Shade: Hey guys! Thank you all SO much for sticking with this story thus far. I'm going down the shore on Friday, so I don't know if I'll be able to post until next Sunday. If I can, I will, but just know that I'm not ignoring the story. The poem I use in this chapter is not mine; it is copyright to yagirl-123. Except I slightly tweaked it for Nasrin's writing. If you want to see the original yayness of the poem, see the review! I still don't own the poem in any way. Enjoy!
"It's in your soul
That the true distortion lies . . ." –Track Down This Murderer
Chapter 24: The War Between Obsession and Love
"Today, today is the day I will tell him. I will make him listen to me," I reassured myself as I walked out of my lair, determined for the second time to convince Erik of my identity. I needed him; as soon as I tasted his lips the other day I knew that I could never be away from his embrace again.
"Erik!" I reached his lair and froze, gasping and shaking as my heart broke.
He looked up at me, freezing from his work. In his hands were at least twelve of his paintings of me, crumpled and creased. The rest of his tribute lay in a smoldering fire a few feet away.
"Why . . . why are you doing that?" I asked with bated breath, a lump in my throat ready to erupt in a wave of tears. I noticed that my sculpture was all that showed that I had ever been a holder of his heart.
He unceremoniously tossed more of the paintings in the fire, ignoring my scream of agony. "I don't want to remember your friend's face any longer. I love Christine now, for it is hard to love a dead woman." I watched in shocked horror as the edges of my face curled up in the licking flames.
"You don't love Nas- . . . me anymore?" I asked.
He narrowed his eyes and trudged over to me, his arms hanging by his side, thus giving him the look of an irate beast.
"What . . . did . . . you . . . say?" he snarled.
"Erik." I gulped and reached through the iron bars for him. "It's me . . . It's Nasrin. Haven't you realized by now?"
He recoiled from my hand. "You deceive me. You almost said her name . . . let me guess." He smiled at me through the bars, his skeptical eyes dancing with laughter. "You fell in love with me while trying to take revenge on me for Nasrin. Now, in order to be with me, you are trying to convince me that you are her. That is quite flattering, but there is only room in my heart for one fiery Persian girl, and there only ever will be."
"You imbecile!" I screeched. "It's me! It's your forsaken bride, Nasrin! By Allah are you a dense man!"
"You expect me to trust the word of a despicable harem? You must be mad." He moved to stalk away from the portcullis.
"Ask me something about myself. Something you know separates me from the other Persian girls." I felt my dignity disintegrate as I begged, but the truth was far more important.
"Nasrin's eyes are blue-green, Daevas. Why are yours dark blue?" He whirled around to face me and cocked his head. "More to the point, why do you and Nasrin have different colored eyes than every other Persian I have seen?"
"My grandfather was not of Persia; he was from somewhere in Europe, who visited the dancers. My grandmother was one of them. He paid for my grandmother for a night and he raped her. My baba is the product of that one act of pain. Then, he and my mother birthed me, Nasrin Khanum, and all my brothers. I was the only one who inherited my grandfather's eyes. See, they are blue green." I pushed my face closer to the iron that separated us.
Erik moved closer and looked into my eyes. "I see dark blue, Mademoiselle harem."
"Erik, by Allah! It's me!"
"I don't have time for desperate imposters. Don Juan is being rehearsed and I have the love of my life to watch over." He raised the portcullis and walked past me. "If you'll excuse me of course, 'Nasrin.'" He shook his head and laughed as he stalked down the labyrinth.
Once he was gone, rage erupted in my gut and I clenched my fists. I had told him! I had bared my true self to him and he had scoffed at me! How dare he! If he ignored my please, my cries, it was essential that I silence that noise which blocks his ears. In short, I would kill Christine.
I padded behind him from the fifth cellar up to the highest rafters overlooking the stage. I saw him laugh at Piangi and I knew that Erik planned to take his place the next night.
