All righty. So the two chapters after this one should take us through the main climax. Hold onto your hats! :) Thank you all for your support!
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It was less about what Chagny had actually done—and more about the boy's defiance and secrecy.
Hunched over on the floor, his love dying at his feet, he had been silently thinking through their next options. What was left besides searching the supernatural for answers? John was the only individual who might not flee screaming. Anyone else would be a waste of her precious and diminishing time.
Still, he had no patience for those who crossed him. As soon as they'd arrived at the apartment, he'd reconnected her e-mail account to his phone. In his anguish, it had simply taken him a moment to feel the vibrations as new messages arrived. And then Chagny had attempted to hide the evidence. Stupid boy.
He gripped Chagny's collar; the tips of the boy's tennis shoes were barely touching the floor. "Well? What did you do? You have not answered Erik."
"I-I—" The boy stuttered, genuinely afraid. Good. "I-I pretended to be her. John doesn't know anything about this. I swear! Please. I just wanted to save her. Please. That's it. I just don't want her to d-d-die."
After literally leaving the boy hanging for several more seconds, he dropped Chagny before he became a sobbing mess. "Give me the phone." Chagny obeyed and stayed back. "You contact anyone else without asking me, and I will remove a finger. Do you understand?"
"I asked him if he can do exorcisms. She needs one. That's what has to happen, if she's not going to let that demon back out. We have to force it out. Right?"
"Did you ever consider that we could be tracked with the computer?"
Chagny's eyes widened. "Can we be?"
"No. Because, fortunately, that computer is idiot-proof."
"Oh. Good." Chagny ignored the insult. "But what are else are we going to do?" he asked, thrusting out his hands. "We have to take a chance on someone! Who else is there?"
"He might prioritize destroying the creature over saving her life."
"She's going to die anyway! But if you really think he'll hurt her, I'll tell him we can't meet. Or you can. I don't want that. I just…I don't know what to do anymore. So whatever." Chagny shrugged and stared at the floor. "Whatever."
His anger dissolved into the despair of earlier. He stared at the e-mails. He despised asking for help. Invincibility had spared him that task more often than not. Yet now he was weak and useless. Every minute that ticked by was another minute closer to burying her. "We will set up this ridiculous meeting."
Chagny looked up. "Really?"
"Unless her condition drastically changes, that is our next step. I will go. You will have to stay with her."
"Maybe I should go to the meeting."
"That is a ridiculous idea," he scoffed. "It will not be the sort of suit-and-tie meeting you are used to, Chagny. This man is knowledgeable, but he is also dangerous. If he can perform this miraculous exorcism, then I will give him whatever he desires. Including my head on a platter. And, if he is threat to her, he can be eliminated very quickly." Chagny shuddered. "As I said, you contact one more person without my permission, I will kill you."
He left the boy standing there in the darkened hallway. He knelt down beside Christine again. Her mouth was drawn into a straight and determined line. He touched her cheek and tried a gentler approach. "Child, quit fighting," he whispered. "This is not your battle. It never was. Let go, my love. Will you please let go?" But she wouldn't listen to him, wouldn't awaken. "Let go, damn it."
He refrained from screaming at her again. He opened the laptop and went forward with this inane idea.
His first reply to John sounded far too cold and formal.
I was unable to call. Let's arrange a meeting. After thoughtful consideration….When you arrive, go to….
He edited it several times to make it sound more like Christine, using her previous e-mails for inspiration.
Sorry, but I couldn't get my phone to work. Let's go ahead and arrange a meeting by e-mail. After thinking about this, I've decided that I do want to help you with your mission. In fact, I think I've even located the host! I'm so scared, though. I hope that you can help me. We could meet at your hotel. I know of a really nice one….Blah.
Thanks for your help!
