If Christine were to imagine that tonight felt different to any other person entering Phantasma, she would be wrong. The visitors and attendees saw nothing other in the anticipation and excitement of the Spectacular.
And that was exactly what all parties controlling Phantasma, and the small town just miles away, wanted it. Some hoped Mr. Y would make vailed support for one side, others just wanted a chance to take a swing at some soft-jawed fellows.
No one knew what Christine knew. Her stomach twisted in knots at the thought of it.
They will burn Phantasma to the ground to steal my secrets and I will let them.
How many people would be hurt tonight? How many people would die tonight? Was it Erik's fault, truly? Or were all these actions the fault of rich men that would not be denied?
Did it matter?
Or was he again over exaggerating what would come? He'd done so before.
Christine twisted her hands before her, careful to not bring too much attention to her nervousness. The long, embroidered robe covering her aided in concealment. It resembled something of an ancient coronation robe – grand and imposing. The intricately embroidered peacock feathers shimmered aquamarine and blue in the shifting light. She imagined the pearls threaded through her hair turning their faint color in sympathy.
The Colosseum, bathed in colored light and filled with people, was cavernous before her. Everything looked larger and wilder from her place on the arena floor. She could barely even make out the open sky above her.
Her nerves eased when she heard Erik's voice whisper in her ear. "You will be magnificent tonight." She leaned back and smiled when she felt herself against him.
She would steal her nerves. There was no sense in pleading for change. No one ever listened to her reasoning anyway. "It's impossible not to be magnificent with such a consummate teacher." He pulled her deeper into the darkness of the undercroft, trailing soft kisses from behind her ear to the nape of her neck. The dull roar from above reminded her of the excited heartbeat of the crowd.
She turned to him, suddenly fearful, "This will go according to your plan?"
"My dear, you are the one who said my plans prior have been very poor." My dear again. Not my love.
Her nervousness twisted inside her into something wicked. There was no good choice that lay before them. There was simply a forked road of several bad choices and she would walk whichever one kept him beside her.
Christine took his face in her hands, careful not to dislodge his pristine mask. His attention focused solely on her, confusion and impatience at war in his features. "You have said your soul belongs to me. I demand of it now perfection. We have no space for bad plans, Erik. I lost you once and for ten long years it was like a living death. A refused to live without you in that way again. I refuse to live without my love for a moment longer, damn the consequences."
For a moment he did not breathe, the stillness of his body like a corpse. And then his eyes slid shut, a silent tear falling down his face. When he opened his eyes, it was as though the world shifted. He wrapped Christine in his arms and lifted her to capture her lips, his own ravenous and overwhelming.
"In all the world there is no one more perfect than you." He kissed her once more, lightly, sweetly. Her lips followed his as he pulled away. Before she could fully open her eyes, he had turned and walked back toward his hidden door. He did not turn to look back at her. He had not promised.
What Christine did not realize was that her demand cursed the one she loved. Erik, a man who has always had nothing to live for, now had everything to.
The lights above her flickered in the customary way, the crowd silencing at the silent request. Christine could feel the tension in the place. She'd felt it once before. Not just excitement, but venomous apprehension. This time, however, she was not bait, merely the distraction. A minor detail, perhaps, but an important one to her. She saw Simon waiting in his position and nodded to him. He smiled back.
Thought she denied it, her jealousy still seethed just underneath her skin. Erik had had a truly full life after her, no matter what he tried to explain away. She wasn't just jealous of Meg, she was jealous of Erik. A possessiveness very unbecoming of her clawed in her stomach. She hadn't been lying when she told him his soul belong to her. He'd given it freely and she would hold on to it forever.
And Meg was here, somewhere. On the same side, but not. How could they really be on the same side when they wanted the same thing?
When Fleck materialized at her side, readying for her own entrance. She couldn't help her question, "Where's Meg?"
"Her dressing room, being watched," she answered haphazardly; and then remembered, "I'm sorry about earlier. I thought it best not to warn you. Or deter you."
The nagging concern that would not leave her mind was finally given voice, "Would she do anything?"
"I wouldn't put it past her. But if she wants you out of the way, she won't do it herself. She can't have your blood on her hands if she wants him to come back to her. Or if she wants to keep Phantasma running." Christine couldn't determine if she was comforted by Fleck's reasoning or not.
"How long were they…close?"
"You have to realize it was never like how he is with you. You two just look at each other and you two turn into the sun and moon. It's more than a little sickeningly lovely-dovey, really. They were different. You're good for him. He smiles with you."