As he peered precariously over the rafters, I leaped on his back, sending him flying over the side of the bridge, roaring in both surprise and anger. I gripped fast to his body and laughed in his ear. I laughed in a voice that mocked the devil. We both plummeted down to the stage.
The ballerinas screamed and ran out of formation and there was a unanimous gasp from below. I saw Madame Giry clap her hand to her mouth and scream while Christine froze in place, eyes wide with terror. Just before Erik struck the stage, I casually tossed a Punjab lasso around a protruding pole above us. The lasso tightened in an instant, keeping both of us suspended above the stage, mere feet from certain demise.
Erik looked up, realizing my grip on him had both caused his fall, and saved him from death. He swung reluctantly with his hand clutched in mine; I felt so powerful, holding his life in my hands.
I smiled. "You should have believed me, my love." I yanked my hand from his grasp, sending him tumbling down to the stage, landing in an indignant growl. He peered up at me as I released the rope and landed on the stage, standing up soon after and smiling.
"Daevas," he spat, catching his breath and glancing warily at the company around who trembled in his presence.
"Who else? Obviously you don't see me as your old bride," I said, stalking around him slowly, glaring at him with defiance. I would make him see. I had to . . . my Erik . . . your density will be the death of you if you keep this up.
Or rather . . . Christine's . . .
No, I assured myself. I would have tried to kill her anyway . . .
"And what do you plan on doing, now that you have me in the open?" he asked, growling.
Time to play the part of murderer . . . but that won't pose a difficulty.
"I haven't decided yet," I murmured, lying as I walked more circles around him. I sniggered. "Perhaps I should start by taking off this mask. Yes, you did that to Nasrin, didn't you? You destroyed her guise the night she was meant to be married." I reached for his white mask, standing behind him. My fingers danced across its white surface tauntingly.
"No!" he roared, grabbing my hands and throwing me around to his front, holding me up so my face was level with his. I growled and spat in his face. He dropped me in order to wipe the sticky saliva from his face and mask.
I backed away from him slowly, examining his reaction. The expression of disgusted horror on his face was quite amusing. Some crew members moved to approach him with bludgeons and maces, but I held up my hand, halting them in their tracks. Power was a dangerous thing. Erik saw them out of the corner of his eye and snarled.
"Why don't you let them do it? Why don't you allow them to kill me now?"
"I don't do anyone favors," I spat. "Not to mention the fact that I'm not finished with you."
"Well, I'm finished with you!" Erik bellowed, unsheathing a small knife from his belt, undoubtedly used to sever rope, and threw it at my head, twisted with mad rage.
I turned to the side just before the blade would have buried itself in my face. The knife grazed my jaw, slicing open a shallow gash as I fell clumsily to the ground. Standing up, I grabbed the knife from the wooden pole in which it was buried and growled at Erik.
"Now now, that wasn't very nice," I cooed. This was my chance; I held the weapon of demise in my hand. I had never seen a blade so beautiful.
I whipped to face Christine and threw the knife in the same fashion at her. At the last moment, that angelic wench moved to safety. The knife buried itself in the wooden pole a millimeter from her head, only severing a lock of her fair, golden hair. She quivered in fear, her mouth hanging open.
Erik looked over at me, his jaw slacked in vengeful awe.
I smiled evilly at Erik and pouted, laughing slightly. "Forgive me, I seem to have missed."
Erik's look became twisted with rage. "You could have killed her! Daevas, I'll destroy you!"
"You won't," I purred, holding up my finger to silence him. "Just as I won't kill you. Now, Monsieur le Phantom, I am finished with you." I ran past him and threw a red powder down on the ground. In an explosion of a red inferno, I disappeared through the trapdoor, leaving Erik to the crew members.
I fled through the labyrinth and into my lair, throwing myself on my bed, wondering why my triumph was empty, besides the undeniable fact that Christine still breathed.
Why couldn't he make it easy on himself and just accept the truth?
