Author's notes: Yay! Rooftop scene! Mwahahaha… people who haven't read Kay yet, beware! Contains major spoilers (but you have read many spoilers anyhow, so I'm not sure you'll care). I had a hard time with the last scene, so please tell me what you think.
starnat– Definitely. She is borderline psychotic and suicidal.
Mystery Guest – Wow, thanks. I think the summary is better now, but anyway, thanks. Well, Christine is pretty spineless in Kay, so I had to make her a bit more self-confident here. It wouldn't work otherwise, I think. Well, not sure if this is a better ending, but let's see…
Enrinye– I'm not daring to comment, Z. Oh, and I kept the "fairytale" bit in the chapter… let's see if you like this. And no "olizovanie sa", so don't worry. Purgatory is updated, check it out.
longblacksatinlace – Thanks. It would have been funny if the situation wasn't so serious. I knew then and there that something really bad was going to happen… anyway, read on!
hsibelius – (takes her bows) Thank you, that was some praise. Hmm… well, since you're so very musical, I'd say ALW´s Erik. It's hard to determine, but I think that this is the form that suits you best. Anyway, the sorting really is just guessing by the "bios" people submit. But, as I said in one of the previous chapters, it truly made my night when you sorted me as Kay's Erik. Anyhow… back to the chapter. I hope everyone is IC.
X X X
Chapter VIIIX X X
Knowing that Erik would prefer solitude, Giovanni didn't go to the site the next day. He needed time before he would cool down and be ready to venture back into the hellish house, as Giovanni was sure he felt about the place he once could have called home. Luciana and Christine each remained in their rooms, but the later didn't come for supper, even though they really didn't eat at all, merely waited.
After Luciana was gone and the corridor was deserted, Christine finally dared to slip out of her room and head for the rooftop garden. She didn't want to see anyone, but needed some fresh air, because the very walls of her room seemed to be closing in around her. And if she would sing that wretched song she had written in the long hours of her solitude, she was sure she would go mad.
She would begin to believe that Erik was a real angel and become truly insane.
Already she was anguished and despairing, but she knew she couldn't do anything. Giovanni had tried to help things, but even he couldn't change the situation. What hope did she have, especially after the childish scene she made in the cellar not so long ago? God bless the day she would get out of this Hell and finally be able to forget about all of this… but then she would go mad because she would be gone.
Confused and crying, she settled on the hand-carved travertine bench, curling into a ball. This summer definitely didn't turn out the way she intended, not at all.
After a few hours of sitting there, she was already half-asleep, so she didn't see Giovanni enter, notice her with a smile, then disappear into the shadows and begin watering the flowers. It took some time before she stirred because of the chill of a colder wind and rubbed her arms a bit to warm herself. Then, smiling sadly at the stars, for her own amusement, she began singing again.
Angel of Music
Guide and guardian
Grant to me your glory…
Angel of Music
Hide no longer
Secret and strange Angel…
The child was so captivated by the song and lost in her imagination that she didn't even notice her "Angel" slouch through the roof, like a weary shadow, but he straightened up immediately as the song reached his ears, almost like a predator that sensed fresh prey. Despite being the image or weariness, he reached for whatever energy he had remaining and softly echoed:
I am your Angel of Music…
Come to me, Angel of Music…
Christine jumped and quickly looked around, but in her frantic state, she didn't spot him before he quietly approached her and sat down next to her. When she turned and saw him, she edged away from him with fear in her eyes. Ever since that incident yesterday, she was jumpy and afraid of this new, darker side of him.
"Christine…" the soft whisper of her name seemed to calm her slightly. The primal urge of a gazelle to flee from the hunter disappeared, but wasn't yet replaced by calmness.
"Yes?" Her voice was shaking and she shivered when a cold hand firmly grasped hers.
"Christine…" Was the only answer she got, but when tension left her body, the possessive grip eased and slowly, carefully, Erik pulled her closer from the edge of the bench, since she was on the verge of falling to the ground, encountering little resistance. "Christine…" He truly spoke the name like a prayer.
"Erik!" It was not the person he would want to call his name, excited, that did so.
Abruptly, the small ivory hand he had captured pried itself from his grasp and its owner shunned away from him, as if he had the plague, hoping to remain unnoticed by the newcomer.
