Their Agreement - Chapter 11
Studying became harder for her. Her mind was in a daze while she sat listening to the lecturer, like a mindless robot. Today's class was about Dr Frankenstein and his loathsome monster. It certainly wasn't her favourite story; it was too cruel for her tastes, but she knew she'd prefer it than the alternative. Romeo and Juliet. Romantic mush, her mind snarked.
She was good at it. English. She was good at it, no in fact, she excelled in it. It was what made her confident and safe; assured in her ability to note-take and analyse. Familiar, perfectly normal English. But her eyes darted to the shadows in the corners, by the fluttering drapes of the windows and the drafts that raised goose-bumps on her arms. It wasn't that she was looking for the shadow with luminescent eyes.
It was because her time had run out. Christine had tried all she could think of to rescue Mama Valerious from the sure mountain of debt, even as going so far to the police with it. As anticipated, she was sent away with a curt dismissal and an even more churlish goodbye. She hadn't even got through half her story when the pot-bellied man had waggled a fat finger in her face and all but growled that there 'ain't nothing we can do about that Missy, if you need lawyer, you might need to go to a law office, doll'. Heat had crept up her neck in rage. Christine couldn't win a lawsuit against them, nor could she afford even a phone call for a lawyer, let alone sue the opposing company. Christine had been prepared to beg. Even if it would have wounded her pride, she would have sacrificed it if it had meant poor Mama Valerious would have gotten the help she needed.
She had come out with nothing but an empty heart and streaming tears. She had all but made it to her car when the stress had been too much to handle. Soon her car was filled with the sound of her sobs and inwardly, she cursed the day she had ever met that beastly man from the restaurant. Why couldn't he have just left her and her loved ones alone?
It was torture to complete her shift the next day at the bookstore, swallowing the bitterness that throbbed through her, she met with the sight of the sorrowful owner. There was something so fragile about her now.
"I'm sorry Mama, I haven't been able to find a way out of this," her words trembled in the musty air, the scent of books once comforting. Yet the stacks of novels waiting to be read only made her feel more miserable now.
Christine's heart stopped when she had to crane to meet the eyes of the hunching Mama Valerious. She looked twenty years older; more wrinkles gathered with the presence of weariness in her usually cheery expression, the crookedness of her spine and the stiffness that belayed how much, or how little, she had slept. Christine wanted to weep at the sight, wrap her arms around the old woman to give her back the joviality she once expressed. Never had she seen the mother so tied to sombre reality. Mama V had always, ever since she had met her, been such a ray of sunshine. Now she seemed no more than a darkened cloud, a wilted flower. A mad sense of anger returned and tugged at her heart, cursing that man taking it, her very own mother figure, away. He was the one to blame.
"It's alright dearie," a frail hand came to clasp hers, "I know you love this place as much as I do,"
She bit the inside of her lip to stop it from trembling, "Yeah, that's very true. It's a little slice of heaven, don't you think?"
There was something so frail in their humour.
A faded smile appeared on Mama Valerious' lips, "You young ones never value literature, but you, you're an old soul just like me," this was complimented with a little shake of her head. Christine felt her insides stiffen when Mama Valerious wobbled for just a bit too long, before instinctively pushing the thought away.
I am just being paranoid.
Christine gave her a faint smile before changing the topic slightly, "I'll drop off your groceries today, if that's alright with you. How's Edgar?" Christine carefully followed the woman to the back of the shop, ready to spring into action the moment she saw a misstep, to bring out the cleaning supplies. Her arms stopped the older woman from burdening herself, slightly unnerved when once more, Mama Valerious swayed slightly.
Mama Valerious is just exhausted. She's going to be alright.
"Oh he's a good boy, lazy, but good. And yes, that would be lovely Christine. Is there any chance of you wanting to sample my new recipe? I want to be prepared when winter comes an' I can bake my grandkids some goodies to take home," there was a light in her eye that was somewhat restored at the mention of her loved ones. Christine felt the band of metal around her lungs ease slightly.
"Of course Mama, I could think of nothing better," she said, not having to fake the smile that pulled her lips into a grin.
