In the last chapter I had an argument with the vicomte. While we were on the balcony I learned a great deal about Christine's psyche over the last nine years.

Ch 54

We had never formally acknowledged one another before. For many years I had hated him more than anything or anyone and yet not once had I uttered a word directly to Raoul de Chagny. I still wasn't fond of the boy but my abomination for him had diminished. He had not lived the princely life I had expected for a man of his station. He had suffered greatly for his affection. He would suffer for an eternity. They both would. As we stood a distance apart on the balcony I expected we all would share the same dismal fate.

The night air seemed to have grown colder now that I was no longer fueled by infinite hate. I pulled my cloak around tighter, then undid the clasp and draped my warmed garment over Julia's shoulders. She half-smiled and moved closer to the wall again to avoid the breeze.

"A truce?" I asked.

The vicomte seemed taken aback by my words. He ran his hand over his hair and turned away from me. He looked at Julia when he spoke. "I want to see Alexandre. If a truce is needed to see him again then I will gladly extend an olive branch."

Julia nodded with understanding but neither agreed nor disagreed. She knew the final word was mine and showed no sign of sympathy toward the vicomte. She probably also assumed she could sway me one way or the other if need be and knew she didn't have to speak yet. She had conditioned me very well.

"An olive branch?" I asked pensively.

My adrenalin, which had built as I expected to kill him, had worn off and the debilitating pain in my legs and back had returned. I needed to sit down soon or continue moving. My only hope was that I wouldn't feel the urge to vomit, as that seemed less becoming than collapsing.

Now that he had finished weeping out his unfortunate story there were many questions I had to ask him. "What about the gendarmes?" I asked.

The vicomte stammered. "I don't understand."

"Your wife said she would call the gendarmes."

"I—I had no idea."

My belligerence returned as well. "You had no idea."

"No, monsieur—"

"You want to call a truce but it gains nothing for me."

He stood before me in shocked silence, unnerved by my petulance.

"You will have peace of mind that I will not kill you. You will see Alexandre and persuade him with pretty things, and your wife will steal him from me. That is the benefit of a truce."

"I'm not trying to steal him."

"You simply want to see the child and nothing more?" My tone of voice made it sound preposterous.

"As a man who has lost his own daughter I would not take another man's child, even out of spite. You have my word. If there is no indication that this boy is my son I will make no attempt to take him from you this night or any other."

"What about your wife?"

He looked away. "I cannot speak for my wife."

"It seems you've done quite a bit of speaking on her behalf already."

His jaw twitched then as he found his own irritation escalating. "As I have previously said, monsieur, no matter what happens he is still her son."

Hardly, I thought. Christine had obviously mislead her precious vicomte into believing that she actually cared about Alex, that she might have it in her heart to love. I thought about enlightening the boy as to the true nature of his wife, but quickly thought against it. I wasn't ready to admit it even to myself.

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps she had suffered in those years of abandoning one child and losing another to illness but I had little sympathy for her. She had not suffered when Alexandre was conceived. In those days she had been a spoiled brat and I had built her the highest pedestal of all.

He looked toward Julia again. "This is hard enough already and I don't want to make it any more difficult. You have no idea what it does to my heart to think she had a child…without me," he said making every attempt to lighten his insult.

"You have no idea what it is to cherish and love something to the point of madness and have nothing in return."

"She—"

"She what? Betrayed you? Gave you hope? Don't tell me of suffering, vicomte. You're describing hell to the devil himself."

The door swung open and Julia walked through. She didn't even bother to turn and scold us. The door slammed shut behind her and we both jumped at the sound. The vicomte and I exchanged glares one last time but said nothing further. We both hesitated to continue the conversation but neither of us wanted to back down and leave the balcony. We were at an impasse.

In the back of my mind I hoped it wouldn't last long. My nose had started to run and my eyes began to water but I would be damned if I suggested we walk inside and do our best to rationally discuss our differences.

"This cannot be about Christine any longer. I am willing to put differences aside if it means finding Alexandre safe. If only for tonight would you do the same?"

I would be damned if he was going to shame me. "For Alexandre I would do anything. You have my word for tonight."

