A/N: Thank you for your awesome reviews! Much thanks to my horridly overworked and highly talented beta, Nightsmusic (who I don't publicly thank enough. You are a true gem, my friend.) And now…
Chapter XXXVII
.
I will marry you….
The incredible words coming so soft from her lips whispered through his mind and thoroughly rattled what senses remained. With his fraught emotions already in upheaval, the Phantom spun around and stared at her, narrowing his eyes in disbelief.
"What did you say?"
"I will marry you." She lifted her chin and looked firmly into his eyes. "I swear it, upon the condition that you save Raoul. But, if you do not help him in time, I swear I will never become your bride."
"And if it is not that foolish boy but some other misfortunate soul who found their way into my trap?"
She furrowed her brow. "Then you must save whoever is there and give me your word that you'll never harm Raoul. And I will keep my promise."
"He means so much to you?" he barely managed not to growl the words.
"I owe him my life, many times over. I will gladly sacrifice my freedom to save his."
Her words were bitter gall to him, but the Phantom had little time to argue or waver in indecision. His master plan had included the death of the irksome boy. To gain what he most wanted he could forfeit that objective. On one condition.
"You must swear to me never to seek him out again," he commanded. "Never even to see him again when you are above. If you do, if you go back on your word, I will kill him."
She frowned and nodded, but he was not yet satisfied.
"To marry me, it must be for life, Mademoiselle. And I demand the price this night."
She inhaled a swift breath, looking as if she might faint or flee. "I understand."
"But do you agree? I want your word!"
"I give it freely. I swear. I'll do anything to save his life and protect him from harm."
Her final words struck like daggers to his already tender heart but he nodded curtly. "Go to your chamber. Wait for me there."
The order given, the Phantom turned and swiftly took the corridor to a hidden passageway, a more perilous one that brought him to the water trap in less than half the time. Already, he might be too late; surely the five minutes for the grate to descend had come and gone. But upon nearing the pit, he heard the desperate gasps for breath. Moving closer, from his vantage point he saw the grate less than a foot away from pressing the interloper forever into a watery grave. One glance from his lofty perch confirmed that it was indeed the Vicomte.
Fierce hatred compelled him to walk away, to lie to her about freeing him, but what if she asked for proof? He knew her well enough that she might.
In disgust he warred over abolishing this newly made decision of his agreement with Christine against whatever slim conscience he had left. The boy may not be the fiend who harmed her, but the vindictive bastard had taken her innocence and stolen her heart - had seized all of what should have belonged to him!
Sheer contempt for all he'd lost made the Phantom wait and watch until the last possible moment to turn the iron wheel and stop the grate's descent. Another lever pulled back a block of rock to release the water from the pit, draining it into a large chamber and providing a means of escape. A long jump to ground, but the boy looked fit to tackle the leap, and if he broke a bone or two, that was not the Phantom's concern. He had promised to spare the fool's life and free him, not vow that he would come out of this ordeal unscathed.
A wicked smile curled his lips at the thought of the Vicomte hobbling away from the opera house on crutches.
And if he should attempt his foolish rescue mission once more, the ignoramus would soon learn that he no longer dealt with a lowly gypsy servant but a formidable foe. The Phantom would never again lose to his enemy...
Christine would soon be his.
The boy held fast to the grate until the water level lowered to his shoulders then moved hand over hand to the hole in the wall, the exit leading back to the theatre. The Phantom left, not caring to watch further. He had done as she begged him and now would put into motion the moment that had long been waiting in abeyance.
Upon the arrival to his chamber, he pulled a dress from the trunk where he had kept it sealed and protected and heard a gasp behind him. Turning, he saw Jolene.
"Take this and help prepare Miss Daaé."
"A costume for the opera, monsieur?" She barely uttered the words as he laid the dress in her arms but paid little attention to her as he then pulled out the veil.
"It is her wedding gown. I am marrying her tonight."
x
Christine sat on her bed, motionless, and stared through the doorway, waiting for her fate to commence.
Reason told her she should be terrified and upset by what she had agreed to. But in her heart she felt nothing but calm to at last repay the huge debt she owed Raoul. If the Phantom reached him in time. She shivered at the opposing thought. She had to believe he would get there before tragedy could occur and clung to that hope. Many times Raoul had saved her, and now at last she was able to return the favor. He may never know of her part in buying his freedom with her promise to give up her own, but just the knowledge that she had done so gave her peace.
