Christine dans Deux Chapter 80: The Whisperer Shouts!, a phantom of the opera fanfic

Christine dans Deux

An Alternate Multiverse – A Phantom of the Opera Story

Nyasia A. Maire

DISCLAIMER: See Chapter One
Chapter Eighty – The Whisperer Shouts!

The weeping, spectral woman finds herself lying on the living room floor of Boddam Castle.

"Now what? Well, I suppose I must trust that they kept their promise to me and that Erik is happy with me … somewhere … some when …."

She stands and looks about the room, admiring the architecture and furnishings.

"I could have been happy living here."

Suddenly, her eyes alight upon a familiar alabaster statue, tucked into a small alcove shrine. She smiles as she approaches the delicately carved figure, her hand reaching out to it. Her hand stops and hovers less than an inch from the beatific face. Her fingers gently caress the air just above the cheek for a moment. She whispers.

"I guess some things never change. My greetings go to you, Goddess! You are even lovelier than I remember, Quan Yin. I know that I am unworthy, but …. You are the Goddess of Mercy. You are the One Who Sees and Hears the Cries from the Human World. You are she who always observes and pays attention to sound. You are she who hears prayers. You are the Goddess who comforts the troubled, the sick, the lost, the senile and the unfortunate. You are the protector of seafarers, farmers and travelers. You are she who cares for souls in the underworld. You are she who frees souls from the torment of purgatory. Goddess, as one of the P'u Sa, the Three Great Beings, renowned for your power over the forces of nature, I invoke thee. Cradle him within your loving embrace. Protect him, please?"

The woman kneels before the statue, closing her eyes she lifts her head to the heavens. Then, her arms move with the precision of an oft performed ritual. She draws her arms out with her elbows pressed to her sides. Her hands come together and issue three sharp, cracking claps. Her voice becomes clear and strong.

"Spirits of my ancestors! Awake! Lift my prayer to the heavens for the Goddess to hear."

She waits a moment then lowers her head with eyes still closed, she continues.

"Quan Yin, I offer this prayer to you for Erik and for the souls of all those in need. Please, hear the words of your unworthy petitioner …."

"To those who withhold refuge,
I cradle you in safety at the core of my Being.
To those that cause a child to cry out,
I grant you the freedom to express your own choked agony.
To those that inflict terror,
I remind you that you shine with the purity of a thousand suns.
To those who would confine, suppress or deny,
I offer the limitless expanse of the sky.
To those who need to cut, slash or burn,
I remind you of the invincibility of Spring.
To those who cling and grasp,
I promise more abundance than you could ever hold onto.
To those who vent their rage on small children,
I return to you your deepest innocence.
To those who must frighten into submission,
I hold you in the bosom of your original mother.
To those who cause agony to others,
I give the gift of free flowing tears.
To those that deny another's right to be,
I remind you that the angels sang in celebration of you on the day of your birth.
To those who see only division and separateness,
I remind you that a part is born only by bisecting a whole.
To those who have forgotten the tender mercy of a mother's embrace,
I send a gentle breeze to caress your brow.
To those who still feel somehow incomplete,
I offer the perfect sanctity of this very moment."
Buddhist Prayer to Quan Yin

As she continues her invocation, the whisperer shouts.

"Quan Yin! Goddess of Mercy! Please, hear me!
This lost soul calls upon you!
I invoke your aid on behalf of one truly worthy.
Hear my plea! I beseech you!"

The woman begins the ritual with the slow and deliberate clapping of her hands three times and then bows to the figure.

"Goddess, I implore you grant to Erik ... a life filled with love,
I beg you to gift him with a life of peace and happiness.
Help him to help himself.
Help him to travel each day on a sure and steady path.
Help him to find the path to healing.
Help him in his mind, body, spirit and soul.
Quan Yin, I am yours.
Mind, spirit and body,
I am yours.
Thank you, Goddess."

Tears stream from the woman's eyes as she finishes speaking her prayer. Heedless of her tears, she bends to place a kiss on the feet of the statue and then drained, miserable, exhausted, desperate and depressed she lowers herself face down on the floor before the statue once more. The woman lies there quietly weeping. Her final words sound hoarse and choked with her tears.

"I ask nothing for myself, Goddess. Just for Erik. Only for Erik. Oh! I love him so …."

Ω٭Ω٭Ω٭Ω٭Ω

She has been summoned and the first sound she hears is that of weeping. Quan Yin sighs.

"It is always weeping."

