Chapter 2
When I awoke it was dark and I lift my hands into the air to be greeted by that all too familiar coffin lid. My head ached and I pushed the lid open. Even more darkness greeted me and I wondered if that strange young man had been just a dream. Then I realized I had my strength back.
I gasped and drew back from the coffin, staring at my hands as if I had never seen them before, flexing the fingers. They were no longer yellow but that radiant white that the young man, or vampire had had last night on all his skin. I went to my parlor and sat down, a strange appetite raging in my stomach.
Sitting in my armchair I began to think I had gone mad. I tucked my knees under my chin and glanced nervously around the cold room. Again I heard that cruel laugh.
"Wonderful, Erik, you are awake. I'm starved, how about you?" the vampire had entered wearing a top hat and the finest tailored suite from Italy.
"Who are you?" I asked placing my feet back to the ground and clenching the arms of my chair tightly in my fists.
"My name is Peter Carton, and indeed I am English, not French as yourself. I am a vampire and your savior. Don't have such a grim look on your face, or if it pleases you, wear that mask of yours. Alas, I do have a confession to make. I am not as old as I said. I am only ten years a vampire, but a hundred just reeked of respect, don't you think?" he rambled around the room with a candle glancing at my cluttered shelves.
"M. Carton, would you so kindly tell me how to stop this pain?" I asked, rising to my feet and pointing to my stomach.
"Oh, you need to feed. Come, I will teach you to hunt, as if you need a teacher. But do put on your mask so you don't scare the prey away. The human race is so easy to scare," he tossed me the dreaded façade and proceeded out of my home and onto a boat he had apparently used to get across the lake.
I knew what I had to do. There was no point in staying there to await a death that now would never come. At least, after I learnt the ways of vampirism, I get my revenge on Peter Carton who had damned me to an eternity of thinking of my beautiful Christine. Oh, my sweet little rose, what a monster you would think me now.
"Being a vampire has its plusses along with all the woe. Such as you may kill whomever it pleases you to and you can never be harmed back. The only way in which to kill us is indeed that old myth of stabbing us through the heart with a wooden stake," he paddled through the water, his eyes ignoring my evil glare.
We rushed out of the Opera house, careful not being seen by the workers or opera goers, and into the lively Paris streets. Music from a mandolin played by a street performer echoed in my ear and two lovers passed in front of us.
"So, take your pick, Erik. Who do you most desire to take life from and you can do it," he whispered into my ear.
I bit my tongue as I almost said I wished to kill him the most but managed to put, "Young lover," before I could.
Peter swirled around, "Yes, a jealous murder to a young fop just finding love, from a ma who is cursed never to experience the most wonderful emotion in all the world."
I shut my eyes for a moment and breathed in the air, full of the stench of the city. I opened them again and saw my victim. He was walking a pretty little woman home who held a bright red rose in her gloved hand. The boy walked, never taking his emerald eyes from hers and holding her hand ever so gently. Strangely he reminded me of that damned Raoul.
From then on, I don't know where Peter went. My mind was bent on one thing, sucking the blood from this boy. I followed them in shadows until they reached her house. He kissed the hand and bid her goodnight. I perched in the bushes, ready to spring at him when he came back around the corner.
I heard the footsteps then saw his smiling face. He was literally skipping down the road, singing a soft song of triumph to himself. I stepped out behind him and grabbed him by the throat. Immediately he attempted to scream but my iron grip slid over his mouth. He squirmed under my arms as I sunk my teeth into his tender flesh. It was so unlike anything I had ever done.
From the moment the blood flooded my mouth, I knew it was going to be worth an eternity of thinking of Christine in the arms of Raoul. Flashes of color flooded my vision and my taste buds exploded in delight. It was almost as good as singing. I thought I was going to swoon from the ecstasy. Slowly, he went limp and slipped to the cobble stone road.
I smiled as I wiped the blood from around the mouth of my mask. I couldn't help but think of the headlines on the newspaper. The Phantom of the Opera had returned, and this time with a twist!
