Chapter Forty Eight: The Masked Ball
"We all must be on our guard," Holmes said once we were bouncing along in a four wheeler. "Should anything unfortunate occur, Watson and I will make the first move. Mackenzie, I want you and Becky to remain out of the danger as long as possible, do I make myself clear?"
I cocked a skeptical eyebrow at Holmes. "And let you have all the fun? Are you kidding me?"
"Mackenzie, this is not some game," the detective said with some asperity. "If anything is to happen tonight there is a very real possibility of lives being lost. I do not want you, or your friend," he added hastily, "in danger. You are to stay away, that is an order."
"Hey Holmes, what if something happens to you? You think I could live with myself knowing I did nothing to possibly save you?"
"If I assure you that I will be fine, will you obey my instructions?"
I shook my head and leaned close to his ear so only he could hear me. "You're too important to me for me to take your word. I want to be by your side in both times of peace and times of danger, I thought I made that perfectly clear."
Holmes opened his mouth to argue back when the cab driver announced that we arrived at our destination.
Holmes rose and opened the door to allow us to alight from the cab. With a grin on my face I back flipped out of it and nearly landed on Holmes. He shook his head and linked his arm with me and together we entered the Paris Opera House.
I was momentarily speechless as we entered the Grand Foyer. Various sights and sounds assaulted my senses; color was every where, from the darkest black to the brightest white and all colors in between. Music filled the building and the dance floor seemed alive as various bodies moved together gracefully in various waltzes. Champagne was running freely and glasses were pressed into our hands before we completely entered the building.
"Good Lord, I've never seen such a sight," I murmured.
"It is certainly impressive," Holmes replied, his eyes scanning thousands of faces in the crowd.
A young, almost completely naked woman, dressed as a nymph drunkenly approached Holmes. "Bon soir Monsieur. Would you care to dance?"
Holmes shook his head and we pushed past the woman without a word to her. I do not doubt that she instantly forgot about Holmes and went in search of another male companion.
"Well some people are forward," I said with a laugh.
"Here," Holmes said handing me his filled champagne glass, "I need to check the time." With his now free hand he reached into the pocket of his priest's garb and removed his pocket watch. "It is only eight o'clock. We have several hours until Mademoiselle Daaé's song and her engagement announcement."
I handed him back his glass. "What do you propose to do until then?"
"Enjoy ourselves as much as we can," he replied. He nervously looked around and smiled when he saw Watson and Becky approach us. "You will excuse me for a moment Mackenzie?"
"Sure Holmes," I replied with a smile.
"Watson, I must speak with you," he said leaving my side and finding his friend.
"Your date seems to be pretty nervous about something," Becky said, joining me beside the grand staircase. She had a stupid grin on her face, the reason for it I had no idea.
"He's probably just tense about Christine's announcement. After all we know Erik is a vengeful man and will do anything to keep Christine with him."
"Good theory Mac," Becky said with a smile. "But somehow I think you're wrong."
"Huh? What else could possibly make Holmes tense? Pray enlighten me."
Becky grinned slyly. "That is his job, not mine. But I can say that it involves you. And although the end result will hurt me, I will attempt to be happy for ya."
Her words intrigued me, but I gave them no weight. My best friend had a tendency to read into things, or blatantly twist facts to make them have a romantic spin. "You are making no sense whatsoever. Did you drink that glass of champagne already mon amie? Did it go to your head?"
She laughed and punched me lightly on the arm. "You'll see what I mean soon enough. Ah, your prince charming is making his way over here. Au revoir Mac," Becky said disappearing from my side.
I shook me head and took a sip of the amber liquid in my glass. "She is insane," I whispered to myself. "Hey Holmes," I said when he reached me.
"Mackenzie," he said with a curt nod of his head. His eyes were bright with anticipation and his hands, which are usually rock steady, shook almost imperceptibly. He bowed slightly. "Would you care to dance?"
I was totally shocked by his request and I felt a blush rising to my cheeks. I shook my head wordlessly.
He seemed hurt. "I did not mean to offend--"
"No," I whispered, almost afraid to admit to something I could not do. "It's not you. It's just…well I can't dance."