Christine
He glanced at her sleeping form. "See what you have reduced me to?" he asked her. "Do you know how ridiculous it felt to write that?" It was of comfort to speak to her, even if she couldn't hear him. Hysterical insanity bubbled so closely to the surface. "I do not even know what you have turned me into," he told her. "I am no longer completely a monster. And not much of a man. I need you."
But she would not wake up.
John seemed to buy the entire thing, telling "Christine" how proud he was of her for making this decision. He was very eager to meet with her. After a few more e-mail exchanges, the plan was all in place. A three-star hotel. Another man, probably the same one that Christine had met, would accompany him. So there be would two to deal with. Two blindfolds. Two sets of handcuffs and ropes.
They thought they would be meeting with her in approximately twenty-six hours from now. In reality, it would only be about fourteen hours, assuming no delays.
He gathered his energy. "What a waste of time," he muttered, grabbing three crackers and a can of pineapples.
"What?" the boy asked, his eyes tired.
"Eating once a day is a complete a waste of time. As is sleeping. No wonder mankind is so slow to progress. Hours of uselessness."
Chagny shook his head and leaned back against the wall. He ate in the other room. The last thing he needed was the boy gawking at his face.
Throughout the day, they were locked in a silent vigil beside her. Her breathing was steady. Her eyelids still fluttered, and a limb would occasionally twitch. At one point, he closed his eyes, needing a moment of rest. He heard Chagny approach and whisper, "Come on, Christine. Don't do this, baby. Come back. Please. I'll do anything. Please, babe? Please?"
But she would not listen to either of them.
Christine's phone rang that afternoon. He looked at the screen, flinched, refrained from hurling the phone at the wall, and rejected the call. Yet he could not stop himself from listening to the voice message later that day. Call it a masochistic moment.
"Hello. Christine? This is Maddy. I feel so silly saying this, but I just wanted to check up on you. I had some bad dreams the last few nights and…and this weird feeling. I wanted to make sure you were okay. So just let me know. Remind me that I'm probably getting senile. Heh. Anyway, take care. Bye."
She called once more that day. Again, he rejected the call. She didn't leave a message that time.
Ah, so you actually liked Christine? You actually cared about her? Well, Madeleine, I have destroyed her, too. Did you think Erik was finished wrecking your life? No such luck, my dear blood relation.
Evening approached. While Chagny had stepped away to use the bathroom, he lifted the bottom portion of his mask and kissed Christine's clammy forehead. He was terrified to leave her for so long. He was frightened that she would die and not take him with her.
"You going to the, uh, meeting?" asked Chagny as he took a seat on the floor.
"Yes." He stood and began to gather the necessary supplies. "If she awakens, do everything in your power to keep her conscious. Promise her the entire world."
"And if the demon wakes up?"
"Tell it we will negotiate, and call me immediately. But do not untie either of them. I am leaving you a phone. For her sake. But I will know if you call anyone else, understand?"
"Can I call my mother?" Chagny asked. "I forgot to call her on Sunday. She might be-"
"No. No mothers."
"Fine." He headed toward the door. Before he could leave, the boy asked, "You're, uh, not really going to kill this guy, right? Heh. Right?"
He shrugged and didn't answer.
He didn't quite know yet.
It took her back to the cabin, back to one of the most terrifying days of her entire life. The day that had changed her forever. The day she'd learned that monsters truly lived in the closet and under the bed.
Christine opened her eyes and found herself paralyzed on the cold floor. She panicked at first, futilely trying to move her limbs. Okay. No matter what happens here, it's not real. I've already won here.
The thing, using Erik's body, began the ritual with Meg. Candles and smoke and shadows. This time, though, Christine couldn't get up. She couldn't save her friend. The black, quivering blob rose up into the air and divided into two perfect halves. One half dove into Meg. "No!" Christine screamed. When her limbs wouldn't move, she concentrated, trying to use her mental energy to escape this false world.
Raoul burst into the cabin, and the thing instantly grabbed him by the neck. Christine shrieked as Raoul was slowly strangled to death. His head fell grotesquely to the side, his eyes still open in a frozen stare of horror.