My mind beat against my actions, but I couldn't stop. Looking up at the grate, I lost myself in a fantasy of singing the part of Aminta, tone deaf as I was, with Erik as Don Juan. I could feel his large arms wrapped lovingly around me, his hot breath in my ear, his hands moving daringly up my longing body. I smiled warmly.
"Erik, I love you," I sang softly, weeping into the silk pillows and falling into a restless slumber, lightened with visions of Erik's beautiful face.
xXxXx
Erik's POV:
How dare she . . . how dare that Persian whore make to impersonate Nasrin.
There were some uncanny similarities between their personalities and their body type. But something about Daevas . . . that inescapable aura of evil never left.
Still . . . the similarities between them were extremely strong. Their temper, their body shape, their haughty comments . . . their hatred towards Christine.
After the whole incident above with Don Juan, I had grabbed the rope she had used to suspend me and escaped narrowly, most of the ballet rats screaming.
I had been humiliated . . .
I angrily returned to my work of desecrating Nasrin's shrine. I wanted to keep them up forever, but allowing them to exist only made it harder for me to move on . . . I would always want Nasrin beside me, no matter how old I became. But wanting her is useless if she can never come back to me. If dreams were the closest thing to her I could get . . . I would rather have Christine. As true as those words were, they hurt. Between Christine and Nasrin, I cared for them both. I never expected myself to become hopelessly torn between two completely different, yet equally incredible woman.
You also never expected to kill one of them . . .
I grabbed for the last of Nasrin's pictures and moved to the fire. A small piece of paper fell to the ground from the binding of the songbook she made for me months ago. I hesitated and bent down to pick it up, never before seeing the yellowed parchment. Unfolding it, I was met with several lines of faded black script, the ink slightly blotched with either tears or water. I hoped it was the latter. Bracing myself, I read the letter.
"Perhaps Erik,
A bride could never love a monster,
And a man could never love a beast.
But what happens when the monster inside
Falls for the beast inside of the bride.
Isn't it possible for a monster to love a beast?
And me, your bride, to love you, a man?" Nasrin
Yes . . . oh by God yes . . . you were right Nasrin . . . so right . . .
I collapsed in my chair, unable to bring myself to cast the writing into the fire. I read it over and over again until the words blended together to form a black blob. I placed the rest of her portraits aside, thankful I saved my favorites for last to destroy. I couldn't destroy them now . . . not when this newfound attachment bloomed within me.
I will never be over her . . . I will never fill the hole in my heart she left me with . . .
No you won't . . . because you loved her, and you destroyed her . . .
I realized hopelessly at that moment, that even if I wooed Christine into loving me, I would be alone . . .
xXxXx
Daevas's POV:
The next morning I awoke reluctantly. Tonight was Don Juan. Should I allow the performance to go without my intervention? Word of mouth was that Raoul had ensured the presence of at least twenty police officers to be positioned around the theater, ready for the command to kill. Kill Erik. My mind was made up; I would go to protect him. If the police officers came to harm him, I would ensure his safety.
Perhaps the way to win love is show love . . .
I growled and fell back against my pillow, staring once more up at the grate. There were no rehearsals going on and only terrible silence loomed. I sighed, running my fingers through my mandarin orange wig. I loved the feeling of Erik's fingers running, unafraid, over my distortion as if it meant nothing at all. I ached for him; Allah damn the heart you gave to me! I can't escape from it!
Suddenly, I heard his voice trill through the labyrinth, his strong, deep, sensual voice weaving its tune around me, constricting and enrapturing me.
"I realize I'm truly a monster.
In darkness I'm fated to hide.
What priceless jewel have I shattered
In the name of pride?
Dark Aphrodite
Come back to me
With wings of lustrous silver.
Come to my arms, my
Night born goddess
Allow us one more embrace."
I shifted in my bed, my heart tearing at the seams at his pitiful display of loneliness. I peered up the grate, searching for him above. But he was not there. Softly, I sang out, my horrific voice echoing miserably.
"In sleep I'll comfort you
In dreams I'll come.
