Chapter 7: Bullets
There was a crash as the mirror shattered when the two bullets hit the reflection on its surface.
The glass shards hit the floor and scattered.
Erik tutted, "That wasn't very nice."
Raoul spun to face the real Erik. He smirked holding up the gun.
" Now Monsieur that is hardly fair," scolded Erik.
"I don't know how you can be so confident. You have no weapon and I have a gun."
"Yes but what kind of shot are you," Erik taunted.
Raoul let off a bullet. It ricocheted off the rock to the left of Erik's head. Erik raised his eyebrows, "Clearly not a very good one." The next bullet went wide to the right and he had to duck the ricocheting metal.
Heart pounding violently Erik continued towards Raoul, knowing that the closer he got the larger the target. He saw the nozzle of the gun steady at his chest. Damn, this one would hit him. Raoul squeezed the trigger, the same moment that Erik glided to his right. There was an explosion and blood splattered on the floor. Erik felt a searing pain and bent over double, teeth gritted against the pain.
Raoul watched the scarlet liquid dripping onto the floor with grim satisfaction, a sadistic smile playing on his face.
Erik suddenly stood upright gripping his right arm, blood staining his fingers.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you monsieur but the bullet only grazed my arm. There is barely a scratch. You really are a terrible shot."
The smile vanished. Raoul pulled up the gun to shoot again.
Erik lifted his stained hand, "Please don't bother. If that type of gun is the one I think it is it only holds six bullets."
Raoul pulled the trigger and was answered by an empty click.
"Well would you look at that, I was right." With that he strode the last few feet between him and Raoul and promptly punched him, hard.
Erik reached for his sword, which lay on a shelf nearby (how convenient). He drew it back. Raoul lay cowering on the floor,
"Don't kill me." He whined.
Erik prepared to plunge the glinting metal into the whimpering Vicomte's chest. "Wait Erik, no."
Christine caught his arm.
"No Erik, no, not like this."
He paused. Then spun the sword in his hand, hitting Raoul sharply on the head with the handle, knocking him unconscious.
"And why would you not let me rid the world of him?"
"Because then you'd be a murderer."
Erik gave her a sardonic smile; "I'm already a murderer Christine, several times over."
His bluntness threw her, how could he talk so coolly about something like that?
He could see he'd upset her. "Never again Christine." He promised then paused, "Why aren't you still hiding?" He asked angrily.
"You're hurt," she gasped and touched his bleeding arm lightly.
"Just a scratch," he growled, refusing to show any weakness. "It looks worse than it is."
"Erik." Her laughter swelled, he hadn't had her laugh in his presence before. "You're like a rebellious child. Let me bind it for you." Erik saw her leave the room then turned to Raoul's still form. What to do with the fop? That was the question. Christine returned and bound up his arm.
"I was afraid he'd kill you."
Erik was touched by her concern, "It takes a lot to kill me," With that he took her into his arms and kissed her fervently.
Raoul woke with a pounding headache. He groaned. Where was he? He looked up at the ceiling of the ballroom in the theatre. He groaned again. He'd lost. He couldn't believe it. But he was determined not to next time. Next timeā¦