"No! Stop! Stop! Let me out! This isn't real!"
Wearing only a white blanket that pooled at her bare feet, Meg slowly knelt beside her. She smiled eerily and touched Christine's tear-stained cheek with freezing fingers. "I'm going to have a baby soon," Meg said, touching her stomach. "Maybe you can babysit sometimes. Look what you've done to me. All because you're so selfish."
"I didn't mean to! I never meant to get either of you involved! But you were okay! Everything turned out okay!"
Meg giggled. "You can't win, Christine. Everything and everyone you touch gets destroyed. Your friends. Your lovers. So please just abandon this silly plan. Give up! And maybe you'll have something left."
"You should really give up," Raoul agreed, from where he lay dead on the floor. "Even if you don't care about yourself, you're ruining everyone else's life, too." The corpse smiled at her, his handsome face yellowed and twisted into someone unrecognizable.
And, for a moment, Christine did feel genuine regret. Not because she believed this was real. But because people were suffering. She could faintly hear Raoul's and Erik's voices, begging her to come back. She could hear their despair.
"But I can do this," Christine whispered, pulling herself to a sitting position. "I can come back when this is done."
"No, you can't," said Meg. "You'll die and leave them all alone. I'm sure Erik will be grateful that he can jump off a building and splatter into a million tiny pieces. What a waste. Saving him only to kill him? You should have let him fulfill his true destiny, you silly bitch."
"No." Christine pushed herself up, rising to her feet. "I won't die here. You're going to die here. In my head. But I'm not!" Christine reached out and tried to grab the fake Meg. Meg and Raoul both disintegrated into ash and blew away in a cold gust of wind. The room darkened and then faded, closing the curtain on one of her worst nightmares. What if the night at the cabin hadn't had a happy ending?
Christine took a deep breath and prepared for the next fight. The black, grinning blob appeared in front of her. "Do you really know what you are playing with?" it asked. "You haven't even begun."
Glaring, she dove at the creature, but it disappeared once more. She fell through a rabbit hole and then drifted in limbo for God knew how long. She felt stronger, more certain of this path.
Then she was lying on a black sofa.
One look at them—and he knew this was going to be incredibly easy.
John and Lorenzo may have seemed intimidating to Christine, with their knowledge and sternness and crisp suits and ties. But they were not all that cautious as they walked about their hotel. They likely had few enemies. It wasn't as though they lived in a fairy tale world where monsters constantly popped out from behind walls. They had a far better chance of being mugged.
As they unloaded their luggage that evening, he caught part of their conversation.
"And that's why I won't eat bananas anymore," said Lorenzo. "I mean, would you?"
"I guess not," replied John, chuckling. "Still, you're missing out on a lot of potassium."
"I take vitamins."
"It's not the same. There's nothing like real food."
"Bah!" said Lorenzo. "Hey. You go ahead inside. I'm going to give Nick a call and tell him that we're here. Reception is better."
"Sounds good. We'll see if there's anything to eat in this town. I'm tired of burgers."
John disappeared through a glass door at the side of the hotel. Lorenzo carried out a short conversation. "We're here. No, no problems. Great weather. Should be headed back by tomorrow evening. Don't know if this will amount to much. I'll fill you in later. Yes. Everything is fine. Have a good night."
Five, four, three, two….
He came up from behind and soon had Lorenzo's neck wrapped within the crook of his arm. Lorenzo gasped but could make no other sound, his eyes widening as his oxygen was cut off. He had the younger man restrained and in the back of his car within one minute. It took about five minutes for the injected sedative to take full effect.
Although he was no longer invincible, that did not mean all of the 'talents' he had developed in the last forty years had vanished. He simply had to be more cautious.
