Chapter 18

Erik awoke to find himself alone in bed the sheets still warm next to him - she hadn't been up long. He jumped out of bed, grabbed his trousers and his shirt and made his way slowly to where he knew Christine would surely be. Her morning sickness has gotten worse over the past few days and he had started to get used to waking up alone. Never in his years on this earth did he ever envision himself being in this situation – sure he had dreamt more times than he could remember but it was still foreign, still scary but so uniquely theirs.

He laughed and shook his head as he found his wife on her knees next to the lake. Her white nightgown pooled around her knees, making her seem like an angel before the feet of God.

"Are you laughing at me Erik?" Christine said, her voice light and playful but slightly weary.

"No mon ange" he said, stifling a laugh.

"If you think its so funny my love, YOU try going through this. Trust me, you wouldn't last 1 day!" she laughed out loud now, her laugh cutting through the gloom like sun on a winter's day.

"Its quite alright mon ange" he said, kneeling down beside her; "After all, you're doing such a great job of it" he chuckled and she hit him playfully on the shoulder before another wave of nausea hit her and she bent over the lake side again.

He held her hair back whilst she vomited and once she was sure she was finished he pulled her close, his body acting as protection to hers. She rested her head on his chest and he kissed the top of her head. They say there for what seemed like forever in a perfect state of quiet bliss, just enjoying being in the same space. Never before had he been so calm just to do this – he had always built up walls to prevent this but Christine had come on and melted the ice of the Opera Ghost.

The bandage had long since come off and the bruising was coming down nicely but he still worried for her, he worried for them, it was only a matter of time before what was coming came and he wasn't sure whether they would all come back unscathed.

He had made arrangements to move to a little house just outside of Paris. It was a beautiful house – with rooms that branched off into other rooms and from the top floor you could see forever.

It would give him the peace he needed and the solitude from the crowds whilst making sure that Christine could get to the Opera House when she was needed. Plus, it was the perfect distance away so they could get lost whilst still being found. Nadir had made all the final arrangements above ground and all he had to do now was to sign the paper work and they would finally have a place to live above ground.

Raoul opened the door to the balcony and the light of the sun made his eyes ache, the grit behind them a stark reminder of the fact he hadn't yet slept. All the arrangements were in order, now they only had to wait for the right time. All the men knew their roles, their positions and each had been handsomely paid – they were finally going to get what they deserved, she was going to be his and the 'monster' would be no more.

He had spent the best part of the past 4 days in solitude in his room, only going out when need permitted he did so. He was still wearing the same clothes and he hadn't shaved but still the sardonic smile lingered across his lips. It flickered across his face like a child awaiting Christmas Day – for the present that he had pestered his mother for all year round. Except this time there would be no waiting, he would be in charge of his own destiny, he would have his say and nothing, and especially no one was going to stop him, least of all him

He glanced at his pocket watch – 10.30am, it would soon be time to pay a final visit to the Blacksmith. He had spent the several days before his self-induced exile going through each and every detail so that it would be right – it needed to be special. The 'greatest moment' of the monster's life needs an audience

Taking slow, deliberate steps he closed the door and walked towards where his cleaning utensil's lay and set to work making himself presentable.

Within 30 minutes he was grabbing his hat and cane and walking out into the Parisian sunshine, whistling a happy tune as he did so. He was impeccably clean shaven, his hair tied up in a neat pony tail against his thin but graceful neck, a grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat graced his handsome lips. Oh yes, it was time.

It took him the best part of 10 minutes but finally he had reached his destination, opening the door with authority and walking in swiftly. The blacksmith was working furiously, his back towards Raoul, a thin film of sweat worked its way down his neck and back.

Raoul cleared his throat impatiently and he turned round on his heels, his face breaking out into a broad grin as he saw Raoul.

"Monsieur De Chagny!" he said brightly "I'm just in the process of finishing up here – I beg your indulgence for a few minutes longer"

Raoul nodded and the blacksmith turned back towards his work, whilst Raoul looked on eagerly.

Within 10 minutes it was obviously finished and the blacksmith let it cool on the side.

"I've been working the best part of 2 weeks on that!" he said proudly "Everything you said down to the letter! Its light, sharp and perfect for doing that which you require." He looked towards the floor slightly but continued, afraid to meet Raoul's eyes; "If I might be so bold what do you require it for? There is no war, not even a threat and yet you wished it so…"

"No you might not be so bold…my business is my own" growled Raoul in slight annoyance. The blacksmith nodded towards the pistol which lay on the worktop. The grey a stark contrast to the wood which it lay on – the De Chagny crest shone proudly on the handle, the detail breath taking, the shadow hitting it making it seem strong and proud.

Raoul walked cautiously over and picked up that which lay in front of him. He tested its weight and it balance before finally taking aim at a nearby wall and pulling the trigger. The bullet chamber clicked in protest and a grin passed across Raoul's face again – it was perfect.

He nodded towards the blacksmith and said quietly:

"I thank you for your trouble, you have done well, you shall be handsomely paid." Before leaving a purse on the table and walking with purpose out the shop.

The ink had not been dry on the paper for more than a few hours before Erik and Christine stood outside the entrance to the Rue Scribe with various possessions pooled in boxes around their feet. Erik looked down towards the floor, slightly anxious, he knew this was the right time to move, but still he wasn't used to being above ground in the day. Christine sensed his anxiety and squeezed his hands comfortably.

"It'll be alright my love" she whispered quietly.

Finally the brown coach turned the corner and the driver pulled up with a smile. Getting off quickly he helped them gather everything together and before long they were on their way out of the Rue Scribe towards the Bois – Erik looking sadly behind him at the home he had known for so long, his beloved organ set to gather dust deep within the bowels of the Opera House.

The night was dark as 5 shadows walked through the streets of Paris. Like ghosts passing silently through the night they moved, all safe in the purpose of what was going to come to pass tonight. All had spilt blood before and practically revelled in it – the sweetness as life became extinct an powerful aphrodisiac to their souls.

The head of the group was Raoul, the torch he was carrying the only light, casting their shadows powerfully onto the walls behind them as they walked. Finally they had reached the Rue Scribe. Sending men ahead he waited until the dull click of the gate gave way and finally he moved forward again with a purpose that was almost threatening to consume him fully. He breath came in short sharp gasps as he made his way through the gate into the lair and walked slowly down into the bowels of hell.

Sending men forward again he let them lead the way, preferring to hold back, the coupe degrais was going to be his – they were going to drive him out before finally he would get what we wanted, revenge, in cold blood.

Before long they had reached Lake Averne, the boat usually at this side of the lake, a lantern hung slightly alight on the front, the pole neatly tucked in underneath the boat. Cocking his head slightly Raoul joined his men on the boat and the leader, Javert pushed them off into the dark.

The journey was a long one, the weight on the small craft slowing them down before finally they got to the other side which hung in pitch darkness. A growl rose up in Raoul's throat and echoed around the lair.

"Go, find them now!" he shouted, even though he knew they wouldn't be found here, not now. He fell to his knees, the gun skidding out from under him and across the floor and screamed his frustration to the darkness around him. He would find them, they could not hide from Raoul De Chagny!