I am sorry for any errors in spelling or logic. This chapter is thirteen pages long and I was up until a god-awful hour writing it. Also, just to let you know – Christine lives very close to the college, but even so it still is faster for her to get onto the freeway and drive back and forth then go by regular roads.
Thank you all of my reviewers! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!
Disclaimer: I take full credit for what me and my mind come up with – things such as characters, bits of exploding scenery, etc. – the rest I give due credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and Susan Kay.
The Red DeathThe day after we got back from the funeral we discovered that a snowstorm had knocked the power out. Days after that we discovered that besides resetting all of our clocks our message machine had been totally wiped clean. Still emotionally shocked, Meg and I were devastated – Raoul had left us one last recording a few weeks ago wishing us both a Merry Christmas.
After desperately trying to get the messages to miraculously come back, Meg flung herself in her room and stayed there for the remaining two days of her vacation. I didn't blame her – since we had first met in high school Raoul had slowly become like a brother to her.
As for me, instead of giving in to the whirlwind of emotions caused by my cousin's sudden death like Meg had, I slowly coped in my own way. For a few days I just sat on the window seat in our quiet, snow covered apartment and let childhood memories wash over me.
Smiling and leaning my head against the cool glass of the window, I remembered the time when he had visited me in my dressing room after my last high school play (I had practiced hard for the part – I loved theater then and still did).
Toting a huge bouquet of roses and grinning from ear to ear, he twirled me around the room and laughed as he caught sight of a splash of red draped over my cosmetic case.
"Your scarf! I thought you got rid of this old thing years ago!" He grabbed it and dangled it in front of my face.
"Hey!" I snatched it back and huffed, "It's my good luck charm, okay! I love this thing!" He looked at me like I had just sprouted two heads.
"Are you crazy! You have enough luck as it is…and you're not even Irish!"
I pouted and cuddled it to my face, "See, it works."
He crossed his arms and pouted right back.
After a few seconds I laughed, unable to stay even slightly mad at him for very long. Making a split decision, I shoved the scarf at him. He grasped at it in confusion, almost dropping it.
"Keep it. You need the luck, after all. You're so accident prone!" I grabbed my coat off the vanity chair and left my stuff – the room would be locked and I had another performance the next day. Heading out the door I smiled over my shoulder,
"Raoul, let's go somewhere for dinner…your treat!" He grumbled a complaint and dashed after me.
I started to smirk at the memory, but remembered suddenly that he had been wearing the scarf when he crashed. I thunked my head against the window as bitter feelings and thoughts came to the surface of my mind, unbidden.
It wasn't good luck after all, was it? Raoul…
I looked out at the glittering snow.
Damn you.
I felt the tear only after it had hit my hand. Reaching up and angrily wiping at my face, I desperately looked around the room for something to take my mind off such morbid things.
My eyes settled on the fiber optic tree, plugged in and glowing softly in the mid-afternoon light. How could I forget our crazy Christmas decorating? Meg and her harebrained schemes! I had to admit that it was fun, and the party…
Suddenly it came to me – the party! Erik! How could I have forgotten!
Irritably, I got up and stormed upstairs and into my room. Tossing myself onto the bed, I buried my face in the pillows. What in the hell was I going to do about him? I sighed and thought about the situation.
Our two encounters were brief and fairytale-like. We were both running on feelings. The first time at his mansion was almost like a dream – I'd met my prince charming at the ball and had my ecstatic moment of overwhelming joy. It was so surreal that I had almost managed to convince myself that he was a figment of my imagination.
It wasn't real to me, I think, until I saw him again the second time – actually feeling his arms around me and watching those blue eyes sweep over my face. I mean, I tried to find out about him before, but even though I felt some sort of connection to him I pursued the whole thing like a one night stand.
Then, at the office, alone in a room with him, I realized just how deep my feelings were for this enigmatic Romeo. I had seen him only twice, for God's sake, yet he had managed to capture a piece of my heart.
And it frightened me.
I'd been in a few relationships before, mostly in high school, but nothing serious and no more physical than a kiss or two occasionally. How I reacted to Erik and how quickly he responded was overwhelming.
It was a dangerous thing I was toying with – I didn't know crap about the man or what we had done meant to him. I also didn't know how I would respond if I saw him again. That was the most frightening thought of all.
When I was with him I lost all sense of reason. Being close to him felt so right.
But I couldn't trust it.
