Phantom Resurrected Chapter Ten
Erik waited in the profound silence that surrounded the stage. He asked Christine the other day to meet him at the opera early the next morning. He had done this so that they could be alone, to talk without having to worry about Desiree or anyone else to disturb them. But now, all he wanted to do was talk about Desiree, to ask Christine to tell him more about her. He almost wanted to be with Desiree than with Christine.
He sat down at the bench of the ominous grand piano on that stage and let his figures hover over the keys. Finally he gave away to his muse and started playing, a small simple tune that had come to him suddenly. But then he started to add more complex rhythms as his figures dance from one end of the keyboard to the other in rapid speed. It became a piece of music beautiful and innocent, and at the same time wild and passionate. Just like Desiree was, he thought. He could see so much of Christine in her, but after last night, Erik was starting to see more of himself in his daughter.
That unnerved him. Would Desiree start to become more like him, violent and incontrollable? Would Christine blame him if her daughter return back to the present corrupted? But then Erik thought some more. No, Desiree had already been corrupted by the world she was raised him, just like he had been when he was a young mortal boy. A struggling artist constantly mocked by failures that it led him to commit the ultimate evil, to sacrifice his own soul. Immortality had its price. One person could not alone corrupt another. It took a whole society to do that. He continued to play until a small set of hands snaked over his shoulders and rested on his chest.
He stopped and looked up to see the face of his angel, Christine. Even the small wrinkles around her eyes and her hair thinning around her temples did not impair her beauty. Not to him, nothing could do that. He brought her hands to his lips and covered them with kisses. Erik used her hands to pull Christine closer to him, and didn't let go even though he could sense she was still not comfortable so close to him. Could she ever understand he was just as afraid of her as she was of him? The torture she had put him through, the thought of losing her always looming around every second they shared.
She pulled at his grip.
"Stop Christine." He pleaded. "Don't you know I would never hurt you?"
"Yes Erik I know, but you still frighten me." She whispered. He sighed and released her. She immediately back away and rubbed her hands. He watched her. She dressed in high fashion of the day, obviously she had used the money he had given her not only to find a house, but also new clothes. Typical of a woman. Did she realize that Erik's wealth and power could buy her more than that? He could offer her every opera house in the world. That is what he really wanted to do for her.
"I wanted to talk to you about Desiree." He said.
"You aren't going to scold me for want I did when she was born?" she asked, half angry half afraid.
"No. I can never really forgive you for keeping Dessy a secret from me. But I'll never stop loving you." He confessed. Christine brought her hand to her head as though she where in pain.
"Please Erik. I can't take it when you say you love me." He looked up at her, shocked and surprised. Was he now forbidden to love, even though he couldn't be loved in return? "No wait, let me explain." She said. "It's not like that, its just-you know our love can never be. We can never have a normal life, and that's why I wanted for Desiree. That's all. If only you hadn't."
"Interfered! Is that it Christine? You had your perfect plan to erase all aspects of me from her life, to make her live a dull boring lie! So the truth comes out." He hissed.
She was silent. "I have to know about Desiree, what she was like. What I missed out on all these years." He asked
"I'm sorry from keeping her from you. I wanted to do what was best."
"You wanted to protect yourself." He corrected.
Erik walked over to Christine, and took her hand, leading her back to the bench where she could sit. "Watching Dessy grow up was like knowing like you must have been when you were a child, Erik. She so much like you. I can see it in her eyes. It was almost frightening. But in a good way. She was so full of life. I knew she could take care of herself. I wouldn't have to worry about her getting hurt." Christine looked up at him. "I don't know if you could tell that about her or not."
Erik smiled. "Don't worry, I could tell that about her after the first time I saw her. She has such amazing strength." He lowered his voice. "Christine, Desiree followed me last night."
"What? How could you let her?"
"To tell the truth I didn't know she was there."
Christine looked at him puzzled. "Didn't know she was there?" she repeated. "Erik that's not like you at all. I mean, you can sense thing from a mile away."
He nodded "Well I knew some one was following me, I just didn't know it was her."
"Well does she know anything else about you?" Erik balled his figures into a fist, feeling them bruise.
"No she hasn't found out I'm a murderer yet Christine, if that's what you are suggesting." he snorted. "But believe me, should would have found out quickly if it weren't." he trailed off. "Weren't for what Erik?"
He took in a deep breath. He didn't want to betray Desiree's new found trust in him, but deciding this time it was more important not to conceal any more lies from Christine. "Christine, I saw two men attack her in the alley way, just before I was about to. She took them out as if they were nothing. I've never seen such a fighting spirit as the one I saw in her. Both men were out cold before I could step in and then I saw it was her."
Christine let a hand fly to her lips. "My God, she isn't hurt."
"Yes she was, but I don't know. You remember all the cuts she got when she fell back in the mirror. Well last night, when I cared for her new wounds, those cuts were all sealed up and you could barley tell she had been hurt. When I left her this morning, her other wound had stopped bleeding and she was sleeping like baby. She has healed at such a rapid speed."
"Well Erik, she is your daughter, and you are immortal. Perhaps that could have something to do with it."
"You are more than likely right about that."
Christine started to incline her head onto his shoulder. "Well at least she's okay. Thank you for taking care of her."
Erik looked down, surprised by her gesture of sudden affection. "You're welcome, Christine." He whispered. He saw her reach over into his vest pocket and withdrew the gold pocket watch he always carried. She flipped it open and looked at the time.
"The opera will be opening soon. We should go, otherwise it would defeat the purpose of a private meeting," she noted.
