Erik woke up with a full bladder late at night. He got up to pee and then shedded his clothes, wig, and mask on the floor as he groggily stumbled back to bed. Crawling under the sheets naked, he did not even notice the nightclothes offering left for him on the nightstand as he quickly fell back asleep. The next thing he knew, the breakfast bell was ringing and the morning sun was seeping in through the windows. He sorely pushed himself up and ran a hand through his hair as he glanced around, puzzled at where he was. Recognizing it as his own bedroom, he shook the thought off and tried to get up only to find the air in the room freezing. The fire had died overnight, so he pulled a blanket around his naked body as he got up from the bed.
Erik wandered into the dressing room. Clean clothes had been laid out for him by the servants. He quickly got about dressing himself and brushing his hair and teeth. Then he went to find his mask and wig, which he had discarded on the floor the night prior. He polished the mask and brushed the hair of the wig, putting both items on when he was done. Heading downstairs, he discovered both Christine and Raoul already in the dining room when he arrived.
"Good morning, Erik," the vicomte greeted, sipping his hot coffee. "Your belongings are in the two rooms down the west corridor, just past the music room. None of the crates are missing. Oh, and I had the footman crank them all open for you ahead of time to make the job easier."
"Thank you," Erik replied, taking his place at the table. The hungry genius began loading his plate up with crepes, eggs, croissants, and anything else edible in his immediate vicinity.
Christine seemed excited. "Angel, shall we go sledding around eleven o'clock before lunch? Amorette is going to come. It'll be fun," she proposed, taking a sip of her morning tea.
Erik hesitated. "Perhaps, Christine, but I can't guarantee I'll be there the full hour. I admit I'm fairly short on energy today," he warned in advance, stuffing his face with a sausage.
"Well, maybe you'll feel better after breakfast," Christine suggested.
Erik shrugged. "Maybe. I really do need to spend most of my time unpacking today. I'm sorry if that disappoints you, but I intend to get straight back to work after the New Year. I have many pieces still in progress and I always worry that if I neglect them too long, I won't finish at all."
"Erik, there is a lockable chest in the castle's music hall. I suggest you keep all your papers there when you go to work with the organ," Raoul informed him, taking another sip of coffee.
"Not a bad idea," Erik replied. "Though I tend to prefer to leave my work all over the organ itself. I can be disorganized at times. What are the chances that someone would mess with it?"
"Not very high, but I personally wouldn't risk it. The lower levels of the castle are frequently open to the public," Raoul explained. "Every weekend, there are tourist groups."
"I see. Very well, I'll use the chest," Erik conceded.
Christine twiddled her thumbs. "Will there be time for a music lesson today?"
Erik nodded. "In the afternoon for you. And tomorrow for Amorette."
"I'm having a man come in to do maintenance work on the piano in an hour or two in the music room," Raoul revealed. "Just a warning in case you desire to steer clear of him, Erik."
"Indeed, I do."
"Do you need help unpacking?" Christine inquired.
Erik shook his head. "I'll call upon you if I do."
Once they finished eating, Raoul stood up and beckoned Erik to follow him. "Come, let me show you the rooms." He led him down the west corridor with a curious Christine in tow. The door to the first room was large and Raoul tugged it open. The interior was dim at first. However, Raoul groped through the darkness and pulled open the thick drapes lining the wall. Sunlight flooded into the grand chamber, highlighting the wooden crates placed haphazardly in the center. All the tops had been removed with a crowbar and the contents were well protected with padding between items and the walls of the crate. Raoul strolled over to the left side of the room from the windows, gesturing to a pair of large double doors in the middle of the wall. He pulled the doors open and propped them in that position. "This is the other room over here. The rest of the crates are in there," he explained, disappearing inside the room. He pulled the drapes open in the next room as well, illuminating it fully from Erik and Christine's vantage point.
"Very nice. This should be plenty of space for me, at least for now," Erik remarked, walking up to one of the crates. Some of his head and bust sculptures were inside. He immediately got to work unwrapping the items and lining them along the wall to keep them out of the way.
Christine looked into one of the crates and plucked out a huge folder full of oversized sketches. "Angel, may I take a look?" she asked the masked man, holding the folder up.
Erik peered over to see what she was talking about and nodded. "Go ahead. That's a compilation of random sketches," he said, pulling more items out of the crate to unwrap them.
Christine leafed through the pages. The sketches mostly consisted of depictions of a stage and detailed the correct placement of props and other items. Some were artistic designs. At the very end, there were a couple sketches of a girl dancing. The girl resembled Meg, Christine thought. She also found sketches of Madame Giry standing in her typical staunch pose. Meanwhile, Erik had emptied the first crate and was busy throwing all the leftover padding and twine back inside. Christine put the papers away and propped the folder against a wall as Erik threw the crate top back on and started shoving the entire crate out of the room into the corridor for later removal. "Angel, are you sure you don't want help? I could make the unpacking go faster."
"You may help if you want, Christine. Just please be very careful with the fragile items. Break one thing and I'll dismiss you," Erik warned, getting to work on the next crate. "Ah, I found my drafting desk. You may help me put this back together. I want to prop it near the windows."
"Great!" Christine exclaimed, excited to be able to participate. She helped him heft the heavy hardwood top of the desk out of the crate and set it aside as they retrieved the other bits and pieces. At the bottom was one of Erik's favorite tool kits. He got to work screwing the piece of furniture back together with Christine's assistance as she held certain parts in place for him.
Raoul reappeared from the other room. "I've got to go into town now, but I can help you with unpacking later this evening. You may also call on the servants if you need more hands."
"Wait, Vicomte!" Erik blurted, reaching deep into another one of the crates. He pulled out two oversized briefcases and handed them to Raoul. "Will you get those converted back into French francs for me? I only have American dollars right now," the musician explained.
Raoul nodded. "Stop calling me Vicomte. But yes, I'll send François to take care of this little errand since he's coming with me," he replied, disappearing down the hall with the briefcases.
Erik and Christine finished putting the desk together and pushed it against the windows. "There, that's perfect," he said as they got it into position. They found more of Erik's tables and chairs, most of which were works of art unto themselves, in pieces and put them together again. Erik arranged them around the room and placed the head and bust sculptures on top. As they worked through the crates they found candles, books, chests, abstract sculptures, stage props, Erik's clothes, and his costume collection, as well as his collections of wigs, masks, fabrics, and art supplies. As they worked, they could overhear the piano tuning in progress, but tried to ignore the annoying sound. It was nearly eleven o'clock by the time Erik discovered the whereabouts of his organ. He came upon the crate full of padded pipes. "I found it!" he said in excitement.
Christine blinked and ran over. "Found what?"
"My pipe organ. I need to get these crates moved to the music room so that I can put it back together in there. Will you check to see if the piano tuner has left yet?" Erik inquired.
Christine nodded and headed to the door. "I haven't heard anything in a few minutes, so I presume so. I'll go see real quick." She left and came back a minute later. "All clear."
"Now," Erik said, "let's slide this crate out into the corridor and get it to the music room."
Just as they reached the big open doors to the music room, Amorette bounded into the entrance hall dragging a big wood and metal sled along behind her. "Monsieur Angel, Aunt Christie, let's go sledding! I found the perfect spot near the lake," she announced enthusiastically.
Christine glanced back at Erik and he met her gaze. "Let's just get these crates into the music room and then go with her," he suggested. "It won't take that long." They proceeded to move all the crates with organ parts into the music room. Erik put on a jacket, cloak, gloves, and black hat. Christine got bundled up as well and they followed Amorette to the front entrance. They found Lula in the carriage under the porte-cochère with a footman from Castle Chagny.