It was bizarre. She had just agreed to sign her life over to a man with the black soul of the devil and the voice of a celestial angel and a heart that lay buried deep in the shadows of mystery, neither entirely good nor evil. And yet, for all that, she knew no fear.
Never had she thought she would marry, the idea abysmal when not a union with the man she once so dearly loved, the man who no longer existed. Because she never anticipated that future with anyone else, it didn't seem like such a great sacrifice to agree to this phlegmatic alliance with the Phantom. Whatever his incentive for marrying her, and she doubted the reasons he'd given, she felt confident that he would not exert any husbandly rights to the marriage bed. She mistrusted him in all else, but this she did not doubt. He swore he had no physical interest in her, and the past weeks of his cutting indifference proved it.
As she sat there, something occurred to her, just one more fact to disturb the rest of what made no sense…
Jolene suddenly appeared at the door. In her arms she carried a white dress. Christine gasped to see it.
"He told me to bring this to you," the girl said distantly.
Christine watched Jolene lay the gown on the bed, along with a veil. Both shimmered with iridescence, lined in delicate tufts of lace rosettes. Even a simple glance revealed that neither of the pieces were of inferior quality.
"I need to speak with him," Christine said, looking away from the gown.
"He's going above to make arrangements."
"I need to speak with him now." Christine resolutely looked at the girl.
"I don't think -"
"Very well." Christine rose to her feet. "I'll go and find him."
"He said you are to remain here." Jolene looked aggravated with the entire situation. "I will tell him your wishes."
"Thank you."
Jolene said nothing and left.
Christine felt strangely distanced from what would soon take place and reached for the libretto, not wishing her mind to take trails she would rather forsake. Working to memorize her lines and those of other cast members, she was unaware of the passage of time. A shadow suddenly came into view and she looked toward the doorway.
The Phantom stood there, staring. She set down the libretto and stood to her feet. Before she could say a word, he beckoned to her with his hand.
"Come."
One word had the power to shake her odd tranquility and leave her speechless.
"I would assume you wish for proof that I have fulfilled my end before you agree to undertake your part of our covenant."
Her mouth parted in shock that he had so aptly discerned her reason for an audience with him. "Yes."
"Then come."
She nervously approached. It was then she noticed a black silk scarf in his other hand. She looked at him curiously.
"As you do not trust me to keep my word with regard to that tiresome boy, I cannot trust you with knowledge to the way above."
She sucked in a sharp breath. Above? They were going above ground?
Her heartbeats escalating in excitement, Christine gave a slight nod. He moved behind her and pulled her hair back from her temples with his fingertips, the sensation sending tingles of shivers through her bones. She swallowed as he brought the silken tie over her eyes and fastened it in back, the world now in darkness.
"Take my arm," he directed, and she did so without hesitation. "Stay close beside me."
He began to move forward and she fell into step next to him. It felt unsettling to walk without seeing the path ahead and she clutched his arm a little tighter.
"Do not fear," he said quietly. "I will let no harm come to you."
Oddly enough, she believed him, and her apprehension of blindly moving forward began to wane.
They traveled for some time. A sudden chill suggested they entered another chamber. She had left her cloak behind and could not prevent a shiver. He took her hand from his sleeve and suddenly she was swathed in his warmth as he moved his arm around her back and enfolded her within his cloak. To maintain balance, she pressed her hand flat against his side, all the while fighting the strange weakness sifting through her at the proximity of his strength, not finding the experience entirely unwelcome. She ducked her head, wishing such thoughts away. It made no sense, it never had, but she felt safe with him.
Twice, they traveled up an incline. At times, he stopped walking and she heard the squeak of metal, as of a lever being moved, or stone rasping against stone, as a passageway opened.
"We approach steps that take us to the next level," he said, slowing so she could match his pace. Three times this happened amid stretches of endless walking. She wondered if they traversed the entire city underground.
At last the air grew warmer. The black behind her eyes became lighter, suggesting they were no longer in complete darkness.
"Stay close," he whispered, "not a sound."
The ground beneath her feet no longer felt like rock or made hollow tapping sounds, but now felt softer and her footsteps made thuds as if she walked on wood. He drew her close to his side as they traveled up yet another incline, steeper than anything before and twice he needed to lift her. He led her on a short walk that felt strangely unsteady, the floor beneath them seeming to sway, then he stopped.
"Remain silent," he ordered beneath his breath at the same time she felt herself turned against him and the scarf removed from her eyes.
They stood high in shadow, the lights from myriad lamps like so many glowing dots far below. Even faint light made her flinch from discomfort after her eyes had been so long in darkness. When she realized they stood on a narrow catwalk barely wide enough for both of them, she gasped, instinctively cringing backward.
