For the second time that day, it felt to Christine as though time had slowed to a halt. Whereas most girls would scream upon encountering such a sight, it felt as if she'd lost her speaking voice along with her singing voice. Although, only when she managed to somewhat look away from the masculine-looking figure did she remember why most girls would scream.
While she herself still didn't, Christine nonetheless let out a horrified gasp as she realized that not only was she in a dark room at night alone with a man – or so she believed – whom she was neither related to nor married to, but what made it even worse was that she was only in her nightdress, which was all that kept him from seeing her…underpinnings…
In a mad rush, Christine pulled her bed blankets to her chest and over her bare legs and feet. While they covered and warmed her body, she felt embarrassment closely followed by fear covering and warming her face in great haste. Maybe this really was a man of ill intent to approach her in such a way like this.
Even so, Christine dared to look back up at the man still half-hidden in the shadows, wondering what he was going to do to her. For a moment, he reached out a black gloved hand toward her, making her shrink back and even shake slightly. Yet when she looked back up once more, she found he seemed to be only lifting his hand in a way usually meant to convey a show of peace. She relaxed, but only in the slightest.
"Don't be frightened…" the mysterious figure then spoke a bit slowly. "I will not harm you…"
Christine could only stare at him. Even his speaking voice sounded comforting. Truly, for all that had happened today, it felt and even sounded ever so subtly like a cool breeze on a midsummer day. Still, she found it a little unsettling that his gaze seemed almost as fixated on her as hers was on him. In any event, her eyes slowly traveled downward and then up again as she finally started taking in this apparition's appearance.
He stood tall, as he very nearly measured to the top of the mirror. And if nothing else, he was rather handsomely dressed. Against his almost shining white shirt, Christine didn't think she'd ever seen a suit as black as the one this man wore. It looked as though he'd cloaked himself in a piece of the night sky, an image made all the more convincing when she noticed the cape that appeared to stretch to his feet – around which the fog seemed to pool – and the only barely noticeable star-like jewels at his shoulders from which it fell.
Looking up at his face again, Christine noticed the brim of this man's black felt hat kept her from fully seeing his likeness, except for the wisps – maybe bangs – of hair that was perhaps the lightest shade of blond she'd ever seen. But the most curious part of his apparel was the mask that concealed the right half of his face; although, had there not been a sudden shift in the shadows, she might not have seen it at all, given the mask and his skin were nearly the exact same color: a pale marble white, like a statue. Indeed, he seemed to stand as still as one.
And his eyes… Christine couldn't tell from where she sat whether they were green or gray. Stranger still, even though his gaze seemed solely focused on hers – and while the environment they were in wasn't exactly ideal for sharing a close proximity – for whatever reason, she didn't feel terribly bothered by it. She of course, however, had no idea who this man was; nor could she be certain if he really was at all a man…or a…ghost…
Christine, having found her voice again, finally mustered up enough courage to ask, "Who are you…?"
She thought she saw the barest hint of a smile as the human-shaped shadow replied, "I have come to help you, Christine Daaé…"
Christine felt a shiver shoot through her person like an electric current. Despite not getting an answer to her first question, she had much more besides that one. Not quite succeeding at keeping her voice steady, she asked, "F-for that m-matter…h-how do you know my name?"
"I know the names of all who live and work in the Théâtre National de l'Opéra…" the ghostly man replied, the pace and tone of his voice staying the same. "After all, I've made this house my dwelling place as well, so to speak…"
Christine was about to ask him what he meant by that, until she recalled with newly born eye-widening fear a certain story told by a certain danseuse. "You…y-you l-live underneath the house?" Curse this stammering tongue! she said in her mind. I feel witless enough as it is!
The man nodded, his head being the only thing that moved while the rest of him continued to stand perfectly still. "Indeed, Mademoiselle… And I am glad you are the only one who seems to have caught on…"
Upon hearing that, Christine remembered what she'd wanted to know ever since she first saw this bizarre creature. "But…what does all of this have to do with me? And if you truly mean no ill will, why come to meet me here? And at this hour?!"
He nodded at her again, as if agreeing with her. "Do forgive me for arriving in this manner…" Christine noticed with surprise not so much his change of tone, but how it seemed to sound rather sympathetic. "Far be it from me to otherwise engage in such blatant misconduct…" he continued. "But, I am afraid there was simply no other time and place for us to meet…"
"What on earth for though?" Christine demanded, flinching at how she'd unintentionally raised her voice.
As if to convey his message more properly, the masked man in black held out an open hand. "I know what it is that you want, Mademoiselle Daaé…"
Christine frowned. In an attempt to hide her anxiety at his claim, she changed the tone of her own voice to sound more challenging. "Then if you do know, tell me what it is that I want."