I wanted to get to know him, at least, before we got any further. I curled up against my pillow and pondered ways to get in contact with him until finally, blissfully, I fell asleep.
Although I intended to start my search for Erik immediately, I found myself facing the last and, in my opinion, hardest semester of my college career. It was February before I even knew it and desperately I tried a fervent attempt to contact someone at Daniel's who might know the company's owner (typical, forgetful Meg had given me no help on the subject).
Getting in my car after an early day of classes, I dialed Daniel's main number from my cell phone. Meg answered and immediately whispered,
"Christine, hey, can't talk. Hottie number twenty-three is currently strutting his way over to my desk." With that the line went dead. I stared at the phone in my hand and raised an eyebrow before dialing the number again with an amused snort.
She picked up and huffed, "This better be good. You're interrupting my daily flirting routine, which happens to be very good for my social heath at the office, my dear friend."
I turned out of the parking garage and frowned.
"Since when…never mind. How did know it was me?"
"Caller ID." I could practically hear her roll her eyes in exasperation.
"Okay…um, can you transfer me to whoever runs the office?"
"Why?" Instead of getting on the freeway I turned into a fast food place and got in the drive-through line.
"Because. Do you want a taco or fish and chips for dinner?"
"Taco. Anyways, I'll transfer you to Jonathan, our office manager. And only because you're buying food, do you hear me?" She sighed dramatically into the phone, "It's a crime, I tell you! Calling your friend at work…not to talk, but to actually do business."
"Who said I was calling on business?" I quickly ordered as my turn came up and then turned my attention back to Meg, who was saying,
"He's married, Christine, that's why. And, God, what a tragedy."
I chuckled and fished some money out of my wallet. Handing it to the cashier I waited for a minute while Meg took the opportunity to make idle chatter then grabbed the proffered bags and tossed them onto the back seat. Carefully pulling out of the parking lot I prepared to cross four lanes of traffic to get to the freeway entrance.
"Meg transfer me now, okay?" I interrupted.
She begrudgingly put me through and I waited, suddenly nervous, as the connection started ringing. As I pulled onto the freeway a recording came on and I frowned at the thought of leaving a message. At the beep I awkwardly started,
"Um, I'm looking for someone named Erik…I met him at a party a while ago and…" Suddenly someone picked up and practically shouted,
"Are you Christine?"
Startled, I almost dropped the phone. "Y…yes."
"God! Why haven't you called earlier! Erik's been going nuts looking for you!"
Hurriedly pulling onto my nearby exit I bit my lip, puzzled,
"He's been…I'm sorry, I've just been…I…I'm sorry." I finished lamely.
He let out a frustrated groan and pleaded, "Please, just don't disappear again…he's been giving everyone who's in contact with him hell."
"He wants to find me that bad?" I asked stupidly.
"YES!" he erupted and then calmed down, "is there any possible way to get in contact with you…" I heard him scribble something down, "your address, or could you come in to the office, or…"
Suddenly someone cut me off and I stepped on the brakes. My phone flew out of my hand from the force of my stop and snapped shut on the floor.
I stared at it dumbly for a second before remembering that I was behind the wheel and focused on the road. Shaken, I kicked the cell phone under the seat and drove the rest of the way home.
As I parked it started to ring. I got out and fished around for it, finally snagging it and dragging it out. It stopped for a few seconds then started again. I narrowed my eyes at it.
Should I answer? Was it that guy, Jonathan? I tightened my grip on the phone and shook my head. No. I could always call back.
Turning it off I grabbed the food and went in. As I sat down in the dark kitchen and munched on my burrito I thought about what had happened.
What that guy had said raised some alarm bells in my head. He sounded desperate, almost frightened. What had Erik done to get the man in such a state?
The niggling feeling I'd had at the back of my mind since I met him pressed forward now. Who was this Erik? As much as I was attracted to him, I didn't know him and I couldn't trust him, I reminded myself.
I crumpled the food wrapper up and tossed it across the kitchen, making a perfect basket into the trashcan. Holding what was left of my burrito in my hand I got up and slowly strolled towards the living room.
Should I really try to find him? I recalled the office gossip Meg had conspiratorially confided in me. No one ever saw him. He was a reclusive genius, and from what I saw, disfigured. He was bound to have some mental scars from whatever he had to endure in his life.
But why me? Was I some easy prey for this man, this phantom? Was there some twisted reason that he was so desperately looking for me?
