Chapter Summary: "The Phantom of The Opera" is – in the end – a story about love and what desperate actions we will take and to what crazed depths we will sink in our search for that elusive emotion. This story has echoed those sentiments for all the characters involved. And now we will discover just how far into those crazed depths our characters have both traveled and sunk.
CHAPTER EIGHTY ONE
"Is there not end to these corridors?" Serge wondered softly as he looked about at the interminable darkness before turning his eyes back to the map he held. "Can you hold the lantern a bit higher?" he asked.
Tallis raised the lantern she held, the circle of light about her and her companion spreading outward, chasing away a little bit more of the darkness yet still unable to do nothing more than keep it at bay. Tallis shivered as she felt the weight of the world close in on her and she turned her eyes from the surrounding darkness to look at the map that Serge was studying. It was far safer to contemplate what may lay before her, then to think upon what lay behind or what lay around. Yet Tallis felt her eyes reluctantly and forcefully drawn from the map, from the circle of light surrounding her and Serge to look at the darkness beyond. She felt the need to look into that darkness, to study it, to understand it, to try and discover what part of the man she loved lurked in those deep, all-encompassing shadows.
In the shadows that hovered so close and in the dim recesses of the tunnels that seemed so far beyond reach, Tallis could make out shapes. She was not quite sure of what she saw but they appeared to be faces and with each turn of her head, each blink of her eyes, they seemed to move. She could have sworn they moved and she could have sworn each one was a reflection of Erik. There was Erik, shock on his face at her words. Tallis turned her head and there was Erik, angry and as furious as any wild beast. Turn around again and there was Erik, quiet, withdrawn and at his most deadly. One more turn and there was Erik, smiling, safe and with the love he kept hidden deep within his soul lighting his face. Tallis kept turning her head, looking at each face, watching them move, as they slowly became one face, one man accusing her of sending him back to the endless void of eternal night. Tallis felt dizzy and she closed her eyes, reaching out for Serge to steady her suddenly shaking body.
"Fraulein?" Serge asked and received no answer. "Tallis?" he tried again. There was still no answer and Serge's voice took on a tone of worry. "What is it? What is wrong? What has happened?"
"Can you not feel it?" Tallis whispered, her eyes still closed, her fingers closing tightly about Serge's arm.
"Feel what?" Serge wondered.
"The world above," Tallis continued to whisper. "Can you not feel it closing in upon us? Can you not feel the weight pressing down upon your heart, your soul?" Tallis finally lifted her head to look about her, eyes focusing on the shapeless movements in the darkness. "Can you not see the eyes that stare from the darkness, demanding, accusing?" Tallis turned to look at Serge. "Tell me you feel it!" she begged. "Please tell me you feel it!"
Serge was silent for a moment as he studied the woman before him, the desperation in her face. "I will admit that there is an oppressive atmosphere," he said and shook his head, "but I feel nothing else." A soft, sad smile crossed his face as he patted the hand that clung to his arm. "Perhaps what you are feeling are your own anxieties and regrets," he said gently.
A single tear slipped down Tallis' cheek as she nodded her head. "Yes," she breathed. "I know that is what it is. I just did not wish to admit it – least of all to myself." She looked at the darkness again. "How did my Erik ever survive this?"
Serge smiled to himself as Tallis referred to Erik as "my Erik" and then grew more serious. "He did not," Serge reminded her as tenderly as he could. "He is a part of this darkness and it is a part of him. I do not think you will ever be able to separate him from it, even if we should succeed and pull him from this place tonight. He shall always be the ghost that haunts the shadows, the beast waiting to strike when a back is turned. Your Erik," Serge emphasized the words, "will always be The Phantom. Are you ready for that?"
Tallis drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. "Yes," she said simply and returned her eyes to the map that now dangled from one of Serge's hands. "Where do we go now.
"Well done, Fraulein," Serge thought and then out loud. "We follow this corridor and according to the map it should lead us to a set of stairs. Those stairs will then lead us to a long ramp and to the water pathways that appear to flow all about once we reach greater depths." He shook his head. "I do not know how we shall traverse those watery paths but we shall think upon that, should we get that far." Serge rolled up the map he held. "The lantern, please," he asked Tallis and took it from her hand, slipping the hand that held the lantern into his free one. "Remember to follow my steps exactly," Serge reminded her as they started off down the long corridor, guided only the memory of a map and protected only by the light of a lantern.
