-AN: I know this story is ridden with mistakes. I edited most of this on my phone, but I am back with a brand new laptop! So now I can go back and edit the previous chapters. However, that means for all of those following this story, you are going to get a bunch of annoying alerts as I reupload the chapters. So my deepest apologies, but it will make the story a little more readable.
Thank you so much for joining up for this wild ride! My husband and I had a blast transferring this into novel form and plan on editing our companion piece soon.
-o-
And the stars were shining and the earth was scented. The gate of the garden creaked and a footstep grazed the sand...Fragrant, she entered and fell into my arms. ~ Puccini, Tosca
-o-
Chapter 19
-o-
Erik pulled Christine down a hallway, ducking into a small storage closet as he activated a false panel in the wall, sending them into the hidden interior of the theatre. "I don't know what is going on, but someone did this...to hurt you."
"Who would do this? Carlotta? Is she back from America?" Christine asked, breathless. Safely on the opposite side of the wall, she released his hand and braced herself against the wall, coughing from the exertion.
"No. She tried to harm you once and it did not go well for her." He growled as he led her, taking her hand through the narrow corridors. They could hear the sounds of pandemonium around them. Through the walls they heard echoes of a "red masked man" being seen cutting the ropes.
Her eyes grew wide as she looked up at him.
He fell quiet, listening in on a conversation between two dancers. He was a man, tall, with a red devil mask. They saw him knock out the stage hand in charge of the fly system and then flee the scene when things grew chaotic.
Erik saw her expression and stepped away, an alarmed expression on his face. "Christine… I didn't—"
"Oh Erik, of course you had nothing to do with this, but everyone will think it's the opera ghost!"
Erik relaxed a bit, but his face remained hard. "Let them. They have always thought it was me for any mishap. I think we both know who is behind this, Mlle. Daaé."
She shook her head in disbelief. "I can't believe he would do something so horrid! Raoul was vindictive and cruel… but this is insane!"
"Let us talk more when you are safe." He warned and fell quiet; beginning to lead her back to the lair. His heart was burning with rage and concern for her.
Down beneath the chaos, all remained still and serene. The troubles of the outside world had always seemed to disappear once Christine crossed the boundary of light and dark.
"Are… you alright, Erik? I had thought you dead!"
He nodded to her. "I am fine. It takes far more than a falling chandelier to kill me. What of you? This hurts me too deeply to see that you were in so much danger," he admitted to her, taking a hand, drawing her closer and inspecting her in all of her costumed glory for any injuries that she might have sustained.
Moved by his concern, she offered him a warm smile and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him deeply, displaying her feelings on the matter.
Erik kissed her deeper than he should. It betrayed his affection for her, and he held her tight even after the kiss broke. "We'll depart for Milan. Far from this place. You'll be safe there." He didn't even realize that he had just inserted himself into the narrative.
"Oh, Erik, how could I pull you away from your home? This magical place you've built?" Christine pulled back to look into his glowing eyes.
But Erik only shook his head. "This place will be here, long after I am gone. What is important is that we get you to safety...And that your patronage continues."
She cracked a smile at his insistence at being her patron. It belied something deeper that she could only hope to be true. "You wish to stay with me? Follow me all the way to Milan?" she whispered.
"It would be proper for your patron to be with you. Even if he has to be in the shadows; he should be near lest….trouble..arises."
Christine's face colored as she debated whether or not to put to words what was in her mind. "Would… that truly be just a patronage at that point?" she asked carefully, afraid of the answer.
"It...uh...It could be looked at that way, to avoid suspicions...of course," he said, hastily, not looking her in the eyes.
Christine's smile grew as she watched the man struggle. She could work with that.
Above, things were not so serene. The audience members had fled in an aggressive stampede, causing multiple injuries. The cast and crew ran about, confused and frightened, worrying they might be the next to fall victim to the violent Opera Ghost.