Plopping myself down on the couch, I looked at the foil Valentine's Day heart that Meg had propped up on the small card table we had shoved up against the opposite wall to manage her yearly barrage of cards and gifts (it was Meg we were talking about - go figure).
Could he really just like me that much?
I refused to use the big L word, denying the possibility. Pounding a pillow, I thought of what he could possibly see in me. Even in high school I wasn't as popular as Meg with the boys. I was always shy, preferring to throw myself into my studies instead of conquering the dating scene.
Guys were interested in me - I didn't deny it. But still, I didn't attract that much attention. I flopped onto my stomach and buried my face in the cushions.
I didn't want to get hurt. If I started something that went out of control in the next few months it could ruin my academics, my career options, and my life. I desperately wanted to get in contact with him. Jonathan had made it simple – come into the office and turn myself in.
I grabbed a pillow and stuffed it over my head angrily. That sounded too much like I was going to be a sacrifice or was a fugitive or something. Should I so easily put myself on his terms? What if he was a complete psycho? I remembered what he had said in the office,
"You're mine now and I'm not letting you go."
That tiny voice of sanity inside my head screamed for me to drop the whole thing. I tried to reason with myself that he was just going with the moment, but he sounded serious.
But…
I remembered those eyes, the graceful movements that seemed to define him. I just had to see him again. Not now. Soon. I would find a way to meet him on my terms and evaluate him properly.
Putting aside my contrasting feelings, I curled up with the pillow and lay there until Meg came home.
It was some time before I was able to think on the subject again since I was practically buried in schoolwork. Unlike other universities, Oppel's spring semesters went almost to the end of May. By the time I considered giving Daniel's office manager a call I was a week away from graduation.
"Meg, I mean it. Put me through." I glared daggers at empty booth across from me at the café I was sitting in. I had just picked up the last finals results and my graduation robe and was celebrating with an iced coffee.
"I can't. I'm sorry Christine, but Jonathan flew out to London a few days ago and he'll be there for another week. His number is for emergencies only."
"Please. I really need to get in contact with him."
"Nope." I could hear her shuffle papers around irritably and then, "Listen, the flyers for the annual party just came out yesterday. It's open ticket. Whoever wants more than one can get them this year. I already asked Sabin to go, but do you want to come?"
I raised an amused eyebrow, "Artsy?"
"Yes."
"I thought that wasn't your type."
"Well, I can make an exception for this one." She cooed.
"Really?" I refused to rise to the bait and smiled, "Well that's great! Can you get me his number, now?"
"Sabin's?"
"No, Jonathan's."
She let out a frustrated growl. "I am telling you I CAN'T give you his number. Wait a few weeks, will you? Anyways, do you want a ticket or not?"
I thought about it for a second. This could be my chance to see him. It would be at his house again. I frowned at the thought. I would be on his turf and quite possibly be alone. Still, if we stayed in the more populated rooms, we couldn't do anything too…er…passionate.
Why not?
"Sure."
My blond friend squealed in delight. "Yes!" she whooped " I have the perfect dress for you!"
Draining the rest of my drink I rolled my eyes, "Oh God, not again. What's the theme this year?"
"COSTUME PARTY!" I held the phone away from my ear, wincing at her apparent happiness at the thought of improving (expanding drastically was the term for it, really) my wardrobe again.
After letting her gossip about her new boyfriend and reminding her about the graduation ceremony, I hung up and stared out the window, shaking the ice around in my empty cup.
Was this a good idea?
Graduation passed and with it so did my qualms about meeting my mystery man. I could handle it. Plus, I was drawn to him – I knew I would run into him again somewhere, so why fight it? I also decided not to call Jonathan. I really didn't want to talk to him again and hopefully I would see Erik at his mansion.
A few weeks before the party Meg presented me with a stunning ball gown. It was made with yards of mauve and purple tulle and sparkled with tiny crystals that were strategically placed to make it look like I was practically glowing. It came with a tiara and matching gloves.
The bubbly blonde sighed and stared at me proudly, "You'll look like a princess, an absolute princess."
Stubbornly, she refused payment saying she had spent a lot more on her swan costume. I didn't argue – my clothes were practically her clothes since she borrowed them so much.
The night of the actual party was complete chaos. My tiara was missing when we looked in the bag and we spent a half an hour scouring the apartment for it. Also, Meg's date from work came early and since she was ready I told them to go ahead. The directions were on the ticket and I could always use my car.
