Re-read: 3-18-05

-Chapter Eight – Daemon-

Christine and her Angel dreamed away three peaceful weeks.

Then a letter came.

"You look exhausted, Christine."

"Oh..." her blushed cheeks pale "It's nothing, I... I just ran all the way to be on time for my voice lesson."

"Your watch must be broken, my dear. You are twenty minutes early."

"So my hurry was useless?" a nervous loughter blurts out between slightly shaking lips "Well, I'll bring the stupid thing to a watchmaker as soon as possible."

While she hastily hangs away her cloak, fetches a ribbon for her hair and assorts her scores, she can feel the eyes of her invisible Angel following her every movement.

When he suddenly speaks again, she jumps.

"You are lying to me, Christine. Don't you know that I can't bear lies from your beautiful mouth?"

"I... I didn't lie to you, Angel, it really was nothing, just... " she shrugs and makes a dismissive gesture with her awkwardly quivering hand "... just a short letter from Raoul. He is on his way back to Paris. He'll stay only a week. His ship..."

"What have I told you about Raoul, Christine?" the Angel interrupts her with a dangerously calm voice.

"He is a distraction and he will thwart my development. But I..."

"But still you insist on having contact with him!" his words seem to echo behind the mirror.

"Angel, please, you can't force me to break with him!" Christine pleads, her wide eyes full of fear "I know him since I was a child, he was the one who kept me alive when my father died, he is the only human being that cares for me on this whole planet!"

"You have an angel who cares for you."

"But an angel can't write me letters! I can't embrace an angel when he returns from a journey! You can't take that away from me. I... I don't want to give my life for an emotional voice, I..." she stops, suddenly scared of her own brave contrariness. "Angel?... Are you still there?" her hand feverishly caresses the pane of glass "Angel, speak to me!" When the mirror remains silent, she bursts into tears "Don't leave me Angel, please! Come back to me! I'm sorry! I'll do everything you want! I'll... I'll burn the letter! I'll never see Raoul again, I promise! Just come back to me, please..."

"Christine..." the voice from the mirror sounds infinitely sad. "I am still here. Don't cry. Don't burn the letter. I don't want to take your life away from you."

"So I may see Raoul again?" Christine sniffles hopefully.

The Angel closes his eyes. He clenches fists.

"You may." he eventually gives in "But don't tell him about your Angel and don't let him steal your heart. It belongs to me, don't forget that, Christine."

"I will never forget that, I promise!" she whispers.

"Now." the Angel sighs warmly "Let us delay your lesson. Tell me, are you collegues still cruel to you?"

Christine gives a slow nod.

"It's worse than ever. Meg is constantly having mishappenings and she keeps blaming me for it. As soon as no master is around she starts teasing me." her voice is now strangled with tears again "I don't understand her, I never did anything but defending myself, I don't..."

"Oh, Christine..." the Angel whispers full of regret "Forgive me, I did not mean to cause you more tears."

"It's Meg who makes me cry. It's not your fault." she stammers, wiping her eyes.

But it is his fault. For he is responsible for Meg's little misfortunes. It seems the girl needs a conversation in private...

"I will make her stop, Christine." he softly promises "She will never bother you again."

"That is good." Christine sighs and leans her tired head against the mirror.

Her Angel kneels on the floor beside her, parted from her only by a cold pane of glass. How he longs to caress her tender skin.

Three days later he sees to a certain blonde fury. And he spares nothing exept her life, and that only because her mother begged for it on her old rheumatic knees when he summoned her to his box to give her one final warning for her daughter.

Meg doesn't believe in the Phantom. She thinks her mother is just seeing things and her collegues are all stupid and hysterical. So when the voice of her friend Jammes calls her on her way from the restroom, she follows it, cursing softly, even when the highpitched girlish voice transforms into something different. She believes it to be one of Jamme's demented jokes. And she only looks a little irritated, when she passes around a corner and finds herself in an impasse that wasn't there the last time she walked down the corridor.

"Congratiulations, Jammes." she sneers. "So you found one of the mouse traps, mad Garnier added to his Opera, ey?"

"Jammes is rehearsing." a poisonous voice whispers from all directions, as a wall silently closes behind Meg. "Welcome to the Phantom's girl trap."

She turns around to stare at the wall angrily.

"Jammes, you stupid cow! Open that wall again!"

