Sorry for the late post! Had a hectic weekend. Now the moment you have all been waiting for...

Chapter 9: The Angel of Death

-Erik POV:-

Erik glowered at the young man that approached him. If Darius wasn't one of the most reliable officers of the Mazandaran court, he would have murdered him on the spot. Clearly, the black mask that covered nearly his entire face also covered his fury, as the young man approached with a proud smile.

"The wagons have been taken care of." He beamed, gesturing to the can of petrol in his hand.

"When I said I wanted them debilitated," Erik seethed. "I expected you do to so inconspicuously. You could have broken the wheels or taken the horses, something that wouldn't have alerted the entire town of our operation or possibly killed our prisoners."

Darius's smile fell. "Oh. Well I ensure you that no one was in them! And-and I saved the wagon of goods-"

"And burned everything else of importance. If you're looking for praise you should talk to the other brainless mongrels cleaning up your mess. They won't be able to fathom the stupidity of your actions."

Darius gulped. "I apologize, sir."

"How many prisoners are you missing?"

"Just two, sir. The leading soprano and a male cast member. Though the daroga is pursuing the latter as we speak."

Erik grumbled at the mention of the leading soprano. Where was she? Why did she not arrive with the others? He had imprisoned the two managers back at the chieftain's villa, the two of them escorted by the daroga's men to his personal carriage. He rode here quickly, just in time to watch Darius sloppily execute his plan. Now he stood in front of the flames, wishing the daroga would refrain from hiring imbeciles with pyromania.

A cry pulled him from his thoughts. His eyes scanned the wagons to see a large bird fly from the flames. With his excellent vision, he was able to see the outline of a small parcel on its back.

A messenger hawk.

His perfect plan burned to a crisp. Who the hell sent that blasted bird? He could feel the anger burn in his heart. Only one pompous fop would pay for a travelling caravan to carry such a well-trained creature. Whoever had sent it would surely pay. He would enjoy watching the light fade from their eyes.

"RUN CHRISTINE! RUN!"

Sprinting from the flames towards an uphill slope was a flash of blue and long brown curls. He could recognize them anywhere, even though it has been so long since he had seen them so close.

But that was about to change. He sprinted forward, flying past the burning wagons and now caged cast members. He barely noticed the guards slow down as he ran past them. His eyes were locked on the petite soprano. She was his and nothing would get in his way.

-Christine POV:-

Christine could barely breathe. Her shaking hands lashed and gripped at anything that could pull her upwards. She tripped over her skirts a few times in her frantic climb, scratching her knees and elbows in the process. She had no idea where she was going or how close her pursuer was behind her. All she knew was that she needed to run.

Finally, she had climbed high enough to reach the small trail that led from the plateau to the huts on the other side of the rocky partition. She climbed onto her knees and hands, gasping for air. All she had to do was stand and run a little further. That was it. But her body shook to terribly that she didn't know if she had the strength to stand. She released a small cry as she forced herself to her feet. As she stood, a large force knocked her to the ground. She screamed as her attacker pulled her to her feet.

"Christine! Christine get up!"

It was Gabriel. He was out of breath and gripped onto her like a lifeline. With wide eyes, he dragged her forward. She stumbled besides him, gripping onto his now tattered black suit jacket. Christine barely had time to regain her balance when he stopped dead in his tracks. Shakily, she tried to ignore the black outline around her periphery as she recovered from Gabriel's frantic control. Yet, by the time she regained her focus, she wished she hadn't.

Before them was a Persian guard. He stared at them, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. His dark eyes were the same shade as his short black beard that covered his chin and septum. But Christine was drawn to the pistol in his hands. The pistol which was pointed at them.

Gabriel pulled Christine behind him protectively. She peered over his shoulder, whimpering as the man took a step closer.

"Don't shoot!" Gabriel begged. He held up one hand in front of them.

Christine felt the blur of tears sting her eyes. She tried to blink them away, trying to focus on the situation. Crying would not help her now. She needed to think. As Gabriel tried to plead for mercy, she scanned the environment. They may be able to outrun one man, but that would be if they got rid of the gun. She tried to look around for a weapon of sorts, but saw nothing. She turned and froze as she locked eyes with the figure behind her.

The first thing she noticed was a black mask. It covered his entire face, except for the small sliver of his mouth and chin. Though his mouth was slightly open, she could not hear his heavy breathing nor see any signs that he was tired from his chase. It was almost as if he materialized from behind her. She trembled as he straightened up to a towering height, stepping closer to them. He was just far enough away that he couldn't grab them, but not far enough for them to outrun him for long.