After twenty minutes or so, John walked outside. He squinted in the darkness. "Lorenzo? Where'd you go? Lorenzo? Answer me if you're out here." John became a little more interesting. After looking back and forth, he ran to the white car. Throwing open the back door, he reached beneath the seat and pulled out a black handgun. He held it at his side, pointing downward. "Lorenzo? This better not be a joke! I'm not exactly comfortable with this whole trip as it is."
"It is not a joke," he softly replied, hiding behind a large SUV. He threw his voice so that it was nearly impossible to determine the origin.
"Who's there?" John whispered. He raised his gun. "Is this some sort of setup? Who are you?"
"You would not know me."
"What do you want? Where's my partner?"
"Alive," he replied. "For now."
John continued to turn around and around. "Are you him?"
"Who?"
"You know exactly who I'm talking about! The host! Are you him? Why else would you be doing this? Are you him?"
"Perhaps." Let John think him invincible. Probably for the best.
"Shit." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a palm-sized wooden cross. He thrust it outward with his other hand.
"That is not really appropriate language for a man of God, is it?"
John shook his head, likely preparing to die. After all, he thought he was up against an invincible demon creature from hell. "Did you kill her already? Is Christine dead?"
"Almost." He felt a sting in his chest as he told the truth.
"Now you're going to kill me?"
"It really all depends."
"Look," John shakily began. "I can still offer you salvation. It's not too late for that! If you hand yourself over to me, to God, we can defeat this evil." John played his only card. "I can get you into the kingdom of heaven."
He mirthlessly chuckled. "I thought that the host and the evil were one and the same? I thought I was far beyond help, beyond saving. Eternally damned and all that."
John hesitated. "If she is still alive and Lorenzo is still alive, then I can work with whatever remains of you. I will do my best. Please."
Really? This is who Chagny thought was going to save her? "Can you do an exorcism, John?"
"No," he softly replied. At least he was honest. "I cannot do that for you. It's not possible."
"But for a possession? Can you? Answer me."
"Why does that even matter?"
"Answer me. Your life and the life of your friend lie in the balance. As does Christine's."
"Yes, I have done them. Every case is very different. I have performed them successfully. But you're not possessed. You're—"
He'd heard enough. "Put your gun down." John gripped tightly to his weapon. "If you value your companion's life, put it down now."
"Why would you care? You can't be hurt by it!"
"So why do you care, if you believe that?" he countered.
"Enough mind games!" the older man roared. "Are you toying me? What do you want?!"
"Put the gun down, Johnathan. And you will find out."
John lowered the gun but kept the cross high in the air. That was enough for him. He dove forward and grabbed him around the neck, bending his wrist back and forcing him to drop the weapon. An extra gun was always useful.
Soon he had both men tied up and drugged in his back seat. He blindfolded them and divested them of all communication devices. He kept an eye on them in the rearview mirror, but they didn't awaken throughout the short and sad drive back to complex. Please let her still be alive.
It was a bit tedious to carry them up the stairs. Chagny's mouth fell open when he dragged them through the front door.
He shrugged. "I told you it wasn't going to be your sort of meeting."
Raoul felt his stomach twist into a knot. He'd just become an accomplice to an actual crime. Two counts of kidnapping. No doubt about that. He vaguely wondered if this could have transpired any other way.
At the end of day, saving her life was worth a prison sentence or two.
"I hope they'll still help us after this," he said, dully staring at the unconscious men.
"As though they will have a choice," Erik replied. He immediately went into the other room to check on Christine. She'd slept the whole time; there'd been no change in her condition.
John awoke first, around 10 PM that night. His hands were still tied behind his back, but the blindfold was gone. He groaned and looked around. Raoul was kind of afraid he'd have a heart attack.
"Ah, perhaps you should go make nice with him," said Erik. "I think he would appreciate your face more than mine."
"Gee. Thanks," Raoul muttered. He crouched down next to the older man and nervously scratched the back of his head. "Look. I'm really, really sorry about this. I didn't want it this way, but-"
"Who are you?" John asked in a hoarse voice. He coughed several times.