Erik, also in shock that Luciana had come to the rooftop garden now, long past midnight, leapt to his feet immediately, tense, refusing to turn to her as she approached. Not even in the military would he receive a more unexpected wake-up call.
"I want you to take off the mask," It was Luciana who said it, true, the voice was hers, but the tone wasn't arrogant or demanding – it was a simple request, then repeated in a pleading manner. "Please take off the mask."
If she would ask anything else of him with that humbleness in her voice, Erik would oblige. But not this. Even if Christine would ask him to do this, he would refuse without a second thought. Never again would he show anyone his face willingly. Never again.
He regained his posture. Swiftly avoiding Luciana and heading for the stairs, he remained calm and cold as he said: "You must excuse me, mademoiselle. I have work to finish."
Getting away was his first priority now. Afterwards, now that he had managed to soothe Christine's fear of him, he could perhaps talk to her about the lessons… and what she implied when they talked for the last time. Leaving her there alone was unwise, but staying was a far more insane idea.
"I will not excuse you!" Luciana didn't acknowledge Christine's presence at all, even as the illusion of an apologizing girl disappeared. The demanding cry cut through the silence like a blade. "You don't have any work to finish! I want you to take off the mask, do you hear me, Erik? I want you take it off right now!"
It was then that Christine, still curled on the bench, noticed Giovanni, who took this as his cue to appear and, quite unexpectedly, blocked Erik's escape route.
"Sir?" Erik stopped and glanced behind, cornered, but eager to search for another means of escape.
The mason laid a hand on his sleeve in a gesture he hoped was comforting. "Erik, we've gone beyond the question of choice."
A bit taken aback, Erik almost stuttered. "I'm sorry ... I don't quite ..."
"I think it would be best if you simply did as my daughter has asked."
The boy was now like a creature frozen by looking at one of the gorgons – motionless, a statue, except his horror and pain showed only in his eyes… and there was so much of it that no one, certainly not the kind-hearted Giovanni, could withstand seeing the fragile glass of his beautiful castle of dreams be shattered and come crumbling to the ground with a magnificent crash.
The trust he had for the man he viewed as his father was the first part of that building that broke into ruins.
"You are asking me to do this thing?" His voice was trembling, his mind was childishly refusing to believe that he was hearing what he dreaded, just as he had once refused to believe that it was his reflection that was the frightening monster in the mirror. "You are ordering me?"
"If an order is what it takes," There was distinctive sadness behind that statement, "then I am ordering you. God Almighty, boy, you must see this can't go on any longer."
Erik swayed slightly and put out a hand to steady himself against the balustrade. If he still had some rationality left, perhaps he would understand that it wasn't Giovanni's intention to anger or upset him, that the mason only wished to finally resolve the never-ending circle of pain and beginning madness, tired and despairing.
But now, his clinging to the hope that Giovanni wouldn't care about what lay beneath the mask was brutally broken to pieces that couldn't be put together. It was the one thing he couldn't mend. It was the only gesture that could have destroyed his increasing faith that there were yet humans that could accept and love him, humans he could love without fear of rejection.
But the dagger plunged into his heart had been twisted.
Automatically, Giovanni moved to give him a supporting arm. He never touched him, however, for Erik lifted his head and his eyes now reflected the loathing he held for the entire human race, his rage pushing back the anguish and utter despair that were threatening to consume him.
In that moment, Giovanni understood what he had done in one unguarded moment. He had killed the boy that was his son… and now, a new part of him had to take over the soulless corpse.
Because the horrid sight was out of her view, Christine dared do what Giovanni couldn't and touched Erik's arm lightly, reaching out to give him support. In a second, a cry of pain escaped her lips as her wrist was caught in a tight grasp and jerked up in a painful angle. She was thrown to the ground roughly.
The stranger that straightened up was no longer the boy they knew – it was a foreboding shadow that seemed to cloud all the sources of light, now truly living up to the description of a dark demon who had ascended from Hell to torture mortals.
"You want to see?" No emotion could frighten the others more than the toneless void that seemed to belong to the living dead. "You want to see! Then look!"
With eerie calm, he almost seemed to float to Luciana, draining the very heat of Giovanni's and Christine's blood. But Luciana failed to realize what danger was pulsing around them. And when they were standing face to face and he forcefully ripped the mask off his face, revealing a merciless horror, it was too late.
