Wow. Thanks for all of the wonderful reviews on both this and the companion piece. I'm glad you guys liked Erik's point of view. If I ever think of another place that his POV might be interesting, I'll add it to "Prelude..." If you guys have any specific places in the story you want to see Erik's POV, feel free to tell me.
I'm getting different requests for pairings, which is a good thing. It makes me feel that I've given Christine two viable options. That being said, I doubt the requests will change the ending. It's been planned for a while. :)
Hope you enjoy! Read and Review!
She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror for several moments, wearing a plain, black dress that fit loosely over her thin frame. The outfit made her white skin stand out even more, giving her an almost ghostly appearance. The heavy onyx ring upon her finger matched the ensemble, glinting in the fluorescent lighting. Her blonde hair was neatly pushed back out of her face by several barrettes, although the strong winds would likely blow it out of place by the end of the day. Christine cringed as droplets of rain began to patter upon the roof.
Raoul walked in behind her through the open door, casually dressed in blue jeans and a Dartmouth sweatshirt. "You look...nice," he unsurely stated, gazing over her somber outfit.
She laughed wryly. "I don't think I'm supposed to look nice at a funeral."
He smiled. "Well, you do anyway."
Christine sighed and bit her lip. "I don't know if I can do this." She allowed him to interpret what this was.
"I know it's hard, Chris. But it will be fine. See everyone that you know, and say your goodbyes to a wonderful woman. I should be back sometime this evening, and our flight leaves tomorrow morning around nine. Maybe we should drive to Boston tonight and stay at a hotel. How does that sound?"
"Boston?" she asked, dumbly.
"Our plane leaves from Logan. I didn't want to take us back to New York."
"Oh." Everything was suddenly happening so quickly. "I...Raoul...I don't know if I can..." She stuttered out the words, unclear of what she was trying to say. I don't know if I can go with you...
He gently placed a strong arm around her shoulders. "You can, Christine. We're going to get through this together. After you're free from this mess, you'll realize what's been going on. I promise. If I'm wrong, you can punch me later." Raoul smiled at her through the mirror.
She laughed weakly. "Just be careful."
"I will be. Nothing's going to happen." He stepped out of the bathroom and returned a moment later with a large bouquet of red roses in hand. "You're going to be getting a lot of flowers today...but...here are some from me."
Her eyes widened as she took them and inhaled their sweet scent. "Wow! They're gorgeous. Thank you! I'll put them in some water. Maybe they'll add some color to this place."
"Glad you like them," he replied, giving her a one-armed hug. "I'd better get out of here if I'm going to be back by this evening. Are you going to be okay here?" His tone had become more confident as his certainty of his plan grew. In his eyes, everything was running smoothly and heading in the right direction.
"Yeah," she softly replied, staring down at the flowers. "I'll be fine here. Thanks."
"All right." He hugged her one last time. "I'll be back soon."
Christine slowly nodded, unable to get anything she wanted to say out of her mouth. "Okay."
After putting on his winter coat and throwing up the hood, her friend departed into the dismal weather. As he closed the door behind him, she realized that she was now alone in the silence of the apartment. Only the sound of the falling rain droplets created any noise. An unpleasant feeling of anxiety settled over her. Several hours still remained before the funeral.
Nervously wringing her hands together, she finally settled down on the worn couch and turned on the television, grateful to see that the cable had not yet been disconnected. Blocking all troubling thoughts from her mind, she flipped to reruns of some classic television shows. As a cold draft blew into the apartment, she unfolded the wool blanket that lay on the couch and draped it over her legs. Lying her tired head down upon the armrest of the sofa, Christine lost herself in the antics of I Love Lucy.
She dozed off for a while to the sound of the laugh track and raindrops, burrowing down into the warmth of the couch cushions. Memories of her past briefly returned, of her sitting by the lake with her father and Raoul...singing...going to school with Meg. The last vision was of Erik taking her hand and holding it up to his mask and her promising him that she would return. And he had believed her. The yellow orbs had been full of nothing but trust...adoration...love.