"It's alright," the Phantom whispered, his arm tightening around her waist as he held her firmly to him, her back to his chest. "I will not let you fall."
She nodded. Without understanding why, she knew that no matter how dangerous the situation, he mastered control in these surroundings, which he'd made his own. That first day when she learned of his existence as well as the morning he'd created panic in the theatre, he had concealed himself within such lofty heights. If the caverns were his home, then this was his playground. Without conscious thought Christine gave into the weakness she often felt when near him and marginally relaxed against his solid form as she concentrated on the images below.
The Phantom stood with her in the flies backstage in an area of the opera house she did not remember, the drop below at least three stories. Her hands quickly found his arm, clutching it at another wave of dizziness having nothing to do with his presence.
Below, the dancers were clustered in scattered groups. She could not hear their conversations but could tell something was astir.
The Phantom's arm not secured around her lifted to point into the distance.
"There," he whispered near her ear, his warm breath giving her chills.
She looked to where he pointed to see double doors had swung open. With his clothes sodden and hair hanging damp, Raoul walked in between the two managers as they exited the room. Christine's nerves relaxed with relief to see him alive, wet and untidy, but unharmed.
"The fiend must be found!" Raoul's angry voice rose to the rafters. "He's nothing more than a monster to create such traps. Why have you allowed him to get away with this? Why have you not tried to stop him before?"
"My Lord Vicomte, it is not that we haven't tried," the tall man with the dark mustache said from one side of him. "The gendarmes would not believe us."
"Indeed," the smaller, balding manager said, whose fuzzy white hair, mustache, and goatee reminded Christine of a billy goat. "This Phantom cannot be stopped."
"He's no true ghost. He's nothing but a man. Of course he can be stopped!"
"Come, we must return," the Phantom whispered, a slight sneer in his voice. "You have seen what you wished."
Christine nodded, but when he tried to tie the blindfold back on, she pulled away, as much as she dared while balancing against him on such a narrow walkway. "Please, no…"
"I cannot allow -"
"Just until we get down from here."
"You are not afraid of heights." He whispered the words as if certain they were true.
"No - but I don't wish to misstep. We stand on little more than a plank!"
"I brought you up here without mishap. Perhaps you wish only to draw attention to yourself when you see your precious lover draw near." His low words were hard.
She frowned, wondering where he had arrived at the conclusion that she was involved with Raoul, and it brought to mind her earlier insight. She offered no reply to his accusation, intending to question him later. She was weary of constantly having to defend herself to this man who seemed determined not to believe her.
"I have not screamed yet. I'll not scream now."
She felt his body tense and was certain he would refuse.
"Come then."
He took hold of her wrist. With everything in sight, it was a more harrowing walk than when her vision was blocked, and she almost regretted asking him to wait with the blindfold. They traversed a narrow catwalk in near darkness that even Mozart might creep along slowly so as not to fall. It put her in mind of some of the tricky climbs she had daily managed with Erik to reach The Summit. But she was out of practice and their only light came from oil lamps below. She glanced down at the performers, some now going about their business. Raoul had drawn near, almost beneath where they walked.
The Phantom's hand tightened around her wrist, as if also aware of it. Unbeknownst to him, calling out to her friend was her last desire.
Her dark guide led her down a short flight of stairs, the ground again solid and broad. Still in shadows, he tied the blindfold around her. They walked on and soon she heard stone grinding against stone, felt the cool air, and realized they must have returned to the secret passageway. More walking and descending followed until finally he removed the blindfold and she saw that they stood in the dank corridor near her bedchamber.
"Go inside. I will come for you when darkness has fallen." He turned to go.
"Monsieur?" She waited until he looked at her. "Thank you."
His eyes flickered in surprise, and he regarded her a moment before speaking. "We had a bargain, Mademoiselle. I have fulfilled my part. Now you must do the same."
"I am aware of what is involved."
The Phantom gave a curt nod. Before he could turn away, she spoke again. "Why should you think that Raoul was the one …" She drew upon her courage to speak of what was so degrading. "…was the one to harm me? I never said his name."
He did not fully face her. "You have spoken of him before."
"I called him my close friend," she insisted. "If he had done something so horrid, do you truly think I would have called him less than an enemy?"
"I would hope not." He glanced at her. "But he can no longer be your friend."
She inhaled softly at his terse words. The Phantom once told her why he considered the Vicomte his adversary. Still, she did not understand such animosity.
"I know he can't."