Instead of a response, a draft circles the small room and extincts all the torches that lighted it.

"Jammes! Open it right now!" Meg shouts through the blackness. "I swear it, if you don't leave me out of here immediately I will..."

"You'll what?" it whispers menacingly into her right ear. "You're trapped." it whispers into her left ear. "You're in no position to threaten anyone." it whispers from the ceiling.

"Who are you!" Meg furiously demands.

The answer sounds hollow, as if coming from a deep pit.

"I am the creature that you know as the Phantom of the Opera."

She feels her left hand caught by a rope and pulled downwards so that she violently falls to the floor, the impact pressing all air from her loungs.

"And you, Meg Giry, are a cause of incessant annoyance to me."

Her right hand is caught and pulled in the same manner.

"You are mean, ignorant and self-righteous."

Her left foot is caught.

"You make Christine cry."

Her right foot is caught. And this is, when she finally starts to shout for help.

"Today I will give you some good reasons to leave Christine alone."

His whisper overpowers her yelling effortlessly and shocked she falls silent again.

Slowly he pulls a long knife out of a metal scabbard. Then he takes a seat on Meg's chest like a daemon. In the total darkness he can only smell her fear, feel her racing heartbeats throbbing against his thighs.

"Petite Meg..." he gently lays the blade across her mouth "I could cut your face to bloody little pieces while my weight on your chest causes you to suffocate." He follows her neck with the flat side of the blade "I could slit your throat."

"Get off of me, you perverted bastard!" she manages to hiss.

"So you still think me a living breathing man!" he hurls his knife aside and takes a match out of his pocket. One hand clawing into her face, he lights it.

"Meg..." he whispers over her choked screams "Leave Christine in peace or I will come at night, rip out your heart and eat it while it still beats!"

The blonde fury was tame after that...

When Erik began to tell, Carla was walking close beside him, but now she has brought some considerable distance between them.

"You must have known that I am a violent man." he says when he looks up, his hand still caressing the metal frame.

"How many did you kill in your life?" her voice sounds strangled.

Erik turns his eyes to the lake.

"Far too many."

"Why!" She nearly sobs it.

"You ask me why?" he suddenly shouts at her "Do you really think there could be anything fictional about the way a face like mine denies a man all the safety, the respect and the means of self-defense you get as an admitted member of society? How many so-called 'righteous' men would help me if my life was threatened? The 'righteous' men themselfes came at me! And do you really think..." he makes some steps towards her, that she answers by backing further away "Do you really, honestly believe that one is deeply repelled by the thought of tortouring those whose normal faces give them the right to detest him, abuse him and deny him all that makes life bareable? Oh, I feel remorse for those who died at my hands although they meant no threat to me, and I'm not trying to find excuses for what I've done, Carla! I always had it in my hands to give up and let 'justice' have it's way with me. But this community of normals, this humanity, never seemed to be worthy of such a selfless deed." Suddenly he turns away from her with a violent movement. He stays silent for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice has changed totally. Hate and rage have given way to sadness and utter exhaustion. "Leave now, Carla. Go back to your life and forget about me." When she doesn't move, he turns around and yells at her: "Leave me, stupid girl!"

But she stays. Tears stream down her face and her crossed arms are locked to her chest, her fingers clawing in her shoulders, in a gesture of defense, but she stays.

The sudden memory of another teardrenched face knocks him off his feet.

"You still are my Angel." she had whispered "My Angel." And she had whispered it into his naked face.

When he looks up again, he sees that Carla has moved closer a few steps, her eyes filled with concern for him.

"Are you alright?" she asks with a shaky voice.

"Yes." he presses out, slowly getting back to his feet.

"Your heart is not... I mean..."

"It's broken." he answers in a sarcastic tone. "It's broken but it still works fine... I guess you don't feel like walking the park anymore."

"No... but... we'll stay out here until you've calmed down." she decides, gathering all her strength to dare it.

He looks at her testingly for a moment.

"You can still leave, Carla." he eventually reminds her.

But she shakes her head.

"I... I'll never know the whole story then." she stammers "And I haven't seen your theories yet. And you haven't sung for me. And you still owe me a neckerchief."

'And I'm stupid and deserve no better.' she silently adds 'I believe I've already fallen in love with your gentleness and your wounds.'