AN- Oh dear friends! I got another chapter up, ASAP… impressive no? Also I changed the title of this chapter to in the arms of an angel, (Just like the Sarah Mclachlan song, who knew?) due to Christine's last lines.
Lily – I don't actually have AIM, but fee free to email me at
AngelofNight – Your right, I did have this posted once, but I've grown as a writer and wanted to improve upon the one thing I wrote that I was proud of. I feel I cant write a new piece, till I finish this… and there would be too much of a gap between the style of writing if I had not rewrote this.
RosePearl – Thank you for checking it out, I love fresh readers.
Wicked Rogue – incessant babble is my first language, by all means, I understand ;)
Everyone else – Thank you for reviewing… I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations.
Chapter Thirteen: In the Arms of an Angel
Is no one concerned
for our prima Donna?
Erik watched Christine get off her steed and ascend into the waiting carriage. At first he was only concerned mildly, thinking perhaps her husband had had a change of heart and come back to whisk her away with him on this business trip.
He squeezed his fists tightly and clenched his jaw.
How sweet, the prince coming back to whisk away the young girl... all is well finally in their happy little world.
It wasn't until after he saw the carriage drive off with undeniable urgency, and that it was not turning around to go back to the estate, the reality of the situation hit Erik hard. If it were Raoul, the carriage would not have taken off so fast, leaving Midnight, the horse behind. However, if the carriage were to take Christine somewhere urgently, it would be in the direction of home, towards her daughter. Christine was in danger; his child, his love was in serious trouble. Here was his chance to save her, to make his presence known for a good reason, and yet he was still terrified.
As his mind raced on about how she might rejected him once again, that his life was void enough, that surely this time her rejection would kill him, his body was guiding him towards the horse standing aimlessly where Christine had left him.
( ' ) '
-
Wishing you were
somehow here again . . .
"Excuse me, but you're going the wrong way, my daughter is back that way!" Christine screamed at the wall across from her. Christine knew something was wrong when the driver did not respond. Terror struck her heart chords. Dear lord, what is to happen to me? What is going on? Where is Raoul to save me? Anyone?
I do not want to die anymore! She screamed in her mind.
I have a daughter now and do not wish to die! Please lord have mercy this once, do not take me from the arms of my father only to show me what I can loose and send me back now...
( ' ) '
-
Angel of Music!
Hide no longer!
Erik rode on, as fast as the steed beneath him could go, trying to catch up to Christine's carriage, which had been given a very long head start.
What if I hadn't been stumbling along the bush? What if Christine...
NO, He thought, I mustn't let that happen, I refuse to allow that to happen to you Christine, whatever it is. Erik allowed all the memories and thoughts of her drain away from him, the one thought that held him to reality, and the one person who kept him as sane as he was capable of. He felt the coldness of death fill him, the desire and itch to scratch at tear away at the perfect flesh of another creature, the serenity of insanity and hunger to kill flood through his veins like spirits that numb inhabitations.
He picked up the pace; hoping Midnight was not tiring of these extroverts as he himself was.
( ' ) '
-
Past all hope
of cries for help:
no point in fighting -
"Where are you taking me!" Christine screamed defiantly, pounding on the wall of her small moving prison. "Let me out!" She cried clawing at the wall separating herself and the driver.
"Why are you taking me? Where is my daughter? Is she all right? What is going on!" she continued banging and scratching at the wall.
Fury filled her, pure hot rage flowed from the centre of her being and she felt the urge to spill blood. Hot and furious, she was more angry than scared. She did not assume, like other members of society, that just because you had a title, or were rich that, terrible things could not happen to you. She was much smarter than that, but she felt the words on her tongue; the only thing she could think of was screaming was I am the Vicomtess de Chagny! You cannot do this to me! She thought vilely, that the one thing that the title could give her, that she found remotely desirable, was not even plausible. In fact, she was quite sure that if she were not the Vicomtess de Chagny, she probably would not be in this dire circumstance right this moment. This only added to her rage as she screamed and kicked at the walls.