Her mouth dropped in a soundless scream of shock and terror, but her attempts at some sort of escape or defense were met only with madness, for Erik reached out to catch her, presumably to force her to look closely, since her inquisitiveness knew no measure. Giovanni's cry of warning went unnoticed by Luciana in her primal panic, instinct ordering the girl to run and run fast. Christine could only watch with wide eyes as Luciana's path was finally blocked by the balustrade, against which she threw herself.
And the following sight would be remembered by the three spectators for the rest of their lives.
The sound of aging stonework giving away underneath the weight, her black hair blowing along with a shower of dust and rubble as her small body crumbled to the ground, falling in the courtyard, two stories beneath them.
Until Giovanni slowly turned and went down to the courtyard, nothing broke the silence after the last stones settled, their final shift being Luciana's passing bells. Christine scrambled to her feet and timidly followed Giovanni and Erik downstairs, her hands flying to her mouth to hold back a gasp of fright when she saw her cousin's broken body, her split skull and the ooze-covered stones. There was no doubt that she was dead.
Wordlessly, Giovanni carried the body inside and lay her on a leather couch, strangely distant. He did not turn and did not weep, but Erik, aware of the emotions in the air and believing it was his fault, knew that if he would stay, the remains of the sanity of both of them would be gone. Cursing with a sob, his shadow moved away from all that had happened in those last few minutes, daring not to look back at Christine, who had tears in her eyes.
She looked up, however, and ran after him as fast as she could, into the dark of the night. Looking around, she saw his retreating form slip through the shadows. Even in her almost irrational state, she knew that blindly chasing after him was nonsense. He was far too quick and agile.
Angel of Music!
Don not shun me!
Stay by my side, trust me…!
Angel of Music!
Hide no longer!
Come to me, strange Angel…!
The call into the darkness stopped the retreating figure in his flight and forced him, almost against his will, to turn back to her. The song, simple as it was, was captivating, due to the simple fact that she was singing it. Anything that would come out of her mouth was beautiful music to him. But his rationality reminded him that returning was insanity, so he simply stopped and listened.
Christine took that as her cue to run to him, repeating the phrases or using the original words, anything so that he wouldn't decide to leave after all. Her eyes weren't used to searching through the darkness, so she had to squint to see him. Fortunately, even in the night, he stood out, in his dark clothes. Thus she spotted him easily.
When she reached him, he was examining the ground as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely certain why she called for him. Did she wish to blame him openly for Luciana's death? It was to be expected, certainly, but that didn't mean it wouldn't pain him.
Christine stopped in front of him, panting slightly. Her eyes were red and teary, but she refused to cry, at least yet. She wasn't entirely certain what she was supposed to say, but she knew that letting him leave just like that was wrong.
"Erik…" she whispered, blinking and also looking at the ground for a moment, searching for words.
What was she supposed to say, really? Telling him that it wasn't his fault would collide with his stubborn belief that it was the horror of his face that had caused Luciana to panic and run. She wouldn't be able to convince him to stay… and, in truth, she wasn't sure if it would be good, for all their sakes.
"Erik… I know you will not believe a word I say, but I believe you are not to blame for her death. God… God had decided to welcome Luciana among his angels… we… we cannot understand His intentions, but… but He knows what He is doing."
Her words were empty, she knew, but faith was the first thing that came to her mind when she realized she had to remain calm. Not knowing of Erik's opinions of God and His ways, she didn't anticipate the bitter, mocking laugh that escaped his lips when he finally looked at her, with a sorrow in his eyes that made her wince.
""He knows what He is doing?" Do you honestly believe that, Christine? Tell me, do you still believe in God's mercy after what had happened?" he hissed, pained, "Do you still believe he cares for his little mortal playthings?"
"He works in mysterious ways…"
His laughter was almost hysteric. "Of course! We aren't allowed to say he makes mistakes! He works in mysterious ways! Then I would very much like to know where he got the idea that he should create me!"
"What fault is there in creating a genius and an angel in one!" Christine silenced him with a shout of her own.
Pacified, but still disbelieving, Erik shook his head adamantly. "He created an angel… a brilliant angel… but he miscalculated, because a demon fell in love with her!"