"Let us hope you do, for the sake of all involved."
Christine watched him go, his cloak billowing about his ankles as he departed. She waited a few moments more then moved into her bedchamber to do what she must.
x
The Phantom took a different route, one difficult to traverse that involved partial climbing of a rock wall but no more treacherous than anything he'd done in his years before coming to the opera house. The shortcut brought him the last two levels above ground within minutes and to the doorway that led to the office of his aide. He spotted Madame Giry within a small bevy of boisterous dancers and caught her eye, a quick sideways nod of his head a signal for her to join him.
He arrived at the old storage room and waited. A matter of minutes elapsed before she appeared.
"Maestro?" She closed the door behind her.
"The matter of which we spoke weeks ago, when I said I would have need of your aid, the final moment has come. All must be arranged within the next few hours."
She drew her brows together, clearly ill at ease. "When I agreed to leave the drugged wine in the dressing room, I did not know that events would come to such a pass. The Vicomte searches for her every day. The entire opera house is in mayhem after what transpired less than an hour ago."
"I do not fear the Vicomte," he scoffed.
"Be that as it may, since he was caught in one of your traps, he now attempts to rally the men to join him."
"I said…" He took a step toward her, noting her quick step back. He worked to control his anger. "I do not fear that fool of a Vicomte. Had he not been so inquisitive, he would have remained unharmed."
"Why will you not let her go?" she asked quietly in appeal.
"She has agreed to this." He noted her surprise mingled with skepticism. But he had no inclination to persuade her. "Now it is up to you to do as expected. I pay you well, Madame. Make certain a carriage is waiting near the door at the Rue Scribe entrance once darkness has fallen. I will need you to come along as a witness."
"My duties…"
"Lie with me," he ended for her. "Are we agreed?"
She gave a hesitant nod, and he quickly retreated back to the depths of his world and his captive bride.
Christine had agreed, but still he did not trust her to fulfill her end of the bargain. She had proven her deceit, here and in England, though it puzzled him why she was so adamant for him to believe her most recent escape attempt had not been what he supposed. Even after he let the matter drop, she had tried to persuade him that her motive had been pure and she would never have left him.
At last he arrived to the doorway of her room...
To find her bedchamber empty, the wedding gown and veil lying on the bed.
His immediate fear that she had escaped led him to clutch both sides of the rock entry in angry disgust. Before he could storm away to investigate, he heard her voice, pure and sweet, singing from the bath chamber a ballad he remembered from their youth, one she had sung for him during their years living at The Heights:
And he's followed her up and he's followed her down
And it's into the room where she lay.
She hadn't the strength for to flee from his arms
Nor the tongue for to answer him nay.
"Go bring me some of your father's gold
And some of your mother's fee,
And we'll go to the north country
And there we'll married be."
She mounted on the fine white horse
And he on the dapple gray,
They rode till they came to the sweet water side
Three long hours 'fore day.
"Light off, light off, my pretty fair maid,
Light off, light off," said he,
"For six king's daughters have I drowned here
And the seventh you shall be!
"Take off, take off, your gay silk gown
And hang it on the tree,
For it is too fine and it costs too much
To rot in the salt salt sea."
"Turn your back, turn your back, you false young man,
And turn your face to the tree,
It is not right that a villain like you
A naked woman should see…"
All fell instantly silent, the song going unfinished. The Phantom walked away, upset by the silly little ditty. He frowned as he retreated to his private chambers.
Four long years ago she had thrown down the gauntlet that started this path of vengeance - but did she truly believe him so monstrous that he would willfully seek to hurt her in such a fashion?
The answer had been in the waver of her voice as she sang those final lines about the wicked elf knight and the deceived fair maiden. It, in turn, reminded the Phantom of the solemn vow he had made to her, to himself.
How could he expect her to believe he meant no harm after what she suffered at her fiendish cousin's hands? After the manner in which he himself abducted and threatened her, thinking to do so was necessary to fulfill all of what he desired? And it well may have been. But this past month he had been as miserable as his captive. Even with the triumph of her eventual agreement to sing and to marry him he did not experience the sublime satisfaction he thought would be his.
The Phantom clenched his jaw with resolve. A change was needed before he drove them both to utter madness.
Even so, while it may come near to killing him, he would not be the first to cross the line and end this war. To lay claim to all of her - her body, her will and soul. To prove her suspicions true…
No matter that they were.
.
xXx
A/N: The ballad Christine sang derives from the 18th century: "Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight" - I've looked but cannot find the name of the original author since there are many variations of this song handed down through the centuries.