Raoul got a bottle of water and held it up to John's lips. "Um. You called me once about Christine. I'm her…friend."
John drew back. "Has the host kidnapped you, too? Why else would you take part in this depravity?" Erik walked into the room with his arms crossed. John flinched. "You. You're him. I know it." He turned back to Raoul. "Do you know who that is? That is the greatest evil—"
"Yeah," Raoul tiredly interrupted. "I get it. Let's start from the beginning here." He tried to explain the situation to John without getting into too much detail. Lorenzo awoke fairly early in the story, and Raoul was spared telling it twice. "So. Whatever was in Erik, it's in her now. That's basically the bottom line. Can you help her?"
"I cannot believe this!" John exclaimed. The expression on his pale face was of no comfort to Raoul. "You're sure it's in her? You're positive? You're sure she's not just sick?"
Erik grunted. "I would recognize the creature that attached itself to me for forty years. It is no longer with me. Either it is in her, or the rumored mood swings of females are much worse than I ever imagined."
"I'm pretty sure that Christine wouldn't have tried to stab me in the neck," Raoul added, reflexively running a hand over his throat. "It's in her. I've never seen anything like it."
"The question is," Erik continued, leaning in toward John. "Is whether you sent that godforsaken letter to her, knowing that this could actually happen? Should I blame you for this?"
"N-no," John stuttered. "I had no idea! I didn't think it was possible. I thought it was the ranting of a crazy woman!"
"We didn't think the creature could change bodies." Lorenzo's voice was quieter, more thoughtful. "But we didn't know too much about it at all, to be honest. And we didn't know that Christine was directly interacting with, well, you. Otherwise, we have handled the situation differently."
"We sure would have!" John exclaimed. Erik seemed to believe them, leaning away and standing. "I can't believe she did this," John continued. "I had my suspicions that she knew more than she was letting on. But why would she go this far?" No one answered him. "Why would she do this?"
"They were friends," Raoul murmured. "Very good friends, apparently." He couldn't help but scowl at Erik as he said this.
"All that time!" John ranted. "The entire time she was speaking to us that day! She's been involved with…with…."
Lorenzo gave a soft, sad chuckle. "Isabella had feelings toward her host. I wonder if it's-"
"If it's what?!" Erik snapped. "Is there something else you three would like to say about all this? Go on!" He glared, daring them to go forward. "Well? Any more commentary?"
"Okay," said Raoul. "It's done, right? She's done this. So we want you to do an exorcism, if you can. It's a possession, so maybe an exorcism would work, right?"
"I don't know," said John in a gruff and irritated tone. "What we're dealing with is far beyond any of other encounters."
"But you'll try?" Raoul pressed.
"Are you going to kill us if we can't help her?" Lorenzo inquired.
"Why spoil the surprise?" asked Erik.
"No!" Raoul exclaimed, giving him a look. He turned back to the two men. "We'll let you go. All we ask is that you don't hurt her. If you can't help her, at least don't hurt her."
"That's fair enough," said Lorenzo with a glance at John. John's lips were tightly pressed together. Raoul trusted the older man much less now.
"Here," Raoul said, turning to Erik. "Let's show Lorenzo. Will you please untie him?"
Erik hesitated. Finally, he stepped forward and released Lorenzo's hands. Casting a wary glance at Erik, Lorenzo shakily stood, probably still feeling the effects of the drugs. He slowly followed Raoul into the other room, shaking his feet to get the blood flowing back to them. Erik accompanied them and stood over her, guarding her like a stone gargoyle, eyeing them both with deep suspicion. They kept the door open so that John was still visible.
"Oh, my," Lorenzo murmured, sorrow clouding his features. "She's really not well, is she? An enormous change from when I last saw her. Poor thing." He knelt at her side. "Can you hear me, Christine? Christine? Can you wake up?" She didn't respond. He didn't try to call out the creature. Lorenzo stood up straight, rubbing his chin as he continued to study her.