Christine pulled on Gabriel's sleeves notifying him of the new adversary in their path.

There was something about him that felt surreal. His long black coat traced his lean torso just enough to display his powerful form. So powerful, in fact, that Christine wasn't sure if she was terrified or in awe of him. She had seen many men with wide, tunic-like coats such as his in Persia, but none were as well-crafted. His black pants and shirt were plain, but equally as elegant despite the smattering of dust and dirt from his climb. All of it blurred together in a way that she couldn't entirely define his outline in the dark night. If it wasn't for the flames below, she doubted she would have seen him at all. Was he a shadow or a man? The only indication that he was in fact human was the rapid rise and fall of his pale chest that emerged from the slight V in his shirt. Even his bright eyes seemed inhuman. They glowed in the night, like a tiger staring down at its prey.

Which in this moment was her.

"Christine." Gabriel panted in a hushed whisper. "Christine. I will take out the man with the gun. You run around us."

"No, Gabriel-"

"Run to the chieftain. Run and find some help. Christine, please, do not stop running."

"I can't leave you."

"You have to. Christine, do not let that thing catch you."

Christine turned towards the masked man and met his eyes. His eyes were amber, almost like a dark gold that illuminated against his dark exterior. They burned into her soul, nearly hypnotizing her with their intensity. Never had she been so terrified.

"Now!"

Gabriel barely gave her time to think. She set off running, screaming at the sudden gunshot that rang in her ears. She glanced over to see Gabriel over the guard, trying to rip the gun from his hands. From her brief scan, the bullet seemed to have missed. Christine bolted down the path. She wanted to help Gabriel, but she knew that the masked man would follow her. There was something about the way he stared at her that let her know she was his prey. The intensity of his gaze showed that he was enraptured by her. She didn't know why, or how she knew, but he was there for her. Maybe that was why he was inspecting the other young women, like Meg. Was it to find her? She pushed her thoughts away as she ran down the path. It would be easier for Gabriel to fight off one man than two. If anything, it would be easier for Gabriel to escape without the masked shadow near him. He had thought that he was the bait in the situation, but Christine knew that he would be better off without him. She would not be able to outrun the masked man for long, but at least it would save Gabriel.

She could hear him behind her, his long strides sounding louder the further they ran. She lifted her skirts in hopes of gaining speed, but it did nothing to lessen the sound of her rapidly beating heart and the feeling of his presence against her back. Despite her judgement, she dared a glance behind her. She stopped. There was no one there. She gasped for breath and stared in confusion. Had he not pursued her? Had he given up?

"You cannot outrun me."

She yelped and turned. The shadow stood behind her, tall and foreboding. He stepped forwards and Christine shuffled backwards. He outstretched a hand. By some magical force, he was able to freeze her body in her tracks.

"There is no need to panic, I am not your enemy."

Not my enemy? Christine thought. For a while, the two of them stood frozen, staring at each other. If he was not her enemy, Christine thought, then who was he? She opened her mouth to speak but closed it when she saw him step forward. Her fear consumed her again and she shuffled backwards. Her back eventually hit the side of the cliff. She stood paralyzed. His voice was familiar, though she could not pin down why. Had she truly ever heard anything so entrancing? It was deep and alluring, passionate and dark. So much so that she trembled when he spoke. She wanted to believe that she could run faster than him, but that simple statement made her ambition crumble to its knees in defeat. His gravelly tone laced with honey had her so mesmerized she did not realize how close he had gotten to her until it was too late.

She tried to bolt to the side to escape him, but he quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her close. Two long arms wrapped around her, pinning down her own arms and covering her mouth. She was trapped in an unbreakable grip.

Panic consumed her. She screamed hysterically against his gloved hand, kicked her feet, and convulsed in every way she could to no avail. Without difficulty, he dragged her back towards the rocky upward slope. She could feel his hot breath against her neck as he grunted to control her frantic resistance.

"Stop! Stop screaming!" He yelled but it only made Christine scream louder. She bit onto his palm and he growled in her ear. In anger, he threw her into a rocky crevasse, using his body to pin her against the cliff side. "I am not your enemy! Stop screaming!"

