The Devil Never Sleeps

People were staring, but Christine barely noticed. Perhaps it was unnerving for them to see a young woman seated in a box that was habitually empty to their eyes, but such thoughts did not bother her in the slightest. In fact, the moment the orchestra began tuning and the lights began to dim, all worries of Raoul and Erik seemed to slip into the abyss, and she was utterly enraptured by the mere sound of it all.

It wasn't until the curtain rose when she noticed that Erik had moved and was sitting by her side now, though he was still cloaked in the darkness of the theatre. For a moment, she could feel him watching her, but when she turned to smile at him she found that his eyes were fixed, unbothered, on the stage. And so, her smile faltering slightly, she brought her eyes back to the stage as the streets of Venice unfolded before her eyes and the opera commenced.

It began grandly enough, with sweeping lines and elaborate costumes that rivaled nothing she had seen before. But the German soon caught up to her, and she found herself merely having to listen to the musical phrases, blocking out the language that was so foreign to her ears. Yet much to her pleasure, after the first song had come to a close and applause rang out through the hall, Erik leaned in to her ear and began to speak.

"Stradella is in love with a girl named Leonore, but she is being kept in Bassi's home by force. Bassi wishes to marry her, but Leonore and Stradella decide to elope, and he helps her escape from the house," he said evenly, and she felt her breath stop her throat as she listened. Still, she made no outward reaction, and murmured a word of thanks before turning back to watch as the next song began. He, of course, didn't seem perturbed at all by the plot of the show, and had already absorbed himself in the scene before him. But for Christine, his helpful translation had brought about thoughts of what was to come later that night, making her miss the entirety of the next song in her trepidation. Still, determined to enjoy what peace she was still afforded, she focused her eyes back on the stage, opening her ears and clearing her mind.

This time, the minutes flew as each song went by until the first act came to a close. For a moment, she felt as if she might pass out from her sudden rise in heart rate, but Erik helpfully leaned over to her once more, informing her that intermission would occur between the second and third acts. She let out a low breath, unable to look at him, and nodded. He seemed utterly cool and collected, but not in the premeditated way he usually did when he was expecting confrontation. Indeed, he seemed altogether clueless as to what was going to occur when the next act came to a close. Still, she could not find the courage to speak, and all thought of wanting to warn him fled when the second act began and music once again floated through the room.

"Bassi's associates have been charged with assassinating Stradella," he whispered as the overture played, and she gulped down her nervousness silently. "But Stradella shows such kindness to these men that they cannot bear to kill him," he continued, leaning back into his seat as the actors swept onto the stage.

But this time, she couldn't escape from her thoughts as they raced incessantly through her mind. Every possibly outcome was conjured in her head, and for a few minutes she genuinely considered standing up and walking out of the box without a word. But over and over again she told herself that Erik had brought her here in order to see what she was working towards and to enjoy a work of art as it unfolded before them, and she couldn't bear to pull herself away.

Act two had finished before she had successfully rid her mind of her worries, and as soon as the lights began to come up, she felt her breathing hitch in worry. Erik looked sidelong at her, his eyes narrowing at her behavior, but he stood up quickly and moved into the shadows of the box, unwilling to be caught by theatergoer's prying eyes.

Christine stood up as well, nearly knocking over her chair in the process as she turned to Erik, prepared to blurt out all her thoughts. He saw her jump and his eyebrows knitted together for a split second before his eyes darted towards the door of the box. A deep frown set in on his face and he backed up even more until he had all but disappeared into the corner of the box. "Somebody is coming," he muttered with annoyance, his eyes turning back to Christine in question.

Within a few seconds, a light knock resounded from the door, and Christine's eyes widened in fright as they volleyed between Erik and the barrier of the box. He didn't seem as perturbed as she had imagined he would be, though, and he gestured with a nod for her to answer.