The corridor was wet and Tallis could feel the hem of both her cloak and her dress beginning to be weighed down by the dampness; yet, it weighed far less then the heaviness of guilt and loss that pulled at her heart. Tallis shook her head as she attempted to bury those emotions for the moment. She needed to concentrate on the goal before her and instead she focused outward, on the world around her, as she continued to try to understand that which had formed an abused, unloved child into the beast who guarded the man she loved.
"Have a care," Serge warned as he stopped and turned to look at his companion. "We have reached the stairs." He held the lantern up, moving it forward as he straightened his arm. Serge shook his head. "They are moldy from the damp and from neglect. We should hug the wall as we proceed down them and we should take one stair at a time." He turned to Tallis. "Yes?"
"Yes," Tallis agreed as she began the slow process of following Serge down the long winding stone stairs.
"I am surprised the direct pathway is still clear," Serge said softly as they rounded another corner.
"I am not," Tallis whispered in reply. Somehow she knew that Erik with all the pride that lay within him and which he refused to willingly acknowledge would never allow anything to interfere with that which he had designed. A half-smile crossed her face at the thought of Erik returning to his lair through these very corridors, down these very stairs, picking up debris as he set his world to rights. Yet the smell of mold and stagnant water that permeated through her nostrils with each breath told Tallis something she was not quite ready to face – that Erik had not been this way, that he had used another way to return to his lair. A chill ran up her spine at the thought that, perhaps, Erik had fallen victim to one of his own traps and Tallis quickly pushed that thought from her mind. There was simply no room in her heart and soul for fear or doubt. Tallis was drawn from her reverie by Serge's command.
"Take this," he said as he handed her the lantern. Once again they had stopped, a long ramp at their feet and beyond the ramp something glistening and moving in the darkness. Serge turned to Tallis, a grim look on his face. "I like this not," he said simply. "I do not believe there is going to be safe way down this ramp; it is covered with too great a layer of slime and mold. It is far too slippery for us to traverse."
Tallis looked nervously back over her shoulder. "But we do not know what traps may await us if we retrace our steps and try another passage." She turned back to Serge, a cry in her voice. "And it would waste far too much time!"
"Hold the lantern up," Serge said and looked around the circle of light. "A handrail!" he exclaimed, unable to keep the slight hint of triumph from his voice. "There is a handrail." He reached out to pull at the handrail that was attached to the damp stone wall. "It seems to be holding." Serge turned back to Tallis. "I am going to go down first," he told her. "In that way, if anything should happen, it will only be one of us who suffers the fall that may result."
"May God go with you," Tallis said as she lightly touched his arm.
"My Beatrice," Serge replied with a slight smile before placing both hands on the rail and beginning to slowly walk down the slippery ramp. He would move both hands, feeling for the sturdiness of the railing before taking a step. Serge repeated the action with each footfall that moved him further and further down the ramp. He did not realize that Tallis was holding her breath as she watched him, her heart beating in nervous unison with his own. Serge was near the bottom of the ramp, beginning to breath in relief when the rail gave way beneath his hands and he fell to the slimy stones beneath, sliding the rest of the way down the ramp.
"Serge!" Tallis screamed, raising the lantern as high as her arm would allow. "Dear God! Serge! Answer me!" Tallis waited for what seemed like forever for a friendly voice to respond to her cries; yet, in reality, it was barely a minute.
"I am fine," Serge called back. "I believe I shall be bruised in the morning but my pride is hurt worse than anything else."
"Thank God," Tallis breathed. "How do I get down?" she wondered.
"Hold to the handrail and step carefully," Serge told her. "You should be able to see my footprints. I want you to place your own feet in them. When you see the jagged edge of the rail, stop and I shall get you the rest of the way."
"As you say," Tallis answered him and drew a deep breath. She clutched the lantern more tightly in her hand and with her free one, reached out to grip the now damaged handrail. Tallis moved very slowly down the slippery ramp, placing her feet into the footprints Serge left behind before raising her eyes and carefully sliding her hand along the handrail. It took nearly five minutes for Tallis to traverse the small ramp that would – under what passed for normal conditions beneath the opera house – barely take a minute to walk down. Finally she saw the jagged, broken edge of the rail before her and stopped. A sigh of relief passed her lips as Tallis saw Serge reaching for her.
