Thank you to all of my lovely, wonderful readers (those who review and those who don't!) This chapter is dedicated to you. Enjoy! :)
(Raoul)
The sun streamed through the wide, open French windows to Raoul's first floor bedroom, its golden rays pooling on Raoul's pale, half naked body as he reclined languidly in bed, cocooned in silken sheets. His eyes snapped open when a sudden rap at his door disturbed his peaceful slumber.
"Yes." He called, pulling the sheet closer to his chest as he sat up in bed, his golden hair falling like a halo around his head.
"Good morning Vicompte. I have a letter for you, monsieur, from one Madame Giry." The voice of his manservant called from the other side of his oak panelled door, and Raoul's mouth dropped in astonishment. The letter could only contain one thing. Highly valuable and much needed information.
"Georges, one moment." Raoul said, and slipping from his plush bed, he retrieved his shirt and trousers from the previous day and hurriedly put them on, fumbling with the buttons as he opened the door.
"Monsieur." Georges handed his master the wax sealed letter, and nodding in thanks, Raoul quickly shut the door and almost ran to his bureau, collapsing into his leather chair as he slid his finger underneath the wax seal and tore it open, his eyes swiftly scanning the two pages of written script.
"Georges, will you tell Mamman that I must go out for a moment and that I will miss breakfast." He called to his manservant whilst tying his cravat, his fingers slipping on the soft silken fabric with his haste.
He had been summoned to the Opera with the promise of direct contact with the infamous Opera Ghost, and so dismissing his usual vanity procedures, he ran to the Opera, weaving between the crowds and avoiding the over-crowded roads.
He soon arrived, puffing and panting, and only slowed his pace once he was outside the door to Madame Giry's quarters. He stood, catching his breath and smoothing his wind-swept hair, before knocking upon the door, straining his ears for a reply.
"One moment." Madame Giry called from inside, and Raoul could hear frantic feet rushing about inside. He blushed in embarrassment, the thought of a woman getting dressed causing his cheeks to flush pink, but was soon spared when she opened the door, fully dressed with not a hair out of place, her hands upon her hips as she waited for him to catch up.
"Vicompte." She said, and he jolted to awareness at the sound of her voice, his cool blue gaze slowly lifting to hers.
"Madame. I have just received your letter. You have information?" Raoul asked, soon forgetting his embarrassment as he addressed the issue at hand, his need to find Christine over-riding everything else.
"Oui monsieur. I can take you to him. He had two horses, just as you described, and is engaged to be married to a young girl many years his junior. She is fairly tall, slim, with porcelain skin and long dark ringlets." She said, gauging Raoul's reaction, and upon the description, Raoul's face positively glowed with the thought that he had at last found Christine, his Christine.
"That is her. It is Christine. Oh Madame, I cannot thank you enough. Take me there now!"
Sighing, Madame Giry beckoned for Raoul to follow her, and together they set off on the long journey down to the fifth cellar.
Down and down they went, going deeper into the earth until they came to the third cellar, when Madame Giry, leading the way with a flaming beacon, stopped abruptly and turned to Raoul.
"This is as far as I dare go monsieur. Continue on this path, and where it forks, take the right path until you reach the lake. Good luck, monsieur le Vicompte." And without another word, she left, turning quickly upon her heel and began to re-climb the many steps up to the natural light of terra firma.
"Madame." He called after her slowly shrinking figure, knowing that she had not heard his plea, and that if she had, she was choosing to ignore his pathetic cry. Steeling his resolve, he mentally scolded himself, the words of his brother ringing within his ears. He was a man twenty years of age; young and brave. He would be Christine's knight in shining armour and she would love him once more like those glorious summers long ago. He was not a coward. Slowly untying his cravat, he continued to descend the unending path, his weary feet stumbling on the uneven ground.
His brain was not working at the same speed as his hasty steps and he was soon at the junction in the road. Nothing. He could not remember the words of advice given just minutes previously. Was he to take the left or the right fork? Left? Right? His mind spinning, he settled upon the left path and stepped into the enveloping shadows of disaster.
He could think of nothing but his Christine. Soon she would be his, away from the darkness and the monster that held her enslaved as his prisoner. Engaged. She was chained to a beast, her shining beauty wasted upon the hideousness of a worthless animal. He would slay the creature and return Christine to her rightful place, by his side as his wife.
