Chapter Twenty-Seven –
To the Prison of My Mind
-Erik-
Seething, I stalked the streets of the beautiful city, Pariscia, that night: seeing, hearing, and feeling nothing in the midst of my fury.
I could not control my anger—any precarious hold that I had once had on my highly volatile temper was now entirely shattered. I was enraged, and my soul felt as if it were burning up within me.
Christine…
They are trying to take my beloved from me…
I had had a tiny hope in my heart, when I had left Shadowrose Castle to go after Christine and convince her to return to me, that she might be able to accept me again—that she would forgive me, and we would understand one another. Yes, she had looked at my face after I had expressly forbidden her to do so…and yes, she had left me…but I had been harsh and violent with her, revealing to her my very most sadistic nature. I was the one to fault, here…I was to blame for all that had happened.
But I wanted her to return with me…I wanted her to come back…I couldn't live without her beauty, without the life and joy that she had brought into my shadowy, lonely existence. I couldn't live without her.
If she wouldn't be mine, I would die.
Her denial would kill me.
I need her. I want her, the sinister voice of le Fantôme hissed.
Stopping in a dark alley, where I was certain that I would not be seen, I put my face in my hands. It was hard to breathe in the mask, but I could not very well risk removing it from my face now; there were too many people.
I knew that Christine hadn't been averse to the ideas that our association with one another presented. I had seen her reaction to my presence, to my touch: I had felt her pleasure when I had put my arms around her, I had seen the rapture that in her eyes whenever I had chanced to compliment her on her singing, or to tell her that she was so very beautiful. These were all very much apparent to me, for not only had I witnessed each—I had felt them grow in my own soul as well.
Ah, my love!
Christine.
She was a dreamer, and imaginative, but she was brave, as well—brave, and adventurous. Before, during our time in the castle together, I had relished the very thought of being her husband. We matched one another easily in intellect and wit, and she could act the role of the proud, pampered princess as well as I could act that of the demanding, arrogant prince. I had known very well that she, in all likeliness, would be a challenge for me—that she would even put me to the test, and force me to prove my mettle as well! Married life to her would have been a decadent and glamorous thing.
But the fairy tale was over: the dream was broken.
And now there was that boy in her life, keeping her from me…
I realized, as I continued to prowl the streets, that there had been something in that boy's face that I had somehow recognized. He had looked very familiar, though I didn't know how. I growled, and slammed my clenched fist against the brick wall that was unfortunate enough to be nearby me.
It cracked, and dust flew, with the force of the blow, and my hand began to ache. I stared at it for a moment, pausing.
How could it be that I had glimpsed something familiar in his face? He was obviously wealthy and privileged, but that alone was not reason enough for me to have recognized him. I had been surrounded by thousands of blue-bloods in my life before the curse, and none of them had ever stood out in my memory so.
I narrowed my eyes.
No, I thought, my fury rising again. No. He wasn't at court at all; he is too young to have been there then…nor was any of his family there, either…he's a noble, without a doubt—but he's not that kind of noble. Those eyes…only one family in this world could possibly have those eyes…
I returned to the inn where my beautiful stolen princess and her rescuers were staying, and climbed up onto the roof that was only a little beneath the three balconies of their rooms—Christine's, the boy's, and Nadir Khan's.
They were all inside Christine's room, talking animatedly and furiously, and at length, Christine gestured for them both to be gone. They did as they were told, and made their exeunt, and I backed away from the window, knowing that I would discover nothing more here.
Within a little while, light glowed from within the boy's room, and I scaled over to that balcony, hoisting myself up over the rails, and stood out of sight, listening.
"It was him, wasn't it?" the boy was asking.
Nadir, whose back was initially facing towards the window, turned and looked at him. There was a great weariness in his eyes, and a dark fear.
I bared my teeth slightly in a snarl.
"It was…Erik, the phantom of the forbidden wood…the prince who was cursed all those years ago. It was him."
Nadir nodded.
"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte, I am afraid that that is true. Erik has left Shadowrose Castle and come after us, seeking the maiden whom he believes is his, by right, and whom we have stolen from him. He will not stop at these simple tricks—appearing and disappearing with a bit of a light show here and there…he is the man who can show you the meaning of true fear, the essence of terror. A ghost cannot wield powers such as he does, and a shade cannot slay you."
"But Erik can."
"And I fear that he will eventually murder someone, if we do not move quickly. Now it is not only Mlle. Daae's life that is in danger—everyone who becomes involved in keeping her from him will become part of his game. He is the wielder of shadows, and a master at the game of cat and mouse. It is only a matter of time before he strikes."