"Yes you are right." Erik sighed. Christine got up from the bench and started to walk away. Suddenly compelled, Erik stood up and race toward her. Spinning her about in his arms, he leaned down and passionately kissed her in the lips. He could not restrain himself any longer, and he braced himself for a slap on the face which was surely soon to come any second.
But it didn't, Christine let him kiss her, let his linger on hers. Erik embraced this tender sweet moment wishing it could last forever, not wanting to let her go. She let him even push his tongue into her mouth, tasting her sweetness. Her glorious lips from which the pure beauty of voice spilled out of, and sometime the words she had sung where his words. And so he enjoyed this moment of passion this beloved angel was letting him indulge in. Her hands curled about his thick hair, and he felt his sex harden between his legs. He was even so bold as to press the proof of his desire against her soft abdomen.
"Oh Christine." He murmured, into her hair. Then he slowly released her from his grasp, almost feeling embarrassed and ashamed of what he had don't.
Christine could sense this in him. "Erik, please you did nothing wrong." She said. "I cannot hate you for loving me. Please don't hate be for saying those things before."
Hate you? Erik thought. "Christine, I could never hate you."
"I don't know why that is Erik. If you hated me, I couldn't blame you. I betrayed your trust; I hid your only daughter from you because I was a stupid coward. Hell, I even killed you!"
"You tried to kill me." Erik corrected with a dry chuckle "Several times in fact."
"You're like a bad habit." She remarked
Erik at a lost of words gave her a mocking theatrical bow then started to walk away. "Oh Erik." Christine asked. "Do you think if Desiree and you had that little confrontation, who do you think would have won?"
"Oh I don't think it would have been pretty. You know me Christine. But I think Dessy would have given me good run for my money." He remarked.
Desiree sat on a small chair almost dead center of the stage. The large score to "La Boehm" covered most of her lap and weighed down her knees. She shifted constantly so her legs wouldn't fall asleep. The music of the assembled chorus swelled about the stage and through the auditorium, drowning out all the chatter and pounding of hammers made by the carpenters working on a flat. So far her duties of assistant chorus mistress hadn't been to taxing on her. She handed out the scripts to the singers, and provided them with pencils to make corrects. She had to follow Isaac's every movement and remark during rehearsal and make corrections in her copy of the master score. Earlier that morning she had been asked to go through and file a section of out of place pieces of music. Isaac had wanted her to do the entire office, but that would take forever.
Another wonderful task Dessy had to look forward to. She touched her right shoulder, feeling the large scratch left by the knife wound she received last night. She wished she didn't have to work. She didn't like Erik forcing her to go to the opera with Christine. She wanted to stay with him. But perhaps it was better; here she could protect her mother. Desiree couldn't shake off the feeling that Christine was in danger of some sorts.
The chorus continued until Isaac started waving his hands about. "No wait! Stop! Something isn't right in that last phrase." He started rubbing his temple. "I can't put my finger on it."
Dessy glanced up and around. She knew exactly who made the mistake. "Um sir. I believe Madame McArthur came in on her line about a measure early." She whispered.
Lillian McArthur was the current diva of the London Opera. Christine had told Dessy the stories of La Carlotta, the diva before her, and from the looks of it, Lillian McArthur seemed no different. The diva fixed a cold stare on her. "What did you say?"
Isaac tapped his pencil against his wrist, looking at his score. "No, I think that's what it was. What measure was that Desiree?"
"Measure 38, at the key change."
"I did not!" Lillian retorted.
Desiree raised her voice from a humble whisper. "Forgive me, but how do you know. You don't even have a score in front of you. I've been staring at mine the whole time."
Lillian stood up and threw her small fan to the floor. "How dare you? I have this opera memorized!"
Desiree got out of her chair and walked over, her fingers curled around the score, whishing it was the diva's wretched neck.
She pushed the script into Lillian's hands, restraining herself from slapping the ignorant woman's face. "Then take another look." She hissed through her teeth. Lillian's face turned a bright scarlet and she dropped Dessy's score.
"Why you! You cannot talk to people like that, especially me, you American brat! Just because your aunt is Christine Day, who thinks she has the nerve to replace me. She will never be as great as me, and you will never be anything!"
There was a long silence as the entire stage watched the conflict between the two women, waiting to see who would strike next, who would make the next move. Dessy slowly bent to pick up her score, and tucked it under her arm. She walked around the diva, leaning her head over slightly.
"You bitch" she muttered
"What did you call me?" Lillian demanded.
Dessy glanced about and gave a smile full of charm. "I feel there is no reason to repeat it, especially since everyone here knows it true." And with that she turned and left the stage.
Hidden away in the shadows of Box Five, Erik watched the altercation between Desiree and the lead soprano, Lillian McArthur. He allowed himself a small smile as he watched his daughter put the pompous bitch in her place and leaving the entire chorus stunned. Imagine what she would have don't if Carlotta were still alive. It would have been quite a show; one Erik would actually enjoy watching.
However, Erik remained himself that he couldn't let Desiree have all the fun in insulting the diva. No, she had spoken ill against Christine and Desiree and she must be taught a lesson. Obviously in his absent, the new managers had leaded themselves to make more hazardous mistake. Now that he had return to his old "hunting grounds" so to speak, they would find out their mistakes would be a bad career decision if they did not listen to his new orders.
Erik removed a black leather glove from one of his hands and stroked the red velvet of the high back chair as if it were the fur of a kitten. Yes mistake were made, but now it was time for him to correct them.