"Can you help?" Raoul asked. "Can you do anything?"
Lorenzo looked at Erik. "What exactly are your intentions, Sir? You are the former host…."
Erik tilted his head. "My intentions, Sir?"
"We were just brought here against our will. Illegally. Violently. This is not a good situation for John and me."
"Yes, well your intentions were quite clear during your conversation with Christine. Would you still like to imprison and dissect me, or have you changed your mind?"
"We knew very little," Lorenzo replied. "We worked with what we knew. Now we're here. And you have the upper hand. What are you going to do to us?"
It looked like Erik was going to say something regrettable, but the yellow eyes drifted down toward Christine. His gaze softened, and he quietly said, "You are only here because I want her to live. That is all I want in this entire world. I do not like you. I do not hate you. You are a means to this end. Harm her, and I will kill you. Save her, and you may have whatever you like. If you can do nothing for her then - I suppose I will do nothing. Except take her somewhere quiet for the final hours."
Raoul added, "We didn't want you to hurt her. To come here with weapons or a bunch of other people. Whoever you work for. And John—we still don't completely trust him."
Lorenzo sighed. "She clearly needs help. Let me speak to John for a few minutes. I need to convince him. This won't be easy. It might get very, very ugly in here. She might not survive it." Erik glared at him. "Not because of us. She might be too weak now. I don't know."
"Just do your best, please," Raoul pled. They returned to the other room. Lorenzo crouched down beside John, and they spoke to each other in low voices. John sounded frustrated. Lorenzo stayed calm. Raoul stood on one side of the room, his heart pounding. Erik stood on the other with his arms crossed, eyeing them.
Finally, Lorenzo stood with tired eyes and an uncertain expression.
"I still don't like it," said John. "But if you want her alive, that's the only way I'll consider this."
"What's up?" asked Raoul.
"If we pull this creature out of her," Lorenzo began, "and we're not saying we can, there are a couple of things that could happen."
"Such as?" Erik asked.
"Well, a complete miracle. She lives. The creature dies. Everything is fine."
"I like that scenario a lot," said Raoul. "But you're not done, are you?"
"There's also the good chance that the creature will want to go into someone else. And then we'd have to deal with that possessed person. We can't just do exorcism after exorcism in an endless loop. It's very dangerous even doing this once. John will only agree to this if someone is willing to…."
"To die," Erik finished with a dismissive wave of his hand. "If the creature chooses another person, that person dies. The end."
"Not necessarily die," Lorenzo murmured. "But we would permanently contain them. And possibly...possibly they wouldn't make it out of this alive."
Raoul stared at the floor as a heavy weight hit his chest. He opened his mouth.
But Erik spoke first. "Of course it will be me. It was always supposed to be, wasn't it? A year ago, I would have literally killed for this sort of death. Quick and painless. There is nothing wrong here."
John huffed. "I still don't like it. It's dangerous. How do we know it'll go into him? How do we know it won't fly out the window and go into a child? This was her choice! No one forced her to do this."
"You will save her," said Erik, taking slow steps toward him. His long fingers curled. "You will do everything in your power to save her, do you understand?"
"I said that I would try!" John retorted. "I can't make any promises."
"We will try," said Lorenzo. "But we'll need some things from our suitcases."
"Chagny can fetch them for you," said Erik.
"I should really call my—" John began before Erik cut him off.
"You will contact no one. You will get no one's permission. You will not leave this place until she is either saved or gone or dead. Those are the rules you will follow."
John started to yell back, but Lorenzo rested a hand on his shoulder. As though to say: Let's just get through this.
While Erik watched over them all, Raoul drove back to their hotel and retrieved one of their bags from the room. They'd brought another gun, but most of their belongings were harmless. Clothes. Toothbrushes. Papers. Holy books. Little containers of water. Novels. Crosses. Raoul felt like they'd done the right thing. If these men couldn't help, then this situation was hopeless.