A sudden flash of light within the darkness disorientated Raoul, and stumbling with the sudden shock, he fell forward into nothingness, freefalling until he hit solid ground. He groaned in pain, his head pounding. He tried to open his eyes, but could see nothing but complete darkness. He sat up, rubbing his temple in an attempt to relieve the tension, and whacked his head upon a solid surface, different from the texture of the passageways. He slowly lifted his hand and pressed it against the surface. It was cool and smooth. Like glass.
xXx
(Christine)
She could not contain the smile of bliss that lit her face upon waking. Lifting her hand, a beam of pride could not be suppressed as the light of the candle reflected off of the huge diamond that sat proud upon her fourth finger. She closed her eyes, wiggling below the covers as images danced behind her lids, standing beside her beloved Erik in a long flowing white gown, a bouquet of scarlet roses clasped within her hands on the happiest day of her life.
"Christine, my love. Are you awake?" At the sound of Erik's voice, Christine sat up in bed, nestled against her plush cushions and pillows amongst the frills of her covers as she quickly ran her fingers through the wild springs of her curls, wishing to look presentable for her true love.
"Yes Erik." She replied, pulling the covers up to her chin in an attempt at modesty, and clutched them to her chest, her eyes transfixed upon her ring.
"I am most glad that you like your ring, Christine." Erik said, observing his love regarding her ring. She lifted her large eyes to his, and frowned, noticing the mask firmly plastered on Erik's face.
"Erik. Please, do come in. I don't want my beloved standing in my doorway. I'd much rather have you closer to me, by my side. " She said, a half-sincere smile plastered upon her face. She smiled in pleasure, of course, but was furiously annoyed and frustrated at Erik's need to hide behind his mask.
"But Christine. I...cannot. You are half dressed and still abed. I...it would be most improper." He said, his eyes trained upon his highly polished shoes and Christine sighed loudly in frustration, causing Erik to raise his gaze to hers quizzically.
"Erik, please. I care not a bit for decorum. Please Erik. I need you beside me." Christine pleaded, raising her arms in signal for his much craved embraced, not caring that the covers slipped to reveal her nightdress-clad form. Unease glittered in Erik's eyes, but seeing the beseeching look upon Christine's face, his resolve crumbled and he hurried to her side, taking a seat beside Christine's eager form.
"My heart, why are you wearing your mask? I thought you knew that my love for you could surpass all earthly barriers. It pains me, Erik, to see you put a wall up between us." Christine said, pain lacing her voice as the tears formed beneath her lids. It was like a knife to her breast to see her Erik shut himself away from her, to distance himself from her and her love. She promised herself that she would show Erik the strength of her love from him, his faults and all.
"I am more comfortable doing so Christine. For so long I have been compelled to hide away, to use this...this mask as a shield to protect the world from my accursed ugliness. It has been too long. I cannot easily be changed." He almost growled, pain lacing his silken voice as he pointed at his porcelain face with one long, bony finger.
"But I know that it pains you Erik. I have seen with my own eyes the marks where the mask has cut into your skin and made it bleed. I love you, and your face holds no concern for me. I would like you to try, for me." She could not contain the pain from her voice, her love for Erik so strong. Hands shaking, she took Erik's hands within her own and placed them against his face, slowly removing his mask to reveal his scarred and deformed appearance.
His eyes wide with fear of rejection, Christine wrapped her arms around his skeletal frame and pressed his naked face to her breast, rocking him gently as he wept like a child, soaking the thin cotton of her nightgown as the tears slowly plopped from her eyes onto his wig clad head.
Withdrawing his head from her ample bosom, he gazed her squarely in the eyes, his slim hand resting against the plush flesh of her cheek.
"You are far too good for poor, miserable Erik. Far too good, my angel." He whispered, and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "I must deal with some...unpleasant business, so I would be much obliged if you would remain in here. But I will soon return." And brushing his mangled cheek against her silken cheek, he hastily departed from her room, leaving her sitting, dumbstruck, in bed, gazing day-dreamingly at the recently departed room.
What sort of unpleasant business could Erik be referring to? Her curiosity got the better of her, and retrieving her wrapper from behind her door, she slipped from her room, following the sound of Erik's voice.
This was a part of the house that she had never entered before. Hidden behind a door never unlocked, half of the room had been divided into a sort of large glass box whilst the other half remained a fairy normal, albeit empty room. She stepped up behind Erik, wondering his business, when she glimpsed a flash of blonde hair from within the glass box and gasped in shock. She immediately pressed her hands to her mouth, but it was too late, for Erik spun on his heel, his golden eyes blazing at her.