His voice sounding sympathetic again, the man replied, "I know that you wish to sing again like you once did years ago…before that fire deemed your voice too lovely for the world to hear, and thus stole it from you…"
Christine didn't know whether to feel complimented or mocked by his words. But even more so, her brown eyes widened as she realized that this stranger somehow knew something about her that normally would be unknown to anyone she didn't disclose it to. It made her even more uncertain about whether or not he was a ghost.
"You've been spying on me, haven't you?!" Christine accused him. But the man only held up his hand as if to express an intention of peace, just as he did before.
"I have not, Mademoiselle, I can assure you…" he replied just as calmly as he'd been since she first saw him.
Christine wanted to demand he tell her how else he could possibly know such an intimate thing about her, when she found she'd suddenly lost her voice again. The man seemed to take that as permission to continue.
"Whether or not you believe me, I have come to help you gain your voice back…" He once again only barely smiled. "Truly, it would be a great tragedy for such a blessing to be completely and utterly lost to you…and the world…"
Christine didn't listen to that last sentence. She was already struck with bewilderment at this proposition laid before her. So many questions flew through her head that she had no idea where to begin. She'd already wanted an answer as to how he knew of her private wish to sing again. Now she wanted to know also how the interloper knew of the circumstances that had rendered her singing voice lost. And even if he did sincerely desire to help her, just how did he intend to help her get it back when she herself had been unable to for an entire decade? Surely he didn't think himself a sort of master magician who could just miraculously restore it to her…did he?
That last question caused the flow of thoughts in Christine's mind to suddenly freeze and her heart to pound. As ridiculous as it sounded at first, she reminded herself that she'd never met a man like the one standing in her mirror before her – that alone seemed to be evidence enough. But other than that, what did she really know of him with any amount of certainty?
And yet the more she thought about it, no matter how much she may have wanted to deny it, Christine found herself more and more wanting to take up his offer. Though it might have been ten years since she'd last sang – when she'd then been a child rather than a grown woman – she never forgot the joy it brought to her, and how she'd shared that joy with her loved ones. Nor would she forget the horror she felt upon hearing the news that she might never sing again. Of course, ten years was more than enough time to get used to it.
But now that this man – however bizarre he may have seemed – sounded certain that he could help her regain what now felt like a lost treasure… Christine couldn't ignore the glimmer of hope that seemed much like the small candle in her room. It was often only a small source of illumination for her dark room at night. But even then, though the light it provided was always dim, it always comforted her. Now it appeared as though this revenant was offering her the match needed to once again light a different but much more cherished source of illumination in her life.
Realizing then though that she'd been contemplating in silence for a good while, Christine redirected her gaze back to the man in her mirror, and narrowed her eyes at him, communicating her still prevalent suspicion. "Name your terms," she challenged him.
"There are none…" he replied, seeming almost strangely pleased by her willingness to be so bold with him, until his usual stone-faced expression returned at once. "Although, this perhaps could be one…"
While Christine leaned forward in her bed to listen, he explained, "However untoward this may seem at first…" The man held out his hand toward her once again before he continued. "You must be willing to come with me, Mademoiselle…to the place where I plan to help you…"
Once more, Christine felt distrust and wariness simmer within her. As though he'd read her thoughts, the man added, "I will not force you to come with me if that is not your wish… In fact, should you desire, I will disappear tonight, and you need never to encounter me again…"
Now that certainly caught Christine off guard. She wondered for a moment if it was simply a ploy, a specter's trick to bait her. But then she recalled how he'd said his intention in coming to her at this time and place had been only to offer this invitation to her, rather than take her for his own. Even if he was already pushing the accepted limits of propriety, not once so far had the fellow been coarse with her or moved any closer toward her from his position – although for all she knew he could simply walk through the mirror. Yet now, not only was the offering her what could be her first and last chance to get her voice back, but he was saying he would respect her wishes if she turned him down…
Confound this man of contradictions! How dare he make it this difficult for her to form any sort of opinion about him! Never mind at this point how he and the mist surrounding him simply materialized out of nowhere and inside her mirror. Truly, whoever – or whatever – this man was, he had only proved himself to be quite the enigma, one paradox after another, the most prevalent being that he appeared to be both human and spirit at the same time.
Then again, would a ghost be so concerned with the plights of the living, let alone one in particular? Christine didn't think so. But what could she make of a man dressed in finery like those who afforded themselves base morals, yet had the bearing and the air of a gentleman? She sighed at not knowing whether he was more likely to be living or dead.
