. Erik! You look so
sick." She said and he nodded, clutching his heart and sinking to
sit on the stairs.
"Christine...my Christine...she left me for
him!" He sobbed, reliving the night again. She gasped, recalling
the morning papers.
"You're the Phantom...the ghost." She
said, glaring down at him. "You dropped that chandelier..." She
said and he sighed.
"I know...did anyone die?" He asked and
she scoffed.
"As if you care! No! There were no fatalities but
one man lost all use of his legs! Can you imagine Erik, never being
able to walk or run again?"
He sobbed into his palms.
"I
was drunk, insane with love. I do love her so." He said and she
growled.
"Love is pointless!" She spat, "You find it only
to lose it!" She cried, pacing, her fury motivating her. He sobbed
on.
"Roxana, I want you to turn me in. I do not want you
harboring a fugitive and I want to take full responsibility for the
crime." He said and she whirled on him.
"No. Are you insane
Erik? Do you know what the inmates would do to you? You would be dead
within an hour!" She cried and he nodded.
"I know...then
again...I wish to die. There is nothing left for me here." He said
softly as the door from the salon opened and the middle aged maid
walked in.
"Lady Westcliff, young James is home." She said as
the pitter patter of small feet resounded through the hall and a
small boy ran through the door flying into the full black crepe
material of Roxana's skirt. She lifted him up into her arms.
"My
darling." She cooed to the child, who was hardly more than a babe,
"I want you to meet our houseguest and new friend, Monsieur...Erik,
what is your last name?" She asked and he thought a moment, coming
out of his self pity as he noticed the child's blue eyes on him.
"Destler." He said softly, almost surprised at how it sounded
when spoken.
"Can you say hello to Monsieur Destler?" She
asked and the little boy shook his head shyly, hiding his face in the
crook of her neck.
"My lady...if it pleases you, I will give
the young Lord Westcliff his bath." The maid said and Roxana
nodded.
"Very good Carolina...thank you." She said, kissing
the boy's fair cheek and setting him down. As the boy ran from the
room, Erik looked up at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation.
"My son, James. He is two and a half. He has trouble
speaking...He still only says a few words." She said, worry lacing
her voice which had been steadily cool until now.
"My
brother-in-law says I should send him away to a special school when
he is old enough, but I don't think I could bring myself to do it.
He now handles all of my finances since Justin is dead. I have no
other family..." She said, sighing. Erik stood at the mention of
her brother-in-law. A strange feeling crept into the pit of his
stomach when he thought of this man handling an innocent child's
finances.
"How old are you child?" He asked her and she
looked at him confused, but answered anyway.
"I am twenty-one."
She said and he held in a gasp. She didn't look a day over sixteen.
"Roxana, let me stay with you." He said, an idea forming in
his mind. At her incredulous expression, he thought quickly. James.
Of course! "I...I could tutor James. I could help him with his
speech. You could show your brother-in-law that he does not need to
go to a school."
She stared at him, her eyes glaring again.
"You just want to use me because of my connection to the
Chagnys and Raoul's fiancée." He stood, angered.
"No
Roxana...believe me I want nothing more to do with that lot or that
mess." He said, "She ruined me once, almost killed me. I don't
think I could survive her again...I do love her so." He lamented
and she sank into an armchair nearby.
"I don't know why...but
I believe you have sincere intentions...but I swear to God Destler,
if you show any signs of insanity or murderous intent at all, I will
have you thrown into prison and laugh hysterically at your execution.
Have I made myself perfectly clear?" She asked in her low silk
voice. He nodded, satisfied.
"Fair enough." He said,
holding his hand out for her to shake. She did, with a surprisingly
firm grip. "One more condition though." He added and she looked
at him expressionless. He sighed.
"I am someone who cannot
reveal himself so easily...it's very hard for me to..." He
stopped and sighed, "I want a new mask." She sighed back.
"Yes
and I want you to stop babbling on like a jabbering idiot, but it
doesn't seem likely does it now?" Surprised, he let out a low
chuckle and nodded.
"Do we have a deal then Roxana?" She
looked at his hand a moment, before shaking it again.
"So it
would seem sir."