The vicomte nodded and reached for the door. He stepped aside like the perfect gentleman and allowed me to enter before him. I simply nodded in return, then, in my distrusting nature, turned to see if he was going to club me in the back of the head.

He wasn't even looking at me. His eyes were fixed ahead of us both. Before I had the opportunity to see what had caught his interest Julia screamed and glass shattered on the inlaid stone floor.

Christine walked on a lake of blue tinted glass. She held what had once been the handle of a flower urn in one hand and shook the jagged edge at Julia, urging her toward the corner where I had held the vicomte captive.

Julia held up a hand dripping a red river of blood. She nearly lost her footing on the mix of roses and glass shards floating in a puddle of water. Christine raised her fist and brandished the shard like a dagger.

"Madame, please, Alexandre is missing," Julia said quietly.

"Don't you dare try to replace me," Christine snarled as she approached. "Don't you dare try to become my son's mother."

"My only reason to be here is to have Alexandre back safe," Julia replied calmly. The blood began to drip faster down her hand and she clutched her wrist in a vain attempt to stop the flow.

Blood. In that moment I no longer saw Christine. It was Louis Seuratti standing before Julia, threatening her life. It was his piggy eyes that glared at my Julia, his gin blossom face and thick lips speaking of peril.

I would not tolerate anyone ever hurting Julia. She was mine—not in the sense that I owned her because I never thought of her as an object to possess, but in the sense that she was mine to protect. The night I put her suffering to an end and strangled Louis Seuratti, I swore to myself that no one would lay a hand on her again. After I killed him, I swore a vow of protection. I promised to have and to hold, to cherish and protect, in sickness and in health for as long as I lived.

The vicomte attempted to run past me but I bolted through the door and raced to Julia's side. If there was anyone in danger of being hurt it would not be Julia. Like a protective beast, I draped my arm around her and pushed her safely behind me. Christine could cut me to ribbons, slice my throat like some animal for slaughter, but she would not dare hurt Julia.

"You are not welcome here," Christine hissed. Her gaze switched back and forth between Julia's face and mine.

"Leave her alone and we will leave," I replied. My words came out calm despite the war I wanted in my mind. Julia's fingernails dug into my arm. She was murmuring something, a prayer by the sound of it.

"I want you both to stay away from my son," Christine seethed.

The vicomte came up beside her and put his hands out, palms up as a sign of peace but she swiped at him with her free hand and drove him back. He reached into his trouser pocket and showed her a small amber-colored bottle but she barely glanced at him. Christine had focused all of her anger on me.

"We need to find Alexandre," the vicomte said calmly. "My dear, come with me. You will make yourself ill if you continue."

"Call the gendarmes," Christine demanded.

"Lay down awhile and rest yourself," her husband continued.

"I will not rest! He is not allowed near my son," Christine said through her teeth. "He is not allowed to have anything to do with my children. He! He stole my son from me! You wicked, wicked man, with your tricks and lies and your voice—your angel's voice in my head. Don't you ever come near me again, do you understand me?"

My hands had started to shake from the shrill, ungodly sound leaving her mouth. For such a beautiful, gifted creature she sounded like something from hell.

"Let us out the door and we will never return here again," I replied.

She clutched her ears with her palms. "Don't speak to me!"

"Christine!" the vicomte whispered. "Come with me and I will see them out. Take your medicine and lay down."

She turned to him for the first time. "You should have killed him! After all he's done to me, you should have killed him!"

She was raving. The look in her eye was like nothing I had ever seen before. Her brow was damp, her hair mussed. She had cut herself on the back of the hand but paid no mind to the thin rivers of blood running down to her knuckles. She must not have noticed the blood because she wiped her face with the back of her hand and spread a red sheet across her nose and cheeks. War paint, I thought, she was prepared for war.

"Christine, the girls," her husband reminded her. "Hush, my dear, the girls are sleeping."

Christine turned back to me. "You will never see him again," she said slowly. Her dark eyes looked deeper, cruel and demonic. The lividness of her gaze made me hold tighter to Julia, shield her from the creature that had possessed the soprano. "He knows. He knows everything about you. You want to know what I told him? I told him the truth."

In the very bottom of my gut I had a terrible sinking feeling. This was my son's mother. Whatever she had said to him was going to kill me. Whatever she said would take Alexandre away for good.