When Christine finally opened her eyes and sat up on the sofa, she saw that it was nearly time for the funeral. Blinking a shadowy dream away, she scrambled up from the couch and checked herself in the mirror one last time. As pale as she currently was, Christine could have been going to her own funeral. Sighing, she quickly turned off the lights, gathered up her purse and keys, and left the apartment.
The sky was overcast, and a light drizzle continued to fall. It seemed almost cliché...a dank, rainy day for a funeral. Pushing her damp hair out of her face, she climbed into her Honda and started up the engine. Christine gripped onto the steering wheel for several moments, gathering her thoughts together as the windshield wipers swished back and forth. Backing the car out of the lot and onto the road, she allowed herself to face the decision that was looming in front of her. Time had become precious.
By this time the next day, she could very well be on an airplane to the other end of the country. It seemed too sudden, but Raoul's reasoning made sense. If they truly wanted to get away, and Raoul did, there was little time left to do so. Even after the newspaper article, though, she still didn't know if she wanted to escape.
The question had grated at her all night, causing her to toss and turn in a restless sleep. Escape was a chance to have everything back that had been stolen-a chance to return to school...to be around people again...to have a normal relationship with someone who loved her. And yet, she would also be losing so much as well. Her chance at a career would diminish, of course, but she would be losing him. Her strange companion and instructor...her friend...her Erik. Her Erik.
Christine sadly laughed at herself as she turned onto the next road, careful to avoid the deep puddles that lined the curbs. Since when had she become possessive? Nevertheless, an ache consumed her insides whenever she thought of forever leaving him. The anguish in those yellow eyes once he saw that she was gone-that was unbearable to think of. She knew that she would destroy him.
Erik. I never would have run...if it hadn't been for the death. The white sheet...Mr. Piane. Why? Why so much horror?
As she pulled into the parking lot of the small church, she saw that many cars were already there. A huge crowd wasn't expected, but Mrs. Valerius did have relatives in neighboring states, plus a good number of friends at the university. Christine found a parking space near the front door and pulled in. She sat there for several moments and stared at the passing groups of people.
The night before, she had literally prayed that Erik hadn't murdered Mr. Piane, although her better judgment told her otherwise. If he were still no more than a cold-blooded killer, how could she possibly go back? What if Raoul was right? What if she were the next victim? He loved her, though. She was sure of this. It was the only thing that she knew for certain.
And what if Raoul was wrong? What if Erik was innocent of this crime? She would be leaving him alone out of a false fear.
She wondered what he was doing right now, if he was thinking of her. Several times, Christine worried that he had become aware of Raoul's current plans. There could be no way that he knew anything, though. As paranoid as she had been, nothing had given her any hint that he was ever listening. No. Erik was likely awaiting her return. He was waiting for her to come back to him.
Would she be there?
Christine turned off the engine and climbed out, shivering as a torrent of icy droplets fell upon her head and shoulders. Hugging her arms to her chest, she walked forward and into the warm confines of the church lobby. A variety of crucifixes greeted her on all sides, and the smell of wood drifted through the air. Light chatter came from inside the main room, along with a church organ that was softly playing a hymn. As she walked in, her eyes immediately focused on the closed casket at the front. A wreath of flowers had been placed atop it, and several lily arrangements sat to the sides. She swallowed and closed her eyes, holding back any tears that threatened to fall. Meg was sitting toward the center, and Christine quickly walked over to her friend, smiling kindly at the few people she recognized.
"Hi, Meg," she whispered, smoothing out her skirt and sitting down in the pew.
"Christine!" her friend exclaimed with a smile. "I was afraid you weren't going to get here."
"No. I made it. I fell asleep on the couch longer than I should have."
Meg gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You look exhausted."
"I am. I didn't sleep well last night."
"Well, you do have a lot on your mind."
"Yeah," Christine began, before being cut off by the sound of the elderly preacher's voice. Both glanced up as the room fell respectfully silent and the organ stopped playing.
"Good afternoon," he began, in a strong but gentle voice. His wrinkled hands rested atop the wooden altar, and his kindly blue eyes gazed across the room. "We gather here on this day in February to say goodbye to a cherished member of our community..."
