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Chapter 36

Christine's first thought was to send Nadir a nasty text message, but as quickly as she formulated her plan, she realized that she had left her cell phone in her purse, along with her hotel keycard. She let off a string of uncharacteristic curses, her emotions steamrolling over her.

"Christine!"

Someone called her name, the same voice from the pub earlier. A man was running toward her through the rain, his umbrella a black shape above him. She peered through the darkness, trying to see who it was. She had nowhere to go to escape him, and so she watched warily as he approached.

"There you are!" the main said, his familiar voice cutting through the rain. "I'm so glad I found you. But what are you doing out here?"

He raised the umbrella so it covered her. Her body shook uncontrollably, and her nose felt numb from the cold. She must look a mess, soaked to the bone, her wet hair a curly untidiness plastered around her face.

"You're soaking wet! Hold on a second," he said, laying the umbrella aside so he could shrug out of his own coat. He placed the wool fabric around her shoulders, and his cologne wafted up, pleasant but so different from Erik's murky earthiness.

She recognized that scent, and as she blinked dazedly up at him, she began to realize who it was. The styled blonde hair, the square jaw, the bright blue eyes.

"Raoul?" she murmured. "You're in London?"

"I am," he said, fussing with the coat, pulling it tighter around her. "And now I'm getting you out of this downpour. Come on."

She let him put an arm around her and lead her away from the alley. She wondered if Erik was still nearby, if he was watching this scene. Knowing him, he probably hadn't gone far. Would he follow her? She glanced around but saw no trace of him.

Raoul paused as they arrived back on the sidewalk. "My hotel is just down the road. Where are you staying?"

"Near the St. Pancras Station. Twenty minutes away, I think?" Her shivering was more pronounced – the prolonged cold and wetness had combined with the shock of what had happened between her and Erik. She didn't protest when squeezed her closer, welcoming his overwhelming warmth.

They didn't speak until they reached the entrance to his hotel, the Hampton by Hilton, which really was just a few entrances down from the Stage Door. As they walked the short distance, Raoul pressed her purse into her hands. She opened it and took a sweep of the contents; thankfully, everything was still there.

She hesitated before the double doors to the hotel, turning to face him. "Raoul, I-"

He flashed that brilliant grin at her. "I have to admit, it's fantastic to see you again, Chris." With a warm hand, he brushed wet tendrils of hair from her forehead, ending with a caress of her cheek. "Let's get you dry and warmed up, and then we'll catch up, okay? I'll take you back to your place whenever you want."

She shouldn't be here, with another man. She wanted Erik to be the one standing before her, treating her so tenderly. But she hadn't seen Raoul in months, and his laid-back nature was quickly making her relax. As much as she might not want to admit it, she had missed him too.

It was so easy to nod and follow him. He folded the umbrella as they both stepped through the double automatic doors into the hotel's brightly-lit lobby, and he led her to an elevator. Once inside his room, he went over and cranked up the heat, then found her some clothes to change into: a long-sleeved t-shirt with Boston University on the front and a pair of gray sweatpants.

"Towels in the bathroom," he said, "if you need to dry off."

She murmured a thanks. Moments later, she emerged dressed in his clothes, her sudden weariness overtaking her awkwardness. This was Raoul, who she had known for years. She trusted him not to take advantage of the situation, just like he had never pressured her for anything. Being with him had always been so easy.

"I ringed for coffee. I hope that's okay. Are you hungry?"

"No, thanks. Coffee sounds great." She perched on the office chair in the room, not wanting to sit on the bed. "Thank you so much, Raoul."

He had towel-dried his hair, which was now a tousled blonde mess atop his head. He looked as cute as she remembered. "What were you doing out there in the rain? You could've caught your death!"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "No reason."

He gave her a studious look, but since Raoul had always been a Nice Guy, he let it go. "Chris, I heard you at the pub. I had no idea you could sing like that."

"I've been taking lessons. What a coincidence to run into you there."

He had the decency to look abashed. "I've been dashing across Europe trying to raise sponsors for my company. Do you remember the one I told you about that makes websites for nonprofits? We decided to go international a few weeks ago, but we need funding. When I heard you were singing here, and London was on my list anyway, I decided to come here."