There is something about the voice though that tugs at her and brings her attention to this particular weeping specter.

"Yes, I know this one. I feel her presence more intimately than most. Why is that?"

She materializes in the room to learn the identity of the specter. She leans down almost touching her cheek to the floor and stumbles back with the shock of her recognition. A crimson flush of fury suffuses her pale cheeks, but only for the barest of moments. Then her face regains its composure and she is serene once more. She disappears from the room leaving the specter prostrated before her statue.

She returns to her place and considers the case of the weeping specter. She frowns. Coldly, her voice rings out.

"I KNOW WHAT IS DONE. I AM DISPLEASED, VERY DISPLEASED. IT SHALL STOP, NOW! I SAY, ENOUGH! The woman willingly submitted to an eternal punishment. The man's heart is whole once more. I deemed them forgiven. Who dared this abomination? Which one of you dares defy me by withholding the mercy I granted? Speak now."

The rumbling, deep gong-like voice issues forth from the clouds above the group of human-like figures standing, sitting and reclining about a grotto.

Three of the males given their names of Aeacus, Minos and Rhadamanthus by the Greeks consign the dead either to Tartarus or to the Isles of the Blest. Their faces show their displeasure over the accusations by shaking their heads, but say nothing.

The Furies – Megaera, Tisiphone and Alecto, also shake their heads. Megaera speaks for the three of them.

"We, Furies, punish criminals and represent human conscience. These two are pure. We hold no sway over them."

Three very old women sat huddled together over a loom in a bright corner of the grotto. They are the Fates who spin the threads of human destiny. Their names are Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos. Their cracked and ancient voices rise in a cackle.

"I, Clotho, spin the thread of human fate. I wove only what Lachesis dispensed."

"I, Lachesis, dispensed only the thread allotted me by Cosmos, Entropy and Chaos."

"I, Atropos, cut the thread only when their time is finished. Their time has not yet ended. Hades has not called them to Tartarus or to the Isles. I have no part in this matter."

"Very well, I call upon Cosmos. What say you, Cosmos?"

A tall, skeletally lean form rises from a divan to a sitting position. It seems to examine carelessly its finger nails for a moment before answering. It stands and bows low to show its respect then begins to speak. The angelic tones spewing from the haunted shadows of its maw entrance all those gathered in the grotto.

"Mother, I create. I do not gratuitously destroy. I had no part in this. I would not defy your mercy. You know I support your decision in this whole heartedly and you know why. I believe you should direct your inquiry about this matter to my brothers, Entropy and Chaos."

He bows to her once more and resume his position on the divan.

"Very well, my son. I believe that is exactly what I shall do. Entropy? I call upon you, Entropy. What say you, Entropy?"

A portly, older man of medium height with dark brown skin and eyes steps forward from out of seemingly nowhere. His hair is long, straight and black as coal. He wears it swept back from his face, tied loosely at the base of his neck. He holds his steepled hands before him with his fingertips pointing straight up. He smiles broadly at everyone and no one.

"Mother, I sow the seeds of destruction only at the behest of Cosmos and Chaos. My actions may destroy, but you know that I am not evil. For even in destruction, there is the creation of new life. I am the only true neutral of the universe. I am single-minded in my purpose. I destroy. If I am guilty of anything in this matter, I am guilty only of acting as you created me to act."

"Very well, my son. You and I shall speak more of this later for you know better than this. Now, Chaos. My wayward child. What say you?"

A tall, handsome man stops his frantic pacing and looks up. His hair sparkles golden blonde in the dappled sunlight of the grotto. His lightly tanned skin is flawless and his eyes of an unnatural sapphire blue dazzle anyone unlucky enough or foolhardy enough to gaze into them. His tenor voice quavers with a nervous energy and his voice has a lilting, mocking yet timid, sing-song quality to it.

"Greetings, mother! How are you this fine day?"

"Chaos, my son. Must I constantly remind you to respect me? You wound my heart each time you disregard my wishes. Haven't you a care for your mother?

The voice seems to pout and as Chaos makes no effort to reply, the voice continues in a harsher tone.

"Take your true form, my son. Now!"

"As you wish, Mother."

The handsome young man withdraws from the sunlight and as he enters the darkest corner of the grotto, he transforms into a hovering shadowy, shapeless entity.

"Again, I ask of you, Chaos. You defy me. Why?"

All of the beings turn as one towards Chaos, who seems to withdraw further into the shadows. The being exudes confusion and disorder. His gray eyes flash with annoyance and the others quickly look away from him.

