"There must be another way!" Christine argued. "Raoul, I'm frightened, please don't make me do this. It scares me!"
"It's the only way, Christine. We must trap this monster now, and you are the perfect bait for that trap!" he returned angrily. "Christine turned away in silence, which she hoped he would take for submission. This was the last straw; she had had enough of Raoul controlling her! She had no intention of trapping her Angel in that fashion, though she was somewhat afraid of him now that it appeared he had murdered Joseph Buquet. There must be an explanation, some reason for his behavior! There had been rumors of an "Opera Ghost" for years, but there had never been a murder before.
That night, the debut of Don Juan Triumphant, Christine allowed herself to be dressed in costume and then asked for a few moments alone, locking the door behind the assistant. Facing the mirror, she called softly, "Angel, are you there?" He had not spoken to her in the months following her rejection of his further instruction, but she felt him there watching her often, she was sure of it. "Angel?"
"Yes?" came a low, deep reply which made her tremble in response and relief.
"Please, I must talk to you, to warn you!" she cried out softly but urgently.
The mirror moved, revealing the hallway behind it, and the Phantom stood in the passageway, cloaked in black as Don Juan, white flowing shirt revealing a well-muscled, masculine chest. His black-masked face was stern and unmoved as he faced her. "Well?"
"The police are setting a trap for you tonight, expecting you to attend the performance of your opera," she blurted out, "and I'm afraid for you! Angel, please don't let them catch you!"
His gaze softened as he sensed her fright. "Christine, be calm. Do you not realize how many years I have had to learn the ins and outs of this opera house? They cannot trap me, I'm the elusive Opera Ghost, remember?"
She bit her lip, not reassured but not knowing how to convince him. "But…"
The Phantom was touched by her concern, and hope flared in his heart again. "My child, why do you care? Now that you know your "angel" is but a flawed man, I thought you had chosen another path to happiness, with your rich young count." He couldn't quite keep the mocking tone from his voice, but Christine also heard the pain in his admission.
"Angel," she began, but he put up his hand to halt her speech.
"My name," he said quietly, "is Erik."
That simple revelation moved her almost to tears. "Erik," she repeated. "Yes, I do care, Angel and Erik. You were my teacher, my guide and my confidante for all those lonely years, and now that I know you are real, that I can touch you….." She reached out her hand, and he lightly took her fingers in his gloved hand. "Erik, there is so much I don't understand about you, but in the past few months I have missed you more than I thought possible. Even with Raoul monopolizing my time when I wasn't practicing, I kept listening for your voice, hoping you would come to me, even though I was also afraid."
She dropped her eyes and turned away, suddenly unsure about talking so freely face to face with this man who was a stranger and yet had been so dear to her as her "Angel of Music." He had been so tender that night in his home below the opera house, singing to her, caressing her, and yet so angry when she removed his mask. And was he the murderer of Joseph Buquet?
"Christine, look at me," he commanded in a low voice. "We haven't much time before the curtain goes up. Are you telling me you are having second thoughts about Raoul, and about me?"
She turned back to him, and whispered, "Yes".
His heart in his throat, he asked, "Would you be willing to come with me tonight, after the performance, to talk about this? I already knew of the plot against me, and have made my own plans, but if you agree to go with me it will simplify the matter. They will believe you are kidnapped, but I promise you will be safe, and that I will return you to your own world whenever you wish."
Christine, remembering that he hadn't harmed her before, nodded her head in agreement. She started to question him about the details, but footsteps in the hall alerted him, and he merely whispered, "Trust me", put a finger to his lips and disappeared behind the mirror.
