As always, I love your feedback! I'm glad you guys enjoy the Leroux tones of the story. This chapter shows Erik in two lights. You're going to have a better hint at what Erik's past involved, although some of you have guessed it. As it was the holidays, there is also the vaguest fluff in this chapter that shows Erik's humanity a little more. Hopefully it all came out okay. Also, sorry for the length of this chapter. Just kind of came out that way :)
Happy Holidays!
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About twenty minutes into the drive, the backseat of the car had become overly warm from the blowing of the heater. Perhaps Erik had noticed Christine attempting to pull off the heavy coat or the gathering moisture on her brow. Nevertheless, he had called up to the front. "Open the young woman's window immediately. The heat in the back is becoming unbearable."
She had nodded her appreciation as a blast of winter air touched her cheeks and nose, and quickly brushed away the strands of hair that blew into her face. Looking outside, Christine saw that they were in a wealthier section of town. Expensive clothing stores and gift shops lined the illuminated streets, open late during the holiday seasons. Dozens of people carried paper bags and boxes down the streets as they hurried toward their cars. Parents tugged children forward, eager to get out of the cold night air and back to their warm homes.
It suddenly dawned on Christine that escape might be possible. What if she were to call out for help once the car was stopped? Maybe someone would be able to get to her in time or call the police. Side glancing Erik, she saw that his eyes were still focused upon her. Something told her that an attempt at escape would be futile, and would certainly ensure that she would never leave that strange basement apartment again.
With a sigh of defeat, she turned to look out the window. Her heart suddenly froze as she stared into the eyes of Raoul Chagny. In shock, the two friends had looked at each other for several seconds. Then, he had started to make his way over the icy sidewalks and to the vehicle, frantically shouting her name. Out of pure instinct, she had started to call back, wondering if this might be her chance at freedom. The deadly tension in the car made her keep silent.
"Who is that?" asked Erik, bending toward her and looking out the window. "Your friend!"
She quickly turned to face him, a panic beginning to rise in her throat. "Erik, he's just worried about me."
He ignored her and angrily commanded the driver to increase the speed and pass the other cars. Christine was nearly thrown backward as the vehicle raced forward down the icy roads. Raoul's shouts still rang in her ears. Erik sat up straight with a deadly glare in his eyes. "That boy is getting to be problematic," he hissed. "Now he knows where you are! Although I'm sure you were very happy to see him."
She gulped and stared back at him. "Raoul is an old friend," she stated with as much conviction as she could muster. "I haven't seen him since we were children. He's confused because I won't talk to him. But I promise that he's just a friend."
"Oh, he would like to be much more than friends, my dear. I can see it in his eyes. But you can't be, Christine. Your allegiances are to me and your music. Do you understand?"
She again heard that hint of desperation in his icy words. "I understand, Erik," she softly replied. "He probably won't bother me anymore."
"For his sake, I hope you are right." Erik calmed down some, leaning his head back against the leather head rest and staring forward. "I imagine that you know where you are now."
Christine hesitated. She knew that Raoul lived in New York City. The dozens of stores and lighted streets further confirmed the location. But would Erik be angered by her knowledge? Would he take here somewhere else?
"Come, Christine. Surely you know by now. It really doesn't matter as I planned to tell you soon." He stared intensely at her, almost daring her to lie to him.
"New York," she answered after a moment. "New York City."
Erik nodded. "Indeed you are. It is both the ideal place to hide and the perfect place to be noticed. Faceless and nameless people walk in enormous crowds, never uttering a word to one another. No one notices your face or remembers your name. No one cares whether you are dead or alive."
Christine suddenly found herself feeling claustrophobic. What was he trying to say? That she was hopelessly trapped?
"Unless..." he continued. "Unless you awe them. Unless you give them reason to notice you."
The streets suddenly became darker, casting Christine and her companion in drifting shadows as the car rolled down the streets and into the poorer section of town. "What do you mean?" she asked, struggling to see him.
"Until you decided to pry the mask from my face, I had wonderful plans for you. I told you that I would make you shine. Did you think that I was lying? The world could hear your voice. The world would love you as I do. Would you like that, Christine?"
She bit her lip. "I never really thought about it," she replied. "But how? No one even knows me."
Erik laughed. "Although I may seem like a recluse in a cave, I assure you that I am well-connected. Perhaps no one ever sees me, but I am always there. I can do anything. I would do anything for you."