"Then we've got to get Christina away," the young Vicomte said, impulsively—unknowing of the fact that the one being whom he most feared in regard to Christina Daae's safety was lurking outside his window. "We've got to take her somewhere that he won't think to look in—somewhere where his power holds no dominion. If she is far enough away, he can't chase after her."
"We can hope, Monsieur le Vicomte," Nadir replied, with toneless despair. "But I do not think that such a thing is possible. I will make the arrangements for our departure, but you must be prepared to leave by morning. We cannot afford to waste time."
"No," the boy affirmed. "No."
Then Nadir turned and left the room.
I jumped down off of the balcony, and stood on the snowy roof for a moment, plunged deep in thought.
So, they expected that they would be able to take my Angel away from me—whisking her so far away that I could not possibly hope to follow? Morning, Nadir had said: they would leave by morning. I would have to strike first, then.
Sing once again
with me
our strange duet…
my power over you
grows stronger yet…
and though you turn
from me,
to glance behind
your cursed phantom
still is there,
inside your mind…
A magical, lilting melody—thin and delicate—began to play over the gentle falling of the snow and the wind in the frost-laced trees. Christine paused in her walk towards the inn's dining hall, and looked up to the trees in the forest. I smiled, knowing that my plot was succeeding, and beckoned her on with my music.
In all your fantasies,
you now can see
that man and mystery
are one in me…
and in this labyrinth,
where night is blind,
your cursed shadow-lover
still is there,
inside your mind…
Come to me, Christine. Heed my call, and obey me! Come to me!
Still leading her on, guiding her through the trees as she followed the spellbinding call of my music—utterly entranced and unthinking—I looked back once towards the inn. Soon enough, they would know that she was gone, and the rest of my plan would fall into place: they would despair, and have no hope.
This day would see my final triumph.
In moments, she had followed my magic into the place that I had ordained for our meeting: a snow-covered graveyard. The many white statues and rosebushes and trees there provided me with the perfect cover; there were so many shadows and objects to hide behind that no one could see me unless I wished them to.
I crept to the edge of the tall mausoleum-like structure that had been constructed over one grave, and looked down.
Christine stood on the snowy ground some nine feet below: she was dressed in a dark, plain gown and cloak, yet she still managed to be the epitome of loveliness. My heart constricted painfully within my chest as I stared at her.
I could scarcely wait to hold her in my arms again, and not let go until I wished to. She was so beautiful…and she was mine! Mine, and they couldn't take her away.
I changed the tone of the music, and began to sing, softly.
Wandering child,
So lost,
So helpless—
Yearning for my guidance…
Too long
you've wandered
in winter—
far from my
following gaze…
"Wildly my mind beats against you…" she whispered, looking up to where I stood —though she could not see me—and my heart began to pound eagerly as I devoured her with my eyes, ravenously. There was a dreamy, ecstatic light in her eyes, and it was meant for me…she looked up for me…
"You resist!" I murmured back, my voice growing louder with each word, as I cried out and she whispered, "But the soul obeys…"
"Angel."
I did not know which one of us said the word first, or if we simply said it at the same time. I jumped off of the mausoleum's ledge, landing on my feet before her, and rose to my full height: my eyes fixed upon her, intensely. I began to walk towards her, slowly, as dawning realization tainted her expression. She took a step back, moving away from me as I advanced on her.
"Christine…I am your Angel…come to me…come to me, my Angel…"
No.
Her lips formed the words, but no sound issued forth. I continued to move towards her. I was so close—if I could just get near enough to reach her, I could have her in my arms in an instant, and she wouldn't be able to escape.
Please, Christine, I begged her with my eyes. Don't run; please don't make me chase after you…I don't want to frighten you, but if you run, I don't know what I would do…
"Christine…come to me."
She began to obey: her feet moved slowly, taking each step as if she was being dragged to me against her will. Her eyes, when she looked up at me again, were wide, dark, and fearful; her face had gone entirely ashen pale, and she was trembling. I stretched out a hand to her, wanting to brush the lock of hair that had fallen onto her face out of her eyes, and murmured—
"Don't be afraid…come to me, Christine; please come to me…"
"Erik…why are you here…?" she asked me, breathlessly.
I met her eyes directly with my own.
"I'm here for you, Christine." I replied.
Then the moment was shattered—the Vicomte had made his arrival.
Shrieking out his denial and breaking the spell between Christine and me, he cut his way in front of her: facing me daringly with his sword drawn. His green eyes were alight with anger and determination, and I snarled at him.