"Let me go you bastard!" she screamed, swearing for the first time.
"Shut up you little wanton!" Bogart said and thumped the wall back at her, which she was not prepared for. The shock from him hitting back at the wall, and the carriage going over a small bump, sent her flying into her seat and caused her to smash her hand against the window. The sound of glass shattering was heard, along with Christine's sobs, but not because she had cut her hand. It was because, for the first time in Christine's life, there was no knight on a great steed to save her.
( ' ) '
-
Past the point
of no return
You do realize how unbelievably cliché this is, don't you? Erik mused, running after her, on a great dark horse, to save her from harm? Very, prince charming, don't you agree?
Oh, shut up! Another voice interjected, was I to just leave her? Find a more suitable way to save her, one less conspicuous? There was no time!
Don't mind him, he's just putting you down, It wasn't like he offered any amazing idea's on how to rescue her… you just keep riding.
Please, if it were me, I would have left the little tart, after all… she was the one who chose to be the Vicomtess, she deserves all the evils that come with the title...
How dare you! Christine is a goddess, a magnificent creature of beauty…
She's a fraud; she's merely a slip of a girl who never understood the power of real beau…
ENOUGH! I have enough problems right now; I don't want to have to deal with this of all things when I'm trying to get to her.
Just as Erik stopped arguing with himself, he saw them in the distance. At first, the carriage was just a mere speck among the horizon, but now they were beginning to take shape before his eyes.
It had been a long time since the voices had spoke to him so clearly, it had taken a long time to drown them out, till they were buzzing sounds in the back of his head. It wasn't until now, now that he had forsook his vow not to kill, that the voices began to speak as clearly as they had the last time he heard them. He was as scared of them now as he was back then.
Erik watched as Christine lay sleeping in his bed, she had come to him earlier, while he was with Nadir. She had confessed then she feared for his safety, and although he longed to belief it was because she loved him, he knew deep within that she was still very naive to his profound obsession with her.
She look's so peaceful there, he thought, lying innocently.
She's not as innocent as you make her out to be... and even if she is, she has to know by now how you crave her... look at her pouting lips, her bosom rising and falling...
How dreadful! You shouldn't say such things about his dear Christine! She's merely a child... Besides, when he takes her, he wants her to love him.
Enough! The two of you! I never asked for you're opinions...
Ah... but you got them, Erik... Just imagine what she'd feel like, gliding your hands over her as you do your ivory... do you think her skin feels as soft? Perhaps, not as cold.
Her skin is rather perfect Erik; do you think perhaps that it's perfect all over? Maybe just a peak under her nightgown, nothing could come to harm if you just look.
Right, just a look... and remember Erik...You're five stories down... if she didn't like our little game, no one would hear her scream.
I SAID ENOUGH!
He almost sobbed; terror cut through his body... such evil, impure thoughts about the woman he loved.
You're both sick... and twisted... and apart of me, and I hate us all. I hate you...I hate you Erik.
Allowing the tears to fall silently, he quietly wiped the side of his face that was exposed. Slowly he crept up to her sleeping form and feasted on her lovely face. "Oh Christine, why must you always mock me?" he asked her, and tucked a loose curl behind her ear. She was so close to understanding, so close, he just had to make her understand. It wouldn't be too long now, he had big plans for her the opening night of Il Muto, and he would tell her then.
Deftly, he stroked her temple as he thought about the last month or so. Things were going so perfectly, she was staying away from that disgusting display of everything wrong with society, named Raoul. He loathed the boy, and if it weren't for Christine's good nature, and general curiosity, Raoul would have been at the bottom of the underground lake. Oh, who was he kidding, it wasn't so much he hated the boy, but more or less he feared him. He feared what the nobleman could give his sweet darling Christine. Many things he could not. But what he could give her, would come at the price of her voice, and that was apart of Christine's beauty as much as her smile, her heart, her curls, her laugh, and sweet temperament. It made her that much more an angel in his eyes.