When I awoke it was dark and I lift my hands into the air to be greeted by that all too familiar coffin lid. My head ached and I pushed the lid open. Even more darkness greeted me and I wondered if that strange young man had been just a dream. Then I realized I had my strength back.
I gasped and drew back from the coffin, staring at my hands as if I had never seen them before, flexing the fingers. They were no longer yellow but that radiant white that the young man, or vampire had had last night on all his skin. I went to my parlor and sat down, a strange appetite raging in my stomach.
Sitting in my armchair I began to think I had gone mad. I tucked my knees under my chin and glanced nervously around the cold room. Again I heard that cruel laugh.
"Wonderful, Erik, you are awake. I'm starved, how about you?" the vampire had entered wearing a top hat and the finest tailored suite from Italy.
"Who are you?" I asked placing my feet back to the ground and clenching the arms of my chair tightly in my fists.
"My name is Peter Carton, and indeed I am English, not French as yourself. I am a vampire and your savior. Don't have such a grim look on your face, or if it pleases you, wear that mask of yours. Alas, I do have a confession to make. I am not as old as I said. I am only ten years a vampire, but a hundred just reeked of respect, don't you think?" he rambled around the room with a candle glancing at my cluttered shelves.
"M. Carton, would you so kindly tell me how to stop this pain?" I asked, rising to my feet and pointing to my stomach.
"Oh, you need to feed. Come, I will teach you to hunt, as if you need a teacher. But do put on your mask so you don't scare the prey away. The human race is so easy to scare," he tossed me the dreaded façade and proceeded out of my home and onto a boat he had apparently used to get across the lake.
I knew what I had to do. There was no point in staying there to await a death that now would never come. At least, after I learnt the ways of vampirism, I get my revenge on Peter Carton who had damned me to an eternity of thinking of my beautiful Christine. Oh, my sweet little rose, what a monster you would think me now.
"Being a vampire has its plusses along with all the woe. Such as you may kill whomever it pleases you to and you can never be harmed back. The only way in which to kill us is indeed that old myth of stabbing us through the heart with a wooden stake," he paddled through the water, his eyes ignoring my evil glare.
We rushed out of the Opera house, careful not being seen by the workers or opera goers, and into the lively Paris streets. Music from a mandolin played by a street performer echoed in my ear and two lovers passed in front of us.
"So, take your pick, Erik. Who do you most desire to take life from and you can do it," he whispered into my ear.
I bit my tongue as I almost said I wished to kill him the most but managed to put, "Young lover," before I could.
Peter swirled around, "Yes, a jealous murder to a young fop just finding love, from a ma who is cursed never to experience the most wonderful emotion in all the world."
I shut my eyes for a moment and breathed in the air, full of the stench of the city. I opened them again and saw my victim. He was walking a pretty little woman home who held a bright red rose in her gloved hand. The boy walked, never taking his emerald eyes from hers and holding her hand ever so gently. Strangely he reminded me of that damned Raoul.
From then on, I don't know where Peter went. My mind was bent on one thing, sucking the blood from this boy. I followed them in shadows until they reached her house. He kissed the hand and bid her goodnight. I perched in the bushes, ready to spring at him when he came back around the corner.
I heard the footsteps then saw his smiling face. He was literally skipping down the road, singing a soft song of triumph to himself. I stepped out behind him and grabbed him by the throat. Immediately he attempted to scream but my iron grip slid over his mouth. He squirmed under my arms as I sunk my teeth into his tender flesh. It was so unlike anything I had ever done.
From the moment the blood flooded my mouth, I knew it was going to be worth an eternity of thinking of Christine in the arms of Raoul. Flashes of color flooded my vision and my taste buds exploded in delight. It was almost as good as singing. I thought I was going to swoon from the ecstasy. Slowly, he went limp and slipped to the cobble stone road.
I smiled as I wiped the blood from around the mouth of my mask. I couldn't help but think of the headlines on the newspaper. The Phantom of the Opera had returned, and this time with a twist!