For in your fantasies
We've just begun.
In every aria, and every sigh,
I'm here, Nasrin the Fire Rose with you, in flesh, not mind."
Surprisingly, he didn't inquire as to why my voice reached his ears. Instead, he roared loudly and a wail of despair rose from his rage. "Damn it, leave me alone! I hear you enough in my mind! Please, don't make me hear your voice when I'm awake! Nasrin, my God, stop!" His rage softened into angst and I heard him strike the wall with a balled fist. "Enough!"
"I've told you, my love. I am not dead!"
"Nas . . . Nasrin?" he stammered, awestruck.
I remained quiet for a moment, unsure of how to make it clearer. It became apparent that his dream had a dire effect on his ability to distinguish fantasy and reality.
"Nasrin!" he cried out, his voice desperate with longing. I was about to speak up when his voice cut in. "What am I doing? I'm calling the name of a dead girl in hopes that she will return. What a sad state I have been reduced to." I heard him sigh and chose to remain quiet; my words of devotion died on my tongue. I heard a haunting overture begin to play above and craned my neck quizzically.
"Damn it! This is the opening night of Don Juan! Christine, my love, I'm coming for you!" His footsteps grew fainter as he sprinted towards the stage.
I paled and grabbed a large coil of rope. I had many police officers to take care of before Erik intervened.
It is time to see the fruits of Erik's labor. Something tells me this will be a memorable night for all who have come for this, the Phantom's opera.
I fled from my lair and dodged my traps as my heart hammered in my breast. I hurried as silent as a shadow through backstage.
I saw a police officer stationed behind the curtain, his rifle at the ready. I hastily tied a Punjab lasso, making sure no one's eyes lay on me. I was thankful my outfit was the same colors as the backdrops of the play. As he shifted weight from his left foot I lowered myself down on a rope prop.
My breath caught in my throat. Slowly, slowly . . . don't rush it. He moved his head to the side and I slung the noose around his head, yanking him airborne in a moment. I tied him to another rope, leaving him dangling above the ground, gasping for air, a sound lost in the booming chords of the overture.
Another police officer stood by the catwalk, his rifle aimed expertly on the stage. He had a clear shot of anyone on stage . . . and I would not have him hurt Erik. I left the first police officer twitching below me and raced past some members of the cast who, upon seeing my rope, screamed and fled. The police officer saw me running towards him . . . damn it to Hell and back.
He raised his rifle to me, aiming to shoot. I reached him and, before he could pull the trigger, wrapped the rope around his neck and pulled back, tightening the rope until he collapsed beneath me, his face flushed livid. Backing away from him, I saw the rest of the officers were stationed around the audience.
How are you going to get them?
I'm going to have to go to the audience . . . and what? I had to get out there regardless.
Sprinting around backstage, I stopped in the doorway of the theater. Hundreds of beating fans met my eyes as the packed seats filled the Opera Populaire. I saw eighteen police officers stationed throughout the seats, tiers, and the doorways. To get them all would be impossible. My only hope was to remain here and run to save Erik, should he require it.
Just then, an usher tapped my on the shoulder. Thinking it was a policemen, I whipped around, my rope taut and at the ready. I growled and narrowed my eyes.
"Mademoiselle, if you do not have a ticket or seat, please leave." He motioned to the door.
Oh no, I was not going to be denied now. I was staying here! Death to the one who says otherwise!
"I will stay here. Leave me be, or face death. You wouldn't deny the Phantom of the Opera his seat, so the least you can do for his bane is allow her to watch."
Apparently, the usher wasn't informed as to my murder attempt on Christine earlier, for he suddenly became very servile.
"Oh, my apologies, Lady Daevas," the usher stammered, bowing his head slightly. "Please, do you want me to find you a seat?"
"No, just leave me be," I hissed, turning from him, ensuring my expression told him not to inquire further.
The usher left wordlessly, and I knew I would have to move my position or I was in danger of being captured.
But in the meantime . . .