It took a moment for my words to register but when they did he began to laugh, loud honest guffaws.
"Well you don't have to make fun of me!" I spat angrily. "It's not my fault! I was always more into sports then dancing."
He shook his head and smiled. "No, I did not mean to laugh at you," he said, attempting to catch his breath, "but I did not expect that. Come," he took my hand in his. "I will teach you."
"All right," I said with more confidence then I felt. I hated to make a spectacle of myself and knew that was going to happen. However, I nervously allowed him to lead me onto the dance floor.
Holmes
My nerves were all on edge as I led Mackenzie onto the dance floor. I had taken Watson's advice, although why I will never know.
'Holmes, dance with her, establish a romantic mood,' he said to me as I drank a glass of champagne to fortify myself. 'While you are dancing, whisper in her ear and say that you need to speak with her. Then take her aside and simply ask.'
Take her aside and simply ask. That is much easier said then done. I do not know how to speak romantically; indeed I do not even know what I am to say. Do I simply ask her as if I was asking a question to one of my clients? 'Mackenzie, would you consider becoming my wife?' No, that seems to cold, but then again that is my nature! Logic without emotion that is what has kept me strong all these years.
Why the devil did I allow her to enter my heart? Why did Watson force me to admit to my feelings? I was surviving and suddenly…
"Holmes, are you all right?"
Mackenzie's voice cut into my thoughts. "Yes why?" I was chagrined to hear my sharp reply.
"Well, we've been standing here for a few minutes--"
"Yes, right. Well," I took a deep steadying breath. "Put your left hand in my right." I was praying I remembered something from the lessons Mycroft forced me to take as a youth. I felt her hand slip into mine and her other resting comfortably on my shoulder. Although a good foot shorter then I, her eyes gazed into mine. I felt my heart beat quickly as I returned her stare. Sherlock when dancing you must put your hand around the woman's waist. Mycroft's voice entered my mind, reminding me what I had to do. Timidly, I put my hand around her middle. "Now, attempt to follow me. One," I stepped forwards, my heart pounding like a drum in my ears. "Two," step left. "Three," step to the right. "Four," step backwards. Very good Sherlock. Now again. "Do you understand what you must do?"
She nodded and held me closer. I continued to count the beat, quickening my voice as the music increased in tempo. Thankfully, she was a fast learner and eventually I was able to cease counting all together and just enjoy the strangely comforting feeling of her weight in my arms.
Becky
Watson and I (well I) watched in amusement as Mac and Holmes robotically moved (danced) around the floor. Mac, from time to time, broke eye contact with her prince charming and watched her feet, making her that she was following his lead perfectly. Holmes on the other hand, sometimes stared over Mac's head and watched the people around them, looking for God knows what.
"Becky, why are you laughing?" Watson asked as I unsuccessfully attempted to turn a laugh into a cough.
I grinned. "Well Doc Watson, look at them! Your friend wants to propose to my friend, but they both look too nervous to even be romantically involved! Look at Mac! I swear she is saying 'oh now I have to look at my feet because he's too sexy to stare at!'"
Watson even laughed at my observation. "Yes, I suppose you are right. I do not believe I have ever seen Holmes more nervous then he appears at the moment."
I chuckled and an idea grabbed me. "Watson, you wanna dance?"
"Excuse me?"
"Look, aren't you curious as to what Holmes is going to say to Mac? Let's go on the dance floor and get close enough to them so we can hear what they are saying."
"But that would not be proper," Watson protested feebly.
"Fuck propriety! This could be really entertaining!"
Watson looked from me to the dancing couple and back again. Then with a wicked smile, he offered me his arm, which I took and we started dancing and eavesdropping.
I could see Holmes lean closer to Mac and I almost pulled Watson so we were closer. When we could finally hear some of what they were saying we slowed down our dance steps.
"Mackenzie," it was the detective.
"Yeah Holmes?"
Come on Holmesy, pop the question already!
He hesitated for a few seconds and stared into space. "Did you see Mademoiselle Daaé anywhere?"
