Erik's eyes opened immediately when he heard the wooden bar hit the ground. Silently he stood from where he had collapsed against the wall when he had lost sight of Christine. He crept to the far corner of the caravan, hiding himself so that he would be the last thing that the intruder's lantern would illuminate if they crossed the threshold of the bars. He could hear someone fumbling to open the latch on the door. A sneer came across Erik's face, if the fool was too drunk to open a simple door what could he possible hope to achieve in the caravan? At least it would be over quickly, he didn't have the energy to deal with yet another drunken gypsy who thought that he could best the Living Corpse.
Why bother fighting, he suddenly thought. Why not let the gypsy have his moment of glory and end his miserable existence? He was yanked from his thoughts when the intruder finally worked out the latch and burst through the door.
"Erik!" Christine sobbed, slamming the door shut and blindly running up to the bars. "Erik. Where are you?"
"Christine?" She had never come to the caravan at this time of night before. "Christine. What's wrong?"
Christine didn't answer, but hung onto the bars sobbing.
"Christine!" his voice was louder this time. "Tell me what's wrong. Has somebody hurt you? I...I can't do anything for you here, you should go and find Vadoma or Talaitha." Erik was devastated that already he wasn't able to help her. This was just further proof that he could never tell her about his feelings. What sort of man would he be if he couldn't do anything to help her?
"Please don't send me away," she whispered, the pain evident in her voice.
"Christine," Erik murmured, crouching down to her level at the bars knowing that her eyes wouldn't have had time to adjust to the dark yet. "Christine I'm not sending you away but if you're injured there's nothing here that I can use to help you."
"I'm not injured," she stated. "It's just, oh god Erik it was so horrible," she concluded, wiping at her eyes.
"I don't understand." When Erik had last seen Christine she was happily dancing and whispering with Milosh.
"Danior. I heard him talking with Tamas and Nicu. About me," she said bluntly.
Erik was well aware of how Danior felt about Christine and how he treated her. He also knew that Tamas and Nicu for the most part took their cues from Danior. "What about you?" he asked warily.
"That I don't belong here. That I'm an outsider and they want to get rid of me. But I do belong here! This is my home Erik. My family is here, I don't know anyone outside the clan. Not anymore," she cried hysterically.
"Christine, Christine," Erik soothed. "Vadoma treats you like a daughter, she's not going to let Danior just abandon you."
Christine took a deep breath before continuing, "He's already thought of that. He said that because so many people in the clan, like Vadoma and the twins, had forgotten that I was an outsider he couldn't just leave me behind or tell me to go. It would cause too many problems for him."
Erik didn't say anything, sensing that Christine needed a moment before she continued.
Her voice was deep and low in an effort to hold back the tears. "Danior wants me to get married."
"What? To who?" Erik was outraged.
"He doesn't care. He wants me to marry someone from another clan so I'll have to leave this one. He said that no one would be suspicious if I left the clan to be with my husband. He said that all clans have older men who are looking for a young bride." At this Christine lost her fight to hold back the tears.
Erik was absolutely livid. Like Christine, he knew the type of men that Danior was referring to and he found himself practically shaking with rage at the thought. He tightened his grip on the bars but finding that it didn't help he set to stalking around the cage.
"I thought this was over." Christine took a shuddering breath. "I thought that I was safe here, that this was my home. I know that Danior doesn't like me and didn't want me to stay with the clan after Papa died..." she trailed off. "But he hasn't said anything in years and Vadoma and Mala and Milosh have always spoken as if they assumed I would be here for the rest of my life. Surely Vadoma would have told me if she knew that Danior still wanted to get rid of me. What could have made him change his mind? I haven't done anything."
How dare Danior think about doing such a thing? He obviously knew what kind of life he would be condemning Christine to and couldn't care less. To rip her away from the life she had know for so many years and the people she considered family. Erik almost laughed to think that earlier in the evening he had been worried about Christine marrying Milosh. He knew that if she married Milosh that he would do his best to make sure she was happy, but these other men wouldn't. Plus if she married Milosh at least she would be able to stay with the clan, close to Vadoma and Mala.
The sound of Christine's tears broke through Erik's rage but he didn't dare return to the bars knowing that she had now been in the caravan long enough for her eyes to have adjusted. Not wanting to upset her further he stopped pacing and leaned against the coffin, gripping the side tightly.
"Please don't cry Christine," he pleaded. "I promise you won't have to marry anyone you don't want to." What was he doing, he asked himself wearily, making promises he knew he had no way of keeping.
"They think I want to marry Milosh," Christine said, not realising that Erik had been thinking exactly that only a few hours earlier. "But Danior said that because he has final say of marriages within the clan there is no way he would ever let that happen."
"Do you want to marry Milosh?" he asked hesitantly. If Danior and his men thought that Christine and Milosh were going to get married perhaps Milosh had been openly courting Christine. She hadn't mentioned anything to him. Erik tried to think back over the past few months to see if Christine had been acting any differently. He thought that he could hear disappointment in her voice when she had said that Danior wouldn't allow it.
"No." Erik's grip on the coffin immediately loosened. "I love Milosh dearly, but as a brother. He will make a wonderful husband one day but I could never marry him."
