A/N: Yes, this was originally Chapter 12. Since I delayed the lovemaking scene for a later chapter, I had to shift everything else...Blame my muses...Christine wanted to remain coy and shy for a bit longer, but Erik was furious at the delay, so he pushed me to put in their lovemaking several chapters early!
Chapter 15: The Long Arm of Heaven
A swift wind abruptly whipped up around him, tearing at his cloak, which covered his still, cowed figure. He was utterly spent, utterly powerless. Gone was the almost arrogant assurance that had enabled him to rule the Opera House like a little dictator.
He had once sought to intimidate her into submission, to make her love him. His beautiful Christine. He had been so very wrong...Now he had sunk to this contemptible, timorous level...He had been used. The Master had promised much, but had not fulfilled his promises. Now the Master would use her, this hitherto pure, unsullied little flower, in the same way...She, too, would be the Master's puppet, to do His awful, evil bidding...And he, Erik, who should have been able to protect her, now needed protection himself. A great cry rose from his parched lips, a mixture of fear, sorrow, and despair...It was immediately swallowed up into the thick, impenetrable darkness...If he was indeed in hell, he wished to sink into pure oblivion, to lose awareness entirely...
"Ah, no, my boy...that will not do at all! You shall not grovel in abject despondency on the floor! I am still in need of your services! You have been her teacher in matters of singing, have you not? Now you shall tutor her in matters of greater interest to me...This you will do!"
Erik whimpered. He could not help but remember his mother as he heard the contempt that dripped from the terrible voice that surrounded him, a voice which he had once admired, and even sought to imitate...She, too, had been used, he now realized. She had been the Master's instrument in the formation of Erik's bitter, twisted genius. Ah, how he had hated her! He hated her still...He began to pound the ground in his customary fury, screaming out his hatred for her.
"Yessssss...that is ever so much better..." the voice hissed, almost in his ear now. Erik's heart lurched. His skin began to crawl with terror, for unseen little hands were tugging at his clothes, and larger hands were at his shoulders, forcing him to stand...Where to flee? Yet flee he must! They...He...must not capture him...He rose quickly, throwing off the unwanted hands, and swept his arms out around him, attempting to strike out. Ah, if only he had his trusty Punjab lasso with him! Even if he did, however, it would not serve its purpose now, for he could not see his enemy. His abnormally keen eyesight was no help to him now. So he struck out, but met only empty air, while more cackles and hisses taunted him, out of nowhere.
"You shall not have either one of us!" Anger would serve him, at least. Anger to mask his swollen terror. He would not go down without a fight. He whirled and whirled, to the right, to the left, always keeping his hands in motion, but found that he could not connect with anything that even resembled a body. The cackles and hisses went on, growing louder and louder, while he began to tire. At length, he had to bring his arms down, resting them on his knees as he bent over, gasping for air. At once, he felt hands around his throat, incredibly solid hands. They began to squeeze with supernatural strength. At the same time, other hands grasped his arms, pinning them to his back. An unseen leg kicked him hard behind the knees, bringing him to the floor. A deadeningly heavy weight fell on him, nearly knocking the wind out of him. He struggled with all his strength, but the strength of those hands, as well as the weight, was greater. He felt his very life being squeezed out of him...
"Yessssss...my dear boy...I will now claim what is Mine. I have suffered you to exist for far too long, with your own free will and identity. You shall now render payment...I require the highest price: your soul..."
Erik felt his eyes bulge out as the hands continued to squeeze, ever more tightly. He knew he would soon lose consciousness, and thereafter, the specter of Death, already lying in wait, would claim his soul, to hand it over to the Master. In its place, something else would take possession of his body -- a loathsome, totally evil spirit, which would truly become a formidable new Phantom...a ruthless, merciless killing machine...
"Nooooooooo! Christine! My love..." His eyes closed in utter defeat, while gloating laughter deafened his remaining sense of hearing...
Erik's body jerked spasmodically as he slept. He moaned, and his arms tightened around Christine's sleeping form. Beads of sweat stood on his brow.
Gentle hands now closed around his neck, pulling away the ones which were draining the life from him. The deadly laughter hastily ceased, and a profound silence wrapped itself around him, enveloping him in warm peace. Behind his closed eyelids he could see light, growing in intensity. The heavy weight had been lifted from him, and he could feel a softly blowing breeze upon his brow. Then he heard her voice...
"Erik...my love, they are gone. You are quite safe now. Open your eyes, my angel."
He did so, very slowly, and very warily. With great delight, he beheld her beloved face, leaning over him. Her eyes, moist and full of love, gazed down upon him...
He was presently seized with an alarming suspicion that this might not be Christine at all, but a lying demon spirit that wished to deceive him. He pulled back from her, attempting to rise.
"You are nothing but another evil liar!" he sputtered, pushing her away from him.
"Erik! No! It is truly I, Christine!" She looked at him in the brilliant light, her alarmed expression startling him into brief doubt.
"You may believe her, Erik." The voice was musical, intensely musical, with a low male timbre. Indeed, it was the most beautiful male voice Erik had ever heard. He stared at Christine quizzically, then craned his head to look up. He was astounded to see a man in what appeared to be a flowing, shining white robe, towering over him.
"Come." The dazzling white apparition again spoke. "There is no time to lose. You both have a brief reprieve. We must leave this terrible place at once, or they shall assert their territorial rights once more, with total impunity."
Erik stared at him in awe, then stiffly began to arise, aided by Christine, as well as the mysterious man whom he now knew to be an angel...
An early evening breeze lovingly stirred the gossamer curtains of the bedroom window as Erik slowly opened his eyes. He felt bathed in a most delicious peace. He looked up, straight into her eyes, those eyes that could melt his very soul. One of her hands was caressing his brow, which was wet with some slight perspiration. Perhaps, however, it was really her tears that had moistened it, for it slowly became apparent to him that she had been crying. She was still completely nude, he noticed, as he felt his flesh beginning to stir, much to his dismay. He felt disoriented, and could say nothing for the moment. She, too, was silent. She now lay her head on his chest once more, as she had done when he had drifted off to sleep, cradling her in his arms. To his great consternation, she now began to weep again, softly, sobbing much as a child would. He felt a vise close around his heart. It was he who was the cause of her weeping...He had enticed her, an innocent virgin, into his seductive embrace. It mattered not that he himself was a virgin. Due to his insatiable reading, as well as his very fertile imagination, he was quite knowledgeable about the ways of the flesh, even if he lacked the actual experience. She, however, had a totally pristine heart...
"Christine," he whispered gently, while his guilt hammered at his heart, "please do no cry so, my angel. I cannot bear to see you so distressed. My sweet, we shall marry at once, I promise you. I am getting stronger by the day..."
She said nothing for a moment, but her sobs began to lessen. "Erik..." Her voice faltered, but she went on. "Oh, Erik, my love, we are truly bonded. I am flesh of your flesh, spirit of your spirit...I am truly joined to you, and it is a terrible thing...Yet, my love for you remains...I cannot cease to love you...but I am afraid..."
He went very still, and his grip on her arms tightened. "You...had the same dream, then?"
She sighed, snuggling closer to him. "I saw an angel of light coming to me. I was engulfed by the most horrible darkness, but I prayed, and he appeared. He led me to you. Oh, Erik, it was so horrible...you were surrounded by demons, and they were holding you down...one of them was trying to...to...strangle you..." Here she burst into loud, wrenching sobs.
Erik tightened his arms around her, and began to rock her as he would a child. "Shhh, my love...I am here, with you. Nothing shall harm you..."
"I heard this voice, this incredibly evil voice...It said that...you...belonged...to him...Who was that? Was it...Him?