What the hell are you stupid or something! Jesus Christ, you want to ask the girl to marry you! Don't start asking about another woman!
Mac shook her head in the negative. "No, why?"
"I was just curious," he replied. "Are you curious as to what she is going to say when she announces her engagement?"
Are you beating around the bush and trying to ask her to marry you? You are fucked up man; you do realize that I hope. Just get down on your knees, tell her how much you love her and slip the ring on her finger. It is NOT rocket science.
Mac shrugged. "She'll probably say how much she loves Raoul, which will infuriate Erik beyond belief."
Oh hell Mac, you're no better! Yes, why don't you discuss another guy's emotions! Christ!
I turned to Watson. "You know Doc Watson, I am half tempted to go over there and propose to Mac for Holmes. They are certainly not the most romantic people in the world."
Watson laughed softly. "I must agree with you Becky."
"Let's watch and listen, maybe this will get more interesting."
Mac
Sherlock Holmes seemed distracted. I could tell that something other then the case was on his mind.
"All right Holmes," I said, "tell me what is on your mind. Don't you dare tell me Christine Daaé and Erik because I know for fact that they are far from your thoughts."
The detective closed his eyes for a moment and then leaned close to me, putting his lips to my ear. "I need to speak to you in private. There is something I must ask you."
I was a little unnerved by his uncertainty. "Sure Holmes," I tried to ignore the signals his whispering was sending to the remainder of my body. "Ask away."
"Not now or rather not here by everyone. I observe Becky and Watson lingering close by us."
I looked over Holmes's shoulder and laughed when I saw Becky attempting to catch the words Holmes was saying. I stuck my tongue out at her in a juvenile fashion and noticed, with some amusement that she blushed when she realized she was caught.
"Where can we go to talk?"
Holmes scanned the foyer for a second and then smiled slightly. "Come with me," he said removing his hand from my waist.
I followed him off the dance floor and up the grand stair case until we entered the nearly empty auditorium. He continued walking until reached a deserted opera box. There, he pushed back the curtain and motioned for me to enter.
I sat on one of the plush seats and stared down at the empty stage below while Holmes nervously paced the small space we were occupying. Finally, when he turned to me, his face was an unreadable mask.
"Mackenzie," his voice was soft and gentle. "I…I know I have put you through a great deal these past few months," he swallowed and seemed unsure of how to continue.
"Hey, it's all right. I've put you through hell too."
Stubbornly, he shook his head. "No, that is not what I am attempting to say. You have been a puzzle to me Mackenzie, a strange enigmatic personality. I-I have grown extremely fond of you, over the time we've known each other."
"That's so sweet Holmes," I said with a smile.
"Please do not interrupt me!" He barked. "No, I didn't mean that. I just have something to say, rather ask."
"Holmes, please, this attempt at flattery does not suit you. You usually cut right to the chase. So do that now. Just come right out and say whatever is on your mind. You have my full attention."
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Mackenzie, what I have been attempting to ask you on numerous occasions, is would you ever consider becoming my--"
"Monsieur Holmes, there you are!" Raoul de Chagny entered the box, interrupting Holmes's speech. "I was searching everywhere for you."
"Damn you de Chagny!" Holmes said angrily. "Can you not see I am busy?"
"I am sorry, but Christine is almost ready to make her speech," the viscount was fairly bursting with anticipation.
With an angry sigh Holmes stared at Raoul. "So she is making your engagement public then?"
The viscount nodded. "Oui Monsieur."
"And then she is going to sing?"
"Oui."
"What is she going to sing Monsieur?"
Raoul shrugged. "I do not know much about music, Monsieur. Indeed, occasionally opera hurts my ears. But I do think she is singing the Jewel Song from Faust."
"Oh the stage?"
"Oui Monsieur."
Suddenly Holmes's face hardened and his eyes grew cold. "Damn! I am a blundering fool! Come along Mackenzie, or we will be too late to prevent a tragedy!"
"Holmes what are you talking about?"
