Part Three
The journey was not easy. She managed to open and close the mirror, stumbling along the corridor. She tripped at the slope and rolled down, coming to rest next to the water. The blood fell into her eyes and she clawed it away desperately.
Christine fell along the walkways leading to Erik's home. Soon the stone ended and she was left to wade through the murky expanse of water. More than once she fell and struggled up, choking for air.
There! The gateway. She fell towards it and saw Erik sitting at the organ, writing on a piece of parchment. She tried to call for him but her voice sounded pathetically weak. She tried again.
"Erik…"
He looked up, thinking he had imagined it. She called again and this time he turned.
His eyes widened at the sight of the girl clinging desperately to the gate, her face coated with blood and soaked through. But within a moment he had pulled the gate up and was rushing to her aid. He carried her ashore and she leaned against him, sobbing uncontrollably. He could see bruises starting to form on her face and neck but did not comment. He wrapped her in a blanket and held her weeping figure to him. After a while she fell silent but he knew from her ragged breathing she was not sleeping.
"Did the Viscount do this to you?" he asked.
She replied softly, "Yes."
Anger seized Erik, the kind of anger which he had never before known. He held her tighter.
"I will kill him," he said quietly.
"No… no, Erik you can't," she whispered. He looked down and saw her staring at him with fearful eyes. "Erik, he's going to close the Opera House if I refuse him again. Without a patron… we'll never stay open. It's too much to lose." She sat up and wiped her eyes, flinching as she caught the gash. He got up and fetched a bowl of clean water and a piece of cloth. He started to wipe the blood away. She didn't move. He was so gentle, and there was no sign of the fury he had been experiencing moments before.
He dried her and then said, "He cannot have you."
"I don't want to be with him, Erik. But I have no choice."
"Of course you have a choice. As soon as he's had you he will become bored. You do not deserve that," he said, looking at her closely. She looked at him as if he were mad.
"I can't refuse him. Look what he did to me. He would beat me to within an inch of my life if I refused him again."
She fell silent, staring at him. Then she put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes tightly. He put his arms around her tentatively.
"Christine… Christine…"
"The Opera House is everything to me, Erik. It is my home. It is important to everyone who lives there. I cannot be so selfish as to cause it to close."
"Christine…" he only said her name. Nothing else.
"It is your home, Erik. It is your home."
Neither of them spoke. Then Christine looked up at him.
"Why did you come to the ball tonight?"
He was surprised at the question and then smiled. "Is it too much to have a dance with my angel?"
"And the kiss?"
"That, my darling, was unplanned," he told her. Christine gave a weak smile and then yawned. She covered her mouth, ashamed.
He got to his feet. "Come. You must sleep."
He took her to the bedroom. She looked at the swan-shaped bed and smiled. Erik looked at her curiously. "What?"
"It's just so… you." He raised an eyebrow and left her to sleep.
She did not sleep well. She tossed and turned, crying out more than once. When she awoke a few hours later, she was to find Erik by her side, holding a cup of tea.
"Drink. It will help to calm you."
"Erik, you know that I have to go back." He looked away.
"I know. I will take you."
"Thank you." She said softly. He looked up at her.
"What will you tell them about the injuries?"
"I fell down the stairs. It is often done. No one will question it."
"And when the Viscount returns?" Erik asked. Christine hesitated.
"I don't know… I can't let him close the Opera house, Erik, I can't."
He didn't speak for some time. Christine couldn't look at him. He stood.
"Come. I will take you back. It is almost time for rehearsals."
When Christine entered the theatre two hours later Madame Giry was the first to see her. She abandoned the ballet girls and rushed to her, horrified at the cuts and bruises.
"Christine, what has happened?"
"I… I fell down the stairs, that's all," Christine said weakly. She realized how terrible she must look and bowed her head to try and hide the injuries. Firmin and André approached her.
"Miss Daae?"
"What happened?"