"Oh." Christine looked at her hands. "Thank you."
"Of course, if you do not want fame, you can always sing for me alone. And after your display of careless curiosity, I am unsure as to whether to share you with the world. How am I to know that you will return now that you have seen what lies beneath my mask? I will not lose you, Christine. Not to anyone."
His possessive words made her tense with fear and anger. Christine quickly suppressed the emotions, worried that any form of resistance could prove fatal to her freedom. "Erik. I said that I would stay. And if you let me go, I promise I'll come back." She swallowed her desperation and attempted to remain calm. "You have to believe me."
"We will see," were his only words.
Christine sighed softly and turned to look out the window. Buildings continued to pass by her, the windows dark and the doors locked up for the night. Some people still walked the streets, but most had gone home to their warm beds. Erik was right. No one knew of her. No one cared what happened to her.
Staring into the dark building and alleyways, Christine suddenly felt overwhelming loneliness consume her. Even if she hadn't been kidnaped and taken to the middle of an enormous city, where would she be? Mrs. Valerius wasn't going to be around very much longer. Each time Christine had visited the hospital, her guardian had looked more gaunt and ashen. Meg was always busy with various activities and social occasions. She'd even mentioned studying abroad in Spain over the summer.
There was Raoul.
Christine smiled inwardly at the thought of her childhood friend and the times they had shared, the peaceful summer evenings and the lighthearted conversations by the lake. When she had seen him at the theater, her heart had fluttered as memories of their youth returned. She'd felt a comforting warmth when he had wrapped her in a strong embrace.
But what would Raoul Chagny ever want with a shy, lonely girl who was stupid enough to get trapped in such a mess? Surely, he was constantly surrounded by beautiful and confident young women. He would probably forget her after this night.
And if there were no one else-if Erik was all she really had, then what? What would she do if he did ever release her? Live alone? Go through the dull motions of work and sleep with no passion or hope in her life?
A single tear trailed down her cheek.
"Something troubles you?" Erik questioned, gazing at her in the glow of the streetlights.
"No," she whispered. "I'm fine."
Nadir Khan was not in a good mood. It wasn't just the fact that he had been sitting in a vacant hall for the last hour, waiting for someone who was supposed to have shown up thirty minutes earlier. He sneezed as the dust from the linoleum floor drifted up and tickled his nostrils. A pair of voices on his left caused him to glance up, but he frowned as he saw a couple of janitors pass.
He had been in New York now for over a week. On his first night in the city, he had purchased a room at a Holiday Inn. Realizing that he was going to be there for some time, he had caved in and found a tiny apartment toward the outskirts of the city. Rental rates were so high, though, that he was beginning to wonder if he should have stayed in the hotel room. At least it had cable television and a functional heater. His current residence had holes in the carpet and chipped paint all over the white walls. Half the kitchen appliances were about ready to fall apart, and he was waiting for a leak to form in one of the cracked ceilings. Nadir prayed he wouldn't have to stay there long. Allah did not seem to be on his side.
After settling down into the poor excuse for a home, he had set to work on his mission. Immediately, he threw away the idea of directly searching for Erik. It would be impossible. He could, however, look for Mr. Moncharmin and Mr. Richard. That search had turned out more difficult than Nadir had thought it would be. Obviously these two men were involved in some business that wasn't quite within the boundaries of the law. They weren't convicted criminals, but they did have some strange connections.
"I bet they regret making a connection with Erik," Nadir thought with amusement. He suddenly wondered if it was possible to find out more about Erik's activities through members criminal underworld. Nadir frowned. He certainly didn't want to start meeting in dark corners with organized crime bosses. They probably didn't know much anyway. Erik usually kept his connections at a distance, remaining as nothing more than a voice on the telephone or a letter scribbled in red ink. To most of those who knew of him, Erik was merely a shadow...a shade...a ghost. The Iranian was one of a select few who knew him as a living, breathing man.
Finally, he had gotten into contact with Mr. Richard. The man had sounded tired over the phone, likely still upset over the events in Vermont. Still, he had been willing to meet with Nadir. The Iranian thought he had even detected a hint of fear in the man's voice. Unfortunately, Mr. Moncharmin was apparently on a short vacation and wouldn't be present. Nadir couldn't help but wonder if he'd skipped the country.
The Iranian eagerly looked up as he heard the rubber soles of shoes on the dusty tiles. A middle-aged man in a pressed grey suit was making his way forward with a set of keys in one hand. "Mr. Richard?" asked Nadir as he stood up.
