Chapter Ten – Angels take Flight
Paris – 1875
Erik
I need her and I need her badly. The moment I saw her, a mere child of nine, I knew that I wanted her, if only as a student. Then, on the night of Hannibal, the night of her debut as a star, I knew that I wanted her as more. When Don Juan came around, I realized just how much I needed her, but now I need her desperately and badly. Every night I lie in my bed and think about her lying there beside me, her tiny form curled up against mine, or even…
No, I cannot think that way. But I do. I do and I am not ashamed. But I can't go on like this, thinking about her in a sexual way every night. She is far away from my prying eyes and aching body, but her spirit is still here, lingering in everything around me. I try to sate myself when the tension grows unbearable, but I'm left with evidence of my love on the sheets and a gaping hole in my heart.
Stop doing this to yourself! What would she think of you? My conscience gets the better of me. My darling angel would not appreciate my sinful actions due to my ache for her. But would she want me to suffer? She left you for Raoul. She swore not to see you, even speak of you!
I should've gone after her when I had the chance, the adrenalin rush. I should have left Paris the minute I knew where she was. Now I am leading myself to hold things against her, things I should have long gotten over.
Trying to clear my mind, I walk over to my organ, pieces of parchment scattered across it emblazoned with musical staves waiting to be written on. One page sticks out from the rest, one with a title on the top of it; L'Ange de Musique, the Angel of Music. Only a few lines of music have been scripted upon it, the opening notes of the aria. I really must get to work on it.
The clock in my bedroom strikes twelve times; midnight. Have I really been up this long? What day is it? When was I last up in Paris? Two weeks ago. It has been two weeks. I gulp, bile rising in my mouth.
"I can't do this!" I shout to the emptiness of my lair, of the underground lake. "I can't go after her!"
"Yes you can…" I whirl around, trying to search out with my eyes the source of the voice. It sounds so familiar, yet so unwelcome. "You must go after her."
"Who's there?" I cry out into the darkness, wondering if I'm hallucinating. "Show yourself!"
"If I did then you would want me to leave. I cannot help you if you send me away," the voice continues, its presence filling the chambers of my home.
"I can't send you away if I don't know who you…" This is most certainly a hallucination. He could not be…but he's dead! Am I hearing ghosts, spirits? "Raoul?"
"Ah, what a smart man you are, Opera Ghost." I can only imagine the fop's face at a sarcastic remark like that. It is so like him, so like a stuck-up rich man.
"I am no longer the Opera Ghost! I am…" But the spirit voice interrupts.
"If you are no longer the Opera Ghost, Monsieur, why would you sign your letters with those initials?" Damn this angel, this ghost, whatever he is!
"You've been watching me! That's…"
"I was merely making an observation of the letters you intended to send to my wife. Now, good sir, what may I call you if not Opera Ghost? Phantom, perhaps? Angel of…" It is my turn to interrupt.
"Don't speak that name! And, if you insist on a name for me, you may call me Erik." I didn't realize I have been breathing very heavily, and only now does it become apparent to me.
"Erik," says the ghost voice, "you must go after her. I know she wouldn't want to feel ignored. She knows you still love her."
"Excuse me, Monsieur le Vicomte, but she cares nothing for me any longer. I know only that she ran out on her wedding to that Marquis."
"Your statement holds true, Erik, but just because she doesn't show it doesn't mean she doesn't think it. All of us do and think things in private we wouldn't even consider showing elsewhere." I try hard to keep a flush from rising to my cheeks. An angel, if that is in fact what this voice is rather than a hallucination, would know what I do to relieve myself of the longing I have for Christine.
"She doesn't love me!" my voice rings angrily in the lair. "She never has and she never…"
"Erik? Are you there?" I wake up to the sound of Gaston van Ellsworth's voice, my body covered in cold sweat. It was all a dream…just a dream…
"One moment!" I reply, hurrying out from under the covers and putting a black silk dressing gown over my pants. After making sure I'm decent, I walk out of my bedroom and find Gaston exiting one of the passageways from Paris and entering my lair. "Greetings," I say gallantly, bowing at the waist with a flourish, being a little sarcastic in my actions. "What can I do for you?"
"We need to hurry, Erik," Gaston says quickly, hastening to my room and pulling a large bag from his coat. "Antoinette will be awake soon and we need to get you a horse before she finds out I'm gone."
"Wait, what?" Gaston is already opening drawers and fishing through my things, throwing articles of clothing into the bag. "Get out of my things!" I roar, proceeding to grab Gaston's wrists and wrench them away from my drawers. "What the hell are you doing, you meddlesome twit!" I shove him away from me.
"Jesus Christ, Erik, can't you see that I'm helping you?" The man's breath is a little erratic from being shoved around.
"Invading my privacy," I say, throwing a dressing gown back in a drawer, "is not exactly helpful, thank you very much."
"Well standing around here isn't going to get you what you want either," Gaston replies coolly. "Look, Erik, I'm sorry I was so rude about Christine's departure. I know that she's in a great deal of danger, having been to Persia myself, if only for a little while. I cannot do anything to help her, Erik, but you can." He hands me a Swarovski-encrusted hairpin, one that looks oddly familiar. "You are her Angel of Music. Only you can bring her back."
"Where did this…" I start, realizing that it is the hairpin from the night Christine made her debut as the Prima Donna of the Opera Populaire.
