Hope you all had a nice weekend!
I stole something from THE BODYGUARD in this chapter. I couldn't resist.
As always, enjoy!
Nico
The reception Erik received upon his arrival to the Opera House was extremely different from what he was used to.
Christine clutched his arm tightly as the duo exited the sleek black limousine Erik had chartered to take them from his house to the Opera for Christine's last performance.
Erik's dark hair was swept away from his perfect face; his appearance was more than stunning. Christine looked up at him as they climbed the stairs to the Opera's entrance. He smiled down at her, reassuring her without words.
Together, they entered the lavish Opera which was bustling with activity.
"Mimi!" Bernard came running up to the couple. "Where on earth have you been?" He demanded. "You were scheduled to be in costume more than a half hour ago! We had to run the pre-show rehearsal with your understudy…we thought you weren't returning…" he stopped his tirade to observe the considerably taller man at Christine's side. "Who are you?" Bernard asked suspiciously.
"Bernard," Christine said cordially. "Allow me to introduce Erik, a masterful composer, my private tutor and truest confident."
Bernard scoffed. "And just what have you composed?" He asked condescendingly.
Erik raised a perfectly formed eyebrow.
"He has produced several successful shows," Christine interjected. "In America," she added quickly, knowing that Bernard had never once left France.
"And he is your tutor?" Bernard asked. Christine nodded. "Well," the slight composer harrumphed. "I do hope he has sufficiently prepared you for tonight's performance."
"Mimi will amaze your audience, just as she always has," Erik said, his voice liquid ice over the smaller man's entire body.
Bernard nodded quickly, obviously intimidated by the mysterious man. "Mimi, if you would, they are waiting for you in costuming."
"I'll be right there," she replied. Bernard gave Erik one final disapproving glare before walking away stiffly.
"They never change," Erik commented quietly.
"Bernard is harmless," Christine said, facing him and wrapping her arms around his waist.
Erik looked around nervously.
"It's the 21st century, Erik," Christine laughed. "Public displays of affection are no longer frowned upon."
Erik looked down at her and smiled. "In that case…" He pressed his lips to hers softly, sweeping his tongue over hers delicately.
Christine pulled away breathlessly. "I have to go," she murmured.
Erik grasped her hand. "I have something for you," he said quietly, pressing a small object in her palm.
Christine opened her hand slowly to reveal a stunning, ruby encrusted broach. "What is this?" She asked.
Erik pulled his coat open to reveal a matching tiepin, securing his silk cravat in place. "If, for any reason, you feel threatened, simply press the ruby in the center," he demonstrated. Simultaneously, his tiepin emitted a strong vibration and beeped. "I will be at your side in moments."
Christine took the broach back from Erik, turning it over curiously. "Where did you get this?" She asked.
"I had it made," Erik replied. "Specifically for this occasion."
"Ingenious!" Christine exclaimed.
"Christine," Erik said, taking her hands in his. "Please be careful. I cannot bear to lose you again."
Christine stood on her tip-toes and placed a light kiss on Erik's chin. "I'll be fine," she whispered. "Erik, I love you."
"And I you, my angel of music."
She dropped one more kiss on his cheek before hurrying away.
"And you're certain Emily will not be performing tonight?" Christine asked the young costuming assistant who was hemming her dress rapidly.
"I'm sure Ma'am," the assistant bubbled. "I heard that she ran off with her fiancé after some major issue. Everyone has been talking about it for days now."
Christine remained silent, knowing full well what the "major issue" had been.
"Who will be taking her place?" Christine asked.
The assistant rose to her feet, fluffing Christine's voluminous cream skirts. "Eva Martinese," she said. "Apparently she's very good."
Christine's worry eased.
It appeared that her last performance within the walls of the Paris Opera House would go off without a hitch.
Erik settled back into his favorite seat in Box Five, ignoring the curious stares of patrons who were unused to seeing someone sitting in the infamous location.
Erik's hand went to his face, subconsciously feeling for the twisted skin he was so familiar with.
His fingertips met smooth, even skin.
Satisfied that he was not going to cause an uproar because of his appearance, he eased again, anxiously awaiting the lift of the curtain.
Backstage, Christine watched as a flurry of activity swirled around her. A make-up assistant dabbed more rouge on her cheeks…two costuming assistants fussed with the last minute details of her enormous dress…a woman stood behind her, adorning Christine's beautiful locks with fragrant rose petals.
And suddenly, they were gone, scurrying to the wings as the first notes of the overture began to play.
Christine stood alone on her mark in complete darkness.
Her hand immediately went to the broach Erik had given her, which she had had one of the costuming assistants sew onto the front of her dress.
She lightly caressed the electronic jewel; its mere presence comforted her.
She could hear nothing but the swell and crash of the overture.
She could see nothing but blackness before her.
Her lack of senses explained why she did not hear the footsteps behind her.
She did, however, feel the sharp pain at the back of her head as she was struck from behind.
Erik scoffed loudly as he listened to the overture. "Pure muddled excrement," he commented. A large woman sitting in the box next to him glared at the comment.
Erik stared back at her until she became uncomfortable and looked away.
He settled back and smiled, pleased that he was still an intimidating presence even without his gleaming mask.
The music had reached its pinnacle and was beginning to descend slowly indicating that the curtain was about to lift.
Erik leaned forward a bit.
He heard the chains that operate the curtain click on, a sound he was almost too familiar with.
His breath caught in his throat as the curtain began to lift.
That breath turned to rage and fear as the curtain revealed an empty stage.
A murmur swept across the audience as the orchestra stumbled, thrown off by the disappearance of their leady lady.
Erik did not hear this, however.
He was already halfway to the stage.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Bernard said loudly, his nasally voice even more piercing due to his anxiety. "Please, be seated! We will resume the performance shortly!"
The heavy velvet curtains whooshed closed, just as Erik's feet reached the stage.
"Where is she?" He demanded of the random, confused cast mates who had milled out onto the stage.
"She was just here!" The make-up assistant declared. "I just finished touching her up seconds before the curtain went up!"
Erik hurried over to the small piece of tape that marked where Christine was to stand. He knelt quickly, ignoring the chattering of the cast.
He ran his fingers over the mark.
Then, something caught his eye.
Several small ruby-red droplets could be seen scattered across the stage.
Erik ran his fingers over one of the drops.
Blood.
Her blood.
"What is it?" A chorus girl asked nervously, looking down at the smear on Erik's finger.
Her eyes went wide. "It's blood!" She shrieked, causing instant panic amongst the cast.
"Here now, what is all this nonsense?" Bernard elbowed his way to where Erik was still crouched.
"Call the police!" The chorus girl exclaimed loudly. "Mimi has been kidnapped!"
Immediately, the stage was transformed into a frenzy.
It would have reminded Erik of the devastation he had witnessed on the night of Don Juan Triumphant…
If he hadn't already left the stage, in pursuit of whoever had taken Christine Daae from his arms once again.