That had been on the Wednesday. Her time was up – the card had stated it did not take calls on the weekend - to her frustration now. The card with the printed business number looked like it had been taken from another time. It was not an ordinary business card. Christine's gut twisted just looking at it. It reeked of him. That dissonance against the modern world, with its odd, curving black script and parchment-tinted paper, edged with a foreboding ebony rim. It starkly contrasted against all the other business cards she had seen, almost exuberantly eccentric, as if passively declaring of whom exactly it belonged to.
It was driving her mad.
For a moment, she tried convincing herself that it was ordinary. That some lousy company really did want Mama Valerious' belongings, that she truly be in no position at all to bargain for her loved one's future.
No, she had to try. To redeem herself for her foolishness. Even while that man's offer still sounded absurd, just for mere singing lessons, it had all but destroyed poor Mama Valerious' life. And it was her fault! He had warned her. But how could she have believed him? That this crazy masked man would go to this extent to capture her voice.
This wasn't ordinary. But the police didn't want to know. She didn't have anyone to run to now; Raoul would never understand, he was too normal, too logical, too sensible.
Christine flipped the card over in her fingers, staring at the number in it's neat ink, while carefully softening the folds of it the best she could.
Could she swallow her pride?
Hissing through her teeth, she set the despicable card down on the worktop and refused to look at it. She still had time. Until midnight. Did she really want to leave it that late? No. Hell no, but she refused, refused to give in. But what if it really was an actual company?
Then she would search the internet until her time ran out.
Her alarm went off at ten to midnight and she sat back, trying to not allow her frustration to show. A dozen of useless tabs on the computer mocked her, a hot chocolate sitting despondently on the coffee table and the amber light from the lamp seemed to waver unsteadily.
Christine felt the tug of sleep and she pushed it away by taking a sip of her drink, nearly spitting it back out at it's lack of heat. Still, she drank it, swallowing down the cold draught, needing something to wet her mouth before the call was made.
Christine dragged herself to the kitchen, spotting the gleaming card waiting for her touch. Loathing the number, her fingers reluctantly typed it digit by digit into her phone. She checked it. Once. Twice.
Christine's fingers seemed to hover above the call button, her heart thumping like a deadly drum in her chest.
"Do it, Christine. Mama depends on you," she whispered and grasping at her last residues of strength, she pressed the call button and waited for her impending doom.
The device buzzed while it connected.
Burh burh.
The steps of her padded slippers echoing on the kitchen's tiles, pacing like a caged tiger.
Burh burh.
The drip, drip, drip of the droplets splashing in the sink.
Burh Burh.
The tick tock of the clock.
Burh burh.
Her own breathing humming in the air.
Burh bur-
"Hello, this is Rosie from Rosebud Reclaiming Services, can I help you?" a female voice chirped.
Christine jolted out of her reverie at the voice and replied, (more like spluttered), "This is Christine Daae, I think that –"
"Christine Daae? Oh, let me just put you on hold, he's been expecting you,"
Her reply was promptly cut off. Unable to halt the tightening of her intestines, she gripped the phone and felt the fear crawl into her heart. Her pacing doubled in speed as she heard Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata start to play. It was him.
He was 'expecting' her. Her breathing came fast and rapid. At last, the muffled music stopped. Raising the phone to her ear once more, she was greeted by that unearthly beautiful voice.
"Ah, Mademoiselle Daae, how lovely it is to hear from you," his voice was all warmth. Sickening warmth that made her stomach curdle. She was stunned a moment by the feeling of resentment that shuddered through her.
There was a pause and then his voice came again, "Are you well? It is rather late for a call, I must admit,"
"Cut the crap," she growled, "You know exactly why I called,"
He chuckled and it was rich, deep like the darkest velvet. Her mind was almost spun into a trance, straining to record that perfection into her memory.
"You wish to talk about my offer?" he seemed to muse thoughtfully, as if he was brushing off a spec of lint from his suit when he replied. It took all of her will not to reach into the phone and try and strangle the man.