"Angel or friend, monster or Phantom," he said, taking up a defensive stance. "You'll have to dispose of my cold, dead body before you touch her!"
"Your proposition is acceptable." I replied, and drew my own sword.
Nadir appeared out of the woods and came up behind Christine, taking her by the shoulders and leading her away, out of danger. Coming to life suddenly, she struggled against him, trying to fight herself free—but in the end she gave up and let him move her, seeming too traumatized by the thought of what was unfolding before her to resist any longer. Grimly, I turned to face my opponent.
The boy still held his ground: he was brave.
It was a pity that I had to show him the meaning of loss.
Our swords clashed together violently in the first move of the duel, and after that, things very quickly escalated to a deadly level. He was almost as skilled as I in the martial arts, but where I had more experience and finesse of movement and technique, he had youth and ingenuity. We chased one another all over the graveyard, stabbing and slashing at each other with the blade: fighting with determination for Christine.
I finally saw my opportunity, and lunged forward with my sword, driving its blade towards his unguarded side—
He moved back, in the nick of time, and avoided my attack: my sword went into the iron fencing that surrounded the grave that stood between him and me, and a shower of white-blue sparks came off of it. Growling, I wrenched it out and stalked around the grave, glaring at him with fury in my eyes.
Within seconds, we had battled our way up onto the mausoleum. I finally gained the advantage again, and forced him towards its edge.
If he was to lose his concentration, I could easily defeat him, and the duel would be over. With black determination, I pressed on. We gradually moved closer and closer to the nine-foot drop.
Then, suddenly, he pulled a trick that I had not anticipated.
He charged forward, defending his neck and chest with the flat of his sword, and barreled into me. The wind rushed out of my lungs as he hit me, full-on, in the chest—and forced me backwards! I had only the presence of mind to do two things, then: I held onto my sword, and grabbed a handful of his shirt.
And when I fell, I dragged him down with me.
We hit the ground, and snow went flying everywhere, nearly blinding me.
I struggled to my feet, and whirled in the direction of my opponent. I had had enough of this. I could very easily win now, against him, and I was tired of playing fair. I shot out my hand and sent a wave of power towards him. It seemed to have bounced off of him for an instant, strangely—then I blasted at him again, and he finally fell to the ground. I stood still then, waiting for him to get up.
"Well?" he rasped, when he had fought himself to his knees. "Let's end this, Phantom. I know you are determined to."
"It's already over," I snarled, and sheathed my sword. "Now get up, and leave. Go back to wherever you came from, and stay there—and never again meddle in the affairs of the Phantom. What happens to Christine Daae from henceforth is none of your concern, boy, and if we ever meet again, you and I…I will end your life."
He got up and lunged towards me; most willing to oblige him in his heedless death wish, I stalked forward to meet him. But then Christine ran in between us and grabbed his arms in both her hands, restraining him.
"End it now!" he shouted furiously at me, fighting against her.
I growled, and would have instantly done as he demanded, but Christine's presence before him prevented me from moving even an inch. Turning to the Vicomte, she said—
"No! Raoul, please! Please, for my sake, don't!"
He stared at her, perhaps as startled by her vehemence as I was, and then she whirled to face me. I stood still and watched her approach me. She had wrung her hands together, and looked very pale, and very frightened—
But very determined.
"Erik…" she said to me, in a quiet and even voice. "Erik, listen to me…please listen. I will come back with you. I will return with you to Shadowrose Castle, now, and I swear that I will never again leave its gates! My word may not possess much worth to you, at this moment, but it is all that I have to give to you. I will go back with you; I will…I will be yours. All yours. But please…please, don't do this. If you love me, please."
If you love me, please…
She knew that I loved her. She knew. She knew, and she was willing to acknowledge it.
If you love me, please.
Burying my thoughts, I nodded, entirely ignoring the Vicomte and Nadir's protestations.
"Very well then, Christine." I said. I held out my hand, and waited. "I believe you. Come back with me, and I will not harm the boy."
She nodded, and stepped forward.
She put her hand in mine.
A/N: Hello, my freaky darlings! I'm back! Finals are over, thank goodness, and I'm ALIVE! Now, let's see if we can finish up this tragic, winding tale, shall we? Thanks to the Charles Dance Phantom, Men in Black, and the Joel Schumacher version swordfight scene for this chapter--which,it must be said,was written waaaaaay back when I'd first seen the trailers for the 2004 movie.
Now, you know the drill: ply your shamelessly begging authoress with reviews, and you will get many new chapters in short notice, now that she is no longer bound and gagged by school!
