Thank you again, my readers! Keep the reviews coming, I treasure each one I receive!
"DeChagny!" I cursed under my breath.
"Was Christine here?" I growled, turning to the innkeeper and his wife.
"We never saw her, Monsieur," the woman said. "The Comte burst in, flung the note at me, and told me to give it to the man in the mask. When I looked out to the beach, the mademoiselle was no longer there. A carriage was headed north though."
"Where is the DeChagny summer house?" I ordered, thrusting the note in my jacket pocket.
"Their chateau is down the main road, about two miles north of here. No one has been there since Comte Phillipe has passed, however," responded the innkeeper.
"I need a horse," I responded and handed a generous amount of money to the couple. "Now!"
They showed me to the stable, and I quickly mounted a bay gelding, not bothering to saddle the animal. I rode furiously on to my destination, not knowing what I would find in my wake. Had Christine betrayed me and left with the count? "No!" I yelled. She couldn't have. The love I saw in those velvety brown eyes of hers I knew was genuine. We had not come so far to be torn apart so easily. She had to have been taken against her will.
Dark was falling, and I was glad for my exceptional night vision. I had been told that I had eyes like a cat's, and the skill was well used in my search to find Christine. I prayed I was not too late. I knew not what the Comte was capable of.
I tried to stay optimistic, but a gnawing agony in my heart fought otherwise. My beautiful Christine, what has he done with you? I would kill the vile man if he hurt her! Yes, all the anger and hatred I've lived with for an eternity now bubbled up inside me, like an old wound bleeding afresh. For Christine's sake, her happiness and safety, I would kill without a second thought. All the fury I fought so hard to hide inside myself for Christine's sake was now unleashed for the love of the same woman.
I remembered the first time I ever laid eyes on her. She was auditioning for the opera, so terribly awkward and shy. Her voice is what pulled me from the depths of the cellars, I felt my heart freeze inside my chest when the notes hit the air. I carefully peeked out from behind the curtain to see a vision of loveliness, but of such immense sadness I could hardly bear. How could a creature as divine as she sing as if she had no reason whatsoever to live?
I couldn't live myself after seeing her. She did not get the part in the auditions, so I would not have the pleasure of hearing her voice, but I was secretly pleased that she was still working at the theatre. All I could think of during my waking moments was her; her voice, her raven hair, her porcelain skin, her sad brown eyes. I wanted to desperately to hold onto her and take all the sadness and pain away.
I had nothing to offer her, until I thought of my music. Yes, I could help her find her voice, to make her a star as bright as those that shine in the heavens. Music would bring her to me, and each day I prayed that music would be enough to let me keep her.
Without her there would be no more music, I thought to myself. Christine is the blood that flows through my veins. I would go to the ends of the earth to find her, walking through Hell itself to save my angel. I would not let our story end this way.
The DeChagny house loomed before me in its gaudy glory. I saw fresh carriage tracks and horse prints in the mud, and I knew that Christine must be in the chateau before me. I tied my horse to a tree and carefully walked the perimeter of the building, thinking through the best way to enter.
Noticing light shining in a second story window, I climbed up a nearby tree and got as close as I could to listen to what was happening. I recognized the voice of my love instantly and had to steel myself from bursting in the glass to get to her.
"Please let me go!" I heard her plea. "I don't love you, Raoul. I've pledged my heart to someone else."
"Shut up, you bitch!" the Comte hissed at her. "I don't care what you want. Don't you see, this is all your fault? I have you a perfectly respectable proposal, I'm a nobleman for God's sake, and you think you can just turn me down?"
"I don't deserve you, really I don't. I'm nothing but an opera singer," I heard Christine respond, changing her tactic.
"That doesn't matter," his voice softened. "Christine, I've loved you since I was a child. I know you must feel something for me. Surely it won't be that terrible to be with me. I'll give you a good life, we'll go to England and leave this mess behind us."
"Don't touch me!" Christine begged, and my heart lurched. I strained to see what was happening in the window. A branch broke, and I lost my footing, sliding back to the ground and twisting my ankle. I heard Christine scream, a primal fear in her voice, and I got up as quickly as I could, running into the closest door of the house. I continued to hear Christine screaming and crying, and I drew out the Punjab lasso (my weapon of choice) as I followed the sounds of my beloved.