"The chandelier! Mon Dieu! Trapdoors Mackenzie! The chandelier, he was able to use trapdoors and passage ways to arrange for it to fall at precisely the moment he needed it to! Box Five! The hollow column! How the devil was I so blind?"
"Holmes!" I attempted to speak to him but he was beyond hearing.
"Mackenzie, you must listen to me," he said grasping my shoulders tightly. There was intensity in his eyes like I have never before seen. "Go downstairs and find Watson. Instruct him to go with you backstage."
"Wait, where will you be?"
"In Box Five. Now listen to me. Should anything unfortunate occur--"
"I'm staying with you. The fop can find Watson!"
Holmes shook his head. "This is no time to argue! Should something unfortunate occur, anything out of the ordinary, I want you and Watson to go down to the fifth cellar. You will cross the lake and you will be at Erik's lair. You do remember how to get there, correct?"
I nodded. "Yes but--"
"You must take extreme caution. Erik will know we are on the move. I did not tell you this before, but Buquet was not murdered with a normal piece of rope. The rope that Erik had you hanging from and the one the murdered Buquet is the same. There is elasticity in it, and with the flick of the wrist, it can be used as a whip.
'When you reach the fifth cellar, I implore you to keep your hand at the level of your eyes. You must be extremely silent and you must ignore any siren voices you hear. Remember what happened the last time we heard one."
The memory of being dumped into frigid water and nearly drowned was all too fresh in my mind. "I remember. What should I do when we reach Erik's home?"
"Await my instructions."
"What about you Holmes? What will you do?"
"Do not worry about me Mackenzie." Holmes held me for a moment longer and then, much to my surprise kissed me quickly atop the head. "Now go and make haste. Lives are on the line."
"Be careful," I said. I broke away from Holmes and pushed past Raoul de Chagny. I took off down the hall at breakneck speed, my heart pounding and Holmes's cryptic words echoing in my ears.
When I reached the Grand Foyer, panting and wheezing, I was chagrined to see the crowd had grown thicker. Many people, wearing multicolored costumes were making their way into the auditorium, anxious, no doubt to hear Christine Daaé sing. My heart pounded wildly when I realized that there were several men dressed as white dominos, wearing the hooded cloaks, matched Watson's physical appearance.
Fuck! "Watson!" I called his name at the top of my voice, only to have it drowned out by the cacophony of laughter. "Watson!"
I pushed through a throng of men, stopping at almost everyone in a white hooded cloak. After about ten minutes of searching, I began to get disheartened. I was never going to be able to find Watson before Christine was due on stage.
Mackenzie, you must make haste! "Holmes I'm trying," I muttered to the voice in my mind. "Watson where the hell are you?"
"Mackenzie?"
I whirled around to find myself face to face with Watson, his mask pulled back revealing the green eyes and red hair that I was so familiar with. "Thank God! I have instructions from Holmes. You must follow me!"
"Mac where the hell are we going?" Becky asked as I pulled Watson through the crowd and back into the auditorium.
"No time for explanations Beck," I said, keeping a fast pace. When we reached the stage, I immediately turned left and reached the backstage wings, just as Christine was about to step on the boards. "Thank God," I panted, attempting to slow my breathing. "We made it."
I looked up at Box Five, and saw a dark shadow lurking there. Whether the shadow was real or whether it was my imagination, I cannot be certain.
"Mackenzie, what are your instructions?" Watson asked, placing a claming hand on my shoulder.
"We are to watch Christine from back here," I wheezed. "If anything unusual occurs, we must make it to the fifth cellar as quickly as possible, always remembering to keep our hand at the level of our eyes and wait for Holmes to give us further instructions."
"Why do we have to do this?" Becky asked.
"Just shut up! This is important."
The lights suddenly dimmed and Christine Daaé strode on stage, dressed in a hunter green dress with a low neckline. Thunderous applause greeted her as she walked center stage.
"Hello ladies and gentlemen," the soprano said loudly. "I hope you are enjoying yourselves this evening."
Another round of thunderous applause was heard. Once the clapping subsided, Christine continued to speak. "It is with the permission of the management that I am standing here this evening. It is my duty to announce that I am engaged to be married to my closest friend Monsieur Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny."