The governess stepped out of the stagecoach, wrapping her cloak tightly around herself to keep warm. "Greetings again, Monsieur Destler and Madame de Chagny. How do you fare today?"
Christine smiled. "Very well, Lula."
The woman nodded. "That is wonderful to hear."
Amorette dropped the sled and skipped over, wrapping her arms around Christine's waist. "I got new dollies for Christmas and a wooden rocking horse that goes back and forth."
Christine laughed. "I remember the dolls." She peered at Lula. "Are you sledding too?"
Lula shook her head. "I don't have enough energy. I'm just going to watch, if you don't mind."
"Wait, why does she get to just watch and I don't?" Erik protested, flicking a thumb at Lula.
"Watching is no fun, Monsieur Angel!"
Erik crossed his arms in a look of obstinacy. "It is too fun," he countered. "I'd get to watch you two tumble down the hill and laugh at you, rather than tumbling myself and getting laughed at by your governess." Lula put a hand over her mouth and giggled at the remark.
"The tumbling part is fun, Angel, even if people do laugh at you," Christine argued.
"I don't know about that."
Amorette squealed in delight and grabbed one of Christine's hands and then one of Erik's. "Come on, come on, come on! I want to go slidey down the hill," she exclaimed, pulling them along. She let go and went to grab the sled by its twine, dragging it after them.
The four of them walked around the back of the chateau toward the lake on a shoveled path. The terrain sloped downwards the closer they got to the ice. When it suddenly got much steeper, they stopped on a flat ledge and Amorette positioned the sled near the edge. "I'm going to watch from the tree by the lake," Lula told them. Moving to the left of their intended route, she plodded the rest of the way down the slope and sat on a low-lying branch on the barren willow.
"Right, so this is how we do it," Amorette instructed, attention focused on the sled. "I get on first and steer with the reins. Aunt Christie gets on behind me and you get on behind her, Monsieur Angel. The heaviest one is always in the back to make the sled go lots faster."
Erik's eyes widened. "Wait, what? You mean all three of us get on the sled at once? I thought we were supposed to take turns," he exclaimed. "You can't be serious, child. That's insane!"
Amorette shook her head vigorously. "Nope. Not as fun that way. And then once the sled stops on the other side of the lake, one of us drags the other two back to the bottom of the hill using the sled's reins. Not it!" she cried aloud, jumping around and squealing excitedly.
"Not it!" Christine echoed.
They looked at Erik with goofy grins on their faces. Erik raised a brow. "What?"
"You're it," they replied in unison.
Amorette giggled. "You get to be the horsey because you didn't say 'not it' fast enough."
"Not it?" he asked, unsure what she meant.
"No, too late. The last person to say 'not it' is always it," Amorette pointed out. She sat down on the front of the sled and put her feet in the snow to prevent the contraption from sliding forward prematurely. "Come on, Aunt Christie. Get on behind me. Hurry, hurry, hurry!"
"I will!" Christine replied enthusiastically. She sat down in the middle of the sled such that Amorette was cozy between her legs and wrapped her arms around the young girl's midsection. "Come on, Angel," Christine encouraged, beckoning him to join them with a hand wave.
There was one slot left on the back end, but it was a tight fit. Erik sat down, but was unsure what to do with his hands at first. Christine reached back and wrapped them around her middle. The position felt pretty secure. As Erik glanced down the steep hill though, he began to feel vertigo. His heart rate sped up as Amorette glanced back over her shoulder. "All ready?"
"As I'll ever be!" Christine chimed, holding on tight.
Erik swallowed a lump in his throat. "Wait a minute, I'm not so sure I should…"
"One, two, three. Go!" Amorette cried in rapid succession, yanking her feet off the ground. The sled immediately slipped forward and plummeted over the edge of their flat ledge. The little girl cried out in joy, whooping and shouting happily as they accelerated to ludicrous speeds.
Christine laughed in a joyful manner, but Erik found his breath caught in his throat as the icy wind whipped his face almost painfully. He gritted his teeth in terror and tightened his grip on Christine to the point he was squeezing the wind out of her, holding on for dear life with his face buried in her mane of dense chocolate-brown curls. They went over a bump as the sled approached Lula's position, launching them airborne for a few terrifying moments. It was too much for Erik and he felt bile rising in his stomach. "Not so tight, Angel!" Christine squeaked in an extremely high-pitched voice that carried over the wind, struggling to breathe.
Amorette laughed as they finally reached the ice, sliding across the surface at still-horrifying speeds. "Hurrah! Yes! This is so much fun!" she bellowed into the rushing wind.
"Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop," Erik bit out until the sled hit top speed and began to slow down. They were halfway across the lake and heading for the bank on the other side. Deceleration seemed to take so long, but as they approached the other side of the lake they gradually lost velocity until they tapped the snow bank at barely two miles per hour. The sled jolted lightly as they hit. While Christine and Amorette managed to stay on the sled, Erik immediately fell off the backend once they had come to a stop. He lay there flat on his back and stared dizzily up at the partly-clouded sky, his head reeling. "I think I'm going to throw up," he murmured.
"That was amazing!" Amorette cried, still enthralled by the experience.
Christine held a hand to her aching chest, sucking in some much-needed air. "Angel, you could have broken my ribs," she breathed as she felt Erik fall off the back. She shot a glance at him over her shoulder. "Are you well?" she worriedly inquired, rising from the sled to go help him up. She walked behind him and got on her knees, pushing him up into a sitting position.
"You're both insane," Erik groaned, clapping a hand to his mouth as he gagged slightly. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced it back down, unwilling to vomit in front of the girls. "I'm never doing that again. Ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever," he insisted.
Christine chuckled, wrapping her arms around his torso. He leaned back on her limply, trying to recover his lost sensibilities. "It wasn't all that bad," Christine declared. "Was it?"
"No, it was worse."
"Monsieur Angel, please! You gotta do it again. I can't get Papa or Uncle Raoul to go and the sled always goes fastest with a big grownup man on the back," Amorette pleaded.
Erik scoffed. "Because those two are sane! Get a servant to do it. I quit."
Amorette groaned in disappointment, but considered the suggestion. She decided it was worth a try. "Fine, but you still have to be our horsey on the way back," she decreed, pulling the front of the sled out of the snow. She turned it around and tossed the reins to Erik, getting on.
Christine frowned. "Amie, you can't make him be the horsey now. Just look at him. I'll be the horsey this time," she suggested. "You both get on the sled, I'll pull you back."
Erik shook his head. "No, I'll be fine. Get on. I'm telling you though, I'm never getting on that thing again for the rest of my days," he decided, struggling to get up from the ice with Christine's assistance. He dusted the snow off his jacket and reached down to pick up the reins.
"Maybe we should've started a bit easier by going further down the hill. I'm sorry, Angel. We didn't mean to rattle you," Christine suggested, walking back to get on the sled.
Erik shuddered as he started to tug them along. "I can't believe you two actually enjoyed that. You're both out of your minds. I saw my life flash before my eyes," he grumbled.
"Oui, oui!" Amorette whooped.
Christine raised a brow of skepticism. "I think you're being a little dramatic."
"I am not!"
"Are," Christine countered.