Never had she wished such harm towards someone. The thought was vaguely frightening.
"How about you leave my friends alone?" she all but snarled.
The man clicked his tongue in reprimand, "I am afraid that specific offer is off the tables now, had you called this morning I would have been more lenient." he paused, darkness dripping from his voice, "I will be taking much more than your voice, my dear,"
Her mouth dropped open, body stumbling back into the counter top behind her as the implications ran through her head, "You can't-"
"Now let me make this perfectly clear Miss Daae," he snapped, silencing her with ease, "This will be a professional relationship," he growled those words, "I am not so much of a monster than you believe me to be. No, I have no desire for you other than that voice of yours to sound like a well-tuned instrument rather than a poor excuse of one,"
His comment stung, but she refused to let it show. However, he continued without pause, without rest, "But you see, you have shown you are untrustworthy and rebellious, leaving it until the very last minute to admit your failure. In a student that will never be acceptable. The consequences I mentioned is not something you will face, it is your dear Mrs. Valerious,"
Her lip trembled as one hand gripped the worktop, "If you do anything to her I will-"
"Thank me," he interrupted in his silky voice, "Because I have taken the liberty of upgrading her accommodation and health care. Your beloved has been struggling recently, hasn't she? Don't deny that just last Wednesday she almost fell at her home had you not caught her arm," his voice dropped into lip-curling sneer, "And I will be able to personally oversee her care. Isn't that wonderful? She will be ever so happy in her new retirement home, she has already asked to see you, asked to see her benefactor. And I will remain as that unless you make any attempt to run. That includes to the police and any others,"
The hate in his voice was enough to make her blood run cold, "And what am I meant to say to everyone? That I stumbled upon an insane man who is willing to pay for my singing education and also my dear friend's health care?" her voice asked sardonically.
He did not rise to her bait, instead sounding rather pleased, "Whatever you wish, my dear. And correction: I will be teaching you, make no mistake, your voice belongs to me now," the tone of his voice sent a violent shudder through her.
"And what is my strangely benevolent benefactor's name?" she hissed.
"Oh, do excuse my terrible manners," he gave a wicked chuckle, "I've never before introduced myself to another," Christine blinked in confusion at the rare truthfulness of his tone as he carried on, "My name is Erik…Erik Destler. Pleased to make your acquaintance. You will be unneeded at your place at work, so I suggest you send in your resignation at the earliest opportunity," the monster – Erik – added menacingly.
Christine gaped, "You have no right to tell me what I can or can't do. I chose not to quit thank you very much," the worktop's edge dug painfully into her fingers.
Erik scoffed, "And exactly what makes you think that I will let you forget our little arrangement? The old woman stays under my care, or I promise that within a night, all of her liberties will be taken away. Imagine, my dear, what my power could do if I truly wished to make her suffer, do let me know if you would like to see her in prison or the darkest hole I could find," he drawled.
Christine could not let the devastation ravage her features, flashing images of a cold cell and mouldy bread, dank corners and the wails of others. Isolated dreary walls and the smell of rot permeating every pore.
"She would spend the rest of her days in a cold uncaring–"
"Stop!" her voice rang, oddly causing silence on the other end of the phone. Her heart rattled in her chest. Biting her trembling bottom lip so hard she knew there would be blood, she tried in vain to recover the from the emotion that wracked her voice. Her body rocked strangely for a moment, pain squeezing her heart.
He was waiting like a gleeful black spider on the other end, his chilling silence whispering for her to speak.
To offer herself like a sacrifice on his altar, one that was already dripping from spilt blood.
Another moment slipped by and the first searing pain of split skin beaded on the inside of her lip.
She swallowed a whimper, the harsh white tiles of the kitchen glaring at her, harshly contrasting to the heated emotion coursing through her body. Spectators, that's all they were, laughing at her indecision. No, it wasn't that. She was stalling, hoping for another miracle. That someone would save her.
But no one was there.
No one to protect her from the monster to claim her voice.
To pretend that this was a good deed, that he was truly helping her. He was insane and they both knew it.