At the announcement, the house exploded in celebration. The applause was thunderous and was painful to my ears. When Raoul de Chagny strode onstage, the applause quieted.
"Merci!" he said smiling his boyish smile. "I am glad to hear that you approve of my engagement! However, I regret to inform you that I am stealing your beloved diva from the Paris stage."
A din of whispers was heard and many fingers were pointing at the couple.
"It is true, I am leaving the opera and moving to England with Raoul," Christine said softly. "However, I am going to sing a farewell song. I know I am supposed to sing the Jewel Song from Faust, but instead I am going to sing another song from the same opera. It is a duet and our male tenor Monsieur Piangi is going to sing with me. With your permission, I would like to sing for you now."
A hush came over the crowd.
"Maestro, the music please," Christine said to the conductor.
The orchestra began to play the first bars to Gounod's song. Christine stood center stage, her eyes closed, preparing to sing.
"It is done late farewell!" She said softly.
Suddenly, the most glorious voice I have ever heard sang the response. "Wait! I implore you in vain! Await! Leave your hand to forget itself in mine. Let me contemplate your face under the pale clarity of the stars of night, as it strokes your beauty."
Christine's face grew pale and Raoul de Chagny stepped backward, his eyes wildly scanning the auditorium, searching for the source of the voice. Hurriedly he ran off stage in attempt to either find Holmes or find the voice. Suddenly, a tall cloaked figure walked onto the stage from the right wing. He approached Christine, who stepped backwards.
She continued to sing, ignoring the fear that was in her eyes. "O silence, o happiness! I listen and I understand this solitary voice who sings in my heart! Leave a little of grace!"
The cloaked figure moved closer to Christine and took her in his arms. "What therefore?"
Christine's face paled when she heard the man's voice so close to her ear. "A simple game, leave a little, leave a little."
"What says your mouth to a low voice?" The cloaked figure spoke softly and I was forced to stifle a gasp! The voice I heard was the voice of Erik, the Phantom of the Opera!
Becky saw me tense and put her hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong?" She asked.
I shook my head, my eyes transfixed on the scene before me.
Christine was trembling in fear, but her voice was strong. "You love me, you do not love me. You love me, you do not love me! You love me!"
Erik grasped Christine's hand and held it in his own. His voice was glorious, each note was sung with extreme emotion. "Yes, believe in me. What I say is in your heart, the oracle of the very sky. I love you! Do you understand this word sublimates and soft? Love! We carry it in a new fervor. It intoxicates us with endless eternal joy!"
Christine's and Erik's voices blended together suddenly, each rising to new heights, showing the extreme talent of both. It is no wonder that Christine thought that Erik was an angel. "Eternal! O harms love! The soft radiant sky soft with flames echoes our silent happiness. Towards the sky our souls do fly as one!"
Christine pulled herself into Erik's embrace, loosing herself completely in the song. "I want to love you and to cherish you! I want to belong to you to love you always. I would die for you. Speak again of love and I will die."
Erik held Christine tightly; his voice was raw with emotion, forcing the song to new heights of brilliance. "Divine purity, chaste innocence you hold power over me and my will. A word again, repeat this soft confession! You love me?"
Suddenly Christine's voice was full of fear. "Leave! Farewell!" She struggled to extricate herself from his embrace, but he held fast.
"Do you love me Christine? Say you love me; say you love your angel." Erik's voice was fierce. "Whom do you love more Christine, me or your precious vicomte?"
"Erik!"
"Answer me Christine! No, better yet, come with me!" In a flash, Erik and Christine vanished from view.
"Shit! What happened?" Becky asked.
"Come on! We must get down to the fifth cellar!" I grabbed Watson's arm and pulled him backward toward the cellar entrance. "Hand at the level of your eyes!"
"We have no light!" The doctor observed.
"We obviously don't have time to look for one. Trust me, I know the way!" I hurried through the door quickly, not even double checking to see if either of my companions was following me.
From above, I heard the pandemonium from on the stage. Someone had murdered Piangi, people were shouting.