When he returned to the apartment, John was untied. He and Lorenzo were sitting on the floor with bottles of water. Erik stood over them. It was quiet. Eerie. Like a wake. "Here ya go," said Raoul, cutting into the silence and dropping the bag. Erik sifted through the contents and then handed it over to them.
Raoul excused himself and stepped into the bathroom. He rubbed his eyes. One time, his father had told him that men should only cry at funerals and the births of children. Raoul vaguely wondered if his dad would have included possessions, too, had he known they were real. Then again, they were getting pretty close to a funeral. He washed his face with his hands.
When he returned, John was slowly flipping through the yellowed pages of a book. Lorenzo's eyes were closed, and he was taking very deep breaths. Erik stood there stoically. It was difficult to tell what the masked man was thinking. If Raoul had to guess, it would be: This is not going to work.
Erik approached him. They didn't look at each other.
Erik spoke, "If the creature enters me, as I hope it will, I will attempt to complete the final task. There should be a window where I can act. A cocktail that I can inject. If not, you will be the one to do it. Understand? You will defend her if I cannot. You will do everything in your power to make sure she survives. I know that." A pause. "Tell her I love her. That it had to be this way, for her to live. I am happy it is this way." Erik left his side and knelt down beside Christine again.
A chilly thought crept into Raoul's mind. She'd rather have Erik survive this.
An hour or so later, the four men gathered around her - and the creature.
A black couch in a familiar living room. At first Christine thought she was awake.
But the apartment had furniture. And a television. The smell of cooking food. This was months ago.
This was the moment she'd realized that had Erik had kidnapped her.
What exactly was it planning on doing to this memory?
A false Erik entered the room. The indifference in his eyes gave him away. This was not the desperate, confused, scared man who had locked her in that apartment and begged for her love.
"You're not Erik," she said, standing.
"No?"
"No."
It still spoke to her in his voice. "The funny thing is, I do not know why you did all this for him in the first place. I might have been a negative influence, but he made his own decisions." The thing showed her flashes of Erik killing people - strangling them, stabbing them. Often with indifference, almost boredom. The visions stung, even though she'd seen glimpses before. The thing continued, "Whom are you suffering for? This man, if he can even be called that? I used to love him like a son, you know? Does not that tell you something?"
"You didn't love him. You used him," she murmured.
"He was one of my favorite children, in a sense. He was much smarter, although less obedient, than Alexander. He understood what made people tick. He could control himself. Until you."
"He was ready to suffer for the rest of his life. Forty years of torture. For me. For the world." She smiled to herself, already feeling victorious. "And there's nothing you can say or show me that'll change that. It was stupid to bring me here. I'm not afraid of him. I'll never regret this decision."
Livid, the false Erik jumped forward and pinned her to the wall. His hands wrapped around her neck. He pressed his body against hers, inches from her face. The creature knew that it was losing. "Let go of me!" it screamed at her. Its breath smelled like death. "Let go of me!"
She struggled and fought, saying over and over, "You're not him. You're not him. You're not him."
For some reason, he released her. Christine pressed herself up against the plaster, breathing heavily. "What—"
The false Erik started to laugh. The imaginary world flickered like a broken light. He laughed and laughed.
"I'm not afraid of him!" she exclaimed, stepping forward. "There's nothing here that I'm afraid of! I'm happy I saved him! I don't regret it!" She tried to grab the thing, tried to tackle it. Erik's form disappeared as the laughter continued, echoing all around her.
She spread out her arms. "What are you doing?" She turned around and around in the middle of the imaginary living room. "What now?"
Something had gone wrong. The fabric of her mind was starting to unravel. Her thoughts were less clear.
The thing was very, very happy. She was suddenly terrified.
The horror was not in her mind; the horror was in the real world.
Voices above. Not just Erik's and Raoul's. Other men, vaguely familiar.
They were trying to-
No!
No! No! No!