As I pulled into the driveway of the mammoth house I was decidedly nervous. Parking as close as I could, I got out and made my way to the front door where my ticket was taken and I was ushered in. Immediately, I was surrounded by a mass of people. Weaving my way through the crowd I spied Meg, clutching tightly to her date and talking to a few women I vaguely recognized from the Christmas party.
Having no desire to engage in conversation, I skirted around them and entered the main ballroom. Again, I was astounded by it's beauty. The golden colored marble glittered in the lamplight – gas lamps hooked along the wall every few feet lighted the vast hall. I looked around in confused wonder - I was almost positive that there had been electric lighting on last time I was there.
The flames gave the room a mysterious and shady atmosphere. The corners of the room were bathed in darkness and guests were draped in glowing profile. The conversation was hushed and expectant.
I stuck to the wall as I started to circle the room. There was an array of costumes – Shakespeare to Elvis – but only one caught my eye.
Robed in brilliant scarlet, the Red Death moved about the room with a catlike grace. A plumed hat topped his skull mask, casting his eyes into deep shadow and making it look as if he really was a living skeleton.
Hooked to his shoulders and slithering behind him was a river of red velvet. He used a slender staff to ward off the occasional drunk partygoer who tried to snatch up the cloak. It was as he was rapping a man on the knuckles for trying to step on it that the crowd parted and I got a glimpse of what was written on the cape in flowing golden script,
"Don't touch me! I am Red Death stalking abroad!"
Everyone was intrigued by his presence, yet there was a distinct, almost eccentric air to him that people shied away from. As he went, the crowd would give way immediately and hasten to close back up after he passed.
As he rounded a pillar light flooded over his face and I immediately recognized that penetrating gaze.
Erik.
I instinctively shrunk back against the wall, hoping that he hadn't seen me. He glided by, oblivious, and continued his circuit of the ballroom.
Shortly after, he motioned to a man standing at the top of the staircase. With a curt nod he pulled a conductor's baton out of his jacket and with a flourish started the orchestra that was hidden, I presumed, on the second floor.
The Red Death ascended the staircase halfway, turned, and rapped the marble underfoot with his staff.
"Dance!" He shouted commandingly. The crowd went silent as his proclamation echoed around the room and then almost instantaneously the floor cleared and a waltz began.
A dizzying whirl of costumes passed by me as I stood rooted to the spot. Closing my eyes for a second, I thought of what I had just seen. I was scared. He seemed like a whole different creature in that elegant yet sinister outfit. Facing him like that…
I shivered and looked up to the staircase. He was gone. Panicking, I turned and crashed my way through the onlookers. Ducking behind a pillar I threw myself at the door but was caught by a steely grip on my wrist.
Tugged backwards, I was enveloped in crimson.
"Christine…"
I froze and he took the opportunity to twirl me around and pin me in an embrace.
"Why do you run from me?" He brushed the edge of his mask against my hair. I buried my cheek into the fabric covering his chest and shivered. He felt it and stiffened.
"Are you afraid of me, Christine?" He shifted me so I could look up if I wanted to.
"Yes." I whispered without thinking.
He chuckled and I could feel the sound rumble through his torso. "There's nothing to fear." He gently put a finger under my chin and forced me to meet his eyes.
This close to him I could see every gruesome detail of the skull mask. I almost flinched, but he locked onto my eyes and I was pulled in by his alluring presence. He was smiling behind the macabre facade and his eyes sparkled mischievously.
Suddenly, he leaned in, lifted his mask slightly, and softly kissed the top of my head.
I pulled back, surprised, and he let me go. Tucking my arm in his he laughed joyously and led me through the crowd. We walked as though we were a king and queen, our subjects parting before us. He swirled me onto the dance floor and picked up his cape in one fluid motion.
Speechless, we flowed with the music, both frozen in the moment utterly. As we floated across the floor the other dancers stopped, one by one, and gazed at us in awe. We continued on, oblivious to our audience. By the end of the third dance I was relaxed and leaning my head in the crook of his neck drowsily.
Before I realized it, he had slowly maneuvered us over to a doorway at the end of the room and through it.
"Wha…" I lifted my head groggily and he stopped. I looked around confused. The sounds from the party were farther away then I was comfortable with.
Shooting me a simmering glance, he took my hand and led me down a brightly lit hallway. Turning a corner, I had no time to protest as he opened a door and swiftly tugged me in.
Closing it he did not lock it and he even pointed it out.
"Christine, please don't be frightened. I don't mean you any harm." He gracefully motioned to a black leather couch off to the side, "Please sit down. I'll take some of this costume off now, if you'd like."