"Nothing, really. I fell down the stairs last night, it was just clumsiness. They will heal soon," Christine said, smiling as charmingly as she could.
Carlotta made a snide comment but no one laughed.
Monsieur Reyer said, "Miss Daae, if you would sing your main part?" Carlotta started to shriek but Christine went onto the stage anyway and waited for her cue. She saw the chorus girls pointing at her and gossiping quietly. But she did not speak to them.
After rehearsals she returned to her room to bathe the wounds. They were still very sore and she rubbed creams into them to soothe the pain.
There was a knock at the door and Madame Giry came in. "I have brought you some lotion," she said, placing a bottle on the table.
Christine smiled. "Thank you, Madame."
Madame Giry eyed her and then sat down. "You did not fall down the stairs, did you Christine?"
"Of course I did. Where else would I acquire these injuries?" Christine said calmly.
"I am not sure. All I know is that the Viscount de Martinez left last night in a foul mood and you did not leave your room all night." Madame Giry said. Christine did not look up.
"What are you suggesting Madame Giry?" she said carefully.
The older woman sat beside her would-be daughter and said, "I am suggesting, without looking for confirmation or denial, that the Viscount lost his temper with you."
"Madame, I…" Christine could not lie. Not to her. Not to the woman who had been like a mother to her for so many years. She looked up at her.
"Madame, if I do not do as he wishes he will close the Opera House."
"You denied him last night?"
"I did. He… he did this to me and said that when he returned he would come to me again. If I deny him again he will close the Opera House."
"Last night… after he hurt you, where did you go?" Madame Giry asked. Christine looked away.
"I… I went to Erik. But nothing happened, Madame, I swear it."
Madame Giry suddenly looked very old and tired. Christine looked at her again.
"Madame Giry, I don't know what to do. I can't… I can't give myself to the Viscount, but I can't let him close the Opera House either. It is home to too many people. It is home to you, to Erik."
"Christine, I will help you. But listen to me… you must not let Erik get involved. If he does, it could be disastrous."
"I will try not to let him, Madame."
"Good. Now clean those wounds," Madame Giry said, standing up and leaving.
Christine rubbed the lotion into her flesh and winced as it stung. She looked up suddenly and said,
"Erik, you heard her. Please don't get involved. It will do no good for anyone."
"And I should just let him get away with it?" Erik snarled from the mirror.
"He won't… I'll… I'll figure it out. But promise me you won't do anything?" she pleaded.
Erik looked down at her, where she sat. He closed his eyes and sighed. "Christine… I cannot promise that. If it gets to a point where I feel interference is necessary, I will."
Christine didn't look up. She stared down at the table and then turned to him, standing.
"Erik, I need you. If you got hurt I would be truly alone and I couldn't bear that."
"I will never leave you, my darling angel. Never…" he promised, stepping towards her. His arms slipped around her and she hugged him back, pressing her face to his shoulder.
"Don't leave me, Erik. Please," she whispered.
"Never. Never..." he murmured.
She looked up at him. Her eyes were filling with tears. "Erik?"
"Yes, Christine?"
"I… if you want me… I belong to you. And only you."
He closed his eyes. All he had ever wanted, she was now offering. And yet he could not bring himself to say yes.
"Christine, do not say that. You are tired and unwell. Get some rest." He pulled from her grasp and turned away. Christine stared after him and he stepped through the mirror.
But before he could slide the glass back into place she called, "I know my own heart, Erik. There is only room for you. When you are ready, I will be waiting. I promise you that." He looked into her eyes and then slid the glass back into place, leaving her sight. Christine gazed at the mirror and then went to her bed.
The next two days were ruined with the knowledge that the Viscount would be returning. Madame Giry did not mention their conversation to Christine, but the morning of the day that the Viscount was due to return, Christine saw her take Firmin and André to their office and close the door. She waited nearby, wanting to find out what was being discussed.