"So why did Danior think that you wanted to marry him?" Even though Christine said now that she didn't want to marry Milosh she could still change her mind if he were an ardent enough suitor. Seeing them dancing together Erik didn't think that it would take much for Christine to develop feelings for the handsome young gypsy.
"It was Tamas who said it." The change of topic had allowed Christine to calm down, although the evidence of her tears could still be heard in her voice. "He said that people in the camp have been talking. But it doesn't mean anything. Any time a man and woman are seen together and are both unmarried rumours are started. Sometimes one of them is married and the rumours will still start. Milosh is one of my best friends and so I spend time with him. There's nothing more to it. Just meaningless gossip," she explained.
"Sometimes others can see where feelings are developing before..." Erik trailed off. What was he thinking? Was he trying to convince Christine that she may be in love with Milosh?
But Christine didn't seem to notice his abandoned sentence. "It's not that Danior wouldn't allow Milosh and me to marry. I don't want to marry Milosh and he doesn't want to marry me. But Danior will never allow me to marry anyone unless they come from another clan. Or if they were an outsider."
Another small wave of relief washed over Erik as Christine confirmed that Milosh didn't want to marry her. Letting go of the coffin he dared to take a step closer to the bars. He contemplated for a moment the meaning of the last thing that she said. He knew that she wouldn't want to marry one of the men that Danior would consider for her, but there had been some sort of longing in her voice. "You want to marry someone from the clan," he asked flatly. She was probably already being courted by one of the gypsies. Erik's heart sunk as he returned to the coffin.
"I want to marry someone in the camp," she said carefully. "At least I think I do. Oh I don't know, I'm being foolish."
Erik didn't know how much more of this he could handle tonight. "Christine, you could never be foolish," he said roughly.
"I am. He would never even think of it I'm sure." Christine shuffled alongside the bars so she could lean against the caravan wall. Starting to pick at her fingernails she said, "He probably still sees me as a child."
"He's older than you then?" Erik asked disapprovingly.
"Yes but I've known him for so long. I know he would never take advantage of me."
"So you're not being courted?" Erik confirmed. He hated the very idea of an older man taking advantage of Christine, no matter how much she trusted him.
"No," she shook her head sadly, not realising that she was breaking Erik's heart. It was clear to him how much she wanted this gypsy to court her. "But I spend time with him," she said fondly. "And since Danior won't let me marry anyone here it's probably for the best."
Erik felt incredibly torn listening to Christine. He hated the idea of another man courting and marrying her, taking her away from him, but he could hear how much Christine wanted this. He was a tiny bit pleased that Danior wouldn't allow Christine to marry anyone in the clan, but his fury that he would marry her out of the clan quickly overrode that. He could only hope that Danior wasn't able to find a prospective groom in another clan too soon.
"What is he like?" he asked, not ready to hear who exactly had stolen Christine's heart.
"He's wonderful," she sighed, "He's so kind and I can talk to him for hours. He always takes me seriously even though I know I can say some very silly things sometimes."
She spent hours talking to this gypsy? How was it that she had never mentioned it? Erik racked his brain, surely she had mentioned him.
"He's very smart and he's taught me so much. I feel safe with him, like I can trust him with my life and he would protect and look after me no matter what. Sometimes I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't found him here," she continued.
"Really?" Erik ground out. He found that he suddenly hated Christine a little, that she wouldn't share what was obviously such an important part of her life with him. He was instantly ashamed of himself; there was no reason to expect that she would share every aspect of her life with him. But then she had come to him when she was upset, so surely that meant something. If she could trust him with what she had overheard Danior saying, why couldn't she have trust him with how she felt about this man before now? Or even that he existed.
Christine peered into the cage, trying to find Erik. "Really."
Erik could think of nothing more to say and they drifted into silence. The music from the gypsy party drifted through the caravan and Christine lazily allowed her foot to softly tap in time. Erik stared down into the coffin trying to make sense of everything that had happened that evening. In another life perhaps, he would have been able to court Christine and make her forget all about this other man. He could have even been the man she was talking so fondly about.
"Erik?" Christine called softly, "Would you sing for me?"
Even in his lowest moments he could never refuse her anything. Turning back to face the bars of the cage, he responded, "Certainly. What would you like to hear?"
"You can decide. Something soft," she requested.
He started singing 'Á la Claire fontaine', knowing that it was one of her favourites. As he sang, Christine closed her eyes and let his voice gently wash over her. When he finished, she didn't open her eyes, instead saying thank you and then allowing the silence to resume.
Erik believed that she had had fallen asleep and was wondering whether he should wake her when she suddenly spoke. "When Papa was still alive he used to tell me about an Angel of Music."
He studied her curiously through the darkness. "He said the Angel of Music would visit people and help them become great musicians or singers. But the Angel wouldn't visit just anyone; he would only visit those who truly loved music in their heart. Papa always said that one day the Angel would visit me and help me become a famous Prima Donna. I used to think that maybe the Angel hadn't come to me because Papa and I moved so often and he didn't know where to find me. Papa said the Angel would come when the time was right." She paused here and Erik wondered whether she was going to continue.
