Chapter 11: My Soul Was Lost

I chose not to reply to Erik's short letter. There was little need to pen a response, as I would be seeing him very soon.

I had not for a moment questioned the fact that I would be meeting my maestro at midnight, as he had instructed. The gate to the Rue Scribe...yes...even now, I could find my way to it without the aid of a lantern or even sight. The map of Erik's domain was permanently inscribed upon the pages of my mind. A realm of fantasy, sadness, an eerie labyrinth of unspoken desires that drew me in as it played upon the illicit wishes of my heart. Perhaps, I thought of Erik's damp and gloomy maze in too dramatic a fashion, attributing to it an unreal dose of romanticism.

The truth was that Erik's home beneath the opera was his self-made prison, one which he had inhabited for many years, a cold and cavernous cell that only served to nurse the agonizing loneliness that marked his life How one man could seclude himself underground for such a length of time was beyond my comprehension. Any other man would have taken his own life, driven insane by the silence, the lack of human companionship and acceptance. But Erik was unlike any other person, stronger in will, living on, if only to prove to all of us that he was superior, possessing a mind that defied even madness and death.

Erik's genius, his stubborn will, at once enticed and frightened me. Only Erik could make me feel like the common orphan I had once been, and not the wealthy, well-loved Vicomtesse de Chagny. The maestro had a way of stripping me of my airs. In his company, I was only Christine, his protege, not a diva in the making, or the fiancé of Raoul de Chagny. There was no other desire in his presence, than to please him, to sing for him. The world above was inconsequential, its customs and laws, its people. . .

The dreamworld was Erik's domain, and I had been foolish to ever believe that I would be whole, that I would ever prosper in the reality above, once I had tasted of it.

I glanced at the clock on the mantle. Once again, I had wasted too much time recalling the memories of the past, when I should have been preparing for the evening ahead. I must dress quickly and leave. No time to hesitate, only to say a prayer or two for the success of the evening.

My gowns were still wrinkled from my departure. I would have to wear, perhaps not my finest dress, but that which was the least mussed. The blue silk would be sufficient, as it was demure and elegant, with long graceful sleeves that would shield me from the biting chill outside. The color complimented my eyes, I had been told on more than one occasion, and I wished to appear pleasing, even lovely to my strange friend.

Observing myself in the vanity mirror, I wondered if my face, once so young and devoid of worry, had taken on the nuances of age, of a haunted soul. As I pinned my hair, I was relieved not to find those tell-tale marks of distress and sadness. But, I had not Erik's keen eye. He would, no doubt, find me changed, for the better or worse, I was unsure. Our last meeting had been so hasty and frenzied, that I strongly believed he had not properly examined me. That sounds crude. I was not an experiment on the table of a mad scientist. Erik's every sense was so finely-tuned that he could not help but see in me every detail, every small shift of movement, or even a slight alteration in the way I chose to wear my hair.

I rose from my dressing table, buttoned my cloak about my neck, and without a falter, I walked out the door. It was time to meet my future, for I had called upon it to arrive.

I arrived a few minutes early. Determined, I'd traveled very quickly to our meeting place, propelled by my anxious nerves and a strange welling of desire that was not altogether unfamiliar to me. I collapsed against the gate itself in an effort to catch my breath and gather my wits about me as best I could before Erik arrived. I knew he would come in a matter of moments, as he was frighteningly punctual. Of course, he could already be waiting for me, sheltered in the shadows, observing. I would not doubt the possibility.

I had only to take a few shallow breaths before I caught a glimpse of a cloaked figure moving soundlessly towards me. Not a single crisp footfall rang hollow on the banquette, still he walked ever nearer, the fabric of his cloak rustling in the chill breeze, creating of him a startling and seductive silhouette. I drew in more air and stood rigidly straight. I must appear confident before him, no shy ingenue returning to her mentor. Instead, a fully grown woman come into her own.

"Madame," and suddenly, he was close enough so that he might whisper at my ear. "I did not doubt that I would see you this evening." And, the Opera Ghost extended to me his gloved hand.

I had already resolved that I would not hesitate in my actions towards Erik, from the smallest gesture of taking the hand offered me, or anything that was to come. Indeed, I grasped his fingers with a resoluteness that made him to look at me with amusement, and almost, dare I say, surprise?

"Monsieur, I will admit that I was glad to receive your invitation. Though, it is not my custom to meet with a gentleman on a deserted street at midnight."

He chuckled lightly, "Chris-Madame, if I recall, it was once something of a habit of yours."

"Touche'" I looked at him as we made our way down the familiar path, studied him with the intensity he had so often invoked when observing my own features.

Was there something different in his appearance? The mask was still there, of course, a ghost light of white leather, fitted to his face as closely as melted steel in a blacksmith's mold. He still moved in that inhumanely graceful way, both menacing and beautiful.

"No, I have not changed," he snapped at me, and gave my arm a slight jerk. "I regretfully must say I have not grown handsome, but then again, I am no uglier than last time we met. Thus, it would be prudent, madame, if you would stop staring."

"My apologies," I added through clenched teeth.

But, something was different. His eyes, once so cold, so deeply penetrating and unnerving, held an indescribable softness. No other human being would have noticed this alteration, save myself, but those golden eyes had lost their severity. A remainder of that kiss, a handful of years past, lay sheltered in that gaze.

It gave me hope. He could not possibly be so hardened against me as he appeared. Otherwise, what would he have to gain by inviting me once more to his home?

"You will find, my dear, that my home is much restored since receiving its last uninvited guests. . .but I no longer reside in the home you know."

"Then, why here?"

He scoffed at me, turning deftly on his heel- we were at the shore of the lake. "I thought to give our reunion an operatic touch. You always had a taste for the dramatic," Erik stepped into the gondola and beckoned me forward, "Shall we, Madame?"

"Yes," I answered, alarmed at how easily I was reclaiming my former role, my past life.