Chapter 10
Erik had left Christine to sleep. He knew there was very little time for them to leave Paris but he also knew that she would be much easier to deal with if she was well rested. Even the young soprano had picked up one or two diva like qualities from the famous La Carlotta.
He hastened through the darkened streets, not caring to stop and greet people on the street as was the usual custom of the day. He could have sworn he heard a few couples muttering to each other about how rude the strange fellow was as he barged between the two of them but he did not care. He was in a hurry.
"Excuse me!" One lady, draped in fur, had sarcastically shouted as he surged passed her and her ridiculously trimmed poodle.
His feet pounded the streets as he continued on his journey, he had chosen not to take a carriage this morning. Carriage drivers were too easily bribed for information and this was information he would rather keep to himself.
The only time he happened to stop was when he noticed the glaring white reflection of his mask in the window. He shivered as he was reminded of what was underneath it and decided to pull his collar up as far as possible.
Eventually, Erik came to his destination. It was a small, rather dingy, house in one of the Parisian slums.
"You're late." The gruff voice of the occupier answered.
"I am never late." Erik retorted, nose already screwing up thanks to the heady smell that hung in the air.
Erik was shown through to the area, which he presumed, to be their lounge. He averted his gaze from the young woman who was sitting in the window seat, her dress in various states of disarray which left one of her legs dangling freely. He couldn't help but notice the number of bruises and scrapes ruining its otherwise delicate curve.
"Not another one, Jean. I need a break." She eyed Erik up carefully, obviously considering whether this well dressed gentleman would be worth her time.
"He's not a customer. Get out."
She obeyed immediately, scurrying out of the room as quickly as possible. Except for pausing for a moment to examine Erik's mask, of course.
"Out!" Yelled the man, taking one dominant step towards her.
Erik couldn't help but feel pity for the poor girl. She could not have been much older than his own Christine. His mind wondered onto what would have happened had Christine not have been placed in the conservatoire after her father's death but he ultimately decided to shake all thought of it. She was safe now.
Christine woke slowly, reaching her arms out to embrace the one she loved but was surprised to find that the bed beside her was empty. She sat up and looked around the room, expecting to find him waiting for her to wake. Disappointingly, she found that she was the only one present and she concluded that Erik must have slipped out in the early hours of this morning to work on his music or to continue packing his endless amount of trinkets and treasures that he had collected over the years.
She got up and opened unlocked her bedroom door. She had always wondered how he managed to get in and out of her room on occasion without bothering to unlock the door, making the door and its lock essentially useless.
She found her way into the lounge which was also empty. This did not come as a surprised to her, however, seeing that Erik rarely spent time in here unless it was with her. She presumed that he must be in either his own bed chambers or his study. She decided to check his study first. Erik rarely slept unless it was by her side so his chambers often remained empty for weeks on end.
She knocked politely at the door and waited for a response. A response did not come. She leaned in closer to the door and listened for signs of movement but there were none. She frowned slightly before knocking again, harder this time. Still no response came and she sighed, slightly frustrated at his impertinence.
"Erik?" She called out, expecting that the sound of her voice would draw attention to her presence outside the door.
Again, there was no response. She tried the handle and was surprised to find that it was open. She had promised Erik to never intrude on his study and the personal affairs he kept within.
However, her mischievous nature had a far greater hold on her than her fear of the consequences of breaking her promise.
She pushed the door and jumped as it stopped a long way short of being fully open. Fortunately, her slim figure meant she managed to squeeze herself between the wooden frame and the door itself.
Once inside, she spun her head round and smiled to see that a stack of books were to blame for the barred entrance. Erik's study was lined with book shelves, every book shelf was completely full and still towers of ten or fifteen books littered the floor. She wondered about whether or not Erik would cope with parting from such a collection.
Her relief at Erik not being in the room to discover her intrusion was short lived as she realised that him not being in his study probably meant that he had left without telling her or leaving her a note of explanation.
She could not follow him, of course. The boat would be on the other side of the lake and even if there was one available for her use, Christine doubted whether she would be able to find her way in the vast emptiness of the dark caverns.
There was nothing more Christine could do but wait for his return. Perhaps in the meantime she could entertain herself by perusing some of the many books that would soon be left here to gather dust.
Her chosen book has large and almost impossible to pick up so she chose to sit on the floor, cross-legged as her and Raoul used to when she was a child.