"Hand me the lamp," Serge told her as he clung to the other end of the broken rail, "and then place both hands onto the rail."
Tallis handed over the lamp and quickly grabbed onto her end of the broken rail. She could feel her frightened heart beating nearly out of her chest, the pounding of the pulse in her temple seeming to shake her entire head.
"You must give me your hand," Serge said and Tallis turned to look at him.
"I cannot," she whispered back, her knuckles turning white as they clung to the only lifeline that was preventing her from plunging into the depths of Hell. "I am afraid."
"You must," Serge encouraged her. "I shall do my best to not let you fall." He smiled in the dark and hoped Tallis could see it. "But if you do fall, we shall fall together and I will be a gentleman and allow my body to cushion your fall."
Tallis could barely see the hand that reached for her. "Promise?" she asked nervously.
"I swear on my eternal soul," Serge answered. "Take my hand!"
Tallis moved carefully down the remaining inches until she was at the very end of the broken rail. She drew a deep breath and removed one hand from her lifeline, reaching it out into the darkness. Tallis did not even realize she was not breathing until a strong hand reached from that darkness to clasp her hand. She let out a long breath.
"Now the other," Serge told her.
Tallis let go and reached out, trusting the shadowy shape in the darkness. She felt her other hand grabbed by a stronger one and felt herself safe until her feet began to slide out from under her. Tallis let out a slight screech as she began to tumble forward only to find herself suddenly caught by two very strong arms. "Oh God," she breathed as she clung to Serge, allowing him to take her arms from about his neck, placing her hands on what remained of the handrail, guiding her down to stand on flat rock.
"Now what do we do?" Serge wondered as he stared at the watery paths before him. He could hear Tallis drawing in huge gulps of stagnant air as she steadied her nerves. "Your friend, Madame Giry, said the water was not deep; we could always try wading our way through." He thought of the map at his feet, next to the lantern. "Yet we know there are traps waiting as we draw closer to where this Phantom used to live."
"Erik," Tallis corrected him gently as she untied her cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground at her feet. "Whatever else he may or may not be, his name is still Erik." She gathered her skirts in her hands, lifting them up and tucking them into the belt about her waist. Then Tallis leaned down and picked up the map, slipping it into that same belt. She drew and deep breath and stepped into the water, shuddering at the feel of the foul water about her stocking legs. Tallis turned back to Serge. "Are you coming?" she asked.
Serge grinned and sighed, allowing his own coat to drop next to Tallis' cloak before stepping into the water beside Tallis. He turned for a brief moment to pick up the lantern and turned back to Tallis. "Once again, I ask that you follow in my steps. And we must exert the utmost care as we approach his lair … home …" Serge shook his head, "the place where he lived. I am going to insist that we stop before we enter, to examine the map and make sure we are not stepping into any danger we are not expecting."
"Such a thing is not possible with Erik," Tallis muttered beneath her breath as she took Serge's hand and they began to slosh through the watery paths.
The light from the lantern that Serge held high before him and Tallis seemed to grow brighter, the further into the watery paths the two of them walked. It's light reflected off the water dripping down the walls, turning the drops into brightly glistening teardrops. The golden light also glowed off the water that swirled and lapped about their legs, unable to penetrate the dark depths, but sending glowing fingers rippling off into the surrounding blackness. Serge and Tallis continued to trail behind the light before them, each of them carefully placing feet, testing for any change in depth, any downward ramp. Yet, even as they approached Erik's lair, the water slowly began to rise, first lapping at their feet and then climbing over their ankles. When their ankles were not enough, the water begin to claim calves as both Serge and Tallis began to fear just how deep the water would become the longer they walked. Finally, as the water rose over their knees and their teeth began to chatter from the cool damp surrounding them and the fear surrounding their hearts, Serge stopped and Tallis nearly bumped into him.
"Shhh," Serge hissed at Tallis as he turned, a finger to his lips. He pointed over his shoulder at the open gate that was barely visible in the darkness. "I believe we have reached our destination," he whispered.
Tallis followed his gaze, drawing in a deep breath as she realized Serge was correct. They had finally reached Erik's lair and her heart dropped with her breast for there was no sign of life beyond that barely visible gate. No lights flickered, no shapes moved in the shadowy darkness, no voice called out to them in resignation or pain or anger.