No, he wouldn't kill the boy, he promised himself and Nadir that unless someone personally attacked him that he would kill anyone again.
He would not kill him... yet.
He looked down on her once more and gently bent to her temple. He needed to prove to himself, that he was a man... that normal men think sexual things around the woman they love. The difference lied between thinking and doing. He kissed her temple so softly he tasted her more than felt the skin underneath.
Coldness filled him, anger and resentment. He loved the things in her that hindered their growth. He wanted to preserve her innocence but destroy just a touch of it so she could understand his full fledge desire for her. It was a sacrifice he was going to have to make. "You will NEVER be away so that you do not know if I'm dead… NEVER..." he whispered in her ear.
and with that he walked out of her room.
He remembered that night well. It was the last time Christine chose to sleep in his household, which at the time, he didn't find terribly odd because the show was days away. He hated his own daemons, but when he controlled them, he was almost glad he had them. They gave him insight into the minds of fiends; he knew how crazy people thought, because he too, wasn't exactly sane. He could hate them all he wanted but he needed them to stay alive. Without them, he would be as naive as most men, and they were a small price to pay if it meant that he could rescue Christine. He didn't know what the kidnappers wanted from her, but he was a man. He knew what many men of lower status, who had enough wine, would want to do with a lady of society. Then all he had to do was add Christine's ravenous beauty, and he knew exactly what they'd do. They'd hold her for ransom, and Raoul would pay, but he would never be able to repay Christine her dignity once they tore the dress from her body, and savagely took her over, and over, and over once more. After all, Raoul had just left town, it would take a few days before he got back and received the note that explained his wife's absence. Then it would take at least a few days to procure the monies that he would transfer over to the kidnappers. She would most likely be gone for about a week, and although he was sexually inept, he had heard enough talk in the court of the shah, of how men treated the slave girls, that he was terrified. To take his mind off the horror he felt, he tried dulling the pain by thinking of mundane and trivial things.
It seems that no one is out riding today
I would have thought that another cab would have gone by now.
Are you serious? This is what you're thinking about?
Leave me alone! I don't need the negativity!
It's been quite some time since you rode like this.
Since the days with the shah…
You just had to bring that up didn't you, never leave well enough alone!
I'm just saying…
Hush! Listen! I think I can hear her!
He was right; he was definitely close enough now that he could hear her piteous cries for help. He kicked into Midnight's sides one last time, causing the horse to neigh and add that last bit of speed that closed the distance between the cab and himself.
( ' ) '
-
What was that?
Christine heard something behind the carriage, something that sounded of hooves, which sparked a new hope.
Don't be silly Christine, don't be a child. No one can save you now,
But what was that noise? Who could it be? Surely, it couldn't hurt to check.
Fine. Do as you wish, but don't be surprised when you see nothing.
Slowly, to make sure she was not noticed, she peered out the shattered window to see what was trailing behind the carriage. It was her horse Phantom, keeping a steady pace with the carriage and that was it, her dear horse was trying to save her!
It was then she heard the footsteps on the roof.
( ' ) '
-
He's here: the phantom of the opera!
Erik climbed up on top of the carriage and carefully walked towards the driver of the cab. As best he could, he tapped the kidnapper on the shoulder, and as he turned, he punched the villain in the face. There was a crack as the hand and flesh met, but neither knew whom it had been from. Blood, hot and red poured from one of the men; the metallic scent filled the air. Erik then punched him once more in the face, freeing more red blood from the wound. He then took control of the carriage and began to steer the horses off the road. While Bogart was down, Erik searched his person and found a blade. Standing, and shaking his head, Erik kicked the villain in the stomach and began to cut the leather straps that kept the carriage and horses tethered together. When Bogart saw this, he lunged towards the dark clad man, but it was too late, the horses were free and turning to the side to get out of the way of the runaway carriage. Erik could hear Christine's screams muffled by the wood separating them as Bogart tried to fight.