I heard the chorus reach a frightening volume as the overture melded into the first act. That is when I realized that I had passed the last point that would have ensured my safety. By coming here tonight, I knew I had sealed my own fate. I knew it as soon as I saw the police officers looking at me, moving to grab at their rifles.
Run . . .
A/N: Thanks to all my reviewers!
Jen Lennon: Thank you! I know, you just want to push them together and say: "LOVE EACH OTHER!" The climax must occur first unfortunately . . . stupid dramatic plot diagram. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
phantominhell: (catches candy and cookies) Yum! Thanks! Oh, Jean ass kicking is great! (high fives) Thanks for the review and here is your update!
DragonheartRAB: I know! It's heartbreaking isn't it? Well, at least Jean got kicked in the nuts! Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Bananas in Pajamas: A mermaid, eh? Sweet! Thank you very very much! (bows) Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Mademoiselle Justicia: XD! I know! Go Nasrin! I'm sure if Nasrin had removed her mask, he would have seen the 'I'm-gonna-get-you-with-my-looks' look and identified. You know what? Masks suck. And as for fluff? You shall see. I like fluff, but only when it's appropriate; you'll know what I mean later. XD! Fops squealing are very yay! I promise you, Jean will squeal again! Only this time . . . you will hate him MUCH more! Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Dragon-mage16: XD! That was an EXTREMELY enjoyable review. I know, the passion will come. I don't break my promises. Hang tight. XD! Count de small dick . . . LMAO! You finished HP6 too? (sniffle) Need I do more concerning that book? Anyway, thanks for the review and here is your update!
GerrysISUChick04: O.o;; Please don't Punjab me! That would not be yay! (not to mention you would never know the ending of the story, which would hurt you more than me.) MWAHA! And no, I won't make Erik stupid. I promise. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
XxDallysGirl4Life-x-GerrysLoveTartxX: LOL, I know. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
tink8812: YAY! You got an account! When you post your story, lemme know! LOL, those are awesome ideas. Unfortunately, I cannot use them. As you probably have noticed, I have a tendency to torture my characters . . . same goes for Nasrin. Sorry Nasrin! So you'll see what in the end gives it away. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Natsuki: LOL, it's fine. I know who you are, poozle. XD! Yes, tis a secret indeed. Thanks muchly! (glomp) Yes, Nasrin's torture is pretty bad. And you know where it goes . . . but don't tell! SH! Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Ethalas Tuath'an: XD! Hello! What a lovely surprise! I agree, Nasrin was being quite ignorant when she said taking her wig wouldn't do a thing. I wish she did. You shall see though! That's a cool name, regardless of the meaning, lol. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
AngelOfTheNight: XD! Typical male indeed, well, minus the deformity . . . but that . . . I strangely like that. OK, I'll stop blathering about that. And GOOD! You don't like Jean! YAY! Oh, please, flame him as much as you like! I'm glad she kicked him too. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Artemis 12's Phantom: LOL, Thanks for the review and here is your update!
LadyOfLegends: XD! Yes, please, take Erik and spank him. Good LORD he was an idiot. Thanks for the review and here is your update! From Shadebean!
xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx: You shall see, I promise! Thanks for the review and here is your update!
Norma Jean the Dancing Machine: XD! (dances as well b/c she hates Jean) Thanks for the review and here is your update!
harem98: NO! (revives) I didn't want the hug to kill you! But I'm glad it made you happy! LOL! You're welcome. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
ali: I know, I know. Don't fear . . . I'll pull it together. Thanks for the review and here is your update!
VictorianDream: LOL, good. I know. The last chapter didn't turn out quite like I wanted it to. Sorry it was hard to follow. I hope this chapter was better! Thanks for the review and here is your update!
yagirl-123: I loved the poem! Thank you SO much! I tweaked it slightly, I really hope you don't mind. But as soon as I read it, I knew I had to have it in there, whether you asked me or not. Thank you! (bows) Thanks for the review and here is your update!