Hey guys! I just wanted to let you know that I'll be posting the last chapter of this story on Wednesday, the 30th. That way it's just close enough to Halloween to get you in the spirit, without taking away from actual Halloween, which should most definitely be reserved for parties, trick or treating, or stuffing your face with chocolate while watching Hocus Pocus (my personal favorite). Thanks for all of the support you've given me with this story - I hope it's giving you the spooky, fluffy shivers!
Also, reviews are always welcome. They are my crack. :)
...
Christine once more found herself wrapped in darkness, tip-toeing down a hallway under cover of night.
Her heart raced, but she grit her teeth and plunged ahead. Head back, shoulders straight...head back, shoulders straight...
She had discussed all of the details with her angel.
"The Ghost has many favorite haunts, Christine," he had mused. "The cellars, of course. Sometimes the rafters. Anywhere, really."
"Does this mean that you cannot tell me where I might find him?"
"Not precisely, my dear. Remember, I am the Angel of Music, not the Angel of Fortune Telling. Yet I believe...yes...I believe he favors one spot over any other."
Christine's breath quickened.
"You are familiar with the rumors of Box Five, little one?"
"Yes...yes! Of course! The Ghost sits there to watch over the performances! I had never believed it before."
"The Ghost will often sit there in the dead of night, as well, admiring the beauty of his creation. If you find him there, you must approach him with great caution, Christine. You will remember your rosary?"
"I am never without it, Angel," said Christine, clutching at her chest, where it rested safely under her clothing.
"Good girl. Be brave, sweet one, and do not fear the darkness, for I shall watch over you. Remember your manners, and enter Box Five slowly and quietly."
"I shall do as you say."
The Voice chuckled lightly, a purr of resonance that danced up and down Christine's spine.
"I know you shall," he said. Then he paused. "Christine...I know I can be...overwhelming at times. But never doubt how proud I am of you, or...or the love for you that is always in my heart."
Christine beamed.
"I love you too, Angel."
A peaceful silence reigned.
"Angel," Christine asked after a time, "when do you suggest that I meet the Ghost? I do not wish to wait in a dark hallway all through the night..."
"Oh...oh. Of course. Let me think," the Voice whispered. "You might perhaps try...yes. Try one o'clock, this very night. The chance is as great as it will ever be that you may find him there."
"Yes, Angel." Christine suddenly laughed. "Though no doubt I will need an extra cup of tea this evening! Two nights in a row of such late hours...I could not manage much longer."
The Voice laughed as well. "Do what you must, Christine. Tea is an excellent idea. Take care of yourself, little one!"
"Wish me luck, Angel."
"I do, dearest. With all of my heart."
...
Christine stood at the entrance to the boxes. She stared ahead, silent and unmoving.
He will not harm you, Christine! Do you not remember?
Ah! It is one thing to hear the words from an angel, but to face it down in the pitch black? Well. It is difficult.
Do you doubt the word of your angel?
Of course not! I'll go right now!
She didn't.
Her spine shivered, her chest tingled. She somehow felt cold and hot at the same time.
A minute passed like this. Still Christine did not move.
Yet, with some surprise, Christine found that a new voice had entered her brain. Smooth, sinuous, gentle...she felt it unfold as quietly as a blooming rose.
Christine, she said to herself. Christine, why do you wait here?
I am afraid!
That may be...yet, does not the Ghost deserve your thanks?
I...yes. He does.
He helped you in your most desperate hour, Christine...
He did.
How could you fear him?
I...I...he's a ghost...
That did not stop his hands from holding you in the darkness.
She swallowed.
Are you truly afraid of him, Christine? asked the deviant voice. Or perhaps...what you are truly afraid of is yourself?
Hush! That is enough of that!
Yet the seed had been buried, and her cheeks burned.
Approach him, Christine. Remember that you can be brave. For your angel...and for the Ghost.
Christine, at last, stepped forward.
...
The door to Box Five stood in front of her.
My angel told me to remember my manners...should I knock? Or would the Ghost spirit away if I did?
She debated this question for at least a minute. Yet in the end, she decided to knock. It seemed the most mannerly thing to do.
Her knuckles rapped against the wooden door, the sound hardly more than a mouse's whisper. Yet in her heightened state, Christine felt lightening thrill through her veins, and she nearly bolted.
Yet, with a trembling hand, she turned the doorknob.
And there he was.
...
His outline was almost entirely concealed by the surrounding darkness, but Christine's eyes were just sharp enough to see him. He was leaning back in a chair, his figure heavily cloaked, a hat pulled low over his face. One arm draped casually over the other seat, and he watched the empty stage before him as if it was filled with wonders.
Christine couldn't breath.
After a long minute, Christine forced herself to speak. "Monsieur...Monsieur Ghost?" she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I...I am sorry to intrude on you again."
The head turned, ever so slightly, in her direction.
"Um," she continued. "My name is Daae. Christine Daae. You saved me last night, in the...the fourth cellar."
The head now turned to face her, and once more Christine found herself mesmerized by the golden eyes. She stared at them, her breath coming heavily, until a sudden shudder brought her back to her errand.
She took a step forward.
"I am here to thank you, Monsieur. I wished to do so last night, but you disappeared before I could. I know that...that you do not like to be bothered. But I truly wanted you to know. You saved my life. I am eternally grateful for your kindness, and...and I am forever in your debt."
The shadow rose slowly, his piercing eyes ever locked on hers.
"That...that is all I wanted to say, Monsieur. I will no longer take up your time. But, thank you. Thank you, with all of my heart."
She turned swiftly, eager to escape to the safety of her room, but she was halted by the feel of long, cold fingers wrapping tightly around her wrist. The hand pulled her back, all too close to their owner. She slowly turned to face him, and his gold eyes bored down on her like a spell. She stared into their depths, feeling herself leaving her body, raising into the shining light. The beautiful, beautiful light...
With a shock, Christine felt something soft thrust into her arms.
She turned it over in her hands, feeling a rich, silken fabric wrapped over rough canvas. Something smooth now...buttons? Then a soft ring of curls, tied with a bow...
The doll!
"Monsieur!" she gasped. "Monsieur! This is the doll! Thomas's doll! You found it?"
The Ghost nodded, with a nearly imperceptible tilt of his head. Christine smiled, and then laughed out loud.
"Oh, but this is wonderful! I cannot begin to say how wonderful this is! Oh, Thomas will be so happy..."
Her eyes misted, and she brushed them away with the edge of her sleeve.
"I will leave now, Monsieur. I...I truly don't know how to thank you!"
She paused, and it was then that the impulse struck.
She leaned towards the Ghost, bent her head forward, and kissed him.
It was swift, hardly more than a second, only the gentlest brush against his cheek. Yet Christine's heart leapt. His skin was cold, as cold as the rest of him, cold and smooth and wonderful...
She spun away, blushing furiously, and quickly fled into the darkness.