( ' ) '
-
I'm here, I'm here,
monsieur:
the angel of death!
Christine felt blind. She could hear the fight, but couldn't see her champion who was fighting on her behalf. While out the window, she saw they were no longer on the road, but instead steadily careening down a long hill. She finally was beginning to feel the terror's blade begin to dull, when it pierced her flesh again.
The carriage was heading towards a cliff.
( ' ) '
-
I'm here: the phantom of the opera
Erik saw the cliff when he heard Christine's penetrating scream. It was a great wall of rock stretching across the horizon. There was nowhere to turn; it was about 200 metres away, but still close enough for him to be worried. He looked down at his attacker to find him unconscious.
Good, that makes things a lot easier.
A cliff! How typical! Oh, this is too good to ruin with words! I think I'll just be quiet and watch this one….
That would be helpful!
Being resourceful as he was, Erik began looking around for anything that might slow the carriage, or stop their high speeds, desperate to find anything his brain could turn into some device, anything that would save his love. He found nothing, much to his despair. Frustrated, he cried out at the situation and pulled at his wig. It was then he heard the hooves.
But I freed the horses…
Turning back to see what was making the sound, what he saw picked up his spirits considerably.
"Midnight!" He called as the horse approached the side of the carriage.
He jumped onto the back of the horse and slowed his pace so he could get to the door that led to Christine.
( ' ) '
-
Whose is that voice . . .?
Christine had shrunk back into the carriage afraid of the looming death she could not escape, when the door to the carriage opened. More sunlight shone through the small dark hole, causing her to wince her eyes. Holding up her bloody hand to shield herself from the light, she saw the sleek black hide of her horse.
Why, Phantom cannot throw open a door…
She quickly leaned far enough forward so she could see who was saving her from her impending doom. What she saw was a tall, dark figure riding beside the carriage.
A tall, dark figure, wearing a mask.
( ' ) '
-
I am your Angel of Music . . .
Come to me: Angel of Music . . .
Erik saw the shock on her face; a confused, bewildered look, as though she had forgotten he was dead and was merely thinking "Why, Erik, what are you doing here?" the silence was unbreakable for those few seconds, neither spoke nor knew what to say after those months of nothing between them. The carriage lurched a bit causing Christine to shriek. This woke them both from their awe of each other.
"Christine!" He called, trying to sound firm, hoping he still had the power to control her with his voice.
"Christine you must jump!" He called to the young woman inside.
She looked still in awe, quite unaware of her surroundings still, until he called once more.
Erik looked once more towards the cliffs, which were now merely metres away. Holding out his hand, he tried one last time. "CHRISTINE! You must trust me, you must jump to me..." He tried to yell above the hustle and bustle of the creaky carriage.
( ' ) '
-
Angel! I hear you!
Christine could not believe her eyes for they were surely deceiving her.
The dead had risen! The lord had granted her odd request and given her back her angel! She did not want to believe; she dared not, for it could be an absurd and cruel coincidence.
Until she heard his voice, his majestic and luminous voice.
An unearthly voice that sang to her in sleep and had been a constant craving since it had no longer rang through her soul in reality.
Even now, as it commanded and begged like an everyday man's it held a certain power. Taking the breath from her lungs and leaving her in suspended motion.
Finally, as he called to her one last time, holding his hand out in a demanding but pleading way, she awoke from the trance only he could put upon her and she made the step across the gap between them.
It was a far stretch, and her wounded hand did not help, but she would not of let this opportunity leave her if there were the English Channel between them. It was if God himself had blessed her by appearing in front of her and taking her in his arms.
She closed her eyes as she saw the carriage loose control and topple over, but she couldn't stop from hearing it rolling and smashing into the giant wall of stone.
She knew how close she had been to having the same fate as the dead wood that just found it's end.
It was then she realized that she was in the arms of her angel, after a year of thinking he was dead.