Ah.
She scorned herself for letting her thoughts drift back to him. He seemed to be waiting there constantly. Waiting for her to remember him and pity him. Pity would lead to affection and affection, in turn, would lead to love. She could not love him. She would not love him. She loved only one man, only Erik. She had to reread a sentence several times as her thoughts continued to drift.
"What if?" She thought. "What would my life be like had I chosen Raoul? Would Erik have killed him as he had threatened? He was in such a rage but I could only pity him. My poor, dark angel who was driven to such lengths to win the love he deserved all along."
Christine closed the book again after failing to read barely a page. She rarely had time to reflect like this. Erik had progressively spent less and less time away from her, choosing her company rather than the solitude he was once accustomed with.
Christine replaced the book and hoped that he would not notice that it had moved slightly. She decided to leave his study, knowing that it would not be a good outcome if she was caught here when he returned.
Just as she was wondering what to do next, her stomach rumbled. She cursed it, knowing that she would now have to suffer her own cooking in Erik's absence.
"Who was she?" Erik asked.
"Just some little tart I picked up off the street. You like her? I'll sell her to you for the right price." Jean down heavily, a cloud of dust erupted around him and invoked a cough that told Erik that this man was a heavy smoker.
Of course, Erik would rather not spend his time in the company of such men but he had no choice. He had what Erik needed and he could not leave France without it.
"How much are you willing to pay me?" Jean asked, his grubby fingers reaching for a half-smoked cigar on the table.
"That depends."
"On?"
"How much you will take."
"No less than what I told you before." Jean lit the cigar and puffed on it with satisfaction.
"No, thank you." Erik haughtily stuck his nose up in the air as he refused the cigar offered to him. "I'm willing to pay you that price as long as I can see it first."
"Why have you got to check? I was there when they dug the body up."
Erik winced as his straight forwardness.
"That man was a great musician and a beloved father. Kindly speak of him with some respect."
"Look, Mr..."
"You can call me O.G."
"Fine. O.G., I don't really give a shit what that pile of bones was. All I know is that his violin is worth a fair bit to you."
"It's worth a lot to a friend of mine." Erik stopped to think for a moment. Would Christine appreciate it if he returned with her father's violin? She would surely be dismayed that his body had been extracted from its internal resting place, even though Jean assured Erik it was for purely religious reasons.
"Grave yard's chock-a-block. Can't move for the dead hanging about here, there and everywhere. They need room for the new bodies, you understand?"
Erik imagined Gustave's bones being added to the enormous stack that he had once climbed in order to convince Christine that her father's violin was singing to her from beyond the grave. He had changed his ways now. He no longer tried to convince Christine that her father was somehow contacting her from the other side. He regretted his actions during the years before Christine new the truth. Erik only hoped that Christine could forgive him for what he had done.
"You'll have to wait here." Jean stood up and left the room, leaving Erik to his own devices.
On his return, Jean carried with him a violin case which he carefully laid on the table in front of Erik before gesturing for him to open it.
Erik took a moment to study the contents of the case. Even though it was broken in a number of places, it was definitely the right violin.
"So, you satisfied?" Jean crossed his arms and leant back triumphantly.
"Not quite. How much more do you want for the girl?"
Of course, Erik had no evil intentions towards the girl. As soon as she was released from Jean's clutches he would give her what was necessary to start a new life and point her in the direction of people who could help her.
Once they had exchanged money, Erik picked up the violin case and waited for Jean to bring the girl downstairs.
"Please, sir. Do what you will but don't 'urt me." She begged as the two of them got out of ear shot of Jean's decrepit house.
"It's quite alright…forgive me but I did not catch your name."
"It's Christine, sir."
Erik could not help but smile to himself.
"A very pretty name, indeed."
"Sir, would you mind me asking…why are you wearing that." She pointed to the mask and Erik recoiled quickly but managed to suppress his anger.
"If you were doing business with a man like that, wouldn't you like to hide your face?"
Erik spent the rest of the morning and half of the afternoon helping the girl find her feet before he decided it was time to return to his own Christine.
"Goodbye, sir. Thank you."
Erik could not wait to return to Christine. However, he was apprehensive of how she'd react to being presented with her father's violin. He hoped she would be happy but he knew it would invoke a large amount of sadness in her.