"We must be sure of where the traps await us," Serge said and stopped, reaching out for the woman who was suddenly running past him. "Fraulein!" he called, unable to reach her arm, to draw her back to stop her. "Tallis!" he screamed.
Yet Tallis did not hear him. She had finally reached that for which she had been searching for all night and desiring longer than that. "Erik!" she called out. "It is Tallis! I have come back!" Tallis could feel the water sloshing about her legs, splashing over her clothes, slowing her down but it could not stop her. "Erik!" she called out again as she passed beneath the open gate, none of Erik's traps having been able to lay claim to her. Tallis paused for a moment to catch her breath, to scan the open cavern before her. And her heart stopped beating as she noticed a form slumped at the very edge of the water across from her. "Erik!" Tallis screamed.
"Christine!" Raoul was screaming at the same time, watching as his wife was bent backwards over the second floor balustrade, her feet coming off the flagstones, her long hair waving in the cold air of a November evening. He stumbled forward, the renewed pain in his legs causing him to fall to his knees. "Stop!" he pleaded with Xavier. A loud sound caused Raoul to cry out in anguish, his hands going over his eyes, unable to look at the sight where his wife and child had just been, unable to look at a world without them. Raoul could not believe that words spoken to torment him had suddenly – in the space of single heartbeat – passed into truth. He would never again see his wife; he would never know his child.
"Xavier!" a familiar voice called out in anger. "Stop!"
"Philippe!" Xavier snarled.
"Raoul!" Christine squeaked.
Raoul felt his hands drop to his side, his eyes opening as his knees gave out and he sat back upon his ankles. Christine – his Christine – was still alive! She was still caught up in Xavier's arms and she was still next to the balustrade but she was alive! Raoul did not even know if he breathed as he looked at the pleading eyes staring back at him. "Christine," Raoul breathed, his hands going out to her.
Christine yelped as she was twisted again toward the edge of the balustrade.
"One move," Xavier addressed Raoul, "and we both go over!"
"Let her go!" Philippe said as he took a single step into the parlor. "If you have a quarrel with me, then deal with me but let Raoul and Christine go." He stared at the two young people; their faces ashen, their eyes locked and Philippe could feel his anger grow. He turned his attention back to Xavier. "They have done nothing to you!"
"They have ruined everything!" Xavier shouted as he tightened his hold on Christine. "You and your damned family have ruined everything!"
Philippe could feel Arthur behind him and carefully moved his hand to stay Arthur's. Philippe knew that Arthur was dying to take a shot at Xavier with the pistol he held in his hand, the one they had used to shoot open the locked door. Yet as Philippe heard his brother's pregnant wife gasping for air, he knew they dared not take a chance with her life or the life that she carried. There would have to be another way and the years of friendship and service that stretched out behind them assured Philippe that Arthur knew what he was thinking. "What did we ruin?" Philippe wondered as he took another slow step into the room, knowing that Arthur remained in the doorway, the rest of his family standing somewhere at the top of the grand staircase.
Christine pulled at the arm that continued to tighten and loosen about her throat, playing with her, teasing her with life and then slipping it from her grasp again. As she drew in a deep, gasping breath, her eyes locked with the desperate eyes of the man she loved. She watched as Raoul began to slowly rise to his knees from his sitting position. She had seen that look in his eyes on another dark night. Christine remembered that pleading look, the one begging her not to do anything foolish to let him pay whatever price might be demanded. As Christine watched her husband, she knew he had already paid the price for her life far too often and a thought began to grow in the darkest recesses of her mind. She prayed her child would understand what she was about to do and as Christine looked at her husband, the man she would always love, she prayed that he, too, would understand. And remember.
Raoul could hear his brother's voice behind him but his world had focused down to the woman who was so tantalizingly close and yet so painfully far away. His heart stopped beating each time the arm about her throat tightened and the lids slipped down over her eyes, her mouth opening and closing, no sound coming forth. Raoul found himself unable to breathe until the arm about his wife's throat loosened just a little and Christine gasped, drawing in a much-needed breath. He could no longer stand the pain in her eyes and he began to rise to his knees, ready to do whatever it took to save Christine's life and the life of their child, ready to once again pay whatever price was demanded. Yet as he rose to his knees, Raoul saw the look in his wife's eyes change from one of desperation to one of quiet resolve. He had seen that look in her eyes on one other night when both of their lives hung in the balance and she had made a decision. Raoul began to shake his head back and forth; he knew how stubborn his wife could be when she thought she was correct. "Christine," he pleaded, knowing she would understand. "Please, do not …"
"Raoul," Philippe ordered his younger brother. "Not another word!"