In the end, it all came down to what she was willing to risk on the slimmest of chances that her singing voice would be restored to her. A chance being offered her by a man she knew nothing of other than that he found it necessary to appear before her in her room at night, yet had otherwise treated her with the utmost respect. But then…Christine remembered how much she'd cherished that voice that had soothed her and put her at ease during a bad dream. Now it seemed she was standing before the one who – ghost or no – seemed to have gone out of his way to be kind enough to do that for her, and wanted to help her regain at least one thing the fire had stolen…
It was the barest minimum she had to form an impression of him. But it was all she had… Christine then took a deep breath, then turned again to face the man, her heart pounding yet her will unwavering.
"If I must make a decision tonight," she said, her voice the steadiest it had been all night, "then…I will come with you." For a brief second, Christine thought she saw his eyes widen. Still, she wasn't done. "However, you must promise – no, swear to me that you will not hurt me in any way, nor spellbind me, nor act in any way I deem dangerous or manipulative."
"Oh, of course…" the man replied as he nodded his head deeply. "I swear upon my honor I will do nothing of the sort to you…"
Is there honor among ghosts though? Christine wondered. She then spoke what was on her mind yet worded it differently. "Still, I must ask." She narrowed her eyes at him again. "How do I know you're not the sort to willfully break a promise, much less an oath?"
The shady character seemed to give her a thoughtful expression. "If I'd wanted to do anything like that to you, Mademoiselle, I would have done it upon my arrival…" he replied. "I've given you my word, but I suppose you must be willing take the risk to see the rest for yourself…" He then held his hand out toward her just as he did earlier, and added, "However, until you make your decision, my offer still stands, Christine…"
How oddly it seemed to affect her, the way he spoke her name, and she didn't know why; yet it didn't cause Christine to shiver as it had before. It seemed the only certain things about this person were the endless uncertainties about him. Even so, she'd already given him her answer, and she was not the sort of person to easily go back on their word – even if she'd given it to this strangest of men.
With another deep breath, Christine began to rise from her bed, when she remembered she wasn't exactly decent. She once again clutched her blankets to her chest, when she saw her dressing gown from earlier hanging from a chair on the opposite side of her. She looked back at the man and nodded her head toward the garment, hoping he would know what she was meaning.
He seemed to, as he nodded and said, "Of course. Pardon me." Though he still stood in the same place he'd been this whole time, the fellow looked away, granting her at least some privacy. Grateful for his reply, Christine hastily leaped from her bed. After putting her feet into slippers, she pulled the dressing gown over her head and then her nightdress. She knew it wasn't perhaps the best option to appropriately cover herself, but it was also her only one. She then cleared her throat to let the man know she was done, and he turned back toward her, silently holding his open hand out to her…beyond the looking glass of her mirror.
Her heart throbbing with both anxiety and anticipation, Christine took one final deep breath, closing her eyes and then opening them again. And when she saw that the otherworldly figure was still there, offering her his hand, she willed her feet to move toward the mirror. With every step, she cautiously yet eagerly extended her hand toward him a little further. And before she knew it, she was only one step away from being right in front of him… Barely holding back the urge to close her eyes again, Christine bit her lip…and finally put her hand in his.
For a split second, she was surprised at how warm the man's grasp was in spite of the fact that he wore gloves. But before she could think on that any longer, he gently tugged on her hand, and she quickly knew what he meant for her to do. Biting down on her lip even more, Christine put one leg past the frame of the mirror, followed by the other. It should not have been possible, and even she would've dismissed it had she not experienced it for herself. Yet it was as simple as if one were stepping inside a hole in the wall. Though she now knew there was no point in trying to reason all this out – including how the mist seemed to vanish upon her entering – Christine still couldn't help but wonder.
But her wonder increased all the more when she finally looked up at the man again, and realized her face was little more than half a dozen inches from his. Christine's eyes widened as she took advantage of this to look at him more closely.
His pale face didn't seem particularly handsome, at least to her. Though that was probably because one side of his likeness was masked. Going by what she could see, this person did appear similar in age to Raoul, who was twenty-five. Although, for all she knew, he might not possess an actual age at all.
But what struck Christine even more were the gray-green eyes that didn't seem to blink as they looked back at her own… If the eyes truly were the windows into a person's soul as it was commonly said, she could tell that this pair likely housed a rather…soulful creature. What put her considerably more at ease, however, was that she could not find the slightest hint of lust in his gaze. While she had detected passion, it was not the vulgar sort. There was another thing about him though, something…curious. But whatever it was, she couldn't name it as easily…
After what could have been either one minute or one hour, Christine's observations eventually led her to conclude that this man in front of her truly was not the sort who had a mind to treat her like another conquest. Indeed, he seemed quite the opposite. Upon her realization, she felt a rather warm blush emerge at the surface of her cheeks, though she couldn't find one sole reason as to why.
