Chapter 13
Raoul opened his eyes and cried out as the light assaulted his senses, making his head swim. He got up slowly on unsteady legs and stumbled over to his dresser, picking up the nearest bottle of whiskey he found there and took a long sip. The liquid burned down his throat and he growled as it warmed him and steadied his nerves somewhat. He ran his hands through his hair, which hung, messily around his shoulders, and over his chin where 2 day old stubble graced his usually handsome features making him seem scruffy and unkempt.
His head reeled, full of thoughts and scenarios, about all the things in his power he could do to them. Pain throbbed in his temples but he paid it no heed as a small smile ran over his face as his plan took shape. It would be all too easy to storm the lair and grab Christine and finish him off once and for all, that would take away the thrill of the chase, it would take away his triumph and it would take away the fact that he was the better man once and for all. It took patience, cunning and wit and he had these, he had the ways and the means, it was only a matter of time.
He walked over to a bowl that was filled with cold water. He rinsed his face and winced as the cold water cleared his senses somewhat, and for the first time that morning he was able to think clearly. He took up a razor and proceeded to continue to tidy himself up – after all, Christine would never want him again if he looked like this.
He placed a white shirt on, which Elizabeth had placed out whilst he was sleeping. The white linen gliding over his well toned body easily, bringing another small smile. Next came his trousers, bottle green, pressed impeccably as always. Finally the jacket, the tails reaching half way down his back, billowing slightly as the wind took them. Looking into the mirror he surveyed himself, a chuckle leaving his throat as he did so;
"Its only a matter of time Raoul, then she will be at your beck and call again and away from the monster she calls a man!" came his deep voice as he grinned, grabbed his top hat and cane and walked out to start his preparations. Saying nothing to the servants he walked out into the early morning sun, whistling a happy tune.
Finally he came to the Blacksmith's and entered the door slowly, the poor light making his head hurt as he strained to see. Jones – the blacksmith stood in the corner, a blade he was working on bright red, a stark comparison to the light around them, just looking at it made Raoul's head swim suddenly. The man in question had been a family friend and weapon provider to the De Chagny family for decades, his white hair short, his features firm but wise, his eyes giving nothing of his emotion away.
"Good Morrow!" came his cheerful reply as he noticed Raoul walk in – his eyes came alive with emotion.
"Good Morrow" came Raoul's low reply; "I have a small request. I have… business to take care of shortly and I wish to have something…" he searched for the right word, his brow arching as he did so; "special with which to do it with".
Getting out a piece of paper and his ink pen he sat down, lit a candle and set to work on putting down on paper that which Raoul had in mind.
They had spent the day quietly, composing, reading and generally existing in the same space as one another. Conversation was easy going, they talked of everything and anything until eventually the topic had drifted onto children. Looking deep into his eyes she had approached the subject, watching the emotions drift across his face, his eyes – shock, disbelief, wonder, and finally love… he wanted this as much as hers, a smile drifted over his face and she watched as he slowly got lost in his own thoughts.
She knew he was highly afraid of their child baring the same afflictions as his own but she knew more than anything what a great father he would make. He was loving, passionate and caring, strong but frail at the same time. The man she loved was so complicated yet so simple. There was such beauty in his heart and soul – he never failed to bring her to tears but so many people had refused to look behind the mask. His eyes alone told his story, his amber eyes both burning and adoring as he stared into her eyes, with a smirk on his face.
Without warning he darted forward and she found herself on her back looking up at him, with a surprised look on her face. The look in his eyes took her breath away – and she shivered and swallowed at the same time. She fought the lump that rose in her throat – this man was her future, her life – and she would want nothing more than to bare his children.
He ran his fingers slowly across her sides, bringing out whimpers and moans from her very soul. He teased her until she could stand no longer and plunged into her, filling her completely, taking both their breaths away as a rhythm and before long they each cried their release and lay spent in each others arms.
Erik woke up with a start, sweat breaking out on his brow and down his back – his breathing coming in short sharp gasps. Nightmares; his only physical weakness, which caused him much anguish and embarrassment. He lay there for a minute before he realised that even without looking Christine was not beside him. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck and a shiver ran down his spine, immediately clearing his sleep-addled brain. The lair was deathly silent.
"Christine!" he called, getting nothing back but his own voice, which echoed off the walls all around him. He felt the sheets; she had not been there for quite a while.
"Christine?" he called out again, his voice taking on a desperate tone now. Still there came no reply.
Pulling back the covers he jumped out, grabbing a shirt and trousers and quickly pulling them on as he ran out of their room. He called out her name, hoping to get some sort of reply. 'Where the hell is she!' He thought 'She wouldn't just up and go, she wouldn't leave me again, no like this… not now…'
He searched the kitchen; bread and cheese lay on the table, hardly touched, the chair thrown back violently. It lay on the floor cold and untouched.
He ran out towards his organ and the lake, his eyes quickly scanned around his as he searched the bank. He let out a strangled cry as he saw his beloved there, deathly pale, a dark bruise forming on her forehead, dried blood from underneath her head….
