Death's Kiss
By: Orli's EEPs Chica
A/N: Hello to all! I finally got down to writing an Erik-Christine story; at least, I think that's what it will be, provided that there are no unsuspected deaths. But only time will tell of that. This is really my first stab at doing this sort of pairing, and I really hope that you all like this. Just so everyone knows: I'm setting this directly after the conclusion of the Andrew Lloyd Webber movie (haven't seen the actual show.) There may be stuff included from Gaston Leroux's novel, and from Susan Kay's Phantom.
On that note, the disclaimer before I forget: Don't own the story/play/movie Phantom of the Opera. Don't own the awesome lyrics (which I make several references to). Nor do I own Erik. (sob) So don't sue me, and we'll get along fine!
And do feel free to leave me your comments- feedback gives me reason to write faster! And to those who feel the need to flame, I invite you to do so if you must.
Well, now that I have rambled, I give you the story without further ado!
Read, review, and enjoy!
Chapter 1- Daylight Dissolves into Darkness
"Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair. . ."
Christine Daae tossed and turned in her sleep of fervent dreams, mind reeling as she relived the hours that had both defined that broken her life. A light sweat had broken out on her brow, though the room in which she slept was cold. Her dark, gossamer curls became tangled in the midst of her fitful restlessness.
"Angel of music. . . you deceived me. . ."
His outline appeared before her, an apparition created by the dream, but a believable one nonetheless. She stretched out her hand to him as the music played in her ears.
"Pitiful creature of darkness. . . what kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you. . . you are not alone. . ."
She knew what was coming next- his outline grew closer... This dream was sending her back to heaven, she thought subconsciously.
She sat bolt upright suddenly, her heart pounding.
Looking around wildly, she saw only darkness for a moment as her eyes adjusted to the light- or lack thereof. When they did so, she examined the room very closely, with a nervous feeling in her chest. Something had shaken her from the dream- something powerfully soundless... something that moved in the dark.
She was sure it had been something.
But looking around, she saw, to her frustration, nothing.
The
room was completely empty, and she was completely alone.
At
least, that was what Christine Daae thought as she reclined once more
on the goose feather pillows and drew the satin sheets up to her
chin. Safely in this room at Raoul de Chagny's house, she assured
herself that whatever had awakened her had been another dream-induced
illusion.
It was nothing, she thought, closing her eyes once more, trying to think of light. . . trying to think of Raoul. She felt the outline of her ring in the dark- the gold band, adorned with a sizeable diamond that he had given her, a promise of love and new life. She tried to think of happiness, of sun...
But her thoughts strayed to darkness- the comfort of that place, with candles burning all around and the sound of the organ playing softly and his voice soaring through the air to meet her ears and caress her senses. He was the Angel, and that was his Heaven. But it had also been his hell, she thought. His prison, his jail.
As Christine began to fall asleep, she thought not of her fiancé, but of the Angel- the man- who still held a large piece of her heart.
She didn't know how long it had been before she was jerked from sleep again, this time by a noise that she heard distinctly- and one that she knew had come from this world.
Someone had opened and shut the door.
She swallowed hard. There was a strange ringing in her ears- a strange sound against the hollowness of the silent house.
Christine suddenly felt as though she were not alone in the room. There was a presence all around her, touching her everywhere she went. She sat up uneasily, ready to run to Raoul, who she knew was sleeping down the hall.
Suddenly, a great gust of wind blew in as the French doors in Christine's room blew open. The sheer white curtains billowed out toward her, stretching out like spectral arms, reaching for her. She felt her breath catch in her throat. Those doors had been locked, she thought, terrified. She had locked them herself, before she had gone to bed. They could only be opened from the inside...
Which meant that someone was here now.
Christine got out of bed, shivering violently, and shut the doors firmly, locking them and staring for a moment at the dead bolt, as if trying to reassure herself that she wasn't crazy.
Going back to her bed, she covered herself once more, and rolled over to look at the small clock on her night table. It read twelve a.m.- midnight- but as she looked closer, she realized with a feeling of dread that the second hand had stopped ticking.
The French doors rattled again, before bursting open.
Christine's mouth opened in a silent scream. She jumped out of bed, and hurried to the door, unwilling to stay a moment longer in this room. Propriety be damned, she would sleep in Raoul's room tonight.
The door wouldn't budge.
With horror, she tried in vain to turn the knob.
She pounded on the door, still unable to scream, unable to make any noise at all.
And then, as though someone had turned off the sound, everything became silent. A deep, frightening, bone-chilling silence descended.
Christine's pounding stopped, and for several moments she did not breathe- merely stood, listening, her hand shaking on the doorknob.
Then, a singular sound met her ears; a sound which seemed far away, yet very close at the same time.
It was a sound she recognized- a violin, playing a hauntingly familiar song.
Everything around her seemed to turn to ice as the cold fear of memory took hold of her.
Wandering child, so lost, so helpless. . . yearning for my guidance. . .
He couldn't be here, she thought. He wouldn't have followed her here...
Or would he?
Was it possible that he was here, now?
Angel of music, I denied you. . .
Her own words spun around in her head, mocking her.
Turning from true beauty. . .
The grave, the song, the man. . . her mind began to fall past her control, longing to hear his voice, just one more time.
Angel of music, my protector. . . come to me strange Angel-"No!" she said sharply, finally regaining her voice, which sounded strange against the backdrop of silence. "He isn't here," she muttered to herself. "This is a dream, nothing more."
Taking a calming breath, she removed her hand from the door.
She would go back to sleep, she thought. She would climb back into bed, and in the morning, she would laugh at this strange dream. She shut the doors again, struggling to move a heavy chair in front of them. As for the clock. . . she would see to that in the morning.
She closed her eyes, praying for sleep to take her.
Her dreams were strange- there were black figures around her, shrouded and shadowlike so that they showed no facial details; they were merely silhouettes. In the back of her mind, Christine heard dull thuds that sounded like footsteps, but her brain refused to focus on them, and she was powerless to manipulate her senses to concentrate on the certain aspect of the dream.
It wasn't for a few more moments that she realized that the footsteps were quite real. Too late to react, she felt a cold, slimy hand cover her mouth, stifling the terrified scream that threatened to escape. Her heart hammered against her chest, and with a terrifying jolt, Christine opened her eyes and realized that the hand over her mouth- skeletal and decaying, was covered in blood...
A/N: well, there's chapter 1. Any guesses on who is in Christine's room? Review and tell me if I should continue- I will try to post again soon, depending on the feedback I get.