"Come in," she called out quietly, her voice wavering as her lips trembled in dread. She tried to feign surprise when the door opened, revealing Raoul's questioning face, but she knew she had never been an adept liar. "Oh, hello," she continued on with feigned shock, forcing herself not to look into the shadow where she knew Erik resided.

"Where is your employer?" Raoul demanded as he stepped in, his eyes roaming over the box as if searching for the second occupant. "Surely he hasn't slipped out already!"

"He left just before the act ended," she stammered, swallowing back her apprehension as Raoul's disappointment became clear on his face.

"Surely he will be back," he said, more to himself than anything, and she a frown set on her face.

"Why do you want to meet him so?" Christine asked slowly, nearly forgetting that Erik was standing but a few feet away, his amber eyes glimmering faintly in the corner. Raoul merely stared at her though, as if such a question needed no answer.

"Perhaps I will just write to him, then," he conceded, and Christine let out a sigh as she wracked her mind for some excuse or another. "What is your address?"

"Raoul, I don't think that is the wisest idea," she entreated, holding her hands up in assurance. His mouth opened as she finished, but as his eyes flickered back down to her wrists, he stopped. She tried to pull them away quickly, but he lightly took her forearms in his, turning over her wrists in her hands with the most delicate of touch.

"What is this, Christine?" he asked quietly, all thought of her address apparently forgotten. When she didn't answer, her words caught in her throat, he looked up at her with the most pained expression on his face. This time, she couldn't help but let her eyes flicker back to Erik, begging for help, and Raoul turned around just in time to see him coming out of the shadow of the box, his face grim.

"Monsieur le Viscount," Erik said with a steady and contemptuous voice. "Can I help you?"

Christine's jaw dropped open as she searched for some saving words for Raoul, but she found that her throat had run dry, leaving her helpless.

"Ah! You must be dear Christine's employer!" Raoul exclaimed as he let go of Christine's wrists and turned around to face Erik fully, his back suddenly stiff and formal.

"Yes, I am dear Christine's employer," Erik repeated as he narrowed his eyes dangerously on his target. She could barely stand it—Erik nearly shooting daggers in Raoul's direction, while the poor Viscount stood unknowingly, never seeming to sense Erik's derision.

"May I have the pleasure of knowing your name, Monsieur?" Raoul continued, a polite smile coming to his face which Erik did not find the need to return.

"Is there some reason you are crowding my box?" was all Erik asked, and Christine watched as Raoul's jaw dropped in sudden surprise, caught utterly off-guard by the disrespect. He turned and looked at Christine for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before he turned back to Erik with a forced smile on his face.

"I came to meet you, of course." It was a civil gesture, but it didn't soften Erik in the slightest.

"Gratifying, I am sure," Erik responded dryly, his jaw clenching as he spoke.

"Quite," Raoul replied with a small bow of his head. "And to see how Christine enjoyed the opera, naturally," he continued on with a sudden laugh that seemed to shatter the stillness of the box. He turned to Christine cordially, clearly not wishing to keep her out of the conversation. "Quite the story."

"I wasn't aware that aristocrats truly watched operas. I assumed they merely came to gossip." Erik's tone still held that razor sharp edge, and Christine felt her face contort in pity as her desire to save Raoul heightened. Raoul's look of shock lingered, and nobody spoke for several moments. Finally, Erik chuckled darkly, folding his hands behind his back. "Pardon my disparaging remarks—heaven forbid that I should wound your sensibility, Viscount."

"Not at all!" he insisted, trying to hide the offense written plainly in his face. It was then when Christine noticed that Raoul was not looking at Erik, but rather staring openly at his mask. Indeed, he seemed not to see the eyes that lay beyond it, and Erik's annoyance at this seemed to grow exponentially as every second went by.

And so they stood there uncomfortably, Raoul wallowing in his embarrassment while Erik boiled with unmitigated fury. And of course, Christine stood between the two, her eyes shooting back and forth as she followed their dreadful discussion, each response seeming worse than the ones that came before it.