"When he was sick, just before he died, he promised that he would send the Angel of Music to me from heaven. I remember that that was what made me realise that Papa wasn't going to get better. I begged him not to leave me and told him that I would rather the angel didn't visit me if it meant he could stay. But we don't have control over these things, do we? And Papa died."
"Christine..." he wished he could take away the pain of her father's death, knowing how much it still haunted her.
"No, it's alright. You know that I didn't sing for a long time after Papa died. I was waiting for him to send me the Angel of Music and every day I would pray that he would come. But then we started singing lessons and I was able to return to the music. Still, for years I continued to wait and pray for the Angel of Music to come."
Christine moved across the caravan until she was directly opposite Erik. She was looking so intently into the darkness that Erik feared that she could see him, but when she didn't show any sign of terror he relaxed.
"I used to think that the Angel of Music would be a real angel. That they would be beautiful and wear white robes and have wings and come down from heaven to teach me. But then I realised that the angel could be a real person. And it is. It's you. You're my Angel of Music Erik," she said breathlessly.
"I...uh...I..." Erik stuttered.
"You don't have to say anything," she laughed gently. "I know that it sounds strange. But you brought music back into my life; you've helped me to sing better than my father could ever have dreamed. I know that if I hadn't found you here I would never have found joy in music again. I'm sure I eventually would have sung again, but I wouldn't have enjoyed it as much as I've been able to with you. And I think that that is what Papa was talking about. The Angel of Music is someone who could help me love music."
"I'm not an angel." Erik was pleased that his voice didn't falter when he said that. He was the very opposite of an angel, he was a demon, a monster, a devil, a corpse.
"Maybe not a real angel," Christine's naivety was apparent when she unintentionally revealed that she still believed there were real angels. "But you are my angel. And you mean more to me than a real angel ever could."
Seemingly content with what she had revealed, Christine continued to sit there, looking into the cage. Erik stood in the middle of the cage, stunned.
She had called him an angel, her angel. The feelings he had experienced when she had first asked his name so many years came back to him. She made him feel like a human being and he could almost forget his wretched face. But not quite. Would she still think he was her angel if she discovered what he looked like? Her angel. He cherished the small spark of possessiveness in her. He would be hers for as long as she would have him. For a moment he allowed himself the brief fantasy that he was allowed to call her his. But he quickly brought himself back to reality; she didn't mean it in that way.
He hadn't believed that he was capable of creating anything beautiful. But the way Christine had spoken of her love of music and how he had given that to her, surely that was beautiful. Perhaps he wasn't capable of creating beauty on his own, but with Christine's help he could, like they had created the music together. He had always longed for beauty in his life but until Christine had come to live with the clan he could point to very little that he would call beautiful. But since he had met her, he could now see beauty in the small things, such as flowers in the woods or the happy smile of a small child, through her eyes. He looked down to the girl in question.
He hadn't noticed Christine falling asleep whilst he was lost in his thoughts. She had fallen asleep on her side, facing the cage, and her hand had just slipped through the bars. It was so different to the hands that normally reached through the bars. Hands that normally reached through the bars meant danger, hands that would pull, scratch and hit given half the chance. Most hands had the dark skin of the gypsies, the paler visitors happy to watch or throw things into the cage, but very few were willing to risk their own skin with the Living Corpse. Christine's hand was pale and small but bore the signs of her work. It was rough and dry from the cleaning that she performed every day and there were little nicks and scratches from the needles and scissors she used when sewing. It was not what society would call a proper lady's hand, but Erik thought it was beautiful.
Certain that she would not wake, Erik crept a little closer to the front of the cage and crouched down. Christine's hand was so close, all he needed to do was reach and out and touch. He shouldn't, he knew that. She was asleep and would never consent to a freak like him touching her. But his hand seemed to have a mind of its own and reaching across he gently trailed his index finger along her thumb before quickly clutching it back to his chest, as though he had been burned. How dare he touch her, he berated himself. What sort of monster couldn't stop himself from touching a young girl?
Christine moaned slightly and Erik was terrified that she was going to wake up and start screaming. If her fear of him brought every man in the camp into the caravan, he wouldn't fight them. He would deserve everything they could think to inflict upon him. But Christine didn't awaken. She stretched in her sleep and her hand moved further into the cage, as though she was reaching for something just out of her grasp.
She was sound asleep, his mind whispered, he could touch her again, maybe feel her hand in his. He shook his head to get rid of these thoughts and retreated back to the coffin, to remove himself from temptation.
Erik knew that if Christine was discovered in the black caravan there would be questions that neither of them were willing to answer. But he wasn't ready for Christine to leave just yet, the opportunity to watch her sleep was something that he wasn't strong enough to sacrifice. Instead he resolved that at the first sign of life in the morning he would wake her so she could return to her caravan. He knew that on nights like this the gypsies would often sleep in caravans that were not their own, in the past Christine had spent the night with Mala and Milosh, so Vadoma would not be worried if Christine wasn't in their caravan. But she could not be caught with him.
Settling himself against the coffin, he continued to watch Christine as she slept.
