Chapter Five

The following weeks were some of the happiest in my life. Or afterlife, if you want to be picky. The story of the Victome being found by his new wife dead, upon waking up next to him, had spread across Paris. Rumors that Christine had gone a bit insane a few days later began to spring up and yet more shame would come to the Chagney family when Raul's pristine cousin, the lovely and virginal Victoria was found to be not so very virginal at all, but rather pregnant.

It was this last bit of news that interested me the very most. Reports said the young girl had ceased to speak and no matter how much her family pressed her to speak of the father of her child she would not. I knew it was out of shame. Probably deep with in her chest was the fear that her child would come out as hideous as has lover. It was as I read this article over for the sixth time that it finally sunk in that I was to be a father.

"Do you think it will be born a vampire?" I asked Peter as we made our way to the opera. He had gotten us tickets for my favorite box, five.

"No. It might have some vampiric features such as pale skin but it will not be one of us unless you make it one. If the mother had been the vampire, then the opposite would be true. It would be born a vampire with human features," Peter explained, pushing the curtain back and allowing me inside.

The opera house was packed tonight. There was heated discussion over the new lead soprano, a girl in her twenties from Greece. My mind wandered back to Christine and I saw her standing on the stage, singing in place of Carlotta, filling the audience with music so beautiful it had made me weep. And I had taught that perfection. Sculpted it into a work of art. For what? To be betrayed. To be cast away for my ghastly looks.

I smiled as I pictured her waking up on that fateful morning. She would have stretched her arms a little, her delicate frame moving beneath the sheets. Her eyes open and a grin spreads across her mouth as she reflects on the magic of the previous night. She turns and wraps her arms around Raul, kissing his back. But something seems wrong. He does not move. Rigor mortis has set in and his body is stiff and unnatural. Christine sits up and shakes him, crying out his name, tears falling from her eyes, backing away from the corpse, much like she did me.

A hearty laugh left me. How cruel I was, but revenge was sweet. Murdering people who had never done me any harm was one thing. That brought a small bit of guilt. But stabbing the souls of those who made me suffer was a joy I could never lift. Peter smiled at me and raised his finger to his mouth, telling me to hush, the opera was about to start.

The news of Christine's attempt at suicide struck fear into my heart. Not fear of her life, but fear that she would cut her suffering short while I must endure it forever. I decided that a visit to her was long overdue and donned my most attractive tails and top hat.

I found her no longer sleeping in the master chambers but one of the smaller guest rooms. She tossed and turned in her nightmares, hands chained to the bed to prevent her from doing more harm to herself. I sat on the edge of her bed and stared. I knew it would not be long.

Indeed, not only five minutes after my vigilance began did she cease to move and I knew her to be awake. Her eyes were still shut, for fear of finding what was there when she opened them, I was sure. I ran my hand across her forehead and her eyes burst open.

"Why such hate and spite, Christine?" I asked in a low whisper.

"Erik, why did you tease us so? Why didn't you kill him back in your torture chamber? Why did you wait?" her voice cracked with pain. I let the words run over me.

"I came here out of pity and worry for you, and yet you blame me with these ridiculous accusations. That isn't a very kind way to act," I said, standing up once again.

"But you killed him. I know you did. I told everyone, only they all say you are dead. But I knew. I know! Who else can kill without a trace?" she asked slyly.

"You are wrong. I used to never be able to perform the perfect murder. Something was always there to give me away, if anyone had the sense to look. There was always at least a trace and other times there were glaring clues that I left on purpose. But now, a transformation has occurred. I can kill with out a trace," I said, letting my secret out.

"Then kill me," she whispered.

I laughed softly. "I think not. Actually I came here to tell you to take better care of yourself. Suicide is not exactly healthy."

"Why do you make me suffer so?" she started to sob.

I put my face close to hers. "So that you can feel a life time of what it is like to be me while I must endure an eternity of it. Didn't you ever want to know what it felt like to never have the thing you most desired? You are a selfish girl and you must be taught a lesson."

I left her crying, knowing that sooner or later she would succeed in suicide, but knowing the pain in her currently was terrible. She knew I had killed Raul, and for some odd reason, that pleased me. The naïve little child was finally growing up.