She didn't know when Raoul gained his confidence, but all at once his back straightened up and he gave Christine a strong look, as if making some deep promise to her. "Monsieur," he began, looking back at Erik resolutely, trying to keep his courage strong as he looked to that severe mask. "Might you know how Christine got these bruises?"

The silence was deafening, and the sound of her own heartbeat drowned out the faint conversations of the theatergoers below. She pulled her hands behind her immediately, unable to look at either of the men and wishing more than anything that she could be out of this room, out of this city, anywhere but where she was. And for a moment, when her eyes flickered up to Erik, she saw a murderous glint that she had never seen before that nearly made her heart stop dead in her chest. But he stood in perfect stillness, not so much as blinking as he stared at Raoul with the utmost resentment.

And then, as if by a miracle, the sound of the orchestra drifted up to her ears as they began to tune for the final act. Raoul's expression faltered as he turned to look back at the stage impatiently, as if furious at the management for having begun the act already.

"I suppose I should be finding my way back to my own box," Raoul spoke stiffly to Christine, all but ignoring the third occupant of the box. "It was lovely seeing you. I have no doubt that we will speak again soon." He nearly reached for her hand to kiss it, but Erik began to speak with such disdain that he stopped dead in mid-movement.

"I believe they say that there is no time like the present." Raoul turned once more and eyed Erik, his braveness almost appearing impenetrable but for the slight falter in his eyebrows, just barely revealing his fear. "You wouldn't want to miss such a wonderful story, now would you?"

Raoul didn't dignify this with a response, and merely bowed to Christine and nodded with difficulty to Erik before he exited the box.

It was then when she realized that she had been holding her breath, and she let out a deep breath as soon as the door had clicked shut. "Erik, please forgive me. He invited himself and I couldn't come up with a proper excuse—he wanted so to meet you."

She spoke in earnest, but he didn't seem to hear her as he moved back to his seat, sitting down as if Raoul had never come in and there had been no confrontation. Christine's face contorted in concern as she too sat down, though she refused to look at the stage or acknowledge the beginning of the last act.

"Please, you must believe me," she begged, this time in a low whisper as the lights dimmed. When Erik finally leaned in to her, she wasn't sure whether she expected to be reprimanded or forgiven, but she certainly didn't expect what she heard.

"She ends up with Stradella," he said simply, his voice void of any emotion. "Bassi sees that they are happy and he gives them his blessing. Because they are happy with one another." This time, his voice faltered slightly and Christine's mouth hung open, unable to conjure a response to this.

"Erik, did you hear what I said to you?" she finally asked, and he turned his gaze to her slowly, his eyes still strangely blank. "Please forgive me for not warning you. I was too frightened, but I swear that I will never see him again. Truly, I will not." She only half meant the words, and though she would not see Raoul if he asked, she knew that she would regret being apart. Still, she vowed it without a second thought, knowing how strongly Erik felt about it.

Once again, he reacted as she would never expect, and a bitter smile came to his lips as he looked back out to the stage to see the actors came out for the first number. "He loves you, my dear," he said slowly, and Christine's face fell in despair. "He wants to meet me so that he can ask to marry you."

For some reason, she felt tears prick her eyes and she blinked quickly as she turned back to the stage, not wanting him to see her emotion. And somehow, it wasn't emotion for Raoul's sake—it was emotion for Erik's, for what was more painful than hearing his voice stagger under the weight of his words?

They were silent for the rest of the opera, and Christine stopped trying to wipe away her tears soon after they erupted from her eyes. Thankfully, Erik pretended not to notice the tears that steadily streamed down her face, and she feigned not noticing the wounded expression that remained behind his mask. And as the opera came to a close, they remained in their seats for several minutes, watching as the audience shuffled out below them.

"Perhaps it should end differently," was all she said as they sat there, motionless. He didn't respond, though she knew that he had heard her by the way his eyes intensified. "Leonore and Bassi."


Well, this was a pleasure to write. Thanks for all your lovely reviews, and please let me know what you think of the anticipated meeting!

Until next time,

Christine