Raoul was among the crowd, wading through hysterics as he approached the stage and found it infuriatingly empty of immobile bodies. He wanted to scream in rage, but instead rushed away from the scene, toward the dressing rooms.
Below, the Phantom cared little for the petty noble's rage, or the pandemonium above. It would settle, they would rebound; they always did. What mattered was his angel, his Christine.
"Have you given any thoughts to packing for your travels? The climate in Italy..It is far different than this."
Christine shook her head, knowing very little of the world outside of France. She looked toward the overflowing closet in her underground bedroom. "I have a feeling it will not be a problem."
Madame Giry was not one to be easily bullied. However, with a pistol to her back, she felt compelled to lead the rabid man behind her to the black lake. She had been caught opening the secret mirror passageway, intending to insure Christine and Erik's safety, when the viscount crashed into the room with fire in his eyes.
"What is Italy like, teacher? It sounds like something from a fairytale," Christine asked, her eyes as wide and full of wonder as a child's.
"Different and yet absolutely the same. Hotter in the summer," Erik responded with a bit of a smile. "It will do you good to see the culture in which so much of your art comes from."
With that, he would hear a sound in the distance. A boat, noisily crashing through the black waters of the lake.
"We are not alone," he announced to Christine. "Quick, in here." With that, he would motion her to an armoire closet, pushing her gently inside. As she entered, she would realize just how deep Erik's obsession for her went: Dresses of every cut and color, all perfectly tailored for her.
She stopped short, forcing Erik to pause. "Who's dresses are all of these?" She asked, thinking they were of some past lover's.
"Yours. Now in." He said sharply, moving to cross behind her; shutting the door behind him.
Christine obeyed immediately and found herself soon shut in complete darkness, utterly disoriented. She could feel the heat of Erik's body in front of her and pressed into him for comfort. That is, until in one moment, he was suddenly gone.
The boat slammed into the shore and Madame Giry nearly fell out of the boat. Urged by the pistol's nozzle, she climbed laboriously onto dry land and steadied herself with her cane. "This is as far as I've ever gone, Monsieur. I promise you. Please... spare me."
"You being spared has everything to do with me finding them. So I would help in that effort, if I were you," Raoul growled.
_
Erik moved quickly to prepare. He had weapons here and fully intended to use them. Firearms were far too inelegant for him. He prefered throwing knives; and of course his Punjab lasso. He moved rapidly around the lair.
When Raoul and Madame Giry entered the cavernous space, they found it to be seemingly deserted.
Raoul stepped into the strange living quarters with extreme caution, expecting the Phantom to jump out at him at any moment. He left Giry by the door with a stern glare and a promise of pain if she moved, and held his gun in front of him while he circled the area.
A voice came from his right. "Viscount. A pleasure that such nobility should grace my home. Please, lower the weapon. There is no need for such ill manners here." Of course, he was not standing to his right. He was throwing his voice, standing somewhere behind him in the shadows, creating a dizzying illusion.
Raoul swung his gun to the right, squinting his eyes in the darkness. "I am here to rescue Christine from your evil clutches! Give up the girl and I shall let you go free!" he yelled into the darkness.
"The man who undoubtedly caused the stir upstairs. I'm sure your intentions are ever so pure, Viscount. Tell me? Were you foolish enough to come alone?" The voice swirled about him, right; left, above, below.
Raoul swung around, pointing the gun at shadows, unable to pinpoint the traveling voice, the slightest bit of worry beginning to show in the corner of his eyes.
"Misseur, you've put me in a very unfortunate place. Mercy would dictate that I let you walk from this place. Yet, doing so would mean that your existence would be a continued threat to Mlle. Daaé."
A pause echoed through the room.
"Have I ever been known for mercy?"
At that, the voice would focus to a point above and behind Raoul. Erik would be perched like a cat atop several of the organ pipes, high enough that the man below wouldn't have immediately seen him. He lept down, striking out with the lasso. His aim was true and the length of fine silk rope landed around Raoul's head. Erik pulled on the rope violently as he leapt down, sending the viscount staggering toward him. Each arm's length of rope would bring him closer.