Erik shivered and shot a childish glare over his shoulder at the two girls. "Whatever, Christine. I'm not arguing with you. You're entitled to be as crazy as you want." Once they reached the other side of the lake, the girls got off the sled and Amorette took the reins from Erik. "You two have all the fun in the world. I'm going back inside to finish unpacking. See you at lunch."
Just then, Lula came over to them with a goofy grin. "Monsieur Destler, it didn't look to me like you had as much fun as the ladies," she observed, not hiding her amusement well.
"Indeed, I did not," Erik heaved in agreement, paying the governess little mind. He shook his head and walked past, trudging back up the hill until he got to a stone staircase.
Christine frowned. "Fine. I'm sorry, Angel. If you're ever willing to try again, we will start on a much more gradual hill," she offered, receiving a wave of resignation from the man in the mask. She smiled and turned to Amorette. "Come on, let's go again!" she merrily proposed.
"We need a man first or we won't go as fast," Amorette protested.
"Angel!" Christine called. "When you get to the chateau, please send François our way!"
"I will!" Erik called back. He went back to the chateau and did as they asked, sending the footman behind the house to entertain the females. Once back inside, he went to the music room and started unpacking and piecing together his beloved organ. He was unable to get very far before the lunch bell rang, drawing him to the dining room once again with a growling stomach. Raoul was the only one there when he arrived. "Hello again," he greeted, settling down.
Raoul smiled as he loaded his plate with food. "You didn't go sledding with Christine and Amorette?" he inquired, surprised that Erik was back before the girls. Erik shook his head, not wanting to discuss the matter. The ladies were late getting back. Erik had cleared half his plate by the time Christine, Amorette, and Lula returned to the chateau. They entered the dining room, laughing and making merry as they spotted Erik and Raoul. They waved. "Christine, love! Come join us, there's plenty of food left. How was the sledding, Amorette?" he inquired.
"It was great!" Amorette replied, plopping down in a seat. "I just wish Monsieur Angel hadn't left so soon. He was a lot more fun than François," the little girl lamented.
Raoul raised a brow. "Oh? I thought Erik didn't go sledding."
Amorette put some things on her plate. "He did, but it made him almost throw up and he didn't want to go again after that. It's too bad because he really made the sled go very super fast."
Erik tensed his jaw and slapped his forehead, staring down at his plate with a blank face as he audibly sucked in a breath through his nose. Of course, he was a fool to think a little girl might keep her big mouth shut. Raoul stared at Amorette incredulously for a moment, swallowing the bite in his mouth. "I beg your pardon?" he asked, not sure he had heard her right.
The awkwardness in the room was so thick, it could be cut with a knife. "It's not a big deal," Christine blurted, taking her place. "Not everybody likes to sled. To each their own."
A hint of a grin crept onto Raoul's face. "Wait, wait. I thought I heard Amorette say that Erik almost threw up from sledding. You're kidding, right? That has to be a jest."
In a few short seconds, Erik gorged himself on the food remaining on his plate and washed it all down with water. Then he lightly slapped the glass down on the wooden tabletop and rushed off to go lock himself in his new workshop for what would likely be hours on end. He heard Raoul burst into laughter behind him and did not even bother to look back over his shoulder, humming loudly to distract himself as he made his way down the west corridor. "Angel, come back here!" Christine cried, frowning. She swatted Raoul on the shoulder. "Don't laugh at him."
Raoul was almost choking on his food. He had to take a sip of wine to wash it down. "Oh, heavenly mercy! I'm sorry, Christine. It's just that he acts like such a tough guy sometimes and it's honestly rather refreshing to see him knocked down a peg or two on occasion."
Amorette blinked in confusion. "Did I say something wrong?"
Christine bit her lip. "You may have revealed too much information, Amorette. But don't worry, it's really not that big of a deal. Just try to think before you speak next time," she replied.
Tears started to form in Amorette's big blue eyes. "Is Monsieur Angel mad at me?"
"I'm not sure. Hopefully, he knows you didn't do it on purpose. He was just embarrassed. If he's mad at anyone, I'm sure it's Uncle Raoul," Christine explained, trying to comfort the girl.
Amorette sniffled. "Can you tell him I'm sorry and I didn't mean it?" she beseeched, feeling too anxious to do it herself. The young comtesse did not want the Angel of Music to yell at her.
"Of course," Christine replied. "I'll go right after lunch to check on him."
By the time Christine got to Erik's workshop, he had completely forgotten the incident and was busy putting his hand-powered table saw together. She knocked timidly on the door, fearful that he might still be angry. She shuddered from the memory of the last time she had seen him lose his temper. "Angel, may I come in?" she asked in an apprehensive tone of voice.
Erik hopped up and went straight to the door, propping it open for her. "Yes, come in. I still have many crates to get through, Christine. Did you want to help?" the musician inquired.
Christine breathed a sigh of relief at how calm he was. "So you're fine then?" she murmured a moment later, walking through the door and glancing around as she poked her fingers together. She saw the table saw and wondered what it was, casually pacing over to examine it.
"Yes, why wouldn't I be?" Erik said, going through another crate full of stuff.
"Well, you better tell that to Amorette. She was almost in tears at lunch thinking you were angry at her for telling Raoul about the sledding incident," Christine replied, touching the table.
Erik jumped up in panic. "Careful, Christine! That blade is sharp," he told her, taking her by the wrist and pulling her away from the saw. "I should put a cover on it with that little girl running about," he said thoughtfully, peering around. "And I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset her."
Christine smiled at him. "Not a problem. I'll let her know that you're fine," she indicated. "And then I'll come back and help you unpack more. Oh, you should finish putting the organ together before worrying about this other stuff so we can have a music lesson this evening. I'll help."
"Sure."
They reconvened in the music room and got started on the organ when Amorette burst into the room, back to her old self after learning that Erik was not cross with her. "What are you doing? May I help? I'm good at making things!" she exclaimed, skipping around the room.
"Child," Erik said, "I believe I heard previously that you take harp lessons, correct?" She nodded in an exaggerated manner. "Why don't you practice on that harp while Christine and I work? It would be nice to have something to listen to, even if you're not perfect," he suggested.
"Sure!" Amorette hopped over to the harp and set up the music stand with some harp music. She started to play a bit clumsily at first, but then found her rhythm. While she could not play music as complex as what Erik could play, she was a decent harpist for her level of expertise.
It took two hours to put the entire organ together and Erik used Christine's help every step of the way. Eventually, Amorette got tired and went to find Lula. It was time for them to go home, so they bade farewell and left. By the time the organ was completed, the masked musician felt he needed a recess from the unpacking business. Christine poked him on the shoulder. "How about a music lesson? It would give us a break from all the work," the soprano suggested.
Erik nodded as he got up and stretched his sore back, hearing it pop in a few places. "That sounds like a decent proposal," he replied, pushing the reconstructed bench up to the organ. He sat down and played a few notes, grimacing. "Ah, I need to modify the pipes to the acoustics of this room. That will take awhile. Let's use the piano since it's finally been tuned."
"Sure," Christine replied, walking over to the piano. "Can I sit on the top like a lounge singer?"
Erik gave her a deadpan expression and shook his head. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but it sounds better with the top open," he replied, propping the cover up as he indicated he would.
Christine pouted, leaning against the piano's right side instead. Erik led her through a series of vocal warmups, including scales. Once they had completed the exercises, Erik handed Christine a folder of sheet music. It was a lullaby he had composed for her when she was eight. She recognized it immediately, as he had sung it to her many times when she would otherwise have cried herself to sleep. Her eyes welled up, reading the words once more. "Christine's Lullaby?"
