Erik pushed the gondola through the water swiftly, to his rigged watery trap. Raoul DeChangey come back to haunt him. Did the boy think he could best Erik now as he could not before? If he thought that Erik still had Christine… where was she?
Was she in danger? His heart wrung desperately at this thought. He had just nursed her back to health and here she had gone missing again! Again the small voice murmured of hid dream. Had it been in fact, a dream? Or a vision?
Erik was not one to believe in the supernatural. Others believed he himself to be of the supernatural, but Erik knew better. It was simply the method of the trick of the mind, an illusion of the eye. But dreams that were actually true, perhaps happening? If it was…no… oh gods, no…
The Gondola banked roughly, breaking him from his torturing thoughts. Margareite rushed out of the little boat ahead of him, turning the corner that led to where Raoul awaited.
"Did you bring the monster?" Raoul's voice echoed against the stone chasms.
"You should beware your words, male," Margareite's voice answered. Erik started slightly. He had not realized, nor considered the hatred that would lead to such addressing still burned within her. He had simply been content with their happy world. He sighed, supposing that nothing would ever be purely simple. He should have known that.
"See here you little rat," Raoul's voice spat. "I am here to retrieve my fiancé and if you don't bring me to her-"Erik rounded the corner, drawing himself to his full, daunting height, considerably taller then Raoul.
"You will watch your tongue when you speak to Margareite, viscount," he said, his voice dark. "Speak to me as you will, but you will show her respect." His hand twitched uncomfortably, begging to grasp his Punjab Lasso, but he worked to stay the urge. Raoul turned to look at Erik with death written in his dark blue eyes, forgetting Margareite for the moment.
"Where is Christine?" he demanded, his voice dangerous. "Tell me where she is or Gods help me…" Erik stayed his ground as Christine's fiancé stepped forward threateningly.
"OR you'll what, Viscount?" Erik growled back. "Kill me? If anyone has the right to kill another, I assure you it is I. And it is I that has more of a will to do it then yourself."
"Then why don't you, you lying bastard?" Raoul's angry voice bounced off the walls loudly, causing Margareite to jump. Erik stared at Raoul with restrained rage, his teeth grinding, his voice silent.
If neither knew Christine's whereabouts, then killing Raoul was the last thing that needed to be done. He might know something that he was not aware would be helpful to find Christine.
"Answer me, you deformed lump of flesh!" Raoul shouted, unsheathing a little dagger he kept in his waist band, causing Margareite shouting Erik's name. Instinct had Erik moving swiftly, grasping Raoul's wrist and bringing to behind his back in a painful angle.
"I lived on the streets once and was forced to defend myself, Viscount," he snarled. "I know how to protect myself." The viscount hissed through his teeth, cursing at the Phantom man hatefully.
"Get you hands off me, creature," he demanded, snapping his head back in hopes of catching Erik's nose, but the Phantom evaded his movement and threw him away from himself. The viscount landed at Margareite's feet, who scuttled backwards a few steps but gazed down at him coldly.
"You are the monster, DeChangey," she said bitterly. "Christine was wrong to love you."
Her words sent Raoul into an angry movement hat he would later wonder how he could have been so rough with the child; but love makes one do things they would normally never even think of.
Snatching Margareite's ankle before she could jump back, he brought her smashing to the ground, her head smacking the stone floor with a loud slap. She cried out as he grasped her thick brown hair in his fist and stood, bring her up with him and holding his dagger to her scarred throat. Erik cried out for her as Raoul brought her into his mercy but did not move when he pressed the blade slightly harder into her young skin. The girl whimpered, tears leaking from her eyes, hate burning fiercely in they're shiny surface.
"Bring me Christine!" Raoul screamed, hate for Erik flaring just as brightly as Erik's.
"Let her go!" Erik challenged back, his voice raising to it's magnificent volume.
"Where's Christine?" Raoul demanded, pricking his dagger's edge into Margareite's throat. Erik's eyes rose up in fury as she whimpered again.
"I don't have her, damn you!" Erik insisted. "I sent her away, back to you! If she did not return to you, do not blame me! Now let her go!"
"Oh, but she did," Raoul said, his voice dangerously quiet now. "But she disappeared again. Couldn't stand to be without her, could you, Creature? Had to steal her away from me again!"
"Curse you, DeChangey, I tell you I do not have her!"
"Then show me!" Raoul spit out. "Prove to me that she is not hidden away in your little cave!"
"Fine!" Erik snarled. "Fine I will prove it to you, but let Margareite go!"
"I will let her go when you prove it," Raoul said, biting the blade into Margareite's skin so that a little droplet of blood formed. She let out a small cry but otherwise kept quiet.
"I will prove it if you let her go."
Raoul dipped the blade deeper into Margareite's already wounded neck.
"If I have Christine, I could go down and kill her now, before you could reach her," Erik said his voice dangerous. "Let her go and I will show you I do not hold your fiancé hostage."
Raoul's eyes shifted as he thought Erik's bargain through; Erik watched as he fought to come to a decision, his heart racing with worry for Margareite. Finally Raoul nodded stiffly and took the blade form Margaereit's throat, pushing her roughly to Erik. The girl stumbled, but Erik moved quickly to catch her. She hugged his neck tightly, sniffling softly into his shoulder for a moment before composing herself again. Erik held her tightly securely.
"I have you," Erik murmured. "It's ok. I won't let him touch you again." Margaeite nodded and stood upright, clinging to Erik's side as he rose to a stand.
"Hurry up, Phantom!" Raoul demanded, untouched by the short scene.
Normally, Raoul would have found the scene utterly touching, but his love for Christine was driving him to be someone he was not. Or someone else that he never knew existed within him.
"Follow me, then, Viscount," the Creature said stiffly. "Margareite, you walk before me." The girl immediately moved in front of the monster, his hand on her shoulder.
The Creature led him to the gondola, allowing Margaeite's boarding first, pausing before allowing Roaul in. Raoul fought the urge to scream at the man again to simply tell him where Christine was. He was not sure that the phantom man spoke the truth, perhaps he was leading Raoul into a trap to kill him, or perhaps he didn't have Christine. But otherwise, why not kill him?
"Stay on the opposite end of the Gondola from Margareite," the Creature instructed. "Do not move to be near her, do not speak to her. Get in." Raoul growled at these orders, but stepped in, settling in to a corner of the little boat. The Creature boarded and began to push the gondola through the water slowly, painfully slowly.
Erik repressed the need to grunt as he pushed more weight through the water then he was used to. Biting down on his tong, he guided the heavy load through the water-ways.
Where was Christine? What was he doing? Leading DeChangey down to his Lair? The man was showing himself to have quite to monster within himself as well. Erik's mouth twitched in a sneer. Raoul was proving to himself that love made a person do unspeakable things. He nearly growled again though as he thought about the blade that he had pressed to Margareite's little throat. He glanced at the girl, who huddled as near to his legs as possible. She was shaken, but except for the nick that Raoul had caused and perhaps a headache, she was unhurt.
Margareite touched a large lump on her head that was forming and glared at Raoul, loathing his very existence. He was a male through and through. Violent and hateful. She felt at the sting on her throat, drawing her fingers away to find smeared blood upon them. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, she inched closer to Erik. He glanced down at her, but quickly moved his eyes back to Raoul and the waterways. What on earth made Raoul think that Christine was still here? Her eyes widened as she remember that night a week ago when Erik had spoken of a dream where Christine had been captured and beaten. She fought to impulse to tug on Erik's pants and tell him, sure that he had already thought of said venue.
Christine smacked down again on the dirt floor for the fifth time that week, cold, sore between the legs, aching in the muscles and stinging in the skin. Within the week that she had been cooped within this shack, she had been called five moons to service men, sometimes more then once a night. Her body had become as scraped up and beaten as the others, her night0-shift having been ripped to useless pieces was discarded long ago, her naked body a sight for all to see. Her first night had been the lesser of the evils.
The man that had first captured her threw the door open, snatching her up with rough hands and pressing blade to her neck again to ensure her cooperation. He had blindfolded her, and led her out of the stinking shack and into the biting night air. She had tricked and fell on unseen objects upon the ground numerous times, skinning her knees raw. She had been pressed to a stop, then heard a door creak open, and she found herself thrown into a fire-warmed room, the door slammed behind her. She had immediately wrenched the blindfold from her eyes now that her hands were unencumbered, to see a man sitting into a wooden chair across the room. His eye traced down her body without modesty, lust glinting in his cold grey eyes. He stood, approached her naked, shaking body, causing her already quickly beating heart to pound painfully in her chest. She turned desperately, trying to open the door and found it locked as the man laid his calloused hands upon her tender skin, snatching her around, pulling her head back with a fistful of hair and kissing her roughly, forcing his tong into her mouth. De, Christine bit down upon the invading object, causing the man to pull back sharply a strike her across the face with a ringed hand. The metal split her skin as it collided with her cheek; she felt the blood trickle around the sides of her jaw and trickled down her neck, descending to the crevice between her breasts.
Her rapist threw her to the wood flood, bearing down upon her, licking the blood pooling on her chest, and proceeding to force kisses upon her. She fought out of instinct, only to bring more pain upon herself. After a time, when she lay nearly unconscious with pain, he shed his pants and speared into her. She cried out desperately, clawing at his face in renewed pain, but she found her hands held together at the wrist and over her head, bearing her vulnerably to his whim.
She curled into a ball upon the dirty floor, exhausted utterly. Silent, sure hands gathered her up and helped her to stand, bring her to rest against the wall. She whimpered as her newly slit open back touched the splintering wood, the man having pushed her against a wooden table edge.
"There now, darling," Marti's voice said as gently as its rough quality could get. "Got ya good, didn' he?" Christine started to nod, but found her head as heavy as led, and didn't try to move it farther.
"How is Callendra?" Christine whispered, her voice barley audible. None had been able to sit and watch the woman suffer. She had not been called out, her body to diseased to use, and they were supplied with only barley enough water to drink and stale bread. There was nothing to clean her wounds with, so that had all sat, and avoided the sight of her, though all desperately wanted to help.
"She's dead," Matri said sadly. "Took her body away while you were out." Christine felt a lump rise in her throat; had she the energy, she would have cried, but she did not.
"And Kassandra?" Black oblivion was on the edge of her conscience, threatening to overwhelm her.
"She's be doin' ok," Marti answered, pulling Christine's matted hair back gently away from her face. "Her leg be hurtin' her a bit, but otherwise she's ok. Let's just 'ope she ok when she gets back. They took her out, too while you were gone. Let us pray that she dosn't get Andrew." Christine nodded, letting her head loll back to the wall with a dull thud.
"Mary was taken out?" she asked, her voice cracking even in its whispering state.
"Yeah," Marti answered." She said, "Here, eat this. They brought in the rat food while you while out as well." She pressed dry bread to Christine's lips, forcing it gently into her mouth. Gathering her strength, Christine forced herself to chew, then swallow the painfully dry food. The door to the shack swung open again, the silhouette of the brutal man that had kidnapped Christine stood in the door.
Marti gave a little whimper as he strode forward, blind folding her and pressing the knife to her throat. Christine felt the dim urge to try to help her, but knew that she couldn't if she tried. The door slammed shut, and Christine allowed herself to slip into black oblivion.