"I thought I told you to remain in your room Christine. Why can't you obey simple instructions?" He yelled, causing Christine to shrink in horror as Erik's face contoured in rage. She raised her arm, a long ingrained attempt at defence from merciless blows, and Erik's anger immediately subsided at the pitiful, heart-wrenching image.
"Oh Christine. You have Erik's sincerest apologizes. I did not mean to scare you. Can you forgive me?" He asked, his tense frame slowly relaxing as his hard eyes softened lovingly.
"Of course Erik." She whispered, a small smile twitching at the corner of her lips, and made a step towards the glass , when she was stopped by Erik.
"Christine, please return to your room." Erik whispered, his voice clipped with barely suppressed anger and Christine's lower lip trembled.
"Whatever it is Erik, please share it with me. Open your heart to me, Erik, and let me in. Let me help you." She whispered, grasping his hand and pressing it to her heaving heart.
"Christine." He whispered, his eyes watching Christine's movements as she stepped up to the glass, pressing her hands against the glass as she regarded the young dishevelled blonde man within the glass room, his face familiar to her and his name on the tip of her tongue. She scanned her memories, knowing that she had met this man before.
"Raoul." She whispered, remembering the youth from her childhood who had first held her heart, and she felt Erik step close behind her.
"It seems young man that my fiancée knows you. Perhaps I will not be killing you just yet." Erik called, watching Raoul's face as he lifted his eyes and began to rove as he tried to target the source of the voice. He stepped up to the window and began to bang on the glass, the knocks reverberating around the room.
"We can see him, but he cannot see us my dearest. That is the beauty of one-way glass." He whispered to Christine, stating the latter part loud enough for Raoul to hear.
Christine could see Raoul mouthing words, desperately trying to converse with her, but she could not hear what he was saying.
"Why is he here Erik?" S he asked, turning her wide gaze to his and he gazed back, his eyes full of pure excitement and glee.
"Well, my darling. He says that he has come to rescue you. Rather pathetic, don't you think?" He said, and began to laugh manically, watching with a cool gaze as Raoul's movements became more frantic as the heat within the room slowly increased to become that of the sub-Saharan desert.
"Erik. What is happening to him?" She asked desperately, watching with horror as Raoul became more agitated; sweat dripping from his brow as he began to remove the outer layers of his clothing.
"Why, it is most clever Christine, if I do say so myself. It is a torture chamber, you see. The temperature of the room slowly increases, and as the temperature rises, the victim begins to hallucinate and becomes more and more disorientated. Eventually, they will commit suicide through sheer madness. Ingenious, wouldn't you agree?" He asked, smiling manically at the thought, and Christine's eyes widened in horror.
"Erik, no. Please don't do this. He doesn't deserve to die." She cried, grasping his hand pleadingly, but he pulled it from her desperate grasp and rounded on her, his eyes blazing with fury.
"So my little Christine has feelings for this handsome young man, does she? Well it all makes sense to Erik now. He has been deceived. Why else would Christine want this young man to live unless she loved him?" He asked, his eyes trained upon Raoul as his movements became more erratic.
"I don't love him Erik. I love you, and only you. But I don't want him to die. It is not right, Erik. You are not a murderer. Please, let him go. He doesn't deserve to die." She said pleadingly, placing one hand upon Erik's sunken cheek so he had no choice but to look directly at her.
"Please Erik. For me?" She whispered, seeing Erik's resolve crumbling before her eyes, and she smiled lovingly at him, which he slowly returned.
"For you, Christine, I would die. Your wish is my command." He whispered to her, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Young man. It seems that you are not to die tonight by my hand. Your life is spared due to the caring nature of my fiancée. You shall be free to go, alone. My Christine shall remain here with me. If you would care to turn, you will see a door within the glass pane, go through it and continue on the path and you will soon be out into the fresh air of the Paris morning. But should you attempt to come here again, you will not be treated so kindly." Erik said, his tone clipped, and it was apparent that his words were true. Christine grasped his hand, squeezing it tightly, as they both watched Raoul attempt to signal to Christine.
"GO! NOW!" Erik yelled, and a look of pure fright crossed Raoul's face as he stumbled to the door, and fumbling for the concealed knob, turned it and departed from the glass room, glancing back longingly in Christine's direction as he left.
Turning to face Christine, a smile playing upon his lips, Erik wrapped Christine within his embrace and whispered in her ear. "I believe, my angel, that that is the last we shall ever see of that dear young fellow."
My beloved readers. I'm really sorry, but I'm going to be away from an internet connection for three weeks, and so I won't be able to post another chapter in that time. But I promise that when I return, updates will continue every Thursday. Thank you