Chapter Thirty-Six - Deeper Into The Shadows

A wall of broken stone and burning wreckage cascaded down into the lake. A smouldering barricade suddenly lay between Meg and the mob, between her and the portcullis.

Meg screamed and, letting the mask fall, instinctively backed against the wall.

Am I trapped here?

There was no way around the barrier. It would be too dangerous to try to clamber over or around it. One the other side she heard shouts and cries. Someone had been injured and someone was calling out to her.

"Is that girl all right…was she crushed…I don't hear her!"

Will I die here…and where is Erik…is he still here, trapped with me…or is he dead…did Raoul kill him?

No, she knew there were other exits. He had not taken her by way of the lake…one path had lead to the chapel, one to the stable yard. Ah, but where…where?

The force of the collapse had knocked over many of the candelabra and now the rugs and velvet drapery began to blaze.

She saw the pictures of Christine catch fire, consuming so quickly.

There must be a way out…but what of Erik…

Suddenly, she felt herself falling…no, not falling, but dragged into darkness.

A strong arm was around her waist, pulling her through the frame of a shattered mirror into a narrow tunnel.

He was so near her now, his body nudged against hers.

"Say nothing," he whispered, "and do not let go of my hand."

He'd leaned close to her as he spoke, the left side of his face brushing her cheek. She could feel the sting and dampness of tears on his skin.

His fingers closed over hers and she followed him deeper into the shadows.

They walked for a long time. She could not tell if the path led deeper underground or if they were slowly ascending.

There was no light at all and she clung to his hand, knowing he was her only reality.

After a while, the passage seemed to widen, the clammy walls no longer scraped against her shoulders at each bend.

"Remain still," he said letting go of her hand. She did as he told her, afraid of losing him in this blind labyrinth.

There was a hiss and a torch illuminated his ravaged profile as he opened a small grate in the wall.

Fearing that the light might flicker out, Meg stayed near him as he drew a iron case from the recess.

From it, he took out a mask and a leather pouch. He handed them to her without a word, then pulled a folded cloak from the box.

He put out the torch and she felt him move towards her, throwing the cape over her shoulders.

"Come," he said, as he took her hand again, "we still have far to go."

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