Chapter 8—Down Once More

As she jerked away from him, her natural instinct, Christine accidentally faced the audience. And while she could have recovered from his simple act, there was no going back now. She heard screaming and yelling as she looked around, exposed, bewildered. She would have to escape now.

She glared at Erik. She wasn't exactly angry—how could she be, when he watched her with such a pitiful expression on his face? She knew only that she was hurt, and the only way she knew how to express it was through anger. She seized the blade that was part of her costume and cut the rope that held up the chandelier. With her foot, she released the trapdoor, which opened directly below them, causing them to plunge nearly a hundred feet down.

She clung to Erik, not daring to let him go, and when they hit the bottom she automatically braced the impact. She caught his wrist and began to pull him along the dark corridor, moving back to her lair. Above them, she knew, the falling chandelier had set fire to the House, and a mob was probably assembling to arrest them. She moved with as great a speed as she could.

"Down once more to the dungeon of my black despair!

Down we plunge to the prison of my mind!

Down that path into darkness deep as Hell!

Why, you ask, was I bound and chained to this cold and dismal place?

Not for any mortal sin, but the wickedness of my abhorrent face!"

Erik was in terror, and she could see it. She hardly took notice of the path she'd chosen. All she could do was lead him blindly in her rage toward her place of dark refuge. In the distance, they could hear voices of what seemed to be hundreds of angry people, all chanting in unison.

"Track down this murderer! She must be found!

Track down this murderer! She must be found!"

They plunged through a last set of doorways and finally found themselves in her home, deep down below the burning House.

"Hounded out by everyone! Met with hatred everywhere!

No kind word from anyone! No compassion anywhere!

Erik…Why, why?"

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Madame Giry was leading the Vicomtess to the lair by the lake route.

"Your hand at the level of your eyes!"

"…at the level of your eyes!"

"Your hand at the level of your eyes!"

Madame Giry glanced apprehensively at Meg. "This is as far as I dare go," she said quietly.

"Thank you," the girl replied. She moved on alone.

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"Have you gorged yourself, at last, in your lust for blood?

Am I now to be prey to your lust for flesh?"

Christine stared at Erik. She knew that he must hate her for the deed she'd just performed. There was no telling how many had died already, or how many would. She understood the look he gave her, and his angry tone of voice, but not entirely his words. However, she gave a fit reply.

"That fate, which condemns me to wallow in blood,

Has also denied me the joys of the flesh…"

She reached a gentle hand toward him, but he backed away. A tear materialized in her eye, and she turned from him and gazed listlessly over the water.

"This face, the infection, which poisons our love…

This face, which earned a mother's fear and loathing.

A mask, my first unfeeling scrap of clothing!"

She could sense his pity radiating in her direction. She wanted none of it. She looked back at him angrily, and he now averted his stare.

"Pity comes too late! Turn around and face your fate!

An eternity of—this!—before your eyes!"

She grabbed his shoulders forcefully and forced him around again. The sympathy in his eyes was now so evident that she had to back away. He sang to her softly.

"This haunted face holds no horror for me now.

It's in your soul that the true distortion lies."

She looked at him sadly for an instant—she knew he was right. Then, she heard something. "Wait! I think, my dear, we have a guest!" She looked over toward the gate, and there stood the Vicomtess. "Ma'mselle! "This is indeed an unparalleled delight! I had rather hoped that you would come! And now my wish comes true—you have truly made my night!"

"Free him! Do what you like, only free him! Have you no pity?"

Christine knew she was not entirely herself. She chuckled menacingly at this desperate cry from Erik's fiancée. She moved to him, her eyes never leaving the dripping girl.

"Your lover makes a passionate plea!"

"Please, Meg, it's useless!"

"I love him! Does that mean nothing? I love him! Show some compassion!"

This angered Christine. Compassion?

"The world showed no compassion to me!"

"Erik, Erik, let me see him!"

"Be my guest, Vicomtess!"

Christine went to her organ and pushed the lever that raised the gate. She walked with a measured step toward where Meg had backed against the iron bars, which had fallen again as soon as she was under them.