Erik nodded. "It was inspired the one night after that rude girl called you a waif for being an orphan. You went to bed crying. I composed this lullaby to comfort you after I put that garden snake in her bed. Now, I recently modified it for your voice and I want to hear you sing it."
Christine gasped. "I remember that!" she cried. "You did that?"
Erik casually nodded. "Yes, indeed. I couldn't stand that girl so I pressured Netta to transfer her to another ballet department. I wouldn't let anyone bully you under my watch."
Christine laughed. "You really are my guardian Angel, aren't you?" she said, placing a hand over her heart. "Thank you so much. I guess I didn't realize how big a role you really played in my upbringing. I don't know what would have happened to me without your protection."
Erik flipped through some pages on the piano and found his own copy of the music. It had been a while since he had played it. "Well, I couldn't resurrect your father, but I did my best."
"You did well."
The masked musician smiled. "Glad to hear it. Now, let us begin," he announced, placing his fingers on the keys. "Ready?" he asked, glancing over to her for confirmation.
Christine stood up straight. "Yes, but… if I sing this once, will you sing it for me after?"
"Sure."
"Then I'm ready," Christine told him. He started to play the music. "Small child all alone in the world and on your own, eyes dry from bitter tears and trembling in your fears. Though grown you still miss the loved ones who are gone. Your heart is an abyss yet you must carry on. Hear me and rest. Let your mind clear. Huddled in your nest, your loved ones will be near. Love never dies, love never falters. Once it has spoken, love is yours. Love never fades, love never alters. Families are broken, love endures. Families are broken, love endures," she sang.
"Let me carry you on wings and find you great repose and help you through trials that life may well impose. Your father loves you well. His heart does ache for you. Let your sadness quell so his message will get through," Christine crooned as her hands started to tremble. Her eyes welled up just thinking about her father. She still missed him so much, yet she steeled her voice and continued to sing, "Even in this darkest day he tries to reach you now, when you practice ballet and when you take a bow. Lift your voice and sing. Your father's spirit hears. He listens as you bring your passion to his ears. Once it has spoken, love is yours. Love never dies, love never alters. Loved ones are stolen, love endures. Loved ones are stolen. Love never dies. Love will continue. Love keeps on beating when they're gone. Love never dies once it is in you. Life may be fleeting, love lives on. Live may be fleeting, love lives on." Christine's voice started to falter near the end and she finally fell to her knees, gasping as she tried to hold back tears.
"Christine, are you well?!" Erik asked, jumping up from the bench.
Her lips quivered before she started hyperventilating, burying her face in her hands. The sheet music fluttered to the floor. "I… I just miss him so much. It's been eleven years. I'm never going to get over this, am I? I'm always going to suffer like this. To feel this endless longing. I just want him back. Why did he have to die? I want him back! What did I do to deserve this?"
Erik paused. He walked over to her and knelt beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing lightly. She lifted her face to meet his gaze. "Christine, you will see him again. You must believe that. Someone as good and kind and pure as you are could never miss out on that. You may not be able to see him now with your eyes or hear him speak with your ears, but he is watching over you. At all your performances, your birthdays, your wedding, and even when you bear your first child, he'll be celebrating alongside you. He's alive inside your heart because you remember him and love him. And eleven years isn't as long as you think. I know it feels long to you because you're only eighteen, but the older you get, the more the pain will subside."
Christine sniffled and took his hand, playing with his fingers as she lowered herself to the floor and brought her legs around to cross in front of her under her gown. "I sometimes I think hear his voice in my dreams, but it's so fleeting. I hear him call out my name, almost."
"Maybe he's trying to talk to you from the other side? Perhaps your mind is in such turmoil that the full message can't get through. Try to clear your mind," Erik advised her. "To truly connect, like you do with music when you make it rise up and soar or when you listen to it and fall into a trance. I have seen you do it many times. Maybe if you work on harnessing this ability of yours, you might be able to control it and use it to connect with your father's spirit."
"How?"
Erik shrugged. "Well, I've never really tried to do it myself because I simply don't have a reason to. But if you're dedicated and you have faith in the process, I believe it can be done. In my time, I've seen a lot of mysteries and miracles take place. Tell me, Christine. Do you keep a journal?" She blinked, but shook her head. "Start with that. Get yourself a journal and write down your innermost thoughts, fears, and desires. Of course, I'd suggest getting one of those diaries that comes with a good lock on it. That is step one. Put your thoughts on paper so you can analyze and begin to make sense of them. You need to have that habit going for several weeks and then come to me for the next part of the process. Think you can handle that assignment?"
Christine nodded and rubbed her eyes. "I still need to go buy a mask in town. There's a little book shop I know that I can get a journal from. I'll go out as soon as we're done here."
Erik smiled. "Sounds like a plan. Here, let's do an aria. I see this song is too distressing for you right now," he said, withdrawing his hand from her grip and using it to pick up the sheet music. "I'm glad we discussed this. I now know that you are still in mourning. Maybe that's part of the reason you got sick in the first place. So we do need to do something about that. You have a lot of great things going for you and you should be able to live your life to the fullest."
"Thank you," Christine sniffled, rising to her feet.
After Christine cleaned herself up, the rest of the music lesson went smoothly. She was feeling much better after the things her Angel of Music had told her. When they were done for the day, she went to town accompanied by the footman François. Erik had gotten back to work unpacking in his workshop when Raoul showed up unexpectedly. Though the doors were open, he knocked on them to get Erik's attention. "Do you have any idea where Christine is?" he inquired.
"She went shopping," the masked man replied in a neutral tone as he fumbled about inside one of the crates. The sound of grunting was heard as he tried to lift a heavy statue.
"Whoa, there!" Raoul said, hurrying over to help. He reached in and lent a hand, assisting Erik in lowering the statue's base to the floor outside of the cart. "Be careful, Erik! For heaven's sake, ask for help before you try to do something like that again please. You could get hurt."
"Thank you. Yes, indeed. I didn't feel like asking."
Raoul laughed. "You felt like lifting a heavy statue, but couldn't be bothered to ask for help lifting said statue. I don't think you didn't feel like asking, I think you were too shy to ask."
Erik snorted, dismissing the accusation. "Whatever, Vicomte. You call it shy, I call it force of habit," he said. He disappeared into the crate again, searching through the contents.
"Listen, Erik," Raoul began. "It's 4:30 in the afternoon. If I help you unpack for an hour, would you go to the gymnasium with me for an hour? We'd be back in time for dinner at seven. The gymnasium closes to the public at five so it'll be just us two. We can box or wrestle or even play tennis. How does that sound? You've got plenty of time to unpack. There's no rush."
Erik looked up at Raoul and rose to his feet, thinking about the proposal. "I guess we can if Christine doesn't mind being abandoned for an hour once she gets back from her excursion."
"Well, she's abandoning us right now for shopping!" Raoul countered, laughing.
"True. Yes, very well, fine. We can go," Erik conceded, hopping out of the crate and moving on to another. "I could use help putting this enormous bookshelf back together," he said, pulling a long hardwood shelf out of the crate. He started removing the parts piece by piece and setting them out on the floor. With the vicomte's assistance, the piece of furniture was back together in no time. They moved on to arranging his books in alphabetical order and then setting up more tables, chairs, and tools. The hour was almost up by the time Christine got home.
