IV. Slave of Fashion
"Bloody hell", Raoul muttered, tugging at his lapels angrily. "Trouble wherever you look! That bloody Phantom, and the bloody chandelier business, and the bloody Lost Ones, and the bloody management, and my bloody parents, and the bloody Phantom all over again!"
"Calm yourself", Christine suggested, stroking his upper arm. "It will be alright. Everything will."
"Like I've never heard that before", Raoul grumbled. Currently, he just wanted to be annoyed – and be calmed down by Christine; as always, he enjoyed her attention very much. "That bloody –"
"Say bloody one more time", Christine interrupted firmly, "and I'll pinch you."
What? She intended to pinch him? Just like that? Now that was… well, what? "Depends on where you pinch me", he thought aloud.
"Wherever you find it slightly unpleasant", Christine suggested with a little giggle, which was taken up by Meg.
Raoul rolled his eyes at her, then squeezed her hand. Those silly young girls… But Christine could pinch him all she liked, and he would still devotedly love her. Today, she had already chased him out of bed early, made him skip half the breakfast, harrowed him out of the house before he had been able to fix his hair properly – it certainly was a horrible mess now – and then she threatened to pinch him, but she was his one and only love, and there were things he would put up with any time, in exchange for having her close.
Having to put up with the Phantom pushed that limit quite hard, though.
Oh, well… The man might not be that bad actually, apart from being a lunatic and a murderer and chasing after his fiancée. Yesterday's performance with the bow had been quite amazing, for example. And the way he had dealt with those gypsies they had fought… a born killer, and with style. Even the toughest old sergeant Raoul had met in the navy was bound to be impressed.
Yet there was something about it troubling Raoul: When the Phantom killed… he seemed to enjoy it. Of course, after all those Lost Ones and gypsies had done to him, he would be burning to have his revenge, burning up with hatred inside, but… not so much. Never so much. All that cruelty, that lust for blood… it was not right. It was just not right. Nobody could harbour so much hatred. Nobody.
How could Christine ever love that man? How could she? For he believed that she did, in a way, and it hurt him to know, even if he told himself that he could not completely possess her, that it would be wrong to desire any such thing. But still… they shared something he would never have. Christine had practically told him so, and although he did not understand what it was, he knew that this was something reserved for those two, but not for him. Not for him.
Why did all that was beautiful have to be tinged with sadness, why did regret find a way into even the purest joy? His and Christine's love was the most marvellous thing he could possibly imagine, brighter than the sun and fairer than the star-strewn sky, but a shadow lay over it, a deep, dark, fathomless shadow. And even when Christine rested in his arms, warm and sheltered, still she would turn her head, magically drawn to gaze out into the cold darkness…
He would always be there, Christine had said. The enemy. There was a brief truce for now, but later on, when this all was over… The enemy would be the enemy again, and he would never stop hunting Christine.
Then Raoul would have to kill him, after all.
But, God, those eyes, those pain-filled eyes, accusing him for the mere thought! And all the grief and sorrow he had seen in them…
Raoul shook his head, trying to shake off the memory of the Phantom's eyes. He had to focus on what lay ahead, and on nothing else.
They entered the Opera House together, Christine leading the way. Trying to keep a watchful eye everywhere at once, Raoul realized that he already saw a threat in every flicker of movement, every tiny shadow. This had to end. God forgive him, but they could not go on like this. Créon had to be killed. He had to be killed! There was nothing else they could do about that man. Let Créon be taken into police custody, and he would manipulate minds to walk out again easily. Chase him away, and he would start all over again in another place, and sooner or later return for the Phantom. And he would not give up, Raoul knew it. Créon would never give up.
And neither would Niobe. Raoul clenched his teeth at the thought of having to kill a woman, but this woman was more dangerous than any other. And this woman had tried to take possession of Christine. She had harmed his fiancée, his beloved.
And it would be the Phantom who killed her, anyway, not him. He would only assist, but take no active part in it. That made it a little bit better – but only a little bit.
They reached Madame Giry's small apartment, on the same stairs as the ballet dormitories, and Christine knocked.
"Is he about?" Meg whispered. She did not have to mention any name; it was obvious who she meant.
Christine nodded. "Just beyond this door."
Already fully dressed, Madame Giry opened the door and beckoned for them to come in. Her small living room suddenly felt rather crowded, with all of them being inside, and Raoul got a slightly guilty feeling, although there actually was nothing to feel guilty about. They were offered seats, he and Christine huddling together on the small fauteuil while Meg and her mother each took a chair.
From what must be the bedroom, the Phantom at last made his appearance, pulling on his shirt as he came. Raoul briefly caught a glimpse of several bruised spots on his body, especially a rather nasty one on the side, now starting to turn yellowish, and he almost winced. He constantly bruised his shins himself, and those small bruises could be unpleasant enough already.
A slight nod was all the Phantom did to acknowledge their arrival, yet immediately his eyes fell on Christine and stayed on her. Raoul found that he did not care, as long as the Phantom remained where he was, right behind Madame Giry. He informed her of his presence by briefly touching her shoulder from behind, and she reacted to it by giving his hand a gentle pat.
Had he been there for the whole night, or had he just arrived in the morning? The way he was busy with tucking in his shirt right now seemed to reveal that he had slept here, at the ballet mistress's apartment. Raoul wondered if there was room enough over in her bedroom. He could only hope so for her. Sharing a room with the Phantom would be the very last thing he wanted to do, and he would never sleep in that man's presence, or else he would probably never wake up again.