There was a knock on the door; the coffee had arrived. Raoul brought in the tray and poured them both a cup. She came over to add milk and sugar to her own and took a sip. The hot liquid helped melt the final frozen bits of her, including her fingers, which she wrapped around the china.

She wasn't going to just let this go, though. "You heard I was singing here? I have to say, I'm not sure how. It was kinda a last minute decision."

"Our mutual friend," he said, smiling into his cup.

"Meg!" Oh, she would get it later.

He nodded. "We don't even talk that often, but since I was going to be near Paris, I decided to give her a call. She told me what you'd been up to. I did pester her for information, so don't be too mad at her." He met her eyes. "You've been gone so long, Chris. I can't help but admit that I've missed you."

Her heart fluttered, and it shouldn't have. But she was coming off the rush of her fight with Erik, and a little flattery warmed her further.

The two of them talked long into the night, catching each other up on their lives.

She didn't make it back to her hotel to pick up her suitcase until the next morning.

Raoul dropped her off at her hotel, giving her a big hug, his arms strong around her. She breathed him in one last time, returned his cheerful smile, and went inside.

After she showered and got dressed in comfortable clothes for traveling, she sent off several texts.

The first was to Meg: Ran into Raoul – you're shocked, I know! We have a lot to talk about. Meet me for drinks at 5. That place down the road from you.

The second was to Nadir. She had written and rewritten various responses in her head, eventually settling on minimal and clipped. He knows. I know. I'll be staying in Paris.

As she made her way to the train station, she received a reply from Meg. I'm sorry but he insisted! 5 it is!

And from Nadir, almost as quickly, a phone call. She stared down at his number. The last thing she wanted was to talk with him, especially on the phone, about anything that had happened last night, about the fact that he had sent her on a singing tour under false pretenses. She still felt like a fool, and she knew it would be a long time before she could think warmly of him again.

She clicked the Ignore button and shut off her phone. A few hours of silence on the train would do her some good.

Over drinks at a wine bar in Paris, she told Meg everything that had happened in London, including her encounter with Erik. To Meg's credit, she kept silent the whole time, listening wide-eyed and taking large gulps of wine instead of interjecting.

When Christine finished, scrubbing a frustrated hand over her face, Meg released a pent-up breath of air. "Oh my God, Chris. What are you going to do?"

Christine scowled. "Continue to ignore Nadir, of course." Since turning her phone back on, she had received no less than four messages from the Iranian. She hadn't read any of them.

"That's not what I'm talking about, and you know it."

"One thing at a time." Christine took her phone out of her purse, showing Meg the unopened texts.

"You should read them. Get it over with. He's obviously not going to leave you alone."

"I don't want to," Christine said, but the words sounded petulant even to her. She had had decided to be a grown up about all of this, and that included facing her problems head-on. She was tired of avoiding anything uncomfortable, and she certainly wasn't scared to face Nadir's betrayal head on. "Fine," she sighed, and opened the message thread.

I understand why you're avoiding my calls. Please know I did what I did only out of the upmost respect and affection for both you and him.

I would never have intentionally caused you pain.

Erik let me know he's going off on his own for a while, to fight them alone. I don't have the right to ask what happened between you, but I do need to know: are you proceeding with your plan?

Please reply if only to let me know you are well.

Christine wanted to cry, but she held back her tears. She was done with crying for herself, done with feeling sorry for herself. She was a woman of agency, and by God, she would fight to see this through to the end.

Meg read the texts in silence. Then handed the phone back and gazed at Christine with a rare seriousness. "Reply to him."

"Meg!"

"I mean it. The man is obviously sorry."

"He didn't say that." But she was already swiping open the screen again. She typed, sent the message, and showed Meg the screen.

Leave me alone. And yes.

"Happy?" Christine said without venom.

She'd heard the different questions Meg had asked her about the Iranian. The dancer had no small interest in the older man. While Christine wouldn't get in the way, she wasn't about to help any sort of relationship along. She had the feeling that Nadir wasn't as flighty with his attentions as Meg usually was. If her friend wanted his attention, she would have to figure out how to do that on her own.

