Glad to see you guys are still reading...
This is not the final chapter!
Enjoy!
Nico
Raoul had always lived a pampered life. Even upon his resurrection, he had been born into money…a sort of cosmic continuance of what he had been used to in his former life.
He had been trained by the finest swordsmen…he knew how to fire a pistol with nearly perfect accuracy.
He should have been more than prepared for life threatening situations.
Yet now, as he stood in front of a very angry Erik, he was fully prepared to die.
Never before had Raoul noticed the ethereal qualities Erik possessed. His stormy eyes had darkened the same way the sky does when a thunderstorm appears on the horizon. Although there was no breeze coming into the lush apartment that Erik had basically bought for Raoul, Erik's long black duster flowed about his ankles. A light seemed to radiate from Erik's very being…a bright aura of power, strength and vengeance.
What frightened Raoul most, however, was what was happening to Erik's face.
When Erik had first entered the room, (by what means, Raoul was unsure) his face had been without the standard white mask. Instead, the usually covered portion of his features was exposed, revealing twisted, malformed skin which pocketed and seemed to rip away from the bone in a grotesque protest to existence.
But ever since Christine had touched the deformed man…ever since she had thrown herself into his waiting arms…Erik's face had begun to transform. The skin was rejuvenating, smoothing out…healing. It was as if whatever Erik was made of was alive…twisting and repairing…until Raoul was staring at the ideology of perfection.
As Erik's face healed, he seemed to grow stronger. His face flushed, his muscles flexed.
Raoul knew already that he had been bested.
"Erik," Raoul said, addressing the man after what seemed an eternity of silence. "There are no reparations I could possibly make to you or Christine."
At the sound of her name, Christine peered over Erik's shoulder, staring coldly at the man who was once her fiancé.
"You waste our time with obvious declarations," Erik interrupted.
"You have obviously won, Erik," Raoul countered. "She always loved you. Through our entire marriage she loved you." He turned to match his eyes to Christine's. "And I see that she loves you now."
Raoul sighed, sitting on an overstuffed leather chair. "It seems that my lot in life has been to destroy the lives of those around me."
"And it would also seem, my darling Raoul, that those whose lives have been destroyed by you have come to seek revenge."
Raoul, Christine, and Erik turned to the new voice in the room.
Carlotta stood in the doorway, her hair mussed, her skirts dirty. Her breath was coming rapidly; her small pistol shaking in her right hand.
"What are you doing Raoul?" She demanded. "They stand before you, yet you do nothing!"
Raoul stood slowly. "There is nothing left to do, Carlotta." He turned around to face Erik and then whispered. "It's over."
Christine knew that Erik felt the same twinge of pity for Raoul that she felt.
For a moment that seemed split into eternity, Raoul and Erik locked eyes, wordlessly apologizing and forgiving.
Erik lowered his sword.
Simultaneously, Carlotta shrieked.
"WEAK!" She screamed, raising the pistol…
and firing.
Erik immediately threw himself atop Christine, knowing that if the bullet struck him he would survive, but if it struck her, he would lose her again.
The deafening sound of a bullet being released from its chamber echoed throughout the apartment and out into the streets of Paris.
Shortly after the unforgettable sound, a loud thud was heard.
Erik turned his head…
And locked eyes with Raoul, who was now laying on his back, bleeding onto his lush carpeting.
Raoul looked at him and smiled.
Erik nodded back.
Then, he watched as Raoul's eyes went black with the darkness of death.
Christine looked over at the dead man, closing her eyes gently against the image.
Slowly, Erik rose, keeping Christine behind him.
Carlotta stood motionless, her face pale, the arm holding the pistol still raised.
"He's dead," she said numbly.
"Yes," Erik confirmed. "And you killed him."
Carlotta raised her eyelids, suddenly looking at Erik.
"My God," she whispered. "My God…"
Christine watched in horror as Carlotta suddenly lifted the pistol to her temple, tears streaming down her pale face.
"Carlotta…no!" Christine shrieked, stepping closer to the mad woman, desperate, for whatever reason,to prevent more destruction.
She was too late.
Carlotta fell anti-climactically onto the floor, in sync with the second bullet fired from her gun.
Her blood mingled with Raoul's, her pale hand resting on his coincidentally.
Christine buried her head in Erik's chest, horrified that she felt relief over the death of her enemies.
"Come Christine," Erik cooed. "Come with me, away from death forever."
