Hey guys! First, a clarification. Sorry if the thing with Buquet became confusing. That was his body hanging in the theater, similar to how it was found in the book. Yes, it had been there for some time and was likely not in the best state. Because of the cold temperatures, though, the decay was probably not quite as extensive. Anyway...sorry if things weren't clear.
I really hope everyone likes this chapter! I had fun writing it!
Please read and review!
Christine stared at herself in the dust-coated dresser mirror of her bedroom, gazing at the two shadowed eyes that looked out from her pallid face. An oversized midnight blue sweater hung upon her thin frame, and her legs were lost in a pair of loose black dress pants. Around her neck lay the onyx pennant, glinting off the dim light in the apartment.
Pushing her wavy blonde hair out of her face, she looked at herself a moment longer. A slightly faded photograph from about two years ago was tucked into the top right corner of the mirror. She and Meg were smiling in front of an ice-skating rink, snowflakes dusting their hair and cheeks pink from the cold. As Christine glanced between the photograph and her reflection, she realized how different she now appeared...older.
In the solitude of her tiny bedroom, she allowed her mind to wander over the last few months. Everything was a foggy swirl of uncertain memories and daydreams. And in the middle of all the colorful chaos was her instructor. The Voice.
Who was he? A ghost? An angel? Sometimes she still worried that he was a figment of her imagination, and that scared her the most. Christine needed him to be real. She needed to know that someone was always with her...was watching out for her. If she were ever to fall out of this cloud of bliss, nothing would be left except the loneliness. Christine feared this dark emptiness enough to not question the voice's existence. And she feared it enough not to question the voice's motives-even if she had wanted to spend a little time with her childhood friend.
She had enjoyed seeing Raoul again. His face brought back memories of times long ago, and his warm demeanor gave her a feeling of comfort that she hadn't felt for some time. Christine had felt guilty telling him that she wasn't able to see him, almost asking him to meet her at the cemetery. She didn't want to displease the voice, though. Raoul would have to understand that things had changed.
After adjusting the high collar of her sweater, she stepped out of the bedroom and gave the apartment one last look over. With dismay, she saw that the cracks in the ceiling were slowly growing longer, allowing the cold air to seep in. They would have to be taken care of when she got back. At least the overnight visit would allow her to escape from everything for a while.
Suddenly hearing the low hum of an engine outside, Christine quickly walked to the front window and peeked through the blinds. The afternoon sky was dark and overcast, and a light wind was throwing dead leaves and litter around the street. Her eyes finally focused on a strange black car sitting directly in front of her complex. Although too short to be a limousine, the silver-trimmed vehicle was also longer and probably more expensive than anything she had ever ridden in. Christine waited for someone to come out, but the four doors remained closed.
She shifted and bit her lip, knowing that it was likely her ride. Expensive automobiles didn't just park out on the street in her neighborhood. Closing the blinds, Christine began to quickly gather up her overnight duffel bag and purse. Although she doubted the driver expected her to come outside in a rush, there was something unnerving about the car idling outside of her apartment. After flipping off all the lights, she slung her belongings over her shoulder, locked the deadbolt, and made her way into the cold afternoon air.
As she approached the black car, Christine wondered if someone would get out and help her with the door. To her surprise, the back right door swung open automatically. She paused for a moment, slightly unnerved by the lack of a person. With a swallow, she finally climbed into the backseat and looked around. What if this wasn't her ride after all?
The first thing she noticed was that an opaque glass panel separated her from the front seat. She was confined to a dim interior, able to see nothing of the driver or the front windows. "Um..." she began, not knowing if the driver could even hear her. "It's Our Lady of Angels Cemetery. In northern Albany. I...I can give you directions."
She received no reply, falling back into the seat as the car shifted gears and began to drive forward. For a moment, her stomach tightened with worry. "Hello?" she asked again. The vehicle then swerved onto a southbound interstate, and she realized with relief that it was heading in the right direction. Perhaps the driver did know the way. Her instructor was thorough about such things.
Had she told her instructor where her father was buried? She didn't even remember.