I nodded and settled myself down. I quickly glanced around the room as he strode in front of me. There was a piano to the right of me near French doors opening onto a balcony and it looked like there were various other instruments lining the walls, some on stands and some on the shelves that were in the corners.
Facing me, he immediately whipped off the death's head and tossed it to the side. I stared at him in surprise – he still had the half mask on. He unclasped his cape and it fell heavily to the floor, pooling around him like a bright puddle of blood. Taking off his outer tunic, he was left in a white, ruffled shirt and crimson breeches.
Breathing a sigh of relief he bent down, gathered everything up, and tossed it into a corner. Sliding onto the cushions next to me, he picked up my hand and started toying with it.
"You come to me at last." He glanced at me and then turned his attention back to my hand. "Angel…" He cupped it in his and brought it to his face. Hesitantly, I followed his movements as he cuddled it against his cheek and then brought it to his lips.
Flushing, I watched as he kissed my knuckles then made his way down to my wrist and up my arm. As he got to my neck, I squeaked in protest and he smirked, flicking his gaze up to mine as he rested his chin on my shoulder.
"E…Erik…" I scooted myself away. As I did so he watched my movements carefully. "Please, can't we just talk?"
He made as if to lean over towards me, but I held up a hand.
"No. We have to sort this out. I hardly even know you." Mustering my courage, I stared him down "Please…"
He sat there for a moment and then replied,
"Agreed, we do have to figure some things out, don't we? But…" He looked at me, his eyes blazing,
"One kiss." I could feel the heat of his look on my lips. "I'm begging you."
I gulped as he crawled over to me, quick as lightning, and leaned in. Shoring myself up beforehand, I was glad that I didn't completely faint away. It was as mind blowing as last time and I almost gasped as he started exploring my neck with his kisses.
Coming to my senses as he playfully bit down on my collarbone, I managed to get out,
"Erik…stop."
Hearing me, he abruptly pushed himself back and settled himself on the pillows propped up against the arm of the couch. I scooted myself up, too, and paused to catch my breath before saying,
"Alright. First thing's first – I hardly even know you, Erik. Before we take this…whatever it is…any further, I'd like us to get to know each other. Also, frankly, I'm afraid of how strongly attracted we are to one another."
He opened his mouth to reply, shut it abruptly, and tilted his head to the side, pondering my statement. After a moment, his voice still a little raspy, he said,
"I can understand what you're saying, but know this – I don't intend to hurt you, Christine."
I snorted. "Intend is a very loose word."
"I…" he looked down and started tracing patters in the leather with his fingers.
"Erik, I am deeply attracted to you," His head shot up. "And I would like to see you, but I just don't know…"
Looking at me hopefully, he leaned over and snatched my hands. "I am frightened by what I feel for you, too. But I have to take that chance. We have to take that chance."
He started to massage my palms, making it hard to concentrate on what he was saying.
"But you always keep dashing off. What was the cause of the Christmas party disappearance, might I ask?"
"Raoul died." I tried to focus, tried to tug my hands away, but he held fast. Emotion flashed crossed his eyes at my words that disturbed me.
"Who was Raoul?" He asked, deadly calm.
"My older cousin." Whatever he was doing, I was getting drowsy. "He was a very dear childhood friend…"
"Oh." He tugged me onto his lap and continued his ministrations. "I am deeply sorry. You have my heartfelt sympathy."
"Thank you." I sighed and leaned back against him, almost asleep.
"Christine," he whispered, "would you like to do something for me?"
"Hmm…" I snuggled closer against him.
"Would you stay here with me?"
What was he saying? Something about moving in.
"You can have your own room. The staff will adore you."
WHAT!
"Erik," I muzzily interrupted him, "didn't you hear anything that I just said?"
He chuckled again and I could feel it from my position. "Yes, my dear. But you're mine now and I'm not letting you go."
I froze. Those were the exact same words he had used in the office. I was rocketed out of the trance he was putting me in.
"No!" I jumped up abruptly and staggered away from him. I almost fell, and he dove after me. Flailing my arms around, I accidentally hit him as he caught me. We both tumbled to the floor.
I got up immediately and backed away, but he crouched there, stunned. At first I couldn't figure out why, but then I saw the mask lying haphazardly against a violin in the corner.
Horrified at what I had done, I made a noise and tried to back away, but he heard me and turned.
Slowly, his whole face came into view and my fist thought was,
Oh my God.