Well let's play Sherlock Holmes for a minute and think. Gee, I know! Erik killed him! I sighed and continued moving swiftly down to the third cellar where it was beginning to grow extremely dark.
"Mac, where are you?"
"Shut up Becky!" I whispered harshly. "We need to be quiet!"
"Sorry," she whispered back.
I felt cold hands on my shoulders and I jumped involuntarily. "Which one of you is?" I whispered.
"Both of us you idiot," replied Becky.
"Cool," I whispered. "Now, it's gonna get ridiculously dark down here, so I suggest Beck that you hold onto me."
"Roar!"
"Now is not the time of place for childishness," I retorted angrily. Without waiting for a reply, I began to slowly and painfully make my way down the staircase that would lead to the fourth cellar.
As we carefully descended into the depths, my heart was pounding hard against my ribcage. It was taking much too long to get down there. Holmes was probably waiting for us, somewhere in the darkness beyond the underground lake.
Or he could already be in the clutches of Erik! That thought made me quicken my pace. During the seemingly endless trek through the labyrinthine cellars of the opera house, I wondered several times what it was Holmes wanted to ask me.
If he's hurt Mac, you'll never know. I increased my speed until I was fairly sprinting down the dark corridors. Many times large spiders' webs tangled their gossamer threads around my face and neck, but my thoughts were so focused on finding Holmes that I did not even care.
"Cuh-can't we slow down a little bit?" Becky puffed.
"No," was the only answer I would give. If Watson, wounded leg and all can keep up with my pace so can you Becky. Deal with it! I dared not reveal my thoughts on her question because there was no time for a row.
I stopped my relentless pace when my ears could hear the faint sound of the underground lake lapping against its banks. I once again began to walk, but more cautiously. I had no idea if Erik had taken any pains to securing the area after my first visit.
The phosphorescent glow from the subterranean lake was a welcomed sight to someone like me who had walked for nearly a half hour in utter darkness.
"Thank God there is some light!" Becky announced with a smile.
"Would you shut up?" I put my hand over her mouth, making her words inaudible.
I looked at Watson, whose face was tense with anticipation. "What are we going to do now?" He asked softly.
As an answer, I strode over to the lake and was chagrined to find the boat was gone. "Son of a bitch!" I growled hotly as I stared at the water. "This really sucks!"
"What is the matter Mackenzie?"
"Doc, the boat that Holmes and I used to get a…" I stopped when I remembered the path we returned on. "Never mind, just follow me!"
Very carefully, I picked my way along the right side of the lake, being careful not to turn my ankle on any loose rocks that might be in the soil. Because the water was not disturbed, we were not pestered by siren voices. After what seemed like an eternity, I saw a faint light which signaled Erik's house was close by.
"Be extremely quiet," I whispered to my two companions.
Cautiously, we approached the house. A loud dissonance of organ notes filled the air, making my blood run cold. We stood in front of Erik's door, waiting for some sign from Holmes, telling us what to do.
We waited a good ten minutes, and still Holmes did not appear. Nervously, I began to pace the muddy soil in front of the lake house.
Holmes, where are you? My strides grew wilder as the minutes ticked away.
"All right guys," I said, my voice was hoarse with fear. "I'm going to go in."
"What are you crazy?" Becky asked clutching my arm.
"Let go now!" I said hotly. "Something has gone wrong, although I don't know what!" With more confidence then I felt, I strode to Erik's front door. Gently, I turned the handle, and was surprised when it opened easily under my hand.
"Hello Innocent," the hypnotic yet terrifying voice of Erik greeted me as I crossed the threshold and stepped into the ornately furnished lair. "You've been expected."
I looked around and saw Christine seated with her head in her arms. Holmes was standing uncomfortably next to the sofa. Our eyes met and his face was drawn, but he smiled thinly.
"Hey Holmes," I said with a slight smile. "You okay?"
"He has not been ill-used," Erik replied, his voice almost gay. "Pray invite in the rest of your friends," his tone of voice was not one that was to be disputed.