Looking out her tinted windows, Christine noticed that the snow was becoming heavier as it fell from the darkening sky. The spacious red seats in the back were soft to the touch...almost velvety, and the warmth from the heaters encased her in comfort. Over the speakers came light classical music, perhaps Mozart or Chopin. The cozy interior, soft piano, and steady forward motion soon caused her to lay back against the headrest. A feeling of calmness overtook her.
Minutes later, as Debussy's Clair de Lune began to play in the background, Christine settled into a deep and peaceful doze.
Taking a gloved hand off the steering wheel of the silver BMW, Raoul reached over and turned up the heater before flipping on the radio. Browsing through several stations, he finally settled on light rock and turned up the volume to keep himself awake. After several hours of driving, the darkening sky and blowing heat were beginning to make him feel drowsy.
A blue road sign gave notice of several gas stations up ahead, and he wondered if he should pull over and grab a cup of coffee. After seeing that his exit into Albany was coming up, Raoul decided against it, wanting to reach his destination before the roads became caked in snow and ice. His tires were already beginning to lose friction.
After turning off the exit, he pulled over to a rest area to check his directions and look over a city map. The cemetery wasn't too far off, but he also needed to grab a hotel room before they filled up with holiday travelers. He didn't even know what Christine's plans were, and Raoul suddenly wondered if he should have told her he was meeting her there. Although Christine had weakly protested his driving to Albany, an eagerness had also been present in her voice, as if she had secretly wanted him to come. With the hope of seeing her again, Raoul made the decision to drive through the dangerous weather. Maybe he knew deep down that something wasn't quite right with her. He had the feeling that she was in trouble.
As the flakes of snow continued to float down, he took another look at the map and decided to give the cemetery a quick glance over. She would be there sometime that evening, and he didn't want to miss her. With a sigh, Raoul backed out of the lot and turned onto the road, making his way over the slick streets with both hands on the steering wheel.
A long row of iron gates and an array of crosses signaled that he had reached his destination. Lines of headstones peaked up from the sodden ground, many with dead and wilted flowers. No other vehicles were out front. Raoul parked the car but left the engine running, deciding to wait until it became dark. The radio was company enough.
After about ten minutes, a long black car pulled up further down the street. He closely watched it from his rearview mirror, his eyes widening as his friend suddenly stepped out through the back door alone. Placing her purse around her shoulder, Christine began to walk forward and through the gates, her long blonde hair waving behind her in the wind as her heels crunched through the snow. She wore a large jewel of some kind around her neck, and Raoul couldn't help feel that it looked too big for her small frame.
Switching off the engine, Raoul opened the door and stepped out into a rush of cold air. It was growing darker by the moment, and he could barely make out the figure of Christine trudging forward. "Christine!" he called softly, only to have his voice quickly carried off by the wind. As he walked through the metal gates, he swore that he heard a car door close. Looking backward, he saw nothing but endless swirls of snow and the silhouettes of bare trees.
"Christine!" he called again, no longer able to see her. Raoul muttered a curse, realizing that he had no idea where the grave actually was. He stumbled over an old headstone that was poking up from the earth and stuck out his arms to steady himself. The cold wind continued to sting his face. "Christine!"
He looked around hopelessly in the darkness for a moment, wondering if he could even find his way back to the car. It really wasn't safe for anyone to be out in this, though, especially not Christine. With a heavy sigh, he blindly continued forward.
To his left, a dark figure suddenly loomed up from the snow, and he wondered if he had stumbled upon a statue of some type. Squinting, he reached out a hand to touch it, nearly falling forward as the figure vanished into nothingness.
"What the heck?" Raoul muttered to himself, wondering if his tired eyes were playing tricks on him.
Over here...
The wind seemed to whisper to him from all sides. Looking, he saw that the same dark figure had now gone to his right. Raoul froze, feeling his heart throb inside of his chest. After a second, he walked toward it again and attempted to grab it. The shadow was gone in an instant, leaving him to clutch nothing but empty air.
Faster...
"Who's there!" he called out, whirling around. "Who are you?"
A low chuckle greeted him.