A tear finally found its way down Christine's cheek, forming a small pool at the corner of her mouth. She momentarily closed her eyes as the sermon continued, wondering if any clarity could be found in his words of hope.
"We should live each day as though it were our last," he continued. "Never taking what God has given us for granted. Like Hazel Valerius, we should look for the good in everything. We should not fear what tomorrow will bring but enjoy the blessings of today. Because, my dear friends, we may not have another tomorrow left on this earth..."
But there was going to be a tomorrow she thought, miserably. And how could she not fear what it would bring?
Christine buried her face in her hands.
"I can't believe you're doing this! Over some stupid girl? Have you completely lost it?"
Clenching his jaw, Raoul turned from the drawer he had been looking through for the last hour and faced his older brother. "Would you get out of my room? I told you my decision. Nothing you say is going to change it. All right? Now get out." He turned back around, ignoring Phillip's irritated sigh.
"She's going to play around with you. Girls like that make a hobby out of screwing around with other guys. Even you should know that one."
Raoul angrily whirled back around again. "Don't ever speak about her that way again! You don't know anything that's going on. If you knew half of it..." He muttered something and looked to the ground. "Just forget it. Get out."
"I don't know what the hell is wrong with you. But what about money? I suppose you expect me to wire it to you and your girlfriend in Seattle, right? Is that it?" Phillip scowled. "What exactly are your plans?"
"Look. If you want to help out, then fine. If you don't, I'll find a way to make it on my own. I'm getting Christine out of here. That's all I care about right now."
"If this is that serious, have you ever considered calling the police? That'd be a heck of a lot easier than running away."
Raoul tiredly rubbed his forehead. "Yeah. It would. But 'm not going to do that." He continued on before Phillip could interrupt. "Have you seen my passport? Also, where's the file with all our personal information...social security cards?"
"Yeah. They're in dad's old office. Will you please think this through first? I mean you're permanently going to Seattle with nothing but a couple of suitcases."
"Thanks. I have thought it through."
Raoul walked past his irritated sibling and toward the front of the enormous house. After a brief hesitation, he took the silver handle and opened the door to his father's former office. Everything had been neatly put into stacks and piles, untouched for months. The smell of polished wood and dusty book covers met him, along with the faint scent of cologne. Ignoring a feeling of melancholy, he went over to a file cabinet and began digging through several folders. Checking the antique wall clock, he saw he still had about an hour before he needed to return. The drive had taken longer with the weather.
Hearing a soft jingling sound, he looked up to see that his Dalmatian, Zeus, had entered the room. Raoul glanced back down and continued to look through the folders, frustrated at the mixed up documents. His mother might know where things were, but she was staying with distant relatives, recovering from mild depression over the death of her husband. Finally, he closed the drawer and went to the computer, wondering if anything was stored on a disk.
As he logged on, he heard the jingle of Zeus's collar again and glanced over his shoulder. The dog was sitting upright with his ears perked and his eyes focused on the window. Raoul shrugged and started to turn back around, freezing in place when he heard a low-pitched growl come from the back of Zeus's throat. All of his short hairs were standing on end, his back hunched as if ready to attack. "What's wrong, boy?" asked Raoul, standing up from his seat. A nervous feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as the dog continued to growl.
Giving Zeus a reassuring pat on the head, he walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. The wind was still blowing, and the sky was an unpleasant shade of grey. All of New England was experiencing bad weather that day. Tomorrow wasn't supposed to be any better.
Looking around, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. The landscaped front yard was empty, save for the bare trees and bushes that were blowing under the gusts of wind. Someone's trash barrel had toppled over and was slowly tumbling down the road. Raoul jumped and turned around as his dog released a loud, angry bark. The animal then resumed its low growl. "There's nothing out here," he said, feeling slightly uneasy. "What's wrong with you?"
Shaking his head, Raoul turned to look out the window again. He blinked several times and gripped the curtain in shock, wondering if he had imagined it. A dark, tall shape had passed in front of his vision, like a shadow from something high above. But there was no sunlight that day! It couldn't have been a shadow.