"Mother! You said that the woman should suffer. I carried out your judgment and nothing more."

The formless figure's voice is thin and reedy as he whines his response.

"That is the reasoning of a spoiled, petulant child. It was but a temporary punishment for her rejection of true love. You knew this, but you were jealous of your brother. You knew my punishment was a test of their devotion to one another and you chose to pursue a merciless vendetta. What did you think, my son? That if you could not have her, no one would. No. She was never yours to have. The Fates decided her mate since time out of mind. I was quite specific as to the test and resulting actions. Now, due to your meddling, I must interfere. I must undo what you have done. I must unravel the threads of fate."

The group lets out a collective gasp.

"Chaos, my son, you sorely disappoint me."

"But, mother!" He shrieks.

"No … you must go to your room and no playing with the mortals until I permit it."

The shadow rushes from the grotto a shrill keening following in his wake. Cosmos watches his fleeing brother with a smirk.

"Fine! Now, Clotho, you know what we must do …."

"Yes, I do. Very well, Goddess. Let us begin."

Ω٭Ω٭Ω٭Ω٭Ω

Unfortunately, it was only two kilometers later when the engine sputtered and then died. Spotting a muddy trail, I pull my car off the road and coast to a stop. The air inside the car becomes blue with the invectives to which my mouth gives voice. When I have at last exhausted my supply of swears and the red recedes from my vision, I find myself staring at a black older model Mini Cooper. Climbing out of my car and closing the door, I walk to the Mini to check it out. Noticing the tire tracks in the mud, I feel relief.

"Seems to me that it couldn't have been here too long if I can see the tire tracks. I wonder where the owner is."

As soon as that thought crosses my mind, I hear a woman's voice singing. After listening for a moment and concentrating on the direction of her voice, I grab my keys, lock up the car and begin my quest for the source of the music. The words soon become discernable to my ears and I smile.

"I dreamt I dwelt in Marble Halls,
with vassals and serfs at my side,
and of all who assembled within those walls,
that I was the hope and the pride.

I had riches all too great to count,
and a high ancestral name,
but I also dreamt, which pleased me most,
that you loved me still the same.

That you loved me,
you loved me still the same.
That you loved me,
you loved me still the same.

I dreamt that suitors sought my hand,
that knights upon bended knee
and with vows no maiden's heart could withstand,
they pledged their faith to me.

And I dreamt that one of that noble host
came forth my hand to claim,
but I also dreamt, which charmed me most,
that you loved me still the same.

That you loved me,
you loved me still the same.
That you loved me,
you loved me still the same."
Traditional; Arranged by Enya & Nicky Ryan

I round a boulder and the sight before me shocks me to my very core. My feet feel as if someone cemented them to the ground. The owner of the voice sits perched on a rock with her back to me before a canvas, which rests on an easel with her paints and brushes set-up around her. She is a small, curvaceous yet slender, dark-haired woman with alabaster skin.

"She fancies suede and leather … just like you, Erik."

Her voice stuns me with its unearthly beauty and with the overwhelming sense of happiness contained in that voice. I have never heard anyone sing with so much emotion before.

"How could anyone be a part of this world and still sing with such joyous abandon?"

The voice whispers.

"She is an angel."

For once, I am in silent agreement with the voice, but for one minor word that needs to be changed.

"No, she is my angel."

As if the woman, my angel, can hear my thoughts, she begins to sing once more.

"Spend all your time waiting,
for that second chance,
for a break that would make it okay.
There's always one reason,
to feel not good enough,
and it's hard at the end of the day.
I need some distraction.
Oh, beautiful release.
Memory seeps from my veins.
Let me be empty,
and weightless and maybe,
I'll find some peace tonight.

So tired of the straight line.
And everywhere you turn,
there's vultures and thieves at your back.
And the storm keeps on twisting.
You keep on building the lie
that you make up for all that you lack.
It don't make no difference.
Escaping one last time.
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, oh!
This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees.

In the arms of an angel,
fly away from here.
From this dark, cold hotel room,
and the endlessness that you fear.
You are pulled from the wreckage,
of your silent reverie.
You're in the arms of the angel,
may you find some comfort there.
You're in the arms of the angel,
may you find some comfort there."
Music & Lyrics by Sarah McLachlan

I almost turn and walk away as I feel embarrassed for interrupting her solitude, but my feet still refuse to move. Then I realize that my mouth is hanging open and I'm staring at her like some kind of a lunatic, so I shut my mouth and shake my head. Where her first song was light and joyous, this song holds all the sorrow in the world contained within the crystalline pure sound of the woman's voice. I close my eyes and try to regain my composure, but her voice has awakened a longing in me. The voice inside my head whispers.