"Angel, I need help!" Christine shouted. Raoul and Erik locked eyes with each other as soon as they heard her call and jumped up, worried she was in some kind of trouble. They ran to find her in the entrance hall with her single shopping bag, appearing entirely unharmed.
"What's wrong, Christine?" they asked in unison.
"I found a journal, but I swear I looked everywhere and I couldn't find a cat mask for my costume. I was sure I'd seen one before, but someone must've bought it. You have to help me make one!" Christine pleaded. "I saw your mask collection. You make beautiful masks."
Raoul glanced at Erik and Erik blinked. "Oh, uh…" the latter began. "Yes, I can help you make it tomorrow. There's no need to panic, Christine. We'll have that costume complete in no time."
Christine heaved a huge sigh of relief. "Thank you!"
"Christine, I thought you were having an emergency," Raoul admonished, shaking a finger at her. "You scared me half to death. Don't shout like that unless you're actually in trouble."
"I was having an emergency, Raoul," Christine retorted, flailing her arms in a melodramatic manner. "A fashion emergency, but it's resolved now so don't worry about it."
Raoul rolled his eyes. "Christine, you diva," he lightly charged, shaking his head. He turned his attention from her to clap Erik on the back. "Come on, let's get out of here."
Christine blinked, dropping her bag on the coffee table by the fire. "Where are you going?"
"Erik and I are going to hit the new gymnasium in town. You won't be too lonesome while we're gone, will you, Little Lotte?" Raoul inquired, coming over and kissing her on the lips.
"How long are you going to be gone?"
Erik cleared his throat. "We'll be back before dinner, of course."
Christine seemed hesitant, but then she patted Raoul on the arm and did the same to Erik. "Very well. Have fun then, but please don't kill each other with whatever you do there," she pleaded.
Raoul stepped back and put a hand to his chest, gasping. "Why, Christine, you wound me. How could you accuse me of such heinous intent?" he proclaimed, voice laced with false indignation. He slung an arm around the genius's shoulders and pulled him over in a fraternal manner. "Rest assured, Little Lotte, any perceived hostility between the two of us is just playfulness."
"Really?" Christine asked, skepticism written all over her face.
"Yes" and "I guess" is what Raoul and Erik both said respectively at the same time.
The former lightly glared at the latter. "You guess?" Raoul scoffed.
Erik plastered a grin to his face. "Yes, I said yes. You must've misheard me."
Raoul narrowed his eyes. "Right."
A slim smile broke out on Christine's visage. "Really? I had no idea. That's a relief to hear. To be honest, I thought you two only barely tolerated each other for my sake," she expressed.
"Shall we go now?" Raoul pleaded, releasing Erik as he bounced on his feet restlessly. "I have an excess of energy that I'd like to purge before dinner. Otherwise, I won't sleep so well tonight."
"Sure," Christine acquiesced. "I'll see you both at dinner."
They bade her farewell as they put on their jackets, cloaks, and gloves to brave the cold weather. The stagecoach Raoul had ordered was waiting outside with François driving. They got inside and rode to the uptown gymnasium. As they walked in, Erik peered around in awe. "This place is really state of the art, isn't it?" he remarked, panning the whole area with his gaze.
"Absolutely," Raoul replied. "The tennis courts are on the west end."
Erik's eyes darted around the vast chamber and met with something he liked very much indeed. "Ooh!" he exclaimed, pointing at the trapeze high overhead. He was even more thrilled when he saw the balancing beams, uneven bars, trampolines, pommel horse, aerial rings, climbing wall, and climbing ropes. The musician could not wait to try them all out, not having had a chance to practice his acrobatics since Coney Island. He wanted to get back into stunt work.
Raoul jumped and looked up. "Erik, that's for gymnasts. It could be dangerous."
"You forget that I traveled with the circus for years, Vicomte. I need proper attire," the masked marvel interrupted, immediately discarding his cloak and jacket on the floor.
Raoul blinked. "There are gymnast clothes for men and women in the locker rooms. They are for people who take acrobatics lessons here, but I brought loose workout clothes."
"Now, they're for me," Erik replied, running off to find the men's locker room.
Raoul shrugged and followed him to the men's locker room to change. By the time he got there, Erik had already disappeared into his own private dressing cubicle. When the musician came back out, he was wearing a striped one-piece and shorts. Raoul himself changed into loose shorts and a sleeveless shirt. After tying his hair back, he followed Erik back to the gymnasium. When he arrived, his masked friend was sitting on the sprung padded floor doing stretches. "So Erik," Raoul remarked, pacing over to watch, "you're an acrobat and a gymnast?"
"Yes," Erik said, stretching his legs apart into a perfect side split.
Raoul sucked in a breath through gritted teeth. "That looks painful."
"Only a little. I happen to be out of practice now, thanks to you," Erik retorted, pivoting his hips around into a front split. He reached up and stretched his arms and wrists, followed by his head and neck. After that, Erik rose to his feet and fell backwards into a bridge stretch.
"My backbone would snap if I tried that," Raoul said plainly, amazed at just how flexible the limber man's spine was. The back of his head nearly touched his posterior.
Erik laughed. "You'd have to start at a beginner level."
"I don't know. This stuff seems more appropriate for Christine than me. At least she did ballet before," Raoul replied, sitting not far from Erik to do some pitiful stretches of his own.
"With an attitude like that, you won't achieve much. It's never too late to start."
"Yeah, yeah," Raoul retorted.
When Erik finished stretching, he walked to the corner of the matted floor and entered into a pike with his arms stretched high over his head. Raoul was tempted to ask what he was going to do, but he decided to just watch instead. The masked acrobat launched himself into a series of cartwheels, aerials, and handsprings until he finally did an impressive two and a half twist and landed perfectly on the opposite corner of the matted floor. Raoul's eyes widened. "Great, I'm warmed up," Erik announced just before he ran off to play on the uneven bars.
"Oh Erik, careful!" Raoul called. "Christine will kill me if you break your neck on my watch."
Erik guffawed. "What part of 'I've done this before' do you not understand, Vicomte?" He put chalk on his hands and feet before he sprinted toward the bars and launched himself upwards with a flying leap, performing a split over the lower bar and grabbing a hold of the higher one. He swung around in a circle until he reached the apex and did a handstand. His legs straight, he let them fall apart into a side split and curled his pelvis inward as he swung around again.
Raoul watched Erik practice his moves on all the different equipment for about thirty minutes until he finally decided to poke and prod the man for a more group-oriented activity. "Can we play tennis? Please, please, please?" the vicomte begged, pressing his palms together.
"Fine," Erik replied as he performed a series of tricks on the rings, "but I haven't tried tennis before." He launched himself high in the air and then landed on his feet and did a pike.
"Come on," Raoul beckoned. "It's a relatively new sport, so I'll show you how it's done. It's similar to Badminton, except there are different rules and you have to hit the ball harder," he explained as he led Erik to the tennis courts. There were two courts side by side. Raoul took out his keys and opened the supply closet, bringing out a container of balls and two rackets. He handed one to Erik and gave him a ball as well, taking one for himself. "Try dribbing the ball in the air. You don't want to let it hit the frame of the racket or fall to the ground," he said.
Erik did as he was told. He fumbled at first, but got the hang of it pretty quickly. Raoul led him through a series of exercises, including hitting the ball against a flat stone wall. They bounced a single ball off the wall together, passing it back and forth. "This isn't the most amusing activity in the world, but it's not all that bad either," Erik acknowledged as they practiced.
