Chapter 12

(In which all my readers become angry with Christine and begin their desire to kill the author –a desire that will continue through the majority of the fic, I assure you.)

Phelan stepped out from what had once been the friendly, de Changy parlor. He was dressed in black and was smirking broadly.

Christine glared at the tenor. "What do you want?" she cried, "Where is Raoul? What has happened here?"

"Raoul is far away enjoying a time of forced labor," Phelan said coolly, "It is my duty to inform you that his labor will be cut short by a serious accident that I will have arranged if you do not comply to my wished. Do I make myself inescapably clear?"

Christine nodded, trembling. "You can't hurt him!" she blurted out.

"And I won't," Phelan said gently, "Provided, of course, that you will comply." He paused and lifted Christine's face to the light. "Curse you, you old hag!" he spat at the witch, "You've injured her!"

"I… not badly, master," the witch stammered meekly.

"Why I'll…" Phelan was fuming with rage. He pulled what looked like a long, think stick from his belt and raised it into the air.

"No! Please, sire! Don't!" the witch pleaded.

Too late. With one flick of his twig, Phelan fired a bolt of light at the witch. She shrieked in terror and collapsed to the ground. Then, a strange thing began to happen. The witch became smaller. Her head shrunk into her neck, and her arms and legs shriveled into her ever shrinking body. In no time at all, the witch had been reduced to a puddle of black oil.

Christine gasped. "What did you do?" she exclaimed.

"What everyone does in my country when they want to get rid of a witch," Phelan said, "I lightroseited her."

"You did what?" Christine asked.

"I administered several doses of concentrated light extract. Even a little daylight is hard on a witch, but lightroseit is pure and effective poison. Good riddance to her! I explicitly stated that you were not to be harmed."

Christine shuddered. She wondered what sort of 'pure and effective poison' Phelan used on humans.

Phelan replaced his stick into his belt. "Now," he said, cool as ever, "I believe that this is the time when you are supposed to tell me the location of a certain half-brother of mine. Oh, and he's not my half-brother, by the way. He's my twin."

"Your twin?" Christine echoed.

"Now you're just stalling," Phelan accused, "Go on; tell me where Erik is hiding."

"I don't know," she whispered.

"Oh, yes you do," Phelan said coaxingly, "Or, do you still think he's missing? Never fear, darling, he returned to the opera this morning. The bats told me so. But never mind about that, where is his 'lair'?"

"I can't tell you," Christine protested, "I promised him."

"Christine! You're friend's life hangs in the balance and you won't even tell me where a wanted murderer is hiding? Really, Christine, I am surprised at you. You don't deserve the viscount's attentions, really you don't. If you could have only hear the way he pleaded for your safety above all other things… But never mind that, if you want him dead," he snapped his fingers, "he's as good as dead."

"No!" Christine cried. She trembled violently. "Will you promise that you will not hurt Erik?"

"I just want his secret plans, nothing more," Phelan stated.

Christine bit her lip. Erik would survive this, and she had to save Raoul. "All right, I'll tell you," Christine said in a strangled voice.

"No, dearest, I think you need to show me," Phelan replied, "I'm so terrible at following directions."

Christine's heart ached as she and Phelan entered the opera. Phelan kept remarking about how he had know that his brother was hidden in the opera all along. Christine tried to ignore him. The two walked through the corridors and entered Christine's dressing room.

"You go ahead of me," Phelan said as Christine opened the mirror, "We don't want the 'Phantom' to become nervous and run off. Just make use of some of your feminine charm and keep him busy. Oh, and if you warn him, ruin the plans, or run away, I will have the viscount killed in an instant. On ferryman is completely dispensable to me."

Christine nodded, stricken. It was bad enough to be forced to betray Erik, but it was much worse following Phelan's plan of action. She swallowed her guilt and tried to reason with herself. She was saving Raoul's life; that was what she had to keep repeating to herself. However, somewhere in the back of her mind the phrase 'the end does not justify the means' insistently nagged at her.

She walked the entire way to the lake as if in a dream. Phelan was somewhere, following her. She wondered what Erik would say or do when he found out what was afoot. She tried not to think about it.

As she reached the lake she was startled to hear her name called to her. "Christine?"

She turned around and saw Erik standing beside her. He looked tired, even in the darkness, and she noticed that he was wearing the same clothes that he had worn to the graveyard; only the clothes were much more rumpled looking.

"Erik," Christine replied. She could scarcely say his name.

"What are you doing here?" he asked hesitantly, a trace of hope in his voice.

For Raoul, Christine thought, I must do this for Raoul! I have no choice! She tried to smile as she spoke. "I came to see you, Erik. I… wanted to tell you that I never wanted you to be hurt during the Don J.T, I mean, Don Juan Triumphant performance."

"You didn't?" Erik asked. He sounded so relieved that Christine almost vomited at her own actions.

Persisting in her act, Christine continued. "Everyone loves your opera, Erik. You're famous. Why, I suspect that if you showed yourself now, no one would hate you or think that you were anything less than an eccentric composer!"

Erik smiled slightly. He shyly placed his hand against Christine's shoulder. "Do you really think so?" he breathed. His voice sounded so hopeful that Christine wanted to cry. She had never heard him sound hopeful before this day, and now she was going to ruin everything.

"I'm certain of it," she heard herself saying.

Erik really did smile this time. Before Christine knew what was happening, she found herself in Erik's embrace.

"But, Christine," he said, "would you be able to look at me… normally? I mean…" Erik's words were cut short by a low, long whistle.

"Thank you, Christine," Phelan's voice said in the darkness, "for being so cooperative."

Gasp! Christine had BETRAYED him! Heh, it all serves to make a good plot. Whateveh. Anyway, review please. I have WAY too many hits for this story, 1172 to be exact, and that's a messed up number. So PLEASE, if you read it, a little feedback would be nice. It only takes a minute! And if you don't review… I just won't update. So ha!