Where was father now? Where was her childhood friend, who'd save her from the terrible dragon, as it swept her into his claws and carried her to his tower? Whose eyes glared a beady yellow and scales a horrific red and would make her a slave to its insatiable whims.
What could she do, but pray and hope it would not burn the rest of her kingdom? That she would hope to one day fly from his prison of night and into the dawn with her prince.
But for now, there was no hope.
How could she be selfish and let the people that needed her be surrounded in his wrathful flames?
Her knees sank to the cold linoleum floor, "I will sing for you," were the words uttered to the tiles below her.
There was a stony silence.
Fear clawed it's way through her once more, terrified of the hatchet that was sure to come, when his voice sighed melodiously into her ear, "Oh Christine,"
The caress was nothing other than spine tingling and a violent shudder overtook her senses.
God, when he used his voice like that, he seemed hardly a demon at all.
"I will send you the terms shortly, it is far too late for you to be up a moment longer," his voice was as unyielding as granite.
A moment of silence passed as she waited for what else he was to say, unsure of if he had finished.
You should sleep now," he said softly, almost kindly. He seemed to linger for a moment before there was a click and the phantom voice was gone.
At least, gone for now.
It was safe to say that what little sleep she did gain that night wasn't pleasant.
Pale streams of light filtered through the blinds. The sun had risen and with it, so did she. Numbness tingled through her veins, today her heart was merely a muscle rather than the central hub of feeling. Could one experience exhaustion, utter weariness to this extreme?
Christine had half a mind to curl up in the covers and refuse to move until the next decade dawned. Pretend she hadn't made a deal with a monster, the devil that seemed to plague her life. An odd paranoia consumed her and she found herself leaving the blinds closed, unable to bear the thought of someone peering in through the slits.
Christine shuddered at the thought of those cruel almost garish amber eyes. Steph had been right all along – how she wished she'd never met the man. Perhaps he had the same effect on all people, she already noticed the slight bags under her eyes from last night's shuteye, unnervingly similar to the way Steph had been all those weeks ago. Her fingers rubbed at the reflection hopefully, yet the appearance of the tired girl before her didn't change.
Dread curled in her gut.
That morning trudged past; even the assignments to complete seemed more gruelling than usual. Neither did she have the energy to change from her PJ's, which in consequence only donned a dressing gown (that had delicate pink hearts sown onto white fake fur), to keep the chill away.
Christine didn't even realise what time it was until the buzzer jolted her from her reverie. Stumbling to the door, she pressed the speaker button.
"Miss Daae, Mr Raoul de Changy is here to see you," Norman reported politely, his English accent oddly suitable.
Christine blinked.
Raoul?
It was then the moment at the café came back to her, when she brought the papers to him on Tuesday. She had agreed to meet him on Saturday!
"Norman, what day was is it?" she asked blearily.
"It is a Saturday Ma'am," he answered.
Drat. Oh, how could she have forgotten? She was usually on top of arrangements!
"Are you expecting Mr de Changy?" he inquired.
Her head jerked, "Oh, yes I am. Sorry. Just got a bit muddled," she added a laugh, "Do send him up, thank you. Can you tell him I'm a bit delayed please?"
"Certainly, Ma'am," she could see his eyes twinkling in amusement. She had always gotten on well with Norman; it had helped she had baked him a cake for his birthday and a batch of cookies to welcome him when he first started working there. He always reminded her of the reserved uncle, parent-like figure, she never had (at least after her father's death). Not that she would ever say that out loud, of course.
It was a silent appreciation.
She was in the middle of shrugging on a cardigan when there was a light rap at the door. Kicking the pj's under the bed, she hurried to the front room.
"Christine, how are you?" Raoul's cheerful voice was a blessing to her ears.
She looked up at him, a dashing form in a simple navy polo shirt and jeans. A smile formed on her features, "Come in, I'm sorry I totally forgot about today," she apologised, grabbing a hair tie lying helpfully on the table to control her wild curls back with.