"Ma'mselle, I bid you welcome! Did you think that I would harm him?

Why would I make him pay for the sins which are yours?"

She had gone closer and closer, her Punjab lasso hidden in the folds of her skirt. Erik gave a cry as the rope flew out, and Christine bound the young noblewoman tightly to the rails of the metal gate.

"Order your fine horses now! Raise up your hand to the level of your eyes!

Nothing can save you now, except perhaps Erik!"

She finished tying her knots and rounded on him.

"Start a new life with me! Buy her freedom with your love!

Refuse me, and you send your lover to her death!

This is the choice! This is the point of no return!"

His face was white. She hardly cared how terrified he was—this was the final threshold. She knew that he hated her—how could he not? She needed him, but she didn't think she knew any other way to go about it. His voice trembled with anger.

"The tears I might have shed for your dark fate

Grow cold, and turn to tears of hate!"

Leaving Meg where she was, Christine waded back up to the shore, and searched for another of her magical lassoes. She heard the girl's weak voice, and her student's overlapping.

"Erik, forgive me, please forgive me!

I did it all for you, and all for nothing…"

"Farewell, my fallen idol, and false friend!"

We had such hopes, but now these hopes lie murdered!"

Her own voice, seemingly out of her control, surmounted theirs as she found the rope and began to move toward Meg once again.

"Too late for turning back, too late for prayers and useless pity!

Past all hope of cries for help, no point in fighting!"

"Say you love her, and my life is over!"

Christine had reached Meg, and threw the Punjab around her neck, threading it through the gate higher up. She sang with all the feelings that had been locked inside her, and she heard the Vicomtess crying out in fear.

"Either way you choose, she has to win!"

"For either way you choose, you cannot win!

So, do you end your days with me, or do you send her to her grave?"

Meg glared at her as she backed up, holding on to the end of the rope, keeping it taut enough to make the girl uncomfortable, but not to kill her, just yet.

"Why make him lie to you to save me?"

They all sang at once now, the depths of the lair ringing with sound.

"Angel of Music, why this torment?"

"Past the point of no return, the final threshold!"

"For pity's sake, Erik, say no! Don't throw your life away for my sake!"

"Why do you curse mercy?"

Christine was full of hatred now, and desperation that he would follow Meg's cries rather than those of his Angel of Music.

"Her life is now the prize which you must earn!"

"I fought so hard to free you…"

Christine could hardly breathe. The desolation in his voice when he heard Meg's defeated one was too much for her.

"Angel of Music, you deceived me!"

"You've passed the point of no return…"

"I gave you my mind, blindly!" He was visibly trembling now, staring between his two loves in fear.

"You try my patience—make your choice!" Christine ordered him angrily. He shook his head sadly, approaching her.

"Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known?

God give me courage to show you, you are not alone!"

She released her end of the Punjab lasso as he reached her with the final four words. She knew what he was going to do, yet she dreaded it. What had she done?

She felt paralyzed to the spot, but she didn't need to move. He wrapped her in his arms and kissed her, full and firm. She had never been kissed before…who would dare to kiss a devil's child like her? But Erik was there, standing close to her, pressing his mouth against hers, holding her in his warm embrace. She felt that last was a good thing, because her entire body was shaking with the force of the love she felt. And it was because of this love, she realized as he finally drew away, that she must let him go.

In the far distance, they heard the mob approaching.

"Track down this murderer—she must be found!

Who is this monster, this murdering beast?

Hunt out this animal who runs to ground!

Revenge for Buquet! And for the chandelier!

Too long she's preyed on us, but now we know,

The Phantom of the Opera is there, deep down below!"

"Take her, forget me, forget all of this!" She pushed him away and moved toward shore. "Leave me alone…forget all you've seen!Go now… don't let them find you!" She saw him go to the prisoner of the gate and mechanically untie her. She pushed the lever that opened the gate. "Take the boat… Swear to me never to tell the secret you know of the angel in hell! Go now, go now, and leave me!"