"She is the one."

Tired and annoyed by its constant pestering, I respond without thinking.

"Shut up!"

I clap my hand over my mouth, but I am too late, as the words have already escaped my lips. The woman's body gives a slight start and then she goes very still as she cocks her head, listening. Her left hand holds a brush hovering just above the surface of the canvas. And then, a trick of the wind saves me. I hear distant voices, a man's voice shouting and a child's voice answering. Her head scans the horizon and just before she turns to look in my direction, I duck behind a boulder.

"What am I doing? I wanted to find someone to help me get petrol and I've found someone, but now I'm hiding."

The voice whispers, "You don't want her to think you told her to shut up …."

"Aw … please? Give me a break! Let me think!"

The silence broken by the soft, gentle sound of the woman's brief chuckle.

"Well, that was a close call. What do you intend to do for an encore? Okay, Erik, time to think with your big head and not the little one."

Again, my feet refuse to move.

"Aw, bloody hell! It's now or never, Erik. Do or die. So what are you gonna do?"

My body answers my question as my feet start to move and I find myself walking back around the boulder towards the woman. Her concentration on the glorious view of land, sea and sky as she captures it with her oils and brush.

"Well, here goes something, I hope."

I clear my throat and open my mouth to speak, but the words freeze in my throat, my mouth hanging open as she whirls about to face me, reacting to the sound of my clearing throat.

"Oh my God! Her face … she is absolutely beautiful!"

Ω٭Ω٭Ω٭Ω٭Ω

The man and woman walk blissfully hand-in-hand through the wild grass. The ground is flat and it is an easy walk to the precipice. Cautiously, they halt several meters away from the edge and gaze out over the wild sea. The wind whips their hair, but neither seems to mind. The serenity of their faces perfectly matched. The woman leans her head to rest on the man's upper arm. The man immediately moves his arm and drapes it about the woman bringing her closer to him. He leans his head to rest his cheek on the top of her head. The woman raises her hand up and the sunlight glistens off the diamonds, which adorn one of the two gold bands she wears on the third finger of her left hand.

"A star." She murmurs. "It reminds me of a star twinkling. Look! It burns with all of the colors of Sirius and yet, it burns now. Sirius cannot even do that … it cannot burn bright enough to be seen by the naked eye under the light of the sun." She snickers softly. "A daytime star …."

The man chuckles and turns his head to place a kiss on the top of her head.

"I love you, Cairistíona Muiríol Murron Keith-DeMornay. My wife."

Lowering her hand, she leans deeper into his embrace, closing her eyes, smiling and sighing happily.

"I love you, too, Erik Delano Corbin DeMornay. My husband."

They stand silently appreciating the gift they received. The gift of one another's unconditional forgiveness and love. They remember everything, but more importantly realize memories are simply things that happened in the past. It is in the now that they must live, love and appreciate each moment the fates allow them before today becomes but another yesterday. Pulling away from her husband, she turns to stare intently at the man. Her gaze runs slowly up and down him as she stores the moment away as another cherished keepsake. She marks the moment with the words.

"I never knew I could smile so much, never realized life would ever gift me with anything that would make me this happy."

Again, their fingers touch and the sparks elicited by the contact of skin on skin, send a flush of fire through both the man and the woman. The man speaks first. His voice is gruff and his breathing is uneven.

"Christy, let's go inside. If it is alright with you, I need to make love to my bride."

"Why, my groom, I thought you'd never ask."

She lets out a shriek of surprise as he scoops her up into his arms. He looks into her beautiful hazel-green eyes and she looks into his blue-green eyes. He lowers his head and gently places a chaste kiss upon her lips.

"Erik, I think you need to put me down. You'll never be able to carry me all the way back."

"I'm stronger than you think, my love."

"Well, be that as it may, I'd like you to reserve some of your strength for our wedding night. Do you know?"

She winks and impishly grins up at him. He blinks.

"Oh!"

He lowers her gently to the ground.

With a devilish smile, she begins to run as she cries.

"I'll race you back!"

Her feet fly over the uneven ground. She knows every hillock, paddock, brook, gully, field and pond within 10 kilometers by heart. She knows the path to her home, the castle, so well she could run there with her eyes closed. Her long, straight black hair flies behind her streaming through the air like a medieval banner. Throwing her arms up into the air, she leaps over a pile of stones hidden beneath the grass. He watches her for a moment stunned into stillness by the sight of her complete delight and wild abandon.