"Luciana loved you, you were never a monster to her!" was the teary, anguished reply.
"I never spoke of Luciana!" Erik yelled, turning away from her in frustration. The sound of sobbing ceased almost immediately and if he could simply disappear now, he would be eternally grateful to whoever would make it possible. Two hopeful eyes were looking at him and he was almost shrinking underneath their gaze.
Christine couldn't find the strength to smile through her tears, but her voice was shaking for different reasons than grief. "You… you can't mean that…"
"Frightening, isn't it? Look closely, Christine!" he grabbed her shoulders and yanked her closer, as he attempted with Luciana, "It is a corpse that loves you and adores you! A living corpse! If God were merciful, I would be normal, like everyone else and I would stay with you and never, ever leave you! But God, the cruel charlatan, never granted me the tiniest bit of happiness! And he denied me even the last hope I had…"
Broken and sobbing, he released her, collapsing on the ground. Christine was speechless – not only were his words obviously completely honest, but seeing him, the image of strength and authority, sobbing like a child was enough to make her pity him.
She leaned forward to touch his shoulder in a comforting gesture, but he caught her skirt, as if afraid she would leave. Finally unable to remain standing, Christine knelt next to him and took his hands, gripping tightly.
"Why can't we have a happy ending, like the people in fairytales?" she whispered, "Why?"
The mockery of an ironic smile played on his lips – the anguish and sorrow were too strong for him to overcome and manage his usual sarcastic expression. "The princess never marries the monster in fairytales."
"The monster never is a prince." she retorted, finally smiling sadly through the tears.
Erik's expression faded and he seemed as though he was in a dream world now. Almost as if he knew it was just a dream and was too wary to accept kindness, even if it was sincere and honest. Too much wariness protected him from such promises.
"I killed your cousin." He said simply. That alone was reason enough for her to hate him, he knew. Thus, this was incomprehensible. She couldn't care for him. Perhaps she was simply maddened with grief and didn't realize what she was doing.
"You played a part in her death, I know. But… I am not rational enough to let it kill what I feel. You frighten me at times and what happened was so very, very terrible… but I am mad, mad… mad with what I feel." Christine sighed. "They say you are a magician… could you make the madness disappear?"
Another bitter smile. "I overestimated my abilities, Christine. I thought I could make anything disappear – except my face. Now I find that there is another thing I can't make disappear. So I'll have to disappear… and perhaps then time will do what I can't." Erik got up, regained his posture and prepared himself for the inevitable parting. "Your uncle will be looking for you."
Christine understood. She took the hand he offered her and rose from the ground, but didn't let go just yet. It was awkward, in a way. They had known each other for quite a long time, but neither knew what to say in such a situation. It was doubtful they ever considered that they would have to part. The fantasies were becoming real – neither noticed that reality would not be denied so easily.
"Farewell, Christine."
"Don't say that. It sounds too definite. "Goodbye" gives more hope."
"Hope that your God will intervene and correct the little blunder he has made tonight?"
"Never lose hope, Erik. You might not have anything else left." But she couldn't remain calm. She ceased fighting back tears now. "Au revoir, Erik... jusqu'à ce que nous nous réunissions encore, dans la vie ou dans la mort."
"Au revoir, mon Ange de la Musique." Then, before she could say anything else, he turned from her and vanished into the night, leaving Christine standing alone in the darkness.
Still she stood there, gazing blindly into the darkness for some time, until she quietly turned around and walked back into the house, almost soulless. Indeed, like him, she had lost part of her soul that night, though for different reasons. Part of her soul left her along with him. A mistake, perhaps, but not one to be regretted. And even as she returned, weeping when she once again saw the corpse of Luciana on the couch and the heartbroken Giovanni, she mourned above all else the death of what might have been.
X X X X
A/N: Okay, this part of the story seems to be over… now, I expect a lot of reviews (I'm evil, I know) and ideas how I should continue. I have a general idea, but I want to hear your opinions. Unless, of course, you want me to end it right here… (evil grin)
Oh, and for those of you who don't speak French (hey, neither do I, so please correct me if there are mistakes in the sentence), "jusqu'à ce que nous nous réunissions encore, dans la vie ou dans la mort" means (or is supposed to mean): "until we meet again, in life or in death".