"You'll like it more when it gets competitive," Raoul proclaimed. Finally, the vicomte decided Erik was ready to learn the basic rules. He caught the ball when it came at him. He used his racket to dribble it on the ground momentarily and caught it again. "Come on, I'll show you how to serve," he said, leading Erik to the south court. "I stay on this side and you on that side. You hit the ball back at me, but you have to let it bounce once in your court first."
"Fine," Erik replied, getting in the ready position on his side.
Raoul cleared his throat as he took his place. "To serve, you throw the ball up in the air and then hit it over the net, but if you hit it out of bounds you get a penalty. It has to bounce in the opposing court," he explained. Carefully, he threw the ball up in the air and hit it relatively lightly to give Erik a chance to hit it back. Erik managed the maneuver and got the ball back over the net. Raoul hit it back again lightly. The second time Erik hit it too hard, but the vicomte was skilled enough to return it. "You hit it like that when you're really good and you're competing with a really good opponent. That's how pros do it. For now, keep it light."
They nearly lost track of time. Fortunately, it was Erik who noticed the clock on the wall when 6:50 came around. They rushed to get dressed in their regular clothes again and then hurried out to the stagecoach. Christine was getting worried by the time they returned. Dinner was on the table and she was the only one sitting there when they barged in. "Raoul, Angel! What took you so long?" the soprano interrogated, jumping up to give her husband a kiss.
Raoul kissed her and took his place next to the man in the mask, who was already gorging himself by the time the vicomte sat down. "Sorry, Christine. It was my fault. I wasn't watching the clock," he admitted, loading his plate up with quiche and roast beef.
"Well, did you have fun at least?" Christine asked, sitting back down.
"Erik did," Raoul revealed, taking a quick sip of his red wine. "He went berserk when he saw all the gymnastics and acrobatic equipment. He made me wait for half an hour to play tennis."
Christine raised a brow in surprise and glanced over at Erik as he stuffed himself like he had not seen a scrap of food in weeks. When he saw that she was looking at him, he chewed, swallowed, and then wiped his face. "Yes, that stuff is great. We simply must go again soon."
"Which piece of equipment was your favorite?" Raoul inquired, taking a bite of roast beef. "Mmm. Wow, Christine. Luc really outdid himself this time," he remarked on a side note.
Christine nodded. "He sure did."
"I'm torn between the trapeze, the uneven bars, and the trampoline," Erik replied.
Christine laughed. "I should have come along to watch then. I'm sorry I didn't."
"It was fun to watch," Raoul admitted. "I've never seen a man who can bend like that."
"You've never been to a circus then," Erik retorted.
Raoul laughed. "Indeed, I haven't. They have a seedy reputation in my circle."
Erik echoed his laugh. "Believe me, I understand why."
"I figure you would more than anyone," Raoul replied with a shrug, drinking more wine.
"Wait, what?" Christine interjected, looking at Raoul and then Erik and back again. She raised a brow in confusion. "Why would Angel do that more than anyone?"
Erik's face flushed for a moment and he cleared his throat loudly. "No reason."
Christine frowned. "But…" she was about to protest, only to be interrupted by a remembered thought. "Oh, Angel! When shall we practice ballet? I got Rémy to agree to play piano. He's pretty good. We can use the dance room on the third floor. Raoul got the piano there tuned too."
Raoul snickered. "Oh, this I'll have to see."
Erik and Christine glared at Raoul. "What is so humorous to you about ballet?" Erik inquired.
Raoul burst into laughter. "I… I'm sorry. I just can't stop picturing you prancing around like a fairy. It's such a glorious spectacle. Please, let me watch. Please, please, please."
Erik slammed a fist down on the table, making the silverware clatter. He locked eyes with the vicomte as if issuing a challenge. "There is nothing humorous about ballet, unless the ballet in question was choreographed with the intent of being comedic in nature. It is a beautiful and delicate art form. And to think I thought you had some sense of taste, Vicomte."
"That's right," Christine agreed.
Raoul chuckled. "Yes, I can picture you moving very delicately indeed."
Erik rolled his eyes and threw himself back in his seat, aggravated. "That's it. I'm not doing it if the vicomte is going to watch and make a mockery of such a glorious art form."
"Raoul, stop it! You're ruining this for me," Christine snapped, swatting him on the shoulder in frustration. "I want to practice with a male partner and I need him to want to do it."
"Fine," Raoul finally conceded, putting his hands up. "Erik?"
"What?" Erik growled, angrily crossing his arms over his chest.
Raoul took a deep breath in and slowly let it out, pausing for a moment to get his outward demeanor back under control. "If I promise not to laugh, may I watch?"
"No," Erik said shortly.
"Please!"
Erik shook his head. "I've had enough of your tomfoolery to last me a year, Vicomte. You'll have to re-earn the privilege of watching me do stuff by refraining from this practice for several days in a row. Let's say until after the masquerade at the castle. If you can conduct yourself in a manner befitting an actual nobleman with good taste in the arts until then, I'll let you watch."
"Fine," Christine interjected. "So presuming that Raoul isn't watching, may we practice in the dance room tonight? Say an hour after dinner?" she inquired pleadingly.
Erik raised a brow. "Tonight?" he repeated after her. She nodded fervently. He groaned slightly. "I suppose thirty minutes won't kill me, but no more than that," he decreed.
"Thank you!" Christine exclaimed.
Erik nodded and proceeded to stuff himself again. When dinner was finished, Raoul, Christine, and Erik went to the dance room to amuse themselves on the piano at first. After an hour, Erik went to his workshop to dig through the crate full of his clothes. He found a white one-piece, black stockings, and black men's slippers. The musician got dressed and returned to the dance room after Rémy had arrived to provide them musical accompaniment. Christine had dug up her old pink one-piece, tutu, and ballet slippers. Erik spotted the vicomte lurking in the corner of the room and proceeded to kick him out. "Ow!" Raoul protested as Erik grabbed him by the flap of his right ear. "Hey, let go of me!" Erik dragged him to the door and expelled him with a foot to the backside, shutting the doors behind him and locking them. Raoul was not happy about that. "This is my chateau. You can't just kick me out of a room in my own chateau!"
"I believe I just did," Erik retorted through the door. "Go on, Vicomte! We're practicing."
Raoul narrowed his eyes in indignation, but eventually turned around and left. Meanwhile, Erik strutted over to the ballet barre where Christine was already warming up. He stood up straight facing the barre and stretched his torso from side to side four times. He then turned his feet out and did two pliés and a grande plié, stretching his feet at the toes. He stood up straight and rose on his toes, his arms reaching upwards as he held the position for ten seconds. "You do seem to know what you're doing, Angel," Christine remarked as she observed the motions.
"Of course, we learned from the same teacher," Erik pointed out, doing more pliés in second position. They went through a full round of warmup exercises and then got in position on the floor, Erik behind and slightly to the right of Christine. "First position. Start with sautés." They began to bounce off the ground in unison, pointing their toes straight into the floor when they reached the apex of each jump. "Transition to second position," Erik instructed.
Christine watched herself in the mirrors all around the room, but then got distracted when she tried to watch what her music teacher was doing as well. The young soprano nearly landed on the side of her foot and stumbled. "Oomph," she uttered, not hurt but a bit startled.
"Focus, Christine," the masked man told her as he stopped jumping himself. "Careful. You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" Erik inquired worriedly, peering down at her ankle.
"No, I'm fine," Christine replied, getting back into position. "Do over."