Christine could barely hear him. Her body was so consumed in the need to escape that his once alluring voice was drowned in her own screams. She didn't even make eye contact with him until his fingers were around her throat. She tried to breathe, tried to make the slightest noise, but it was useless. His fingers were gloved yet cold, thin yet strong, and she could not escape it.

"Scream," he threatened, "and you will never see the light of day again, little songbird."

Christine began to cry. Now she remembered. His voice belonged to the man who had talked to Firmin on the other side of the door. At first, his tone had been gentle, almost pleading. But now she recognized the blackness of his voice. How had he gotten here so quickly? Her body trembled as he loosened his grip on her throat. Her eyes locked with his as she gasped for air, sucking in as much oxygen as she could. But she heeded his warning. She did not scream. Instead, her body shook with desperate coughs, her lungs burning in relief. Gradually, he let go of her throat completely, his fingers gently brushing against her jawbone. She didn't notice his finger sink lower, down the column of her pale throat to her collarbone. It was only when he pulled on the chain he found there that she realized he was still touching her. She grabbed his wrist as he pulled the chain completely out between her breasts, now holding the ring in his hand.

"Please. No." She pleaded between deep gasps of air.

The ring laid in his open palm as he studied it. She could feel the tension in his forearm under her shaking fingers. Before she could react, he yanked the chain. Christine yelped as it snapped against the back of her neck. She reached for the ring, but he pulled his hand away and pushed her back.

"Such a pretty ring for a pretty little singer. Which of your admirers bought you with this? Was it that boy?" He hissed.

Christine felt her cheeks burn at his accusation. "My fiancé gave it to me. It-It wasn't Gabriel. I'm not-He-He is another member of the cast." She retorted, the fear in her voice clearly evident.

"Your fiancé? He must be very wealthy." The shadow sneered, staring at the ring. "I wonder what he would pay to have you returned. If he wants you returned."

"Please. Please let me go."

He was suffocatingly close. The heat from the flames below them was nothing compared to the heat she felt radiating off him. His presence reminded her that there was nothing she could do to escape now. Even when he moved his hand from her shoulder to the rocks beside her, she felt just as debilitated. She was trapped, cornered, prepared for slaughter. He loomed over her without touching her, thought it did not matter. She could still feel every ounce of his soul when he stared into her eyes.

"The messenger hawk. Where is it going?"

Christine shook. If she told him, would he be able to stop them? Would her attempts be futile? Christine shook her head. No. She had to defend her friends. She had to protect Gabriel, Meg, and Madame Giry. If they knew who was coming to rescue them, they could prepare. Couldn't they? Or was it too late?

"I-I don't-"

He swung his fist into the rock next to her. He snarled as his punch broke off the edges of the stone, causing dust and rubble to sprinkle into her hair. She whimpered and turned away from his intense stare as he drew closer to her ear.

"Do not lie to me." He growled.

Christine sobbed. That once alluring voice was now menacing. All the strange admiration she had for him had completely dissipated along with her bravery. "The bird- the hawk- it isn't mine. It is Andre's. He is our manager. He-he told me to send a letter."

"To whom?"

Christine hesitated. This was the question she could not answer. The entire livelihood of the company rested in her hands.

Can you be brave for me, Christine?

"I-I will tell you, if you let my friends go." It took every ounce of her strength to force those words out of her mouth. She straightened and stared into his eyes as defiantly as she could, though her shaking body betrayed her.

The shadow released a loud laugh, an angelic cackle that crushed her.

"What a spirited song-bird you are. Yet, still naive, unaware, incapable. I believe you are in no position to barter."

"Then kill me." The words stumbled out of her mouth, without any thought or consideration. "K-Kill me and you will never know the truth. I-I won't tell you, so you can let them go or get it over with. Torturing me will get you nothing."

The shadow did not move. He stared at her, an emotion she could not interpret in his intense gaze. She tried to maintain eye contact, but again faltered and turned away.

"I am not one for murdering young maidens." He said coldly. "Nor am I one to deny a challenge." He leaned in closer, Christine's small hands tried to push him back, but he drew himself in so closely that they were sandwiched between both of their chests. She turned away, his lips now mere inches from her ear, his breath hot against her neck.

"You may be a brave young martyr." He mocked. "But I wonder how quickly you would crack if I was to devote my attention to one of your friends? Could you really cast a blind eye while they screamed for your mercy? Hm? Maybe we could begin with that little blonde friend of yours?"