After some time Madame Giry emerged, looking furious. She caught sight of Christine and turned away, unable to look at her. André caught sight of the girl and beckoned to her. Hesitantly, Christine stepped forward.
"A word, Miss Daae?" she sat in a chair in front of a desk. André and Firmin looked at her carefully. Christine met their gaze.
"Miss Daae, Madame Giry believes that you and our patron have been having… problems." Firmin began delicately. Christine didn't reply.
"I am aware that the Viscount has certainly expressed his fondness for you, but Madame Giry told us that he has been… hurting you. That those injuries you received were from him. Is this true?" André asked. Christine swallowed hard.
"Yes, monsieur. The Viscount did injure me."
"Intentionally?"
Christine bowed her head, a lump rising in her throat. The Viscount's threat rang in her head.
I will destroy your precious Opera House…
"No. Not intentionally." She jumped to her feet. "Please monsieurs, don't mention this to the Viscount. It is all a misunderstanding. Excuse me." She ran out of the room before they could comment. Madame Giry was waiting outside but Christine didn't stop. She kept running until she was outside the Opera House's front doors. She hurried down the steps, clutching her arms around her. It was cold and she had not thought to bring a cloak.
She wandered the streets surrounding the Opera House, not realizing where she was going but desperate to keep walking, to avoid returning to the theatre. But before she realized what she was doing she found herself outside the doors to the Opera House again.
Christine felt her heart sink. No matter how far she ran she still ended up back here. She turned quickly as she heard a carriage entering the square in front of the theatre. A face looked out of the window and she realized that it was the Viscount. Her heart leapt into her mouth as he leapt out. Praying he had not seen her, she attempted to slip back inside.
"Miss Daae!" he called, and she hesitated.
"Viscount de Martinez."
"Take the carriage, Francois," he commanded to the driver before turning to look down at her. His eyes fell upon the bruises and cuts but she saw no regret in his eyes.
"Rehearsals are finished?"
"For today," she replied quietly.
"Then why are you out here with no protection from the cold?" he asked. Christine swallowed.
"I was… walking," she said weakly.
The viscount removed his coat and placed it around her shoulders, guiding her up the steps to the Opera House. When they went through the doors, they found Meg, Madame Giry, André and Firmin talking urgently. They all stopped as the pair entered.
"Viscount de Martinez! We were not expecting you back so early," Firmin said. Madame Giry looked at Christine who avoided her eyes.
"Christine, come. Monsieur Reyer wishes to rehearse your song." Christine slipped the coat off and handed it silently to the Viscount who watched her leave, with a smirk playing about his lips. Christine nodded to the managers and followed Meg and Madame Giry to the theatre room.
Monsieur Reyer had never seen Christine so distracted.
"No, Miss Daae, you missed the cue again!" he cried in frustration. Christine looked up and blinked.
"I'm sorry, Monsieur."
"From the beginning please." But he was interrupted by the arrival of the managers and the Viscount. Christine tensed and averted her eyes. They fell on Box 5 where she saw the outline of a person. The figure turned and she caught a glimpse of a white mask. Erik. He looked down at her and nodded.
She inclined her head slightly and then said, "Monsieur Reyer? Shall we?"
"Very well, Miss Daae," he said, clearly not expecting much from her. Christine put her eyes back on Erik's and waited for the music.
This time her voice rang clearly through the theatre. Monsieur Reyer couldn't help smiling. The Viscount gazed at her as her voice flooded the room, filling the air with that luxurious sound. But she wasn't looking back at him. He frowned and followed her eye line upwards. She was looking at one of the boxes, a smile gracing her mouth. He tapped Firmin's shoulder.
"Which box is that?"
"Box 5, Viscount."
"I shall have that box at the next performance. When is that?"
"In three weeks, but that box… we do not rent it," Firmin replied.
"Why not?"
"It belongs to the Phantom of the Opera."