Erik got back into position and Rémy started playing the music again. "And sauté. Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce. Switch back to first," he said, doing the sauté exercises in unison with her. "Back to second. Third. Now, changement," he told her. She began to alternate her feet. He proceeded to lead her through a preselected sequence of floor exercises, ending in a series of pirouettes around the room by which she ended up in his arms. "Nice, I think we're ready for a lift," he said, spinning her around to face forward. "You sauté and I lift. Ready?"
Christine started to get excited. The lifts were what she was most looking forward to. It felt like flying to her and to be lifted like a delicate flower by a strong male partner always carried with it a powerful feeling of sensuality, no matter who the person was. "I'm ready."
Erik placed his hands on each side of her ribcage. "Excellent. Second position. Now, sauté," he said, boosted her higher up as she bounced off the ground. They came back down and repeated the action. "And bounce and bounce and bounce, bounce, bounce. Now, when you feel ready do a sauté arabesque," the musician offered. She bounced a few more times in second position before she lifted her leg behind her on one of the jumps. In midair, Erik caught her by the underside of the hip and the raised leg and lifted her high off the ground. She was momentarily airborne and felt her heart flutter before he gracefully caught her and swung her around.
They practiced an array of simple lifts before Erik decided that it was time to call it a night. "It's getting late, Christine. We'll do more tomorrow. I think it's time to wrap things up."
"Awww," Christine grumbled in disappointment.
Erik crossed his arms at her. "I told you I'd only do thirty minutes tonight and we've gone past forty. I'd like to settle down and get ready for bed. Rémy, draw me a bath please."
"Oui, Monsieur," Rémy replied, standing up from the piano bench. He closed the keyboard cover and left to go carry out the masked man's request. Erik rubbed the unmasked side of his face.
"It was a lot of fun, Angel," Christine told him. "May we go for longer tomorrow?"
"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, but you must remember that you haven't practiced in many months. You need to start with the most basic moves first. I won't practice advanced lifts with you until I've determined that your body is ready to attempt them again," Erik indicated, taking off his slippers. "Tomorrow we can go for an hour or so as long as you don't strain yourself too much. And no pointe shoes for at least two weeks. You're not ready for that."
Christine conceded. "Very well." She went to get Babette to run her a bath of her own and disappeared into the master bedroom. She took an hour-long bubble bath. When she came out, she could not find Erik. She looked all around his workshop, but he was not there. She found Raoul in his office working on finances. "Raoul, have you seen Angel?" she inquired.
"Not since he kicked me out of the dance room," Raoul grumbled.
"We had a great time and you missed out on it because you felt like being a smart mouth," Christine admonished. "You got what you deserved." She saw Rémy pass by in the hall and called to him. "Rémy," she spoke in a raised voice, "have you seen Angel?"
Rémy stopped and walked backwards until he could see her through the open door. "No, Madame. He has not come out of his chambers. Perhaps he has fallen asleep."
"Oh? You sure he didn't drown in the bath?" Christine inquired.
Rémy blinked in surprise. "Euh… Madame, I cannot say that for certain, but I find it highly doubtful," he replied, rather perturbed at the highly unanticipated inquiry.
Christine walked past him into the hall and through the gallery to Erik's bedroom. She found it locked and knocked on the door. "Angel, are you in there?" she murmured.
Erik bolted up from the bed. He had been lying on top of the blankets reading in nothing but a white dress shirt and pair of black trousers, desperately wanting some time to himself after so much overwhelming social activity. He had not expected anyone to pursue him to his bedroom, so he dropped the book and scrambled over to the nightstand. His hair was a damp mess but he smoothed it back and positioned the wig over it and then slipped on the mask. "Coming," he replied, hopping to the door. He opened it and found Christine there. "Is something wrong?"
Christine shook her head. "I was just wondering where you'd disappeared to. I thought you would've been in your workshop," she expressed. "Are you going to bed?"
Erik shook his head. "No, just reading. If you're bored I suggest you go make your first journal entry," the musical genius proposed, opening the door a bit wider to lean against the frame. He rubbed his left eye sleepily and yawned. "Write about how you've been feeling lately. Talk about both the good things and the bad things. Think you can handle that?" he inquired.
Christine nodded. "See you in the morning then?"
"Indeed," Erik replied with a smile. "Goodnight, Christine."
Christine stepped in and gave Erik a hug around the middle. Then she pulled back and walked off. "Goodnight, Angel," were her last words. Erik smiled and closed the door.
The next day was Sunday. Christine and Raoul headed off to church right after breakfast, leaving Erik alone to continue his unpacking in peace. He was making some real progress in going through the crates by the time the two returned for lunch. All three of them ate lunch in the dining room as usual, but their chitter-chatter was soon interrupted when Amorette arrived for her music lesson. "Monsieur Angel, Uncle Raoul, Aunt Christie! I made a huge snow fort with my friends in the lower courtyard. After my singing lesson, you gotta come see. Even grownups can fit inside," she proclaimed, leaping into Christine's arms as the soprano rose to greet her.
"We'll come see it this evening," Raoul offered.
Amorette's singing lesson lasted until 2:30 and then Erik went to the dance room to practice ballet with Christine until 3:30. Raoul and Erik loaded into a stagecoach to go to the castle for a visit. The three of them got home at six, at which point Erik brought Christine to his workshop for mask making. "So how are you going to do this?" she asked as they entered the room.
"With plaster," Erik replied, sitting her down in a chair. He gathered a bowl of water and several other supplies. "First thing, we need to tie your hair back," he said, taking a black ribbon to her wild mane. He tied it to the back of her head and then sprinkled water along her hairline, smoothing her hair back. He put a rubber cap over the top of her head to protect her hair. Then he took a vat of petroleum jelly and began to spread it over her upper face where the mask would be and over half of the rubber cap. "I'm going to make the mask cover half of your head and sculpt the ears on the top where they belong afterwards," he indicated as he applied the petroleum jelly.
"Nice," Christine replied, enjoying the process. Erik used the petroleum jelly to flatten her eyebrows and then he started to tear a length of plaster cloth into small strips, dipping them in the water. "Is this how you made your mask?" she inquired, gesturing to the one he wore.
Though concentrating on the task at hand, Erik shook his head. "No, mine is porcelain. It takes longer to make and special equipment, but this one will look beautiful after I sand and paint it. Unlike mine, however, it won't be waterproof until I seal it." He wet his fingers again in the bowl of water and began to smooth out the strips he had already laid upon her face. He added more and began to sculpt and shape them as he went. He laid one long strip of plaster over the top of her head from ear to ear and began to work his way down until he sealed it with the plaster already around her eyes. "You might have to eat dinner like this. I hope you don't mind."
Christine giggled. "I don't mind at all. This is going to look great. Can we add glitter once it's done? My costume comes with silver glitter and I want it to match," she said.
"Yes, of course," Erik told her. "I have plenty of that." The artist continued to sculpt, shape, and smooth out the mask until it covered every spot he wanted covered and was just the right thickness. Then he sculpted each ear by hand so they matched and put them on with the help of extra water. He took the longest smoothing and sculpting them so that they looked just perfect. "Great. Now, we wait for it to dry and then I'll show you how to take it off your face."
Rémy appeared in the doorway and knocked to gain their attentions. "Dinner is served, Monsieur and Madame." His eyes widened when he noticed the state Christine was in. "Oh, la la. Madame, you look like a white cat!" he exclaimed. "This I was not expecting to see, I'll admit."
"I'll look like a gray cat before the night is through," Christine informed him.