"Mr. Khan," he greeted with a tired look in his green eyes. "Let me get the office open."
He unlocked the door, and they stepped into a small, plain room. Only a cheap mahogany desk and a pair of padded chairs sat in the room. One window allowed the dim December sunlight to seep over the furniture. The fluorescent lights flickered several times before coming on. Both men simultaneously glanced up at them in unpleasant remembrance. Mr. Richard motioned for Nadir to take a seat.
"I won't take up much of your time," Nadir stated, leaning back into the chair. "First, I don't come here to make accusations. I want some information to prevent future...disasters."
Mr. Richard sighed and folded his wrinkled hands upon the table top. "I don't know very much, Mr. Khan. My partner and I began working with the charity several months back." He paused. "We knew that there were some ethical questions…."
"Such as?"
"Sometimes you had to send money to certain people. We were encouraged to keep a little bit for ourselves. Don't misunderstand. A lot of funds did go to charity. But not all of it."
"Go on," said Nadir.
"We were told that there was one very important person who had to be compensated. Just wire him a portion of the funds, and he leaves you alone. No problems. I sensed it was blackmail but didn't ask many questions. Wrote him a check and that was it." Mr. Richard paused. "With this last project, this play, things became completely insane. We think this guy followed us up there. We started receiving these threatening notes regarding the play, casting and music and all of that. Some of them were completely absurd. Both of us thought that it was a prank."
"But the man has been extorting you for some time, then?"
"As long as I've been here. Months at least. But I know nothing about him. Except that he's obviously nuts."
"Do you have any information on where this man is located? What part of the city?" His eyes widened. "Where do you wire the money?"
Mr. Richard shook his head. "I have no idea where he lives. I've never even seen his face or heard his name. As for the money, the number of the account changes each time. I doubt you'd find much."
"Probably not."
"Mr. Khan? Am I in any danger?"
The Iranian shook his head. "I will be honest, Mr. Richard. It would be wise not to get on his bad side. I would comply with him for the time being. Keep sending money."
"Comply?" Mr. Richard scoffed. "I should get the police."
"They wouldn't be able to help you," murmured Nadir.
"But..."
"I think it's time that I leave. Here's my number if you find any more information."
Mr. Richard slowly took the piece of paper. "Can you help me, if I do find him?" he asked.
"You won't find him. And I'll be lucky if I don't end up dead." Nadir walked toward the door, suddenly feeling the weight of his age. "Have a good day, Mr. Richard."
As he left the dreary office complex, he couldn't help wondering if this entire search was hopeless. Maybe he had already failed. Christine Daae could already be far gone.
At some point during her stay, Christine completely lost track of the date. Although Erik had a variety of clocks scattered about the house, he kept no calendars on the wall. As she awoke several days later after their last outing, she attempted to count on her fingers how long she had been down there. Christine gave up after a little while and dropped her hands into her lap with a sigh. Laying her head back upon the pillow, she gazed around the room. It didn't seem quite as eerie anymore. She had become used to the odd figurines and ornaments.
Ever since the night she had seen Raoul, Erik had not taken her outside of the apartment. Maybe he thought that they would be discovered. Or perhaps he was afraid that she would try to get into contact with her old friend. Whatever the reason, the confinement was beginning to become maddening. Sometimes Christine feared that the walls would close in around her.
Erik was starting to converse more frequently with her, usually discussing music and occasionally books. He would play the piano for her every evening, taking requests and sometimes asking her to sing. She always complied. Never was she in any physical discomfort, always fed and warm. He continued to watch and admire her while she quietly read or looked around his home. Not once, though, had he attempted to make physical contact. Her fear was being replaced by uncertainty and anxiety, for she never knew what was to come next. Her anger had turned to pity. If she were being completely honest with herself, Christine sometimes even felt empathy for the man with a corpse's face. Loneliness was not foreign to her. And how lonely Erik must be down here.
After brushing her hair, which was growing longer than she usually wore it, Christine slipped on a pair of jeans and a gray sweater. She gazed at her pale reflection in the mirror for a moment, realizing how much she was beginning to miss the sun. If he would let her outside, perhaps she would willingly return-anything to get out for a moment.
As she emerged from her room and headed for her usual seat in the kitchen, she was surprised to see Erik immediately meet her. Usually he came out later in the morning, after she had eaten, and gave her a clipped greeting. Today, his eyes looked especially eager.