"She is a nymph ... an angelic nymph."

Her laughter breaks his trance and grinning, he races after her.

Ω٭Ω٭Ω٭Ω٭Ω

He enters the room that is now their bedroom to find his bride naked and panting on the bed. Her clothing strewn wildly about the room. She sits facing him, her legs drawn to her chest with her arms wrapped about them with her long, black hair flowing about her body like an ebony wedding veil.

"Dearest, one of us has on way too many clothes." She purrs.

"Well, perhaps, we should cut your hair then."

"You wouldn't dare!" She cries in mock alarm.

"You're right. I wouldn't."

Their eyes lock and he walks towards her. His hands move to the buttons of his shirt to quickly undo the buttons and shrug the shirt from his body. Never breaking contact with her eyes, he lowers his hands to his jeans with a tug and push, the jeans fall to the floor. He climbs onto the bed, kneeling before her, he bends to lift her hair and moves it to her back. His hands run down her back and his lips brush along her neck leaving a burning trail of light, feathery kisses in their wake. She moans, arching her back unconsciously providing him with more of her neck to kiss. Her arms go weak, releasing her legs, as his kisses intensify she leans back onto the mattress with her hands behind her for support. His mouth travels up her throat, over her chin and back to her mouth. His lips mesh perfectly with hers and after a few heated moments, his tongue requests entry and she allows the kiss to deepen. She gasps at the depths of his passion for her and her elbows buckle. Her back presses into the mattress and a soft whoosh escapes her mouth as his weight knocks the air from her. He draws back, concerned. She shakes her head, smiling. Her arms move to his back. Her hands alternate between massaging and caressing the broad, well-muscled expanse. Their lips continue to explore, kissing eyebrows, cheeks, noses, foreheads and eyes. It is only when the woman concentrates her attention on his chin that the man completely loses control. The man shudders and calls out as she runs her tongue along the cleft in the center of his chin.

"Oh, God!"

"I've wanted to do that ever since I first met you." She admits breathlessly.

He growls an incomprehensible response and moves his body over hers. His mouth joins hers, their tongues delving deeply in exploration. He breaks away from her mouth, trailing down her neck, leaving kisses and small nips as he moves lower and lower. His hand moves to her breast, cupping it at the same instant his mouth captures her nipple. She gasps and rocks her hips into him as he suckles her. Seizing his hand, she moves it to her face, nuzzling it against her cheek and then moves it to her mouth. Opening her mouth, she moves at first one and then two of his fingers into her mouth. Pumping the fingers in and out, she licks and sucks them as her hips rock more insistently against him. His mouth leaves her breast as he watches her with amazement. Smiling up at her, he moves his free hand down her body and palms her mound. Pressing his palm against her hidden nub, his fingers gently part her flesh and dip inside her. She is hot and slick with arousal. They both moan in anticipation. He pulls his fingers from her mouth, replacing them with his mouth. She reaches down and grasps his hardened flesh, her hand almost encompassing its girth. He thrusts into her grip and she guides him to the place that aches for him. She rubs him against her entrance and his tip becomes wet. She arches up and he thrusts down. As he moves inside, he feels the barrier of her maidenhead and pauses. He moves to withdraw, but she holds him tightly.

"Please, don't stop!" She whispers. "I want you! I need you!"

His body lowers and he enters her completely. She cries out in both pain and ecstasy. For a moment, they are both still. She was a virgin and he had never made love before. Certainly, at 27 years of age, he had had sex, but never before this moment did he understand what it was to make love.

Then their bodies needed more and they began the dance as old as the human race. She arching up and he thrusting down. Slowly, the dance began and as the music of the cosmos filled their minds, the rhythm increased moving rapidly towards the ultimate crescendo. She cried out as her body fell over the edge and pulsed its arrival at the point of bliss. The clenching of her body then pushed him to join her and he found completion in their act of lovemaking.

They lay panting and joined, neither wishing to break the bond of their bodies. He lifted his head to look into her eyes and smiled. Her hair covered one of her eyes, so he carefully brushed it from her face. She smiled at him and gently pulled his head down to kiss his lips. Raising his head from the kiss, he caressed her cheek with his thumb. She spoke.

"Oh, Erik, I love you …."

After devouring her face with his eyes, he replied ….

"Oh, Christy!"