"It's alright," he said, coming into her home, only to see her leftover bowl of cereal and packet of salted peanuts on the table as well, "You look as if you've been busy," he raised an eyebrow at her assignment. Highlighters were sprawled on the table and scrawling notes annotated the worksheet.
She gave a mock-groan, "Don't talk to me about that, I'm meant to be thinking happy thoughts,"
His laugh was somehow handsome too, "Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing – especially not homework, right?" Raoul amended the story-line teasingly.
She gave a giggle, "You got that right, pirate boy,"
Raoul's lips twitched into his charming grin, "I was the best pirate boy in all the seven seas, wasn't I?"
"Oh yes, the best," she nodded seriously, before deadpanning, "The only pirate boy in the seven seas to steal hair ribbons from the fair maiden,"
Raoul groaned, "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"
Christine cackled in glee, "Nope! You'll never ever be erased from my memory,"
Raoul gave her a lopsided grin from across the table, "You know, I don't mind, as long as I stay in your memory," his words fell softly. His hands rested on the back of the chair. When his gaze met hers, a gentle warmth sprung from her.
"Just let me grab my bag and I'll be set," she started abruptly and the startled look in his eyes hurt more than it should have. Turning away, she curled a lip at herself, they were only friends.
Though her heart clenched at the thought.
"So, where are we going?" she asked, following Raoul out of her apartment and shrugging the handle over her shoulder.
He managed a mysterious grin and pulled her along, hand clasping hers, "Not to ruin the surprise, but I was thinking a quiet walk around the park and then somewhere nice to eat," he paused and looked back at her questioningly, "That sound good?"
She smiled softly, rather endeared by the prospect, "That sounds…lovely. I can't think of the last time I spent quality time outside of my apartment,"
Or even be asked to go somewhere by someone of the opposite sex, she added silently.
Raoul turned to her, a similar smile playing on his lips, "I love the outdoors too, just as I did back then. Though my job doesn't really account for it, I have to play ice hockey or tennis at least once a week. Otherwise I'll go stir crazy,"
She shook her head, fighting the urge to smile, "And we can't have that, now can we?"
"Nope," he agreed cheerfully, "Phil was almost threatening to kick me out of the house until I raised the issue with him. The good thing about being a co-boss of your own company is that you can set your own hours," he gave a snicker.
She giggled too, before giving a sigh, "I can't wait until I graduate," thinking of the long thesis ahead.
"Oh, yes, I remember that I was excited to graduate too, even before the end of the two years," Raoul affirmed lightly, before gazing her with his soft sapphire eyes, "So what happened with Mrs Valerious?"
She glanced away, using her ability to open the gates to the park to buy time to answer. Raoul nodded his thanks as he passed, before his calm serene eyes were upon her again.
"Did she have to move, then?" he prompted, electing to reclaim her hand gently once more.
Her eyes travelled with the gravel underfoot, "She's keeping everything,"
"That's wonderful!" he exclaimed heartily, just like the boy she once knew, "How did that happen? Did those losers give up?"
She shrugged, looking up only to glance to the left and right, as if the amber-eyed maniac would step out from the bushes at the mere topic, "Something like that," she mumbled.
"If that's not the cause of celebration, I don't know what is," he nudged her gently, "You wanna talk about it? You're not as happy as I would have imagined, given the situation, Little Lotte,"
"It's alright," she closed the subject with a nod to a bench which was reclining softly under the trees, yet with the sun gliding over it, snatching it away from the grasp of the shadows.
He sat down beside her, arm splaying casually on the back of the bench. She was almost inclined to rest her head on it, had she been on closer terms with him. This was the third time they'd met since their happy reunion at the party, which she was counting as a stroke of fate. She found herself wondering about Raoul's interest, was he here as a friend – or had something more amorous in mind? He was kind, handsome and had that sort of smile that made many reciprocate. He was a natural born extravert, yet was able to appreciate the finer things in life; family, friends and simple pleasures as a walk in the park. Sometimes, with her, she felt that her shyness rubbed off on him. His eyes would often become thoughtful and contemplative – as if she had posed a fantastical scenario he was mulling over. However, he could get so happy sometimes, excited and energetic. He burned off that energy well in sports, but the nature of his work challenged his mind that was attuned to the sciences and mathematical aspect that was his job. Not to mention that he was a good organiser. He was well formed for his occupation, even if it lacked the physical stimulation he preferred. He would have done well at basketball had he been taller, as he had ruefully explained. He had taken to racket sports and hockey better, for his hand-eye co-ordination was almost flawless.