Meg sat back in her seat, running a finger around the top of her wine glass. "So the yes… that's to this plan he's talking about?"

"Yep."

"Which is… what? I must have missed this conversation."

Christine sighed. "Order more wine for us both, Meg. We have some talking to do. And afterward, I need to call my mom."

A week passed in Paris. Nadir continued to send Christine messages about his progress – and Erik's, although he hadn't personally seen the other man again. He didn't try to call her, and while she didn't reply to any of his texts, she did appreciate his gentle persistence. This was a man clearly used to one-sided conversation. She hated that she had reduced him to this the way that Erik so often did, but she wasn't ready to forgive and forget.

Another week passed. Anna flew into the city to help them celebrate an American Thanksgiving, and Meg's mother joined them as well. The four of them cooked dinner together: ham, in absence of turkey, fresh cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, and apple pie. The evening was just what Christine needed. For a few hours, she was able to forget everything that had happened over the past two months, instead focusing on family and friends who might as well be family.

Then, at the turn of December, Christine got a text from Nadir.

They have surrendered. It's finally over.

The beginnings of holiday lights and music had placated Christine a bit. She sent a reply. Is everyone safe?

He fired back almost immediately. Yes. Little bloodshed. We frightened them badly enough. While I would never fully trust those who remain, we now have enough to make their lives miserable should they pursue this further.

I'm glad, she texted. Then, after a few minutes of considering, she added, What's next for you?

Home to Paris. And you?

And Erik? Her fingers stabbed at the letters.

No further word from him. I can only hope he will come back to Paris as well. …Christine?

She waited a long time before sending back an answer to his question. She knew what he was asking – would she continue with the plan they had set up a month ago in Sweden? If Erik did come back to Paris, he would likely head back underneath the Palais Garnier. She had walked past that majestic building many a time since settling in Paris – she had even seen an opera there – but she hadn't ventured to his home.

When they had been in Sweden, she had demanded that Nadir teach her a safe passage below, and he had, albeit reluctantly. Fearing what might happen if she wrote it down and the notes fell into the wrong hands, she had committed the details to memory, running through them in her mind as she fell asleep, over and over.

Now, she would use them.

I'm going to find him, she told Nadir. You know I have to. You know I'll never be happy until I do.

Be safe, was his soft reply. I'll be in Paris by tomorrow.

With Meg's help, and her mother's arrival, she was ready. She wasn't sure what Erik's reaction would be. Maybe he would refuse to talk to her. Maybe he would talk to her, but his words would be harsh and uncaring in an effort to drive her away.

Either way, she was ready to find out.

The next day, done with waiting around, Christine packed a small travel bag that she could throw over her shoulder cross-body style, as well as a backpack that she filled with fruit, cheese, and some nonperishables. She set an alarm for two o'clock in the morning, slept restlessly until then, and hailed a cab from her hotel room to a few blocks from the Palais Garnier.

Few people were on the streets at the odd hour. She made her way down Rue Scribe, tucking her gloved hands into her coat pockets against the nighttime chill. She walked on the opposite side of the street from the Palais Garnier like Nadir had instructed, until she was parallel with the small double doors she sought.

She heard Nadir's words now as though he was only just speaking them. "Funny how one particular security camera never works, no matter how many times they have tried to change the wiring."

Heading straight for those doors, she glanced around to see if anyone was around. The streets had been abandoned anyway, but she felt safer after double-checking. Then she pulled out the small, flat, silver key Nadir had given her, which she had kept inside her passport ever since.

"Had you expected something heavy and brass? This at least is easier to carry."

She pulled the door shut behind her as she stepped into a small hallway. This door led to some of the lesser-used dressing rooms in the opera house, and she found the one she was looking for – tucked into the back. It was clear from the pale blue velvet-covered furniture and the hazy mirrors that the room hadn't been updated much in the past centuries. She found the mirror that Nadir had described, stood on a chair, and felt along the top edge.