The Viscount chuckled. "Then it is time to take the box back, don't you think? I shall sit there in three weeks."
When Christine got to her room that night, she immediately locked the door. She knew the Viscount would come, but that didn't mean she was going to give in that easily. She undressed quickly, pulling on a nightdress and climbing into bed. She pulled the covers around her tightly and closed her eyes.
Some time later there was a knock at the door and the Viscount's voice rang out.
"Miss Daae?"
Christine's eyes flew to the handle. It turned and rattled. "Christine, open the door." She closed her eyes tightly. There was another rattle and then a click. Her heart skipped a beat. He had a key to her rooms.
She leveled her breathing and kept her eyes closed. She heard him approach the bed and heard his soft breathing. His hand brushed against her cheek, touching one of the bruises he had given her. She made a quiet noise, as if she were dreaming, and rolled over, away from his touch.
"Christine?" he said quietly. She didn't stir. To her dismay he didn't leave, but settled into a chair by the bed. She felt his eyes on her the whole time, but soon sleep overcame her and she drifted away.
She awoke some hours later. She sat up and reached for a glass of water. But she gasped when she saw the figure sitting in the chair. In her sleepy state she had completely forgotten he was there. She clutched a hand to her chest, trying to slow her fast beating heart.
"She awakes," the Viscount said with a little chuckle. Christine didn't move. She was using all of her will to prevent herself from shaking. She reached slowly for the glass of water and sipped it.
"What… what time is it?" she asked quietly.
"I'm not sure. Early morning. I only woke up myself a few minutes ago."
"When did you get here?"
"Last night. You were already sleeping."
"But… I locked the door," Christine said, as he got to his feet and went to light a lamp. The flame flared, shattering the darkness.
His face turned to her. "I am aware of that. I acquired a key. But tell me Christine… have you had time to think about my offer?"
Christine climbed out bed and went to the window. It was snowing again. She stared out at the pure white world below.
"If I give you what I want… you will allow the Opera House to stay open?"
"I shall."
"Why me? Why not one of the other girls?" Christine asked. She wasn't sure how she found the daring to say it but she managed.
William laughed as he crossed the room to stand behind her. His hands rested gently on her hips.
"None of those girls can compare to you, Christine. Not one of them comes close. No girl could."
"You have had many girls?"
"A fair few. But I have never… never craved one as much as I have you. Perhaps because you resisted me at first. But you have succumbed to me, as they all do. It makes my prize that much sweeter, you see…"
His lips were on her neck. Christine continued to stare out of the window, trying not to shudder at his touch.
"Tell me, Viscount… is this just for tonight or until you grow bored with me as you did those other girls?" she asked coolly. To her surprise he merely laughed again as his hands explored her skin.
"I have no idea, Christine. I doubt very much that I will grow bored of you. But for now, I shall just take tonight."
She felt herself shaking with fear and anger.
"And what if I am already promised to someone else?" she asked. He stopped and looked down at her. She continued to stare out of the window.
"Who else is there?" he asked.
"I am not saying there is someone. But if there was and I was promised to him… what then?"
"Than you would have to break that promise," he said dangerously.
Christine turned and faced him. "Break a promise? That hardly seems fitting."
"There are some promises you cannot keep," William said. Christine stepped past him, away from the window and towards the bed. She sat on the edge and looked up at him. He followed her, bent down and kissed her roughly. She did not kiss him back but nor did she resist. Her only thoughts were about the Opera House and about Erik…
His hands were running over her now, unbuttoning the nightdress. She could not speak, could not do anything but lie there and let him touch her. This is it, she thought. Tonight I lose myself to him and in return save the Opera Populaire. I save Erik by betraying him.
At least, that was what would have happened, had there not been a sudden banging and screaming from the corridor. William sat up sharply and Christine hastily buttoned the nightdress again.
"What on earth…?" He went to the door and wrenched it open. Christine wrapped a cloak around herself and followed him.