And he was warm. As warm as summer (ironically that was when his birthday was – on the summer equinox). She never had to hide from him, who she was. There was an acceptance that made one at ease.
She sighed, resting her head just under the width of his arm and unfolded her arms from her chest, "Gosh, I've needed this,"
Raoul's head turned, the sunlight just catching his golden strands, eyes crinkling in concern, "Maybe you need a holiday?"
A break sounded wonderful, "It's not going to happen Raoul,"
He frowned, bottom lip sticking out like a thinking child, "Well maybe not a holiday, but we could go to a concert together? I heard that there's a music festival nearby happening next weekend," his eyes lit up at the possibility, "You know it's only over in the next city. A two-hour drive at most," at this his whole body turned, knees pointing to her, "We could get up early, I could drive us. We'd arrive by eight and could spend the day there, to come back before dark. There's a whole range of music acts playing. Phil mentioned it earlier; he actually was going to go with his current date, but a meeting came up. There's two tickets just waiting for us," he grinned and at her stunned silence, he blinked from his bubble of enthusiasm, "What do you think?"
Christine sat up, picking at the hem of her sleeve. Something was telling her that to agree was a bad idea, that there was something she was overlooking, but she shoved it away.
No more, she vowed, no more will I doubt doing things - things that will make me happy.
At last, her eyes raised to Raoul's and a sense of peace washed over her at the sereneness of them. The decision was done and made.
"I would be honoured to," she replied, putting her hand in his and feeling the sunlight warm her face.
OH DEAR HOLY PHANTOM! I am sOOOooOOOO sorry I haven't returned sooner, I haven't had time to write until this evening! THREE WEEKS I HAVE TOILED AWAY AT MY STUDIES, UNABLE TO EVEN WRITE A SINGLE WORD.
Essentially I have been a very busy person – school work sucks when a ton of it is dropped onto you like a two tonne truck (oooo alliteration) and you're a wee innocent unsuspecting ant – thus my inability to write as much as I would dearly love to.
I might have to shorten chapters more, unless its long irregular updates or shorter more regular updates you prefer – honestly school sucks for writers. Not to mention the added time on computers and corona adaptations so my hands have been straining even more than usual :(
Even so, I would sacrifice my sleep to bring ye all pleasure from my mind onto electronical screen for you all to read…
I hope to not overwhelm you in the past scenarios, but some must be revealed in order to explain the present!
Anyone excited for the music festival – how will that go down with Erik? Myself is not sure on that. I know Christine is excited, Raoul told me he wanted to do something romantic and to further their relationship and as their oh so kind transcriber, I accepted. Hehe they just don't know the catch yet. Don't tell them ok? I want to surprise them.
Anyone find Erik ridiculously smug in this? He honestly loves winning, well with most people. Christine sorta throws a spanner in the works. He doesn't much show it though. We can't have Erik showing a tad bit of restraint, can we?
Did people like the resolution to Mama Valerious' care – Erik truly is being a dear, isn't he?
The thing that may be annoying is Christine's character – but don't worry, remember that this is the start of her character development. There's a lot more to come. ;)
A major thank you to my reviewers, Chevesic, TheTenthMuseSappho , Laurenvbellado, Qtkittee. You have all been so fantastic and supportive it's the highlight and motivation to continue, thank you all for being such great sports and dealing with my absence for so long! You guys rock!
I gotta catch up on sleep now, and I'll endeavour to update as soon as possible – please let me know if you prefer long awaited chunky updates or shorter quicker updates – that'd be much appreciated, thank you so much!
Merci (and hope you are all safe and well),
Enigma
P.s please excuse any errors, I was in a hurry to upload for you all!