Meg beamed up at him, of course, which he answered by a small smile. She had probably missed him, Raoul suspected. As if he were really the right one to warm a young girl's bed! Raoul almost shook his head in irritation.
His attention returned to the conversation. "Luckily, they have made no attempt to get at Erik", Madame Giry was saying, in a tone which somehow seemed to imply that anyone trying to get at her Erik would be very sorry indeed. Heavens above! That one was a grown man, and a rather dangerous one, too! Sometimes, women were near enough impossible to understand.
"Of course", Christine said. "He is still hidden. They can't sense him." And Christine probably could, Raoul assumed. What a punishment, sensing that… man all the time!
"However", Madame Giry continued, "it seems that Créon has revealed himself to the managers and some others, which is good news."
"Good news?" Raoul raised his eyebrows. "Because they are forced to believe us now?"
"Exactly. And besides, it seems that Créon took the blame for all the people killed here recently."
"For…", Meg began, then understanding dawned on her face. "For Buquet and Piangi, too?"
Madame Giry nodded. "Apparently." For some reason, the Phantom grimaced slightly.
"Why?" Raoul thought aloud, frowning. "Why would he do any such thing?" But there was no answer plausible enough for being uttered.
"Because he takes pride in it, fop", the Phantom replied somewhat impatiently. "Because he wants to make them believe he has been in control here for some time."
Raoul scowled. "Who would ever take pride in killing a man? Except someone as morbid as you, perhaps", he added as an afterthought.
"Don't pout because you didn't see the obvious answer, kid", the Phantom gave back coolly.
"Anyway", Madame Giry continued hurriedly with a look of disapproval, "this is very useful. Because eventually the police will get involved, and then we have Créon's own word for Erik's innocence."
Innocence? The mere idea was perverse! When the time came, Raoul would surely testify to the contrary! But he said nothing, not in front of all those women – including his own fiancée, he suspected – who saw in the Phantom nothing but just a big softie, and someone who was merely vastly misunderstood.
Women, really…
Suddenly he realized that the Phantom's eyes were on him, instead of Christine, and that the man was wearing a most peculiar expression. Was that freak by any chance… reading his mind?
Correct, sissy-boy, a disembodied voice hissed inside his skull, almost making him flinch. You are very easy to read, if I may say so.
Raoul shot him the dirtiest look he could achieve. You ought to shave before you show yourself in public, he thought fiercely, the only thing occurring to him at the moment.
Oh, really? The Phantom passed a hand over his black-shadowed chin briefly, proving that Raoul was not only imagining things, that this conversation was real. And that from someone with the most embarrassing hair seen in public for some time… Is that the newest fashion or what, pretending you're a girl?
Shut up, Raoul thought at him. Bloody shut up.
Your petty little brain is so filled up with fashions, it seems, that there is no room for proper cursing. Someone like you had better stay indoors and spend all day in front of the mirror, instead of only half of it.
You git, Raoul replied.
The Phantom smirked. You are not really improving.
Beside Raoul, Christine groaned audibly. "For God's sake, you two, give it some rest! I can't stand it!"
Raoul's jaw dropped. How could she have heard that exchange, when they had not spoken a single word? That the Phantom could get into his mind was bad enough, but that Christine was developing abilities of the same eerie kind… God, what was going on here? He felt caught up in a vast conspiracy to tear apart the world as he had seen and known it.
"She's been tampering with my mind, kid", the Phantom said quietly. "Not yours."
Raising his head, Raoul met the Phantom's gaze. Those haunting eyes, cold yet burning… But there was no hatred in them now. They were… calm, in an odd sort of way. Very calm, very serene… as it was said the heart of the storm was. The Phantom would do what had to be done, he had made up his mind, and he was calm about the decision. No reason to fret, his eyes seemed to say. No reason to doubt my way. I've even got the time to care about your petty problems, kid, how's that?
Raoul swallowed. Yes, indeed. That one had made up his mind. That one would kill, and not care whether he killed ten men, or a hundred. And he could tease Raoul at the same time as he planned human beings' death. A man's life was worth nothing to him. Is this what you sold your conscience for?
There was a flicker of… something in those strange blue eyes. I don't think I ever had one, the disembodied voice whispered in Raoul's mind, and then, very quietly, if that was possible for a voice only heard in his head, I'm not human enough to have one. I'm nothing like you, or the girls.
There it was again, a glimpse of an endless sorrow, vast as an ocean. It was gone in less than a heartbeat, yet it left Raoul with a feeling of unspoken sadness. I'm nothing like you. And then he thought he could feel a little touch of pity, of the same pity which had made Christine stay his hand on that morning at the cemetery – the same pity which had made her lovingly kiss that creature of the night.
God, what shall I do? What shall we all do?
Meg shifted on her chair, drawing Raoul's gaze for a moment, and for a moment it rested on the bodice of her dress stretched over her female forms… Heavens above, what was he doing there? Staring at Meg in a most improper way! And that when he was not only engaged, but should be concerned with a lot of other things as well! Really, he should be ashamed of himself.
Determinedly turning his head away, he looked at Christine instead. So sweet, so pretty… but her expression was too serious, her lips too thin a line to offer him comfort. Lord in Heaven, he had fought so hard for her happiness, and still there was no end to this! Still she was not safe. What else did he have to do? What other horrors awaited the poor girl? He had to protect her, at whatever cost.
And as he saw the Phantom's gaze once again linger on his fiancée, he knew that his rival was thinking just the same.
They would fight. They both would.
They would do it together.