"Wise words," Xavier said in a strangely calm voice. "I suggest you take them to heart," he finished as his free hand pressed hard into Christine's swollen abdomen, eliciting a small cry of pain from his captive.
At the sound of Christine's cry, the look on Philippe's face hardened. "Leave her alone and let her go!"
"No!" Xavier said and tightened his hold on Christine.
"Why?" Philippe asked, his tone changing, softening, as he tried another tact. "I thought we were friends! You were my best friend!" He ventured another small step into the parlor. "What did I do that so offended you that you felt you had to take it out on my brother and his wife?" Philippe stopped and held out his hands. "Help me to understand!" He had seen the look that had passed between Raoul and Christine and Philippe prayed they would do nothing foolish until he was within distance to help.
"You were my friend," Xavier said softly in a moment of sanity before the madness took hold again. "You were until Monique entered the picture. She was mine from the day I first saw her! She did not belong to you! She belonged to me! She was mine! She will always be mine!"
A look of shock passed over Philippe's face. "I could not marry her; my father forbade it! I was happy to see her with you! I knew you could make her happy when I could not! From the moment my father would not give his consent, I never thought of Monique as anything but the wife of my beloved, best friend!"
"And how easy it was to sway your fool of a father!" Xavier shot back, his words plunging the room into stillness, save for Christine's gasping breaths. "A whispered word about a lack of money, my concern for the disgrace that would befall my best friend and it was all too simple to persuade a grieving fool of a man to prevent his heir from making the greatest mistake of his life!"
Philippe paled at Xavier's words. "You did what?" he breathed.
"Did you really think I would let you have her?" Xavier wondered. "She was mine! She will always be mine!" He twisted Christine toward the balustrade again and she screamed.
"Christine!" Raoul cried out, gripping a nearby table as he rose to his feet.
"We never did anything!" Philippe said, taking two steps forward, not caring any longer as he listened to Christine and his brother both cry out. "I stopped loving her the day your betrothal was announced!"
"But she never stopped loving you!" Xavier accused. "She still has all your letters! She thought she kept them hidden from me! But I was always smarter than she was! I was smarter than all of you!"
"Then why hurt Raoul? Why hurt Christine?" Philippe asked, desperate to keep Xavier talking as he watched the unspoken language that was passing between his brother and his sister-in-law. "If you need revenge, take it out on me! Not them!"
"I did!" Xavier snarled, his eyes glowing with a madness to rival Nico's. Raoul saw it and recognized it and shivered. "Your brother was never going to return home during your lifetime! You would die thinking he was dead!" He turned his attention back to Christine, his hand gripping her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her throat. "Your child was an added bonus," he hissed in her ear, loud enough for Raoul and Philippe to hear. "Raoul would never have returned until the child was grown and you were dead, as well. Your child would never have believed Raoul was its father!" Xavier returned his attention to Philippe as he let go of Christine's hair and her head sagged forward. "Everything you had built, every one of your failed dreams that you had placed upon your brother's shoulders was crumpled! And you would spend the rest of your life in misery!"
"Why?" Philippe demanded as he ventured another small, careful step forward, now almost parallel with where Raoul stood, holding on to the table for support, eyes once again locked with Christine's. "Dear God, why?"
"Because this is mine!" Xavier spat. "This whole valley is mine! It was always meant to be mine! Just because your ancestor got here first means nothing! You hear me! Nothing! This valley is my kingdom and Monique ruled it beside me! You were supposed to stay in Paris! You were not supposed to allow your brother to marry a strumpet who danced half-naked on some stage! You were not supposed to have a future!"
Philippe was stunned. "You … you … you …" he stammered. "You did this because of some stupid family feud that goes back centuries?" Real pain passed over Philippe's pale countenance. "I thought we had put that behind us! I thought you and I were better than the rest of them! I thought…"
"You were always thinking!" Xavier interrupted him. "That was always your downfall – too much thought and not enough action!"