I cautiously moved to the door and motioned for Becky and Watson to enter, which they did albeit timidly.
"Welcome, welcome to my humble abode," Erik said indicating the ornate room with a sweep of his hands. His face was covered by a black porcelain mask. He looked at Holmes keenly for several seconds. "You are the only man I have ever come across who outshines their reputation. You have showed that you have brains Monsieur Holmes; indeed, before your friends arrived you told me exactly how you found me.
'Very clever of you to have gone though the ledgers of Garnier and the diary of the previous management. I was surprised that you were able to make the connection between the opera ghost and the angel of music. It is a pity I will have to destroy you though. Obviously you knew this was a dangerous mission."
Holmes did not seem bothered. "I assumed as much. But you may let my friends go, for they are no threat to you."
"I cannot take that chance Monsieur Holmes," Erik said softly. "I am sure you understand."
"I swear to God Erik if you hurt Holmes—"
"Innocent, pray spare me the maudlin threats. I can, of course, assure you that you will die with your lover."
Before I had time to formulate an answer, a low ringing was heard. Erik's face was inscrutable underneath his mask, but his tone was light and joyful. "Ah! It appears that someone has accidentally stepped into my torture chamber."
"Your torture chamber?" I asked, not liking the note of pride that was in his voice.
"Yes, my torture chamber. Monsieur Holmes, you are a man with a scientific mind. Would you care to know how it works?"
"Do I have much of a choice Monsieur?"
"None in the world," Erik said with a musical laugh. "Monsieur Holmes, the room is six sided, the sides are covered by mirrors. When I flick this switch here, a bright light turns on and heat is emitted. A large iron tree is in the middle of the room, so when my prisoner, or in this case the young vicomte and Nadir, goes mad from the heat, they can hang themselves on the tree."
"Erik you are a monster!" Christine sobbed into her arms.
"I am only a monster if you make me such Mademoiselle. Now what will it be a wedding mass or a requiem mass? I am equally skilled at playing both."
"Erik I will not marry you!" Her voice was filled with anger and sadness. "I cannot bear to look at your face everyday of my life!"
A shout of rage escaped the lips of Erik and he threw off his mask, allowing it to smash to the floor. "You cannot bear to see this Christine?"
The soprano shrieked in horror when Erik stood before her. "Get away from me!"
"Look upon my face Christine! Look at it! You are the one who insisted on seeing it in the first place! You must look upon it if you wish to save the life of your precious vicomte."
"Erik," Holmes's tone was commanding.
The Phantom looked up, facing us and I unconsciously retreated from his hideous face. No, I cannot call it a face at all. He was horribly deformed; his skin was the color of yellow parchment. His eyes were sunken in deep misshapen sockets and glowed amber in the wavering candle light. He had no nose, but a hole in its place. His mouth was horribly misshapen and he had an underdeveloped top lip which was pulled back into a perpetual snarl. His bottom lip was virtually nonexistent and a set of rotting teeth could be seen.
If Holmes was bothered by the horrible sight before him, he gave no sign. "Erik you cannot force Mademoiselle Daaé to choose between you and Monsieur le Vicomte."
"Yes I can Monsieur Holmes and I will!" Erik's voice was filled with emotion. "Christine, the requiem mass is not at all gay, whereas the wedding mass—you can take my word for it—is magnificent! You said that you loved me Christine; you said you would never leave me and yet when your precious vicomte proposed to you, your vow to me was instantly forgotten! Prove your love to one of us Christine, become my wife and your vicomte will be freed. Should you refuse me, he will most certainly die a slow and horrible death within the walls of my torture chamber."
Christine started to cry, her body was jarred with violent sobs. A gun shot was heard from the right, where I am assuming the torture chamber was.
"He is trying to shoot his way out!" Erik said with a mirthless laugh.
"Why will you kill Raoul?" Christine asked her eyes wide with terror.
"For two reasons Christine. First you are unwilling to become my wife. The second is he attempted to kill me."
"What?" Christine's voice was shrill.
"Oh yes, when you were down here with me, your precious vicomte hired men to hunt me down and murder me. Fortunately, the few men that did find my lair were unable to escape my Punjab lasso."