Rémy chuckled. "You are quite a sculptor, Monsieur. Is Madame going to eat dinner like this?"
"Yes, but I'm pretty sure she can handle it," Erik replied. "We need to let the mask dry so I can take it off and sand it smooth. Then comes the paint, glitter, and whatever else you want on it."
"Glitter, Monsieur?" Rémy said.
Erik nodded. "Christine is a flamboyant young lady and she has requested glitter."
Christine smiled at Rémy. "May I get a closer look, Madame?" he beseeched.
"Certainly," Christine replied, standing up and walking over to him. She spun around. Erik started to put the supplies away for dinner. "Ooh, I need a mirror! I want to see."
Rémy admired the work. "Very nice," he remarked. "I can see it has been very skillfully done. Come, Madame de Chagny and Monsieur Destler, before dinner gets cold."
Erik finished putting the plaster and other supplies away and followed them to the dining room. Raoul was taken aback when he spotted Christine in plaster. "Nice mask, Christine," Raoul remarked. She smiled at him. "Erik made that?" he inquired, receiving a nod from her as she sat down. Erik came up behind her and sat in his own chair. "The ears are adorable."
"It still feels wet on my face."
"Sit by the fire after dinner and it'll dry faster. Oh, and just a warning—as it dries, it'll start to itch a lot, but no scratching!" the masked man warned, wagging a finger at her.
Christine frowned. "I don't like being itchy and not able to scratch."
"Too bad for you, then," Erik replied as he loaded up his plate, earning a small pout from Christine. Halfway through dinner, she started to feel the itch and began to make funny faces. "Keep doing that," Erik told her. "It'll help detach the mask from your face." He reached over to lightly feel the surface of the mask. "Still slightly damp, but it's getting there."
Christine continued eating as she tried to ignore the irritating itch, finally going over to the fire when dinner was through in hopes it would speed the drying process. Erik came over after he had finished and start touching the mask to see if it was ready. "It's so itchy," Christine whined.
"Keep making funny faces. It'll be ready to come off in a sec," Erik told her. She did as he instructed while he gently peeled the mask off her face. She winced at the slight pain as the mask pulled the tiny invisible hairs away from her skin, but was immensely relieved when it was all over. She took off the rubber cap and examined the mask. "Careful," Erik told her. "Best not to touch it until it dries completely. I'm going to leave it here by the fire for a bit."
"It's beautiful! I love it!" Christine proclaimed.
Erik smiled. "It'll be even more beautiful by the time I finish with it."
"May I watch while you're working on it?" Christine implored.
Erik's shoulders drooped. He really wanted to be alone for the rest of the night, but he could not just say no to Christine when she looked at him with those pleading brown doe eyes of hers. "I suppose," he replied. "Just don't lean over my shoulder every second. I need light."
"Sure!" Christine agreed.
It took another twenty minutes for the mask to dry completely. Erik then picked it up and examined it. "It's done," Erik declared. "Time for sanding." Christine looked excited as she followed him back into his workshop where he took a strip of medium sandpaper and started erasing all the rough and protruding bits and pieces from the mask. He used drops of liquid plaster to fill in unwanted crevices, let them dry by the fire, and then moved on with a lower grade of sandpaper to remove the excess and smooth the mask out until it was polished to a gem. The next thing he did was to take out a liquid sealant and apply it with a paint brush, letting one side dry before he did the other side. He painted the outside of the mask a dark gray color with some sheen to it, let that dry, and then glued thin cloth to the inside of the mask for comfort. He applied whiskers made of silver wire and added a strap to the back. Finally, he did the last decorative touches of applying silver glitter in a beautiful and intricate Egyptian pattern and then some black lace to the edges. At last it was done and he handed it to Christine to try on.
"Oh, wow! It's gorgeous. I can't believe how well it turned out," Christine exclaimed, gently placing the mask on her face and pulling the strap over the back of her head. It fit like a glove. She ran out into the entrance hall and cried out, "Raoul, come see the mask!"
The vicomte had been lounging in the salon reading a book when he heard and walked out into the hall. The mask glittered even from where he saw Christine standing many paces away. He walked up to her. "Well, that turned out as planned, didn't it?" he laughed.
"Better! It turned out better than planned," Christine replied as Erik came out into the hall and walked over to them. "I'm going to look amazing at the masquerade. I can't wait."
"A beautiful new look for a beautiful new year, huh?" Raoul remarked.
Christine nodded fervently. "What are you going as, Raoul?"
"Well, since you decided on an Egyptian deity, I thought I might match with a costume of Anubis. I put in a rush order on a full-head dog mask," the nobleman explained.
"That might be hard to see out of," Erik commented.
Raoul waved off the concern. "I have every faith in the mask maker I chose."
"What are you going as, Angel?" Christine asked curiously, turning to Erik.
Erik crossed his arms and brought a hand up to rub his chin in thought. "I thought I might go as the Raven. I have a black-feathered costume as part of my collection. It should do nicely."
"Are you an enthusiast of Edgar Allen Poe's work, Erik?" Raoul inquired.
Erik raised a brow. "I'm not sure if 'enthusiast' is the right word, but he and I do have a similar outlook on life," he replied, yawning as he glanced over at the grandfather clock. It was nearly ten o'clock. "It's getting late. I think I will have a bath drawn and then retire," he said, leaving.
"Well, we need to give you a different outlook then," Raoul argued. "Poe's is too grim for you."
"Ha!" Erik laughed out loud and turned around again, grinning at Raoul. "Too grim for me? There's no such thing," he quipped, dismissing the vicomte's concern with a wave of his hand.
"I beg to differ," Raoul asserted, walking right up to Erik and trapping him in a headlock. He raised a hand to the unmasked side of his face and patted his cheek firmly, earning a grimace from Erik. "After the holidays, no more spooky costumes. You must acknowledge that the future is bright. No more Red Death or Raven and don't even think about doing a Tell-Tale Heart."
Erik struggled in Raoul's grasp. "Bright? You can't predict the future, Vicomte. The future is a mystery and always will be," he argued, grunting as he tried to push Raoul off. "No mortal on earth can know what is to come and I refuse to let you place limits on my creative drives."
Christine laughed at their light horseplay and pointless argument. "You're acting like little boys."
"I am not," Erik protested, lightly jabbing Raoul in the stomach. "I'm not the one who started this." He grabbed a hold of one of the vicomte's legs, trying to knock him off balance. It worked, except Raoul kept his grip on Erik and they both tumbled to the ground together. "You, Vicomte, are no more than a child. Even your wise and noble brother acknowledges you thusly!"
"My brother is neither wise nor noble. He's just a pompous ass," Raoul argued, loosening his grip briefly to right himself. Erik wriggled out of his grasp and rapidly crawled away. Raoul reached out to snatch the back of Erik's waistband, but he was too slow. "Kind of like you!"
Erik jumped up and ran off shouting, "You take after him then!" He ran for the grand staircase, up the stairs, down to the gallery, and to his room, quickly locking himself in.
"Aw, Sam Hill! He got away," Raoul griped.
Christine laughed. "And he got the last word."
"Only until tomorrow…"
Christine laughed even louder and went to the fireside to plop down on a cushion. "It seems to me you are using him as a substitute for Philippe since we moved out of the castle."
"So what?" Raoul replied humorously, plopping down next to her. He pulled her into a hug and lay back with her cradled to his chest. "Is that a crime? I get bored without someone to wrestle."
Christine shrugged. "I was just being observant."