"There is a series of raised pieces of wood. Place your right hand upon them and play the first seven bars of Fur Elise."

Christine had laughed at the time – how very much Erik. Now, she pressed her fingertips upon the makeshift keys no bigger than the ends of her fingers and tapped out the code, imaging Erik doing the same year after year. How often had he stood right here, dressed in his black hat and cloak, and placed his spindly fingers upon these hidden buttons?

As soon as she tapped the last key, the mirror hissed with displaced air, and a crack appeared along the edges. She was able to pry the large mirror from the wall, revealing a passage leading into total darkness. She brought the small battery-powered camping lamp from her backpack and turned it on. The back of the mirror had a small handle, so she was able to pull it firmly closed behind her.

The passage yawned ahead, and her lamp didn't cast as much light as she had hoped it would. However, Nadir had promised his directions would carry her safely to Erik's home, and he was expecting a message from her within the hour about her wellbeing.

"The first part of your journey is a series of turns. The wrong turn can lead to a trap, so follow my instructions precisely. This is the most perilous part of the path as Erik never expects intruders to survive past this point."

She wet her lips and recited the turns in her head: straight, left, straight, straight, right, right, down (not up), up (not down), left, and straight. As she walked, she left off the step before so she wouldn't grow confused, and gradually, she reached the end of the series of corridors. Before her opened a large chamber, which looked somewhat familiar.

The underground lake.

She could smell the murky depths just before her lamplight reached the inky black water. She knew this could go one of two ways: if Erik was already home, the boat would be absent, and she would then have to either swim (not recommended by Nadir) or call for Erik's help. There were ways around the lake, but they were more treacherous than Nadir had been willing to let her venture.

If Erik wasn't already back, the boat would be lurking somewhere along this side of the shore.

As she approached the edge of the lake, she found the small vessel tethered to a post. So Erik wasn't home yet – so much the better for her.

She climbed into the boat, slipped the tether free, and pushed off using the long pole. She remembered the first time she had traveled across the lake, only minutes after meeting Erik. He had terrified her with his glowing eyes, tall dark form, and snappish attitude. She imagined seeing him again and her heart began to pound.

"Keep the posts in the water always upon your left side."

One by one, she saw the wooden posts and steered the boat accordingly until she finally reached the far shore. Never had she been so glad to leave behind that motionless lake. Erik's home opened before her, and she was eager to get inside what she knew was a much more comfortable dwelling than the caves beneath the opera house. The silence in this darkness hurt her ears, and the black stretching out around her threatened to swallow her meager lamplight.

She pulled her bags from the boat and walked up the steps to Erik's front door, which was not locked (as Nadir said it wouldn't be). She had brought her own matchbox, and she pulled it out now, traveling around the living room and lighting most of the candles she could find. Then she made a fire in the fireplace using the dry wood and kindling laid out upon the hearth.

Sitting back on her heels, she took off her coat and basked in the fire's warmth for a moment. She twisted a bit to take in the room around her. Now the place resembled the home she remembered, though it was obvious Erik hadn't been here in a long time. Dust had settled onto every surface, but luckily the furniture had been covered by white cloths – Nadir's doing after Erik left for Boston?

She went around the room, busying herself over the next half hour. She pulled and folded the tarps, dusted surfaces using a rag she had found in the tiny kitchen, and straightened Erik's compositions that had been left strewn across the floor. Lovingly, she stroked the shiny black surface of the piano's keyboard cover, wishing that Erik was already here. How long would it take for him to come back?

Afterward, she took her bags to the room she had inhabited so long ago. Upon the bed, folded perfectly, was a blouse and skirt she had worn one of those first days she had spent with Erik. She must have put it in with some of his things to be washed before she had left so abruptly.

Biting her lip, Christine fought her tears. She had no use for them now. No matter what, she had to be strong and steadfast. No matter what Erik said or did, she knew what her own words and actions had to be. What followed afterward would be up to him.

She slipped between the sheets, exhausted from the day. She was asleep within seconds. When she woke, her waiting would begin again.

One more chapter and an epilogue to go...