Fiend Angelical



Exhausted, Kristina collapsed onto her make shift bed, her head sinking deeply into the cushions. "No lessons tonight, please Sir," she whispered, more to herself then to her teacher. "I'm so.tired." She lifted up her fingers and saw them; red, swollen, throbbing and sighed. Nestling her head into her shoulder; she fell asleep.

Erik stared, glassy eyed and trembling. His eyes glowed for a terrible moment in the darkness; a bright lethal yellow and Kristina frowned in her sleep. He shut his eyes, ridding the world of that awful light and breathed deeply; letting the anger out with each gasp of air.

He then admonished himself.she was just a child, much younger even than Christine. Christine had been absolutely devoted to him; and she still had trouble obeying him. He must just let this lapse of character pass. He must not.

Numbness in his left arm caused his train of thought to waver off course. His heart burned; and he fled the sleeping child and ran deep, deep underground to his living tomb.

Kristina didn't wake until it was much later; past midnight. She stretched indelicately; scratching at her rib cage. Yawning; she slipped into a white and lacey rob and paced around her small apartment. She jumped up and down, crossed her legs. Frowning; she grabbed Signor for company and left, searching for the nearest bathroom.

Impatiently she searched; she had always used the lavatory nearest the practice hall. That was one however, was extremely far away. Sighing with relief, she ducked into a ladies room. Making a mental note of where it was, she exited.

However, she was no longer tired. Cursing herself for falling asleep so early, she decided to wander a bit, let herself get acquainted with this new and beautiful home.

Wonderingly, almost in awe she haunted the passages, running her fingers over the smooth surfaces, letting them dance over the beautiful walls. The opera house was very much empty now, the patrons were home, the players in bed. Free from her exhaustion and rehearsal, she opened every door that wasn't locked; let her form feel the immense history this building held. To her great delight, she found a carefully concealed trap door, under a rug. When she tried to pull it open, a sound not unlike the shriek of a wounded dog echoed through the corridor. She quickly let go and hurried away while dismissing the noise as a gust of wind through the drafty halls. Kristina approached the stage, found herself on it. Laying Signor carefully on his side, the girl curtsied to invisible applause, grinning broadly. "Merci, remerciez vous, mesdames et messieurs!" she cried, her accent likely to cause any Frenchmen to cringe.

A single pair of hands clapped dryly. "Wunderbar, Freline." said an old man sarcastically. Kristina's face dropped its grin and its glow. She wrapped her robe tightly around her waist. The old man, his skin curiously darker than it should've been for a native Frenchman, approached the stage, and picked up Signor.Revulsion paced through her. She did not want this lecherous ancient thing touching her pure and good friend. "Hey!" she called. "Put that down!" He didn't even look up, but began plucking at the strings. Furious and feeling somehow invaded; she scrambled over the vast expanse of the stage and all but snatched her violin away. "I isaid/i to put that idown/i!" He raised his hands in a gesture of defeat. He smiled, and some of his teeth were missing. Kristina cringed and began to walk away.

"Kristina!" he called. She stopped where she was and without turning said "What?" through gritted teeth. "There was another girl like you, once. Young and pretty, and she had an extraordinary talent for music. I know how she got so good, Kristina. I knew who was giving her lessons. No one has seen her for five years."

At this, Kristina turned around. "What are you saying, Herr?" she asked with blue eyes slitted with suspicion. "I'm not saying anything. Have you ever seen your teacher, Freline? Ever seen his face?" When her cheeks drained slowly of color, he cackled. "Didn't think so. Go poke around in Box Five, Mademoiselle. See what you find!"

Something black moved behind Kristina and she whipped around. The shadow of a top hat was gone before it was really there. When she faced the old man, he was gone. "He doesn't know what he's talking about, does he Signor?" she said loudly to her instrument. "Sir would never do anything to hurt us! Never!" she all but yelled, and it echoed reassuringly. With a hurried glance at Box Five, Kristina exited the stage.