And Philippe knew the time for thinking had passed the minute he thought his brother had been killed. He ventured a glance at Raoul who was slowly removing his hands from the table to which he clung. Philippe's gaze followed Raoul's own and he saw something in Christine's eyes that he could not name but Philippe was certain that the young couple also knew the time for decisive action had arrived. Philippe returned to Xavier, hoping to keep the other man's attention on him. "If you want the valley, we will leave and never return," Philippe told him gently, keeping a wary eye on Raoul and Christine. "You know I was thinking of selling Chagny." Philippe ventured a half-step forward. "I will sell it you," he told Xavier. "I will sell you everything and we shall all leave for Paris and never return." And another half-step forward. "Just let Christine go and we shall leave immediately."
"No!" Xavier screamed.
"Then keep me and do with me what you like," Philippe said as he stood still. "Just let Raoul and Christine go."
"It is too late!" Xavier said softly and then grew angry once more, pulling Christine closer to his body. "It is too damn late!"
"Raoul," Christine breathed as she looked at her husband, seeing his almost imperceptible nod. Christine closed her eyes, drew as deep a breath as she could manage and leaned her head forward, her mouth opening.
Xavier let out a shriek of pain as Christine's teeth closed about his forearm, biting hard enough to draw blood. "Bitch!" he screamed as he drew his arm away from about her throat.
Those who were in that parlor on that night would remember what happened next as a vague blur of rushed images.
As Xavier removed his arm from about her throat, Christine turned sharply, breaking free from his grasp. She knew that Raoul had recognized the resolved determination in her eyes and she stumbled toward him even as he began to reach for her. Yet Christine would never make it for Xavier lashed out with his bleeding arm and caught her shoulder, twisting her sideways, her heels catching in the hem of her gown. Christine let out a scream as she began to fall backwards toward the still too near balustrade. She could hear Xavier's triumphant laugh ringing in her ears as she continued backward toward her death, unable to disentangle the heels of her shoes from the hem of her gown.
Philippe watched in horror, unable to believe the words he had just heard, unable to believe what he was seeing as Christine began to stagger toward the balustrade, her added weight giving momentum to her motion. Suddenly from the corner of his eye, Philippe saw Raoul launch himself toward his wife. Philippe did not know from where his brother had found the strength but he remembered to breathe as he saw Raoul fall at Christine's feet, grabbing her about the knees, Christine suddenly falling forward. Raoul's head bumped into her swollen belly and Philippe watched as Christine wrapped her arms about Raoul's neck and he raised his face to look up at her.
"I promised to never let you fall," Raoul said as he panted, desperately trying to catch his breath.
Christine smiled but did not have a chance to reply as Philippe screamed at them.
"Gun!" he yelled as he lunged forward.
Raoul and Christine turned their heads to look at Xavier, their eyes going wide as they saw a pistol in his hand. Raoul quickly rose to his feet and pushed his wife into the corner of the balcony, shielding her and their child with his own body.
"No one leaves here tonight!" Xavier shouted as Philippe grabbed him, the two men struggling for the gun. They struggled for what seemed like hours, Xavier fighting to end life, Philippe fighting to save it. It seemed that Xavier had gained the advantage as he bent Philippe backward over the balustrade in the same way he had recently bent Christine over the same balustrade. As Philippe turned his head to see the ground below him, he felt his hands grab onto something hard and Philippe used one last burst of energy to push himself upright, tightening his grip on the gun to which he now held.
"Give it to me!" Xavier shouted as Philippe planted his feet on the flagstones, gaining the advantage and refusing to let go of the gun.
"Never!" Philippe shouted back as he pushed Xavier away from him.
A single shot echoed in the cold night air, followed by an angry scream as Xavier went tumbling over the balcony to his death, a death he had planned for Christine and her child. Philippe looked over the balcony at the broken body of the man he thought his best friend when his attention was drawn by a pained female scream. Philippe quickly turned to look into the corner of the balcony, his face going ashen at the sight that met his eyes.
Raoul was falling to his knees, Christine desperately trying to hold onto him, as she sunk to her own knees. "No, no, no," she was crying as Raoul coughed, each cough bringing blood to his lips. Raoul could not stay on his knees and sunk to the flagstones, his eyes closing. Christine sat back on her ankles, cradling her husband in her arms. "Raoul!" she screamed.
And in another darkened corner of France, another woman was cradling the man she loved in her arms. He was cold to the touch and his eyes were also closed. Another man stood nearby and, like Philippe, he was unable to do anything other than watch.
"Erik!" Tallis screamed.