Christine gasped, turning back to meet his gaze. "Meg? How did you know? No pl-"

He stepped back, freeing her from the heat of his presence, but not far enough to give her room to escape. "You can choose my method, of course, since you are so brave and assertive. Should I rip off her nails? Pull out her teeth one by one? Give her a hundred lashing? Come, come now. So many options and yet these are only the most tame. Which do you think you can endure?" He hissed. "Then maybe when we are done, I can send this little ring to your fiancé so he can come and play our game as well?"

"No!" She cried. He had played her game and beaten her. She could see the triumph gleam in his eye as she cowered in fear. He wouldn't kill her, but he would torture her friends until she gave him what he wanted. It didn't matter if Raoul could send help in time if there was no one left to save.

"To the Vicomte de Chagny Family." She sobbed, defeated. "The hawk goes to them. They are a patron of the opera-"

"I am familiar with them." He growled.

"That is all I know. I am sorry. Please don't hurt her. She has done nothing wrong."

"What did the letter say?"

"Please promise me you won't-" She began to cry, tilting her head down so she could wipe the tears from her eyes. She looked back up at him and pleaded. "It was a cry for help. Please, that is all I know."

"You did not write the letter?"

"No. My manager wrote it and gave it to me after the performance. I just put it in the messenger hawk, like he instructed. Please I don't know anything else."

The shadow didn't say anything, he continued to stare down at her, searching her eyes for any sign of deception. It wasn't the entire truth, but he seemed to believe her. He then brought the ring up in between them. Christine stared at it but didn't dare to move to take it.

"A patron of the Opera. A man who could buy you such a gaudy waste of gold." He wondered aloud, staring into her eyes. Christine gulped. She had to hold in a cry as he placed the ring in his pocket. Her dear Raoul. God, she hoped he wouldn't get involved in this.

"You have been most helpful, little songbird."

Christine knew what would happen next. She was useless to him now. He had the ring that could be enough evidence to make Raoul give all his savings away to rescue her, even though she was long dead. She had told him everything she knew. Now, she was just a waste of space. Christine closed her eyes and prepared for the knife to dig into her heart or his fingers to return to her throat. Instead, she felt a small pinch against her arm.

Shocked, her eyes widened and turned to the source. A small vial was injected into her arms. She watched in shock as a clear liquid poured into her veins.

"What? No. No-Why-What have you done?"

She fought against him, but it was futile. The vial was now empty and he cast it aside, letting it shatter against the rock. He grabbed her wrists and waited as she tried to fight around him. If she could get past the barrier of a man he was, she could try to outrun him. But he was just as solid as the rocky entrapment around her.

Oh God, she could not think. This was worse than death. The fear of uncertainty. What was he going to do to her? Why did he need to drug her? She struggled and screamed against him.

"Sshh." He cooed. "Sleep little song-bird."

He pulled her wrists to his chest. No matter how much she tried, she could not escape him.

"Don't hurt them." She wept. "They're all I have. Please don't hurt them."

"Their fates are in their own hands."

She felt an unsettling numbness, her body now unable to fight back. She collapsed against the rocks, staring up at her now calm capturer. His voice had returned to that gentle tone, the one that had hypnotized her earlier. How was he able to do that?

"Why are you doing this? What have we done wrong?"

"You've done nothing wrong." It made her cry more. She closed her eyes to avoid his gaze.

"I am not your enemy." He said again. His thumbs rubbed the backs of her wrists gently. She opened her eyes, confused by his sudden gentleness.

"Then who are you?"

He hesitated, studying her defeated expression. She waited for him to answer, fighting her eyelids to stay open. Finally, he did.

"I am the Angel of Death."

Her vision blurred, either from her tears or the effects of the drug. The night sky blackened as she let out a choked sob. All she could see now, was the bright amber jewels in front of her. She focused on them before collapsing forward into a deep slumber.

A lot has happened, but I promise I will continue to explain the further we get along. I know this wasn't the most peaceful encounter, but I promise they will eventually grow. Hope you enjoy it!

Guest: I added the first half of this chapter to hopefully answer some of your questions. Thank you so much for the suggestion! It really helps to know how clear or unclear I am being when writing. Hope you enjoyed this chapter :)

Lucyole: Erik is definitely a little possessive, but he is also a man who has only known violence (hence why his reaction was to choke her to be silent than calm her gently). But he will learn and grow in the future. Thanks for the cookies for inspiration!

Guest: Thank you so much!