A crowd was running towards the theatre room. Meg pushed through the crowd and seized Christine's arm.
"Meg, what is it?"
"It's the Phantom of the Opera, Christine! It's the Phantom!"
The two girls pushed through the crowd, Christine feeling fear fill her chest. The Viscount followed them as they ran into the theatre room. Firmin turned and saw Christine.
"Miss Daae! What is this? Do you know what it is?" he asked, clearly puzzled. Christine looked past him and gasped.
Across the stage was a message, scrawled in what looked like blood. She stepped up onto the stage to read it.
"If you touch her again, Viscount, I will kill you. O.G." she read aloud. She knelt and touched the liquid with her fingertips. It was thick and she smelt it. She turned to the gathered crowd.
"It is only paint," she said, wiping the substance away on her nightdress.
"But what does it mean!" André exclaimed, anxiously. Christine looked down at the message. William joined her on the stage.
"What does O.G mean?"
"…Opera Ghost. It means Opera Ghost," Meg said quietly. Christine's eyes went, involuntarily, to Box 5. William caught her glance and sharply looked up at the empty box. Christine looked away hastily and cried aloud as the Viscount seized her arm, pulling her closely to him.
"Listen to me, Opera Ghost! She is mine! She is mine!" he shouted into the darkness.
Christine tried to pull away from him but he held her so tightly that she couldn't even struggle. He looked down at her furiously.
"Is he the one? The one you have promised yourself to?"
"Let me go," she whispered.
"Viscount!" Firmin said, surprised at his patron's actions. William glared around the hall and then pushed Christine away. She slipped on the slick paint and fell to the stage with a heavy thud. Red paint coated her face and she tried to wipe it off.
William looked around the room again and roared, "No more Phantom, she is mine!"
Christine climbed once more to her feet, feeling the red paint soaking through her thin nightdress to her skin. William turned on her but before he could speak music began to play from somewhere, a solo violin. Everyone looked around for the source of the sound.
Wandering child
So lost
So helpless
Yearning for love and guidance
Christine recognized Erik's voice and before she could stop herself she sang back, stepping forward on the stage, her eyes searching the room for a glimpse of him.
Angel or lover?
Friend or phantom?
Who is it there singing?
His voice came back.
Have you forgotten your angel?
Christine continued to sing, ignoring the shocked faces of the cast, her friends, the managers and the Viscount.
Angel, oh speak
What endless longings
Echo in this whisper?
"Christine, stop it!" William thundered. Erik's voice echoed around them as he sang to her.
Too long you've wandered in winter
Far from my true loving gaze
Christine sang to the heavens, pushing her voice to reach him wherever he was.
Wildly my heart beats for your touch
You sing and
And your/my soul obeys!
The music reached a beautiful crescendo. To the observer, it was a beautiful thing. This girl, smeared with that violent yet power color, singing in perfect harmony with the disembodied voice.
Angel of Music!
You/I denied me/you
Turning from true beauty
Angel of Music!
Do not shun me/my protector
Come to your/ me, strange Angel...
Christine waited as he sang in a low, sensual voice.
I am your angel of music…
Come to me, angel of music…
Christine stared up into the rafters of the Opera House and then jumped as Erik's voice rang out harshly,
"Read my message, Viscount. Every word is true."
"Hear me now, Phantom! She is mine!" William yelled, stepping towards Christine and laying a hand on her shoulder. She jerked away and called to Erik.
"Angel! Don't leave me!" she cried. William pulled her back to him and glared at her.
"That is no angel, you idiotic girl!"
She pulled away and cried out to Erik.
"Please, Angel… no more."
There was no reply. Christine looked around at the crowd. Her eyes met those of Madame Giry's. Christine shook her head and looked up at Box 5.
"No more… please, no more…" she whispered.
And then, before anyone could move, she had fainted, falling into the paint and looking as if she lay in a pool of blood.