"Antoinette and I had it reset for her wedding present but it fell from her hair when she fled the chapel. We found it in the snow when we went home." I close my hand around the hairpin, the pointed edges of the star-like decoration digging into my palm.
After a few long moments of contemplation, I say calmly, "What should I bring with me?"
Later…
Gaston and I hurry along the rain-soaked streets of Paris, slipping on the cobblestones. He has forewarned me that Antoinette must not know he aided me in trying to find Christine, that she would be livid. I've seen an angered Antoinette and I most certainly would not like to repeat that time.
I am led into the stables situated behind the van Ellsworth Mansion and Gaston proceeds to grab a stable hand and mutter something to him, then forcing some francs in his hand. The boy runs off down the aisle and Gaston returns to my side. "I gave him a little lie to tell Antoinette. That boy is the most trustworthy of the stable hands I know." I nod in approval, though Gaston seems rather unapologetic about lying to his wife about something of this significance.
The boy returns a little while later, scrambling down the aisle with a grand chestnut horse in tow. He breathes heavily as Gaston takes the reins from him. "Sir, your wife is awake and inspecting the stables. Move quickly!" With that, he runs back down the aisle of the stables and into the darkness. Long down the aisle I can see a glimmer of light, probably from a lantern carried by Antoinette.
"Get going!" Gaston whispers urgently as I mount the horse and attach my bag to the saddle. "Go!"
"Gaston van Ellsworth, what in God's name are you doing with Napoleon?" My heart sinks as Antoinette appears, clad in a dressing gown and nightdress and flanked by a servant girl, by her husband's side.
"Antoinette, I can…" Gaston starts, but I interrupt, rather rudely.
"He's helping me off to Persia, if you must know, Antoinette. I'd suggest that next time you not decide randomly to take a walk in the stables at dawn, if only to protect yourself from further revelations such as this." Antoinette casts a wicked glance at me, one I know all too well.
"Erik, if you so much as think you're going to get out of Paris alive I can assure you that…"
"Are you resorting to death threats, now?" I respond cruelly. "Really, Antoinette, see reason. I am an adult and I can make my own decisions. Now, if you'll excuse me." I kick the horse's sides, urging him to buck, and Antoinette lets out a terrified shriek, shrinking into the shadows with her servant girl. "Thank you kindly," I add as I kick the horse onward into the oncoming daylight of Paris.
Christine
My nights are restless, my dreams penetrated by the mere thought of where I am. It has been nearly four days since I arrived in Sardes with Indira and I'm already feeling the repercussions of my departure from Paris. In the mornings, I sometimes wake up to the moans and yells of the girls serving men in other parts of the harem and it makes me shake all over, goose bumps rising to my skin. This morning is no different.
Trying to ignore the shrieks of pleasure from the other girls, I rise from the bed and take a look at myself in the mirror. I am a mess and I know it. My hair is tousled and the purplish bags under my eyes I'd received during my travels here have only worsened. Letting out a tremendous sigh, I walk over to the wardrobe to fetch a dressing gown and then proceed to the door, hoping to wash up.
I open the door and am greeted by the face of Chandra. "Good morning, sweet!" She says cheerily, waltzing into my room completely uninvited. She gave you her hospitality. The least you can do is allow her to do as she wishes with you every once in a while. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine, thanks," I respond kindly, closing the door. "What about you?"
"I'm a little on-edge," she admits, plopping herself down on my unmade bed. "See, the Shah is arriving this evening to spend the night and, as his first wife, I must make sure that all of the girls are…prepared, shall we say?" Chandra plays the silky fabric of her dress between her fingers. "Now, usually we don't have men on the day before my husband arrives, but the schedules overlapped, I'm afraid." She sighs, the fabric of her bodice ruffling as she exhales.
"Well, can't the Shah come another time?" I ask unknowingly.
"No, dear Christine, he cannot. True, it's a misfortune, but we have to work around it. That's why I'm here." Chandra pauses for the effect. "The girls who are serving today won't have the energy or the want to come to see my husband this evening. That is why I am not serving today." I've known since I've come here that Chandra, the Khanum, serves men too, but it's never really sunk in to me that she's married as well. This is what women sink to, even in a harem?
"But what's that got to do with me?" I ask again, sitting down beside Chandra on the bed.
"Christine, we all reach a time when the hospitality of others runs out and we have to earn our keep. Now, I'm not saying that I am rescinding all of the help we're giving you, seeing your situation in being a foreigner, but after a while we will no longer be able to support you in all of the lavishness we have been." I choke back the fear I'm longing to share with Chandra. Let the woman speak, Christine. It's only proper. "That's why I encourage…no, I highly recommend that you go to see the Shah with some of the other girls who aren't serving today. They will help you, Christine, and in time you will learn how to support yourself."
I bite my lip, swallowing the anxiety again. She's not asking you to be a prostitute, Christine. She leaves that option open to you for the near future. Then you'll be able to leave this hellhole. "Christine, is something wrong?" Chandra has noticed my uncertain looks.
"Well, it's just that I…" I stumble across the words before Chandra puts a finger to my lips to silence me.
"Do not fear new experiences, Christine. You have so much to offer the world if you would only try." Chandra takes my hands in her own, trying to soothe me, trying to suppress my burning feelings of nervosa. "Spread your wings, expand your horizons," she states poetically. "What could it hurt?"