The dog continued to loudly growl. Taking several steps backward, Raoul whirled around and began digging through his father's top desk drawer. Finding what he was looking for, he grabbed the silver handgun and ran outside, gripping the cool metal beneath his fingers. His dog raced in front of him, barking viscously at something unseen.
"Zeus! Stop!" Raoul yelled, as the dog ran behind the corner of the brick home. He chased after him, nearly sliding on the slick grass. Zeus had now stopped running and was barking at something cornered in an alcove on the side of the house. Only able to see the vague outline of a shadow, Raoul raised the gun and slowly approached the intruder, his hands shaking slightly as he came around the corner.
Taking a deep breath, he lunged forward to get a clear view. As he did so, Zeus let out a yelp of pain, scrambling backwards and away from the apparition. Raoul aimed the gun and looked at the spot where the shadow had stood... only to see absolutely nothing. His dog ran back to his side, appearing as disoriented as Raoul currently felt. All was still and quiet. Whatever had been there had disappeared in the time it took for him to blink his eyes.
A twig suddenly snapped behind him, causing him to turn around with the gun held high in the air.
"What the hell are you doing!" exclaimed Phillip, holding up his hands in self-defense. "Have you gone completely crazy?"
Raoul released a sigh of relief and lowered the weapon, his heart hammering in his chest. "Someone was out here," he explained, trying to catch his breath. "Zeus was barking at something." The dog was now sitting at Raoul's side and licking its paw, slightly traumatized but not seriously injured.
Phillip continued to stare at him as though he were insane. "So what if he was? Maybe he was barking at the trash guy or something? You're going to get arrested for running around with that thing." He gestured to the gun.
"I know. I thought it was him. And there was something out here."
"You thought it was who?"
Raoul shook his head. "Never mind. Forget it. Let's go back inside." He began to slowly walk back toward the house, holding the gun limply at his side.
Phillip looked after him in complete bewilderment, before beginning to follow behind. Suddenly, his older brother stopped dead in his tracks and gaped, his eyes fixed upon the driveway. "Holy..." he whispered.
"What?" Raoul asked dully, turning around to see his brother's expression of horror. He followed his gaze to the two cars in the driveway, his BMW and Phillip's Corvette. Raoul's own mouth now fell open.
All of the tires were slashed to black shreds of rubber. Two of the windows on the BMW had been completely shattered. The paint on the BMW had also been maliciously scratched up with a sharp object, leaving silver markings all along the sides.
Phillip ran a hand through his hair. "My God." He uttered several obscenities. "What the hell happened? Who the hell...?" He looked blankly around the empty streets for the perpetrator.
Raoul stared at the mangled vehicles for several moments, a growing look of horror coming over his face. But not over the condition of the cars. "He knows..." he whispered. "He knows everything."
"What?" asked Phillip, turning around. "Who are you talking about? What's going on? Do you know who did this?"
Raoul backed up several feet. "I've got to get back. He's going to get to her first now...but I've got to get back."
"Would you make some damn sense? Where are you going?"
"To call a cab!" he exclaimed, running into the house. He stopped and cursed. "No. A cab isn't going to go that far. I need to borrow someone's car."
Phillip took off after him and grabbed his brother by the shoulders. "You're going to tell me what's going on before you do anything! And put that gun down!"
Raoul turned around and pushed his older sibling away from him. "No. I'm going now. And I'm taking the gun with me. Either help me find a car or get away from me! All right?"
His brother slowly backed away and shook his head. "You're on your own on this one. I don't know what you're doing...but..."
Raoul was already making his way out the door with a gigantic suitcase. Several phone calls later, he had managed to convince a friend to lend him an old car. Phillip watched from the background in complete confusion. From the look of determination on Raoul's face, though, he knew better than to try and stop him. Something was seriously wrong.
When his younger brother had finally left the house without another word, Phillip dialed the police to put in a report about the vandalized cars. About an hour later, he poured himself a glass of red wine and sat down in the den to clear his head. Just as he had turned the television to a basketball game, the phone rang two times.
When he answered, no one was there.