The gun went flying and Raoul gurgled, gripping fruitlessly at his throat as he was pulled forward. His eyes bulged and the veins in his neck popped as he stared into the cold eyes of The Phantom.
Suddenly, from the corner, a voice rang out. "Erik! Don't kill him!"
Erik pulled him in hard once more, tightening the noose about his neck, and lifting him to his feet with a controlling grip. "Who is going to advocate for this man?" Erik growled, trying to see who was calling for him.
Christine stepped out of the shadows, her hands in front of her, pleading. "Don't kill him, please!"
Raoul made another gurgling sound.
She looked and met Raoul's eyes. "If you kill him, we'd have to run forever. They would look for us. You wouldn't be able to show me Milan…"
A long, painful silence reigned over the lair.
Erik tightened the noose for a dangerous amount of time before loosening it.
"You live because she deems it." His feral, catlike, gaze was locked in Raoul's, searing into his soul. "Madame Giry. Take the Viscount from this place. Should he step foot inside the Palais Garnier again, you will tell me. If he does that, I will be far less merciful than I am now."
The acrid smell of urine hit the air, and Raoul collapsed as he was released, gasping and coughing for air. He began crawling away from Erik, but Christine stopped him with a quick shout.
She walked up to him and said in a calm voice, "Wait! You forgot your gun." She raised the gun previously hidden in the folds of her dress and aimed low. She cocked the pistol and pulled the trigger.
A painful shriek filled the cavernous lair as Raoul clasped his hands around his foot, blood pouring from between his fingers.
"If I ever see you again, it will be your balls next. Now crawl," she said coldly, then dropped the pistol next to the sobbing man before turning around and disappearing through her bedroom door.
Erik stood, watching the Viscount crawl way. Giry would help him into the boat, leading him back from whence he came. When they had disappeared in the distance, fading into the black lake, he finally moved towards the bedroom, standing in the doorway.
"The kitten has fangs; and claws...That was a side of you that I have not seen before, Mlle. Daaé," he announced, a smirk crossing over his face.
The kitten was currently in a pile on the floor, sobbing. Her hands covering her face, she wept loud and long, surrounded by the billowed fabric of her dress.
The smirk swiftly faded from Erik's lips and he hurried over to her. He used his strong, yet elegant hands to shift her, helping her sit up. He held her, cradling her. "Let me make the travel arrangements. We'll leave this place tomorrow, and you will be free. Free and safe."
"I wanted to shoot his face off!" Christine moaned and buried her sodden face into his shoulder.
She let him hold her for as long as he allowed, slowly quieting her tears until they stopped completely.
"There would have been worse things that could have happened," he replied softly. "But, you were right. His noble status makes for a challenge in making him disappear quickly. You did the right thing, and showed far more restraint than I would have on my own."
"Never leave me, Erik," Christine begged, clutching tightly to him. "I couldn't bear to live without you!"
He shut his eyes, nodding silently before speaking. "I couldn't see how I could, even if I tried." "Christine...I…" he began to say, but trailed off before he could finish, unable to say the words.
"You love me, Erik," she finished for him with a teary smile. "I know. I think I've always known," she shifted in his lap to face him more fully. She brought his head down to hers so she could brush her lips over his own. Once, twice, then she deepened the kiss. With one hand, she untied the ribbon holding his mask to his face and took it off, placing it to the side without breaking the kiss. She pressed against him tightly, hands on either side of his cheeks. "I love you too," she whispered against his lips.
Erik shook beneath her hands and she felt his tears hit her cheeks. Christine held him tighter as he finally let go and let his emotions pour out.
Eventually, they made their way over to the bed and made love to each other, spending their last night in the magnificent Phantom's Lair. The next day, they were on a train to Italy. They brought next to nothing with them aside from Erik's amassed fortune and scores of his composed music, soon ready to be shared with the rest of the world.