"Who's there?" He took several steps backward, trying to get a clear view. The swirls of snowflakes were disorienting. Hearing nothing else, Raoul started to continue forward again.
Too slow...
As Raoul opened his mouth to speak, he suddenly began to choke. A burning sensation engulfed his face and lungs, gagging him mercilessly with each inhalation. Fire was in his mouth and nose, and he gasped for a breath of cold air to soothe the pain. It felt as though a torrent of hot cinders were being blown into his face. He couldn't breathe, and he couldn't scream.
Falling to the ground, Raoul desperately attempted to crawl away from the invisible fire, relieved as the icy air below entered his lungs. The wind was replenishing, blowing away the hidden torture in the opposite direction.
Exhausted and out of breath, the young man rested his head upon the freezing earth, finding the snow to be soothing to his face. He gazed up, at first seeing nothing but the gray sky and falling flakes. A low chuckle continued to echo around him.
As he drifted off into a cold sleep, Raoul suddenly wondered if he was dying.
The face of death itself was grinning down at him from above.
Christine!
She turned and glanced over her shoulder. Had someone called her name? The blowing snow blurred her vision, making it impossible to see anything behind her. With a shrug, Christine hugged her arms against herself for warmth and continued walking forward. She knew the location of the simple headstone by heart, right next to a tall, ancient oak tree.
The snow was getting worse, and she had wondered if she should visit her father after the storm had passed. The black car had driven forward, though, and Christine had decided not to protest. Tonight was the night to see her father, no matter how bad the weather became.
As she knelt down next to the rectangular headstone, a single tear ran down her cheek and mingled with the melted snow. Reaching out a gloved finger, she traced over the engraved letters.
Charles Daae
March 10, 1960 to November 14, 2000
Now among the angels
Withdrawing her hand, Christine suddenly looked up, and a small smile crossed her face. "You're here, aren't you?" she softly enquired into the cold night, no longer aware of the flakes dusting her cheeks and nose.
"I am," floated her instructor's voice from the heavens.
Christine wasn't surprised. Perhaps she had known all along that he would be there. Perhaps that was why she had not invited Raoul to meet her.
"I miss him," she murmured, staring at the ground. "I miss him so much."
"I know, Christine. He is always with you, though. Just as I will always be."
She closed her eyes, allowing the wind to swirl around her and becoming aware of something standing above her. A shadow blocked out the little light that was left. Christine didn't dare move, fearing she would scare it away. "Who are you?" she whispered, keeping her eyes firmly shut.
"Time will tell such things."
"But I want to see you."
"Not yet. Perhaps never."
Something was suddenly stroking her hair, a sensation only slightly stronger than the wind. Her breath caught in her throat, and she knew that he was now close enough to see. Close enough to touch!
As she shakily raised a gloved hand, though, the sensation faded and the shadow disappeared. Christine sighed softly and opened her eyes to see nothing but the dreary headstone. "Please let me see you."
"Pay your respects, Christine. Then you must go before the snow makes it impossible."
She reluctantly nodded, closing her eyes again and saying a prayer for her father and for herself. Looking back up, she suddenly noticed a large bouquet of flowers lying beside her knees and flaked with white dust. "Oh," she quietly gasped, looking among the carnations, roses, irises, and other colorful blossoms. "Thank you. I wanted to bring flowers, but...they won't last long in the snow." Christine picked up the bouquet and stared at it wondrously. "Thank you," she softly repeated.
"You can do as you like with them."
She hesitated a moment, before picking a single rose out of the mixture and setting the rest against the headstone. Clutching the onyx gem with one hand and the rose stem with the other, she got up from the ground and dusted her knees off. Although she wasn't sure if she could find her way back to the car, she was not worried about getting lost. He was still with her.
Lost in her thoughts, she moved forward through the white paradise, stumbling over the mounds of snow.
It was only when she saw something stir below her that she was broken from her warm trance. Someone was lying amongst the headstones, breathing heavily and barely moving.
She cautiously walked over to the shivering figure that lay upon the ground, able to now see a familiar head of blond hair. As she knelt down with a gasp, Christine swore she heard a low-throated growl over the howling of the wind.