"How long? Please, Fleck."
"Meg found me three years ago. So at least that long. Though not very regular, I think."
"Meg found you?"
"She found most of us. Brought us here. This thing with Cummings really has her lost."
They had built Phantasma together. Christine's heart burned until all she could feel was a numb hollowness in her chest.
They'd built Phantasma.
The drums beat three times. Fleck patted her hand, concern in her eyes, "It's time."
.
Christine took her place in the center of the darkened area, her robe fanning out around her. Fleck set its ends perfectly on their mark, locking them in place for her run. She eyed the ramp to her right, making sure as best she could there was nothing in her way. There would be no way to check once she was singing.
A lone piano key provided her the rhythm. She lifted her head as they'd practiced. A sea of faces swarmed her vision and in their multitude, her mind went blank in singular focus.
We lay down in the riverbed
Rest in the silhouettes our fathers and mothers laid before
She could sense the audience curiosity at her voice. Anticipation began to bubble. A cold spotlight filtered down over her, and the crowd gasped at the vision she made.
Restless souls in the desert sand
Dream of another land that heroes and villains claimed before
The lights rose warm and glittered throughout the area, bouncing off the mirrored floor Erik has laid just hours earlier. She did not look down to see the beautiful filtering lights. She kept her head lifted toward her mark.
We are Kings and Queens and Vagabonds
The music built, and harmony shifting for the transition in melody. Christine sucked in her last strong breath and lifted her voice above the throng. It reverberated back to her, an ethereal ghosting echo accompanying her performance.
We are Kings and Queens and Vagabonds
She let her final fading note fall with a pant and began to count her measures. The shift began. Drums under her thundered a furious pace and the chorus let loose its now familiar rush of melody.
One-and-two, three.
Four.
She took off in a rush, her robe falling free from her shoulders. She felt the crowd lean in, watching her run to the edge of the ramp with open fascination. At her lift from the ground they cheered. She kicked off with practiced force from the second pole, making an additional turn of the arena easily.
The fireworks splayed colorful fountains throughout and masked her landing, gentle and easy as ever. Squelch and Fleck made quick work of unharnessing her, racing to the undercroft for her crescendo. The melody shifted key and she braced her hands on the crystal shaped cage Erik had created for her. The same ones that had caged his automatons in the fun house. Thin crystal-shaped contraptions lit from the inside.
'Remember the arena is not meant to distract you,' he'd clarified last night at the final rehearsal. 'This case will protect you and be a grand impact.' He'd not let her see what was planned, or what else would happen around her. Too many eyes, he'd warned. 'Your performance must be a surprise to everyone...Keep your eyes up and pinned at the shell.'
The light shifted again and revealed her to the audience, a corona of it haloing her head. The mirrored floor danced in broken pieces above her head, dangling most over the audience. She commanded their attention, master of all before her. She bid them join her on the journey. For a second, so she could take a deeper breath, she looked down to the floor and saw ten other cages with ten other Christine's signing to the audience.
Her bravado faltered. Her vision blurred, the memory of Erik's bridal mannequin before her eyes. Her body vibrated with the haunting touch of fear and disgust she had felt that night, amplified by the revelation of her insignificance. The air and movement around her slowed. She struggled against the overwhelming memory. Caged in ten different ways. Caged in ten different lascivious outfits.
Keep your eyes up and pinned to the shell.
He knew she would trust him. He knew she would not look. He'd again caged her in a gilded box and this time she'd gone willingly.
She always followed willingly.
She missed her que.
All at once, separate of her own bidding, her body relaxed, and the notes flowed from her throat. Tears stung her eyes. Her soul felt whole, but her body was hollow.
To save the performance, Erik invaded her mind once more. And with his control came the unmitigated beauty of her voice, commanded to perfection.
It had been easy. The claim immediate. Christine fought against his total control but found no barrier to break. It merely gave way in her fury, wrapping her in an infinite, tender sadness.
She knew why he'd done it, but how she hated him for it. Christine closed her eyes as the final note neared and gave way to the darkness. Her note hung in the air, resonating back through the pavilions. As he pulled it from her, she heard a crack, and then another, and then thousands as the mirrored glass over the Colosseum shattered to pieces above them all.
The crowd screamed and cheered, and Erik released her from his hold. Simon grabbed Christine by the waist and wrenched her away, unto the darkness.
