A/N: Well, here is a hint of things to come! All is not well in the lives of our dearly beloved couple...not at all. An ancient evil is reaching out its long arm to destroy their happiness...
Chapter 12: An Encroaching Shadow
A swift breeze blew off the ocean, chilling the night air. The rays of the full moon glinted off the gently rolling waves that lapped up to the shore, erasing the footprints of the lone couple that walked close to the water's edge. The man wore a heavy black cloak, which he had partially thrown over the shoulders of the woman who accompanied him, effectively shielding her slight figure. They walked with their arms around each other, she leaning her head on his broad shoulder. They paused once, there by the gently lapping water, and he looked up at the moon, while she snuggled closer into him. His white mask, which covered half his face, caught the moonlight as he turned his head out to the sea, deeply breathing in the briny air. They stood thus for a few moments, and then the man looked down at her. He kissed the top of her head, then removed his cloak, and wrapped her firmly in it.
She lifted her head up to receive his kiss upon her lips. There by the seashore, with the round-faced moon as backdrop, their lips met, and their bodies embraced, forming one silhouette. Words, passionately whispered, were taken up by the breeze, and tossed around on their way to the portals of heaven. Her voice suddenly rose and fell in song, as gently as the waves that almost touched their feet, while his wove around it, steady in timbre, forming the perfect counterpoint to hers. The peaceful night witnessed their impromptu duet, their sweet ardor.
Not far from them, standing on a sand dune, a solitary figure contemplated the scene. The man was dressed completely in black. He wore no cloak, however, despite the coolness of the night breeze. A sweeping black fedora covered half his sharply chiseled features, which sported a thin mustache and goatee. He stood, arms crossed over his chest, and watched the embracing couple, making no move to go down to them. A sudden gust whipped at his clothes, but apparently did not bother him in the slightest. His fedora remained undisturbed on his head.
Having stood motionless for many long minutes, he now put a hand in one of his pockets, and brought forth a pipe, which he calmly lit, shielding the small flame of his match from the wind. Puffing on the pipe, he continued to stare out at the lovers for a few more moments. Then, just as calmly as he had walked up to the dune, he walked away from it, disappearing quite suddenly into the night.
Erik lifted his head, regretfully wrenching his lips from Christine's. He looked back toward the inn, which was somewhat hidden by a stand of trees, several yards away from the water. Something had inexplicably tugged at him, but even his keen senses could not detect what it might have been. The moon clearly illuminated the night, but he could see nothing. Yet, he had felt...something. He had felt a rather disturbing, nagging inner tug. It had been an unpleasant feeling, and he could now also feel a cold clamminess closing over his heart. He shuddered, involuntarily.
"What is it, Erik?" Christine had been puzzled when he had abruptly broken their kiss, to look back toward the inn. "Have we been followed by someone? You are not ill, are you?"
"No, I am not ill, my love," he answered gravely, "and yes, I do believe we have been followed. I cannot, however, discern why or who it might be." He suddenly shivered, violently, and she grasped him more tightly.
"Why are you shivering like this? Here, let me return your cloak." She attempted to remove the heavy garment from her shoulders.
"No, Christine," he whispered; too urgently, it seemed to her. "I have no need of the cloak." His eyes roved over the landscape behind them, but his abnormally sharp night vision could detect nothing. Then he sighed, and looked down at her again.
"Whoever it was, he is gone now."
"He? How could you possibly know whether it was a man or a woman?"
He sighed. "I cannot be entirely certain that it was a male. Yet, somehow I feel that it was. No woman would dare venture out here unacccompanied, even in this seemingly harmless little town."
"Erik, you are truly concerned about this! Why would anyone follow us? Surely no one here knows who you are!" She snuggled even closer to him, feeling a frisson of fear travel down her spine.
"Well, my dear, that remains to be seen. I am uneasy about this."
She gasped, as a thought occurred to her. "Do you think it could have been...Raoul?"
Grimly, Erik shook his head. "I would not have felt what I did, had it been that blasted boy! Still, you may be right. Perhaps he is still lurking about...but if so, I have not sensed his presence."
Her mouth opened slightly in alarm. "What...did you feel, Erik?"
He turned his face from her, looking anxiously about once more. "It felt...as if someone were calling...out to me...no, it was as if I were being summoned...it was...a dreadful, evil...thing..."
Looking down at her again, he softly caressed her cheek, smiling reassuringly into her worried eyes. Perhaps his fears were totally groundless, and he did not wish to spoil her happiness.
"Come, we must return, my sweet. Do not let it trouble you further. I have been looking over my shoulder an entire lifetime. I would not be surprised to discover that there was a price on my head...I have always been the hunted, mocked, spawn of hell, have I not?" In spite of his best intentions, the memories, which he thought would surely be buried by now, rose like silent specters before him, beating mercilessly agaisnt his heart.