"Good morning, Erik" she said, cautiously looking up at him.
He nodded in greeting and folded his slender hands together. "I have something for you this morning," he stated. "A gift."
"A gift?" She looked around curiously but saw nothing.
"Maybe you have forgotten what day it is, Christine," he chided with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Personally, I am really not fond of holidays. I find them pointless and false."
"It's Christmas, isn't it?" she murmured in realization. She'd been there longer than she had thought.
"Indeed it is. And I have gotten you something." Reaching into his suit pocket, Erik took out an object that glinted in the dim lighting of the room. Christine squinted to see that it was a large golden ring with an onyx stone in the center, very much like the necklace. The jewel was engraved with small spirals that caused it to glimmer even more.
"It's lovely," she replied, shifting as she attempted to determine the meaning of the gift. She had seen wedding bands before...but surely...it wasn't...
He nodded. "It is worthy of you, I believe. And as long as you wear it, you are perfectly safe. Nothing will ever hurt you wherever you go."
She honestly couldn't tell whether his statement was meant to be comforting or a hidden threat. Frankly, she didn't want to know. "I'll wear it, then. Thank you." Christine slowly raised out her right hand, expecting him to place it into her palm. To her surprise, Erik slipped it onto her fourth finger. Although her skin lightly brushed with his cold flesh, she managed not to flinch. His eyes gleamed as he gazed down upon her, nearly the color of the golden ring.
"It fits," he calmly stated.
She nodded, feeling the jewels weight upon her finger. "Yes. It fits well. It's very nice, Erik." She knew that he was smiling beneath the mask. Sometimes it was completely overwhelming and exhausting how much he seemed to love her. At least she had made him somewhat happy that morning, though.
"What else can I get for you, Christine? A particular food? A song? I would enjoy hearing you sing today." He tilted his head. "You turn your eyes away from me. What is it that you want?"
Her gaze remained on the floor. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the ring glimmer. What if he became angry by her request? Erik seemed less intense that morning than he usually did, though. Maybe there would be no better time.
"Erik." She swallowed. "My guardian...Mrs. Valerius...I haven't seen her in so long. I want to talk to her on Christmas. I promise I won't say anything about where I am or talk very long. But I miss her." She quickly wiped a tear away. A silence followed as she waited for his response.
"You will tell no one where you are?"
"I promise I won't."
"Yes," he finally said with slight disdain. "I will permit it. She is in a poor state of health." He paused. "I will get you a phone. It is untraceable. Do not attempt to give anyone the means to contact you."
Christine nodded in appreciation. "I won't! I promise. Thank you, Erik." A wave of relief washed over her. The thought of hearing the voice of her guardian calmed her heart. And her captor was allowing her contact with the outside world. Maybe he would release her soon.
Erik returned with a small black cellular phone. It appeared to have been used very little, perhaps never. He did not seem to be very happy about the matter, but he still held it out to her.
"Thank you," she repeated. "I won't take long."
He nodded. "Stay where I am able to clearly hear you."
Christine obediently sat down upon the sofa. After dialing the operator and asking for Mrs. Valerius' hospital, she was directed through several more numbers to the oncology ward. Finally, she was able to get Mrs. Valerius' room number. Erik stood nearby, watching her.
After several rings, an unfamiliar voice finally answered.
"Hello?" Christine asked eagerly. "Is Mrs. Valerius there?"
A long hesitation followed. "She's not able to talk at the moment. May I ask who's calling?"
"It's...her granddaughter," she quickly replied, not wishing to explain. "When should I call back?"
Another hesitation. "I can't give details over the telephone, ma'am. If you are a close relative, though, I would recommend coming as soon as possible."
"What?" whispered Christine, gripping onto the material of the armrest.
"Her health has taken a turn for the worst," replied the woman, more gently this time. "You might want to come as soon as you can. More details will be provided at that time."
"All right." Staring numbly at the ground, Christine clicked off the phone. For several seconds, she wasn't even aware of her current surroundings or companion. Nausea was slowly building in the pit of her stomach, and she suddenly felt extremely cold. The soft rustle of Erik's suit material caused her to look up. His eyes stared at her curiously, sensing something amiss.
Taking a breath, she finally spoke. "Please let me go, Erik. I promise I won't run." Her lip trembled, but she remained composed. "Please," she whispered.
The silence was deafening.