In any event, Christine felt the warmth turn into real heat as he did what any gentleman would do, yet not what she'd ever expected of him: he leaned forward and gently kissed her hand as though she were a lady. Her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide with astonishment as he stood straight again.
The man appeared to smile, but – as he'd done before – only slightly. Yet she could tell it was genuine. Neither his expression nor his tone of voice seemed mocking as he then said, "Very pleased that you could join me tonight, Mademoiselle…"
Christine only stared silently at him, until she realized she must look a complete imbecile, and shook her head briefly to return to her right mind. Once she did so, she gave him a much more stern look this time. "I am holding you to your word, Monsieur…" she warned him in a low voice.
He kept smiling at her. "As you should," he agreed. Still holding her hand, he stretched out his arm as if to show her the pathway they were meant to take. "Now then, shall we…?"
Christine didn't answer the man immediately. She was only just now taking in the new environment she'd just traded for her more familiar one. Since he'd directed his arm to her right, she looked that way…and her mouth once again came open as she found herself staring down a hallway unlike any she'd seen before.
While the floor was still wood – as it had been in her room – the walls and the ceiling looked as though they were made of pitch black rock. Not smooth stone, but rough and coarse like a rock one would find outdoors. Christine believed she was seeing a faint glow at the very end of the path, but it looked much too long for comfort, and the walls looked as though they might narrow in on her like some great mouth.
Just then, she felt her hand being squeezed, but in a way that felt comforting. Christine turned back to face the living shadow, but suddenly saw that he was now carrying a lit lantern in the hand that wasn't grasping hers. She could've sworn it hadn't been there before, yet it seemed to have come out of nowhere nonetheless. She then directed her gaze to the man, but he stayed silent as he gave her a questioning look. Unwilling to cause him – or herself – any impatience, she returned his small smile and nodded. "Let's."
He nodded back at her and said, "Allow me to lead us…" With one hand still holding hers and the other holding his lantern in front of them, he began the descent down the hallway, with Christine following not more than two steps behind.
Already, she was beginning to feel as though the walls were closing in on her. While she still didn't think the man leading her was entirely safe, he certainly felt much safer than anything else in here. She continued to let him lead her as she kept her other arm entirely to her side. Meanwhile, the light of the lantern guided them toward the end of the hall and whatever was giving off that ominous orange glow. It gradually got brighter the closer they got to it, and seemed almost welcoming to Christine, yet made her eager as ever to get out of this hallway.
Once they finally made it to the end, she saw that the golden-orange glow was coming from lit torches that had been placed aloft above the… Heaven have mercy. They were standing before a staircase that seemed to curve like a snake on its way down, with stone steps, no rails, and more of the pitch black walls that she thought would be behind them once they got here. Now that they would actually be going down rather than just getting to the other end of the hall on a straight path…
Still holding his lantern, the man in black took the first step down, but Christine was now hesitant to follow him. When she saw out of the corner of her eye and then saw that he was looking at her, silently asking her to come along, she decided to ask a question of her own. "Just…where exactly are we going?"
"You'll see for yourself when we get there…" he replied, without a hint of agitation. Christine could only sigh. Of course he wasn't going to tell her. Still, once she thought about it, it didn't seem as unsettling as the hallway, since there was a pair of torches above every twelfth step, and the man still had his lantern with him.
When she realized she was making him wait, she kept her hand in his while she gathered her skirts in the other. Christine bit her lip as she took the first step, then the second, gripping the masculine hand since there were no rails. But the more steps she took, the easier it seemed to get. Of course, it also helped that the man in front of her was moving at the same pace.
And yet, once they got past the first dozen steps, she unconsciously stopped and looked back up the winding stone staircase. The entrance was out of her sight. Before she could look much longer though, Christine felt on her lower jaw the touch of a hand, which then gently redirected her face back toward the one leading them.
Smiling softly at her, but only just, he said, "Best to not look behind, Mademoiselle, now that we've come this far… Moreover, you'll risk losing your footing…"
She only nodded in understanding. After which, the two of them resumed their journey down the stairs, down into Heaven-knew-what. And all the while, Christine tried and failed to ignore the way her heart was throbbing. While she did have this sense of dread not knowing where they were going, she also had the vaguest sense of enthusiasm. Still, all she knew for certain at the moment was that they were literally and figuratively descending into the unknown…and Christine could only hope that there was some sort of light at the end of this proverbial tunnel.
Reviews would be appreciated.