Christine's eyes widened. "I did not know he was trying to kill you!"
"I believe you, my darling Christine, however I cannot spare the life of your precious Raoul."
"Then you must kill me as well Erik," Chrisitne said softly. "I am going to be Raoul's wife!"
"That is negotiable," Erik replied quietly. "You do not understand me Christine Daaé. I am not a wicked man, I am just a man who wants to be loved and accepted. Everyone I have ever met has treated me with hatred for no reason other then my face.
'The daroga or as you know him, the Persian can vouch for that fact. Daroga, the only man who has behaved civilly toward me has now endeavored to help mine enemies. I have never been shown any compassion in my life, and when I found someone whom I could love, she turned from me because of this!" He gestured wildly at his face. "Isn't that right Christine?" He turned to the sobbing diva. "You are crying. It pains me to see you cry. Love me and you shall see Christine, how gentle I can be."
"I love Raoul," the diva cried.
At that confession, Erik's voice lost all emotion. "I see. So would you do anything to save your precious viscount?"
Christine nodded. "Yes."
"Then you would consent to be my wife?"
Christine shook her head. "I told you I cannot! I am betrothed to Raoul!"
"So you are not willing to do anything to save your precious vicomte," Erik said bitterly.
"You are cruel Erik!"
Another shot was heard from the torture chamber and shouts. "Christine I will save you!"
"That is your precious fiancé Christine. Hear how his voice is cracking with the heat? You can save him if you will only say yes."
Christine remained silent, and stared at Holmes and myself helplessly. Holmes was not sympathetic.
"Erik," Holmes's voice was gentle, yet firm. "I am extremely surprised at you."
The Phantom turned his wretched face toward Holmes. "What do you mean Monsieur?"
"I mean Erik, you are a brilliant man. You helped build and were the chief mason of this building. You have written beautiful music and have taught Christine how to sing. Yet you stand here threatening her with Raoul's life. It is obvious that she cares deeply about you Erik. Release Raoul de Chagny and allow him to stand next to you. Then make her choose."
Christine stared at Holmes in horror. "You cannot be serious!"
"I am quite serious Miss. This has gone on for much too long," Holmes turned to Erik. "You claim you love her, do you not?"
"I do!"
"Then allow her to choose between you and Raoul de Chagny. Let her make the choice and live with the results."
"Holmes this is madness!" Watson said, quickly. His philanthropist nature wanted to shield and protect Christine from further hurt.
"Watson, can you not see there is no other alternative? Mademoiselle Daaé is a grown woman and must make the choice between the two men she has so grievously wronged."
Erik's eyes grew bright at the thought of making Christine choose between the two of them, without threatening the other's life. I guess he assumed that it would be fascinating to watch her mentally weigh the pros and cons of each of the men. "Very well," he said wearily.
Holmes moved so he was standing directly between Erik and the torture chamber door. "Unlock it Erik, and Watson shall open the door. Then she will decide."
Erik flicked a small switch on the wall and a lock unlatched. Watson deftly moved and opened a door to his right. Raoul de Changy and the Persian stumbled out of the room.
Gun drawn, Raoul raised his pistol with an unsteady hand and attempted to focus. His hand was too wavering; his vision blurred from extreme heat, and the gun was aimed not at Erik but at Holmes!
Foreseeing what was about to happen, I ran as hard as I could across the room. My legs felt like concrete blocks and the distance between me and the man I love seemed to change from mere yards to miles. I heard Raoul mutter something about finishing this thing once and for all. I heard the hammer of the gun click into firing position, heard my own ragged breathing and pulse exploding in my chest. I felt rather than saw Raoul's finger caress the trigger.
In attempt to save Holmes's life, I leapt forward to knock him out of the way just as a loud blast issued from somewhere behind me.
I felt extreme heat in the middle chest as though someone held a hot iron there, as I tumbled on top of Holmes. Searing pain filled my body and a coppery taste was in my mouth. I heard someone yell "oh shit!" as I hit the floor and my vision momentarily washed to black.