She laid her hand on his arm, looking up at his face, which now bore a haunted look. His mind had drifted away, far away from her...
"Erik," she whispered, soothingly. "Do you recall how you used to speak with me through the mirror?"
His head came down. His eyes, shining with love, looked adoringly into hers.
"My love...how can I ever forget? How I longed to reveal myself to you! Ah, but I was so afraid to do so! I knew not how you would react to seeing...this monstrosity...before your eyes...but the longing, the longing...I yearned to hold you in my arms, pressing my lips upon yours..."
She smiled her sweetest, most loving smile. "Pray tell, are you not able to do so freely now, sir?"
He smiled as well, and pulled her into his embrace. "You are the lifeblood of my heart, Christine...You are the compass of my soul...Ah, my love, say that you will never, never, leave me, for if you do, I shall surely perish!"
She squeezed him with all her strength. "Never, my love," she whispered, fiercely. "Your soul is the twin to my own!"
Her fervently spoken words rose on the wind, echoing strangely. They were immediately followed by a flurry of whispered curses that also floated away on the wind...Christine tightened her hold even more upon Erik, as her heart drummed madly. He, too, appeared a bit shaken, although he attempted to hide it from her.
"Erik..." Her voice was trembling, and he held her closely to him, shielding her with his body, as he again looked all around them. No one was to be seen. Just then, a most unusually strong gust of wind swept into them, nearly knocking them to the sand, while a cloud unexpectedly blanketed the moon, plunging the lovers into sudden darkness.
"Erik!" She was truly frightened now.
He attempted to calm her fears by teasing her. "Why, where is that valiant, most formidable woman who brandished a pistol at a highway robber not two fortnights ago? I would be hard pressed to recognize her now, would I not?"
She laughed briefly, but he noticed the fear in that laughter. "You would, indeed, my dear sir!"
"Come, then, my frightened little mouse! Let us scurry back to the shelter of our little mouse hole!" Without further ado, he scooped her up in his arms, while she squealed, in a mixture of surprised delight, as well as concern for his right arm.
"Erik, you devil! You are not to exert yourself in this way as yet! Did the doctor not warn you...?"
"Ah, my dear, sweet morsel of heaven! You concern yourself unduly! Am I still not the dauntless, indomitable Phantom of the Opera? Who dares to oppose my will, except it be...with sweet, passionate caresses?"
He bore her, laughing, up the beach, over the sand dunes, and back to the inn through the stand of trees. She laughed breathlessly along with him, and they both momentarily forgot their misgivings as they lost themselves in each other's presence...
As they passed through the trees, their leaves rustled menacingly, whispering words of unspeakable evil...still they continued on their way, heedless, laughing heartily at one point, when Erik nearly dropped her. The menacing words died away, and a shadow of impenetrable darkness slunk away, out of the densely packed group of trees.
At that precise moment, Marguerite, the young scullery maid, was walking around the inn's garden, wondering why she was unable to sleep, as she usually did so quite soundly. She would later recall that it was at the stroke of midnight when she felt an ominous chill in the breeze, and an unexplainable sense of terrible dread came over her. Glancing up at the moon, she was struck with fear as a shadow crossed over it, a shadow that was definitely not a passing cloud...Trembling, she swiftly turned around, and ran into into the inn, locking the door that led to the garden securely behind her.
She ran down the passageway, through the large, gloomily silent kitchen, and found the stairs leading up to the servants' quarters, on the second floor, at the back of the building. She ran all the way up the stairs to her room, and burst into it, slamming the door shut behind her. She locked it as well, and leaned agaisnt it, panting, for a full ten minutes. She fumbled around for a match, on a small table next to the door. When she found one, she lit one of the gas jets, which was just above the table. Then she moved away from the door, and walked into her simple, bare room.
By this surprisingly strong light, she was able to find her way to her small bed. Opening the night table drawer, she withdrew a box of matches, and lit the candle that she always kept on top of the table. Next she brought out her rosary, the only one she had, given to her by her own mother, the night she had left this world forever.
Kneeling by the bed, she crossed herself, and fervently began to pray. As she mouthed the well-known words, she began to calm down, and felt her fear recede. A warm, comfortable peace began to enfold her in its heavenly arms. Soon, her head began to droop over her hands. She put the rosary on the table top, next to the candle, and crawled into bed, pulling the warm blankets over herself. Although she had no fire in the grate, and the window was partially open, she felt quite warm and content. She descended easily into sleep.
Outside her window, the brooding shadow had cleared, leaving no trace, and the moon tranquilly rode the swift currents of the night wind. Peace reigned once more over the picturesque stillness of the small town.