Author´s note: Thanks for the reviews! It´s interesting to see how ´sympathetic´ you all are towards Christine. I´ve never quite understood such feelings towards a certain character. I´d be really grateful if someone could explain this to me.
22) A dazzling place I never knew
This time even his music couldn´t comfort Erik. No matter how hard he tried it his fingers didn´t dance over the keys with their usual easiness. He couldn´t sit here and play, knowing that he had made his beloved Meg miserable. He didn´t allow himself to relax under the influence of alcohol either. The glass standing on the table was only filled with water. Actually it was not important if it was water or the finest brandy; he hadn´t drunk a sip of it anyway yet.
He was pacing the length of his living room: twelve steps into one direction, turning around, twelve steps into the other direction. All the time he was thinking. Had there been signs in Meg´s behaviour he should have noticed? He couldn´t remember anything. She had always been so loving and caring and just as glad as he about the moments when they had the possibility of meeting.
Quickening his strides Erik asked himself whether he had done something wrong in their relationship. Again he didn´t come to a result. Because of his separation from the world he had developed his own rules of what a gentleman had to be like, that was true. Yet he was aware that they weren´t very different from those other men obeyed. They were just a little stricter. Erik would have never thought of taking another girl to bed, as it was almost normal in certain circles.
But of course this possibility had never arisen. Nobody wanted him… except Meg. What if he had lost her for good? At this point he nearly banged his head against the wall. Even the option of waking up hours later with a gigantic headache seemed to be better than having to stand his own thoughts.
If he had really done that, he might not have heard the noise. But he did, and his mind instantly snapped back to reality. Someone was there. For a second he thought it could be Meg, then he dismissed the idea as ridiculous. Both she and her mother know how to avoid the traps on the way to his home; he had shown them himself. This meant that there had to be an intruder.
Anger welled up inside Erik, mixed with just a drop of curiosity. He grabbed the hat, cloak and lantern he had thrown carelessly to the floor when he had arrived. He didn´t forget his Punjab Lasso either. If he found out that one of the ballet rats had sneaked down here, he´d make sure she had danced her last pirouette.
Quickly he left his house and started checking the rooms the person could be in. More than once he had listened to conversations about his legendary torture chamber. At such occasions a slight chuckle could be heard from the shadows, yet since people tended to pay attention to little but their own voices nobody had ever noticed it.
The truth was that Erik possessed more than a dozen chambers in which someone could end up. They weren´t torture chambers in the literal sense of the term. All of them had the same purpose: They detained people for a while till he chose to release them again. So far everybody had been too scared by having to stay in a dark and small room for hours to ever try to come back.
How could someone be stupid enough to assume it was possible to fall directly into the torture chamber? Contrary to popular belief torture was not one of the Opera Ghost´s favourite activities. He had long ago disabled the switch opening the trapdoor into his real torture chamber. He had done so after rescuing a very drunk rat catcher out of it the second time in one week. Since that day it had fallen into a deep slumber, and although he had thought about taking Meg there – maybe she´d have enjoyed the magnificent mirrors – he had never seriously considered it.
The person was in the third room, one that was quite close to his home. Peering through a crack Erik saw only a small body lying on the floor, covered by dark blue and grey fabric, not moving. He cursed under his breath. It wasn´t supposed to be like that. Normally people got out of there with nothing but a few bruises. This time, however, it seemed to be serious, which meant he had to help.
So he opened the hidden door silently and stepped inside. He held the lantern as far away from himself as possible. If the person woke up, he or she would probably pass out again from the shock of seeing the Opera Ghost. Moving closer Erik realised it had to be a girl. He could make out a skirt having ridden up to reveal large amounts of torn white tights. It was no chorus girl then. None of them wore clothes in such modest colours.
He knelt down next to the body. The heaving and sinking of the ribcage told him she was still alive. It occurred to him that he should fetch Mme.Giry to take care of her. But first he had to know who she was. She lay face down, her head covered by a scarf. Cautiously he removed it and turned the girl around a little, so that the upper part of her back was supported by his thighs.
Erik caught his breath, staring down at the last person he had expected to come to him. "Christine?", he muttered. Gently he placed a hand behind the back of her head. The other one pushed a few strands of hair out of her face. "Erik? Angel?", she asked in a hoarse whisper, not opening her eyes. "I´m with you.", he replied. She was able to talk, so her injuries couldn´t be serious, could they? But where did the blood on her head come from then? Softly he pressed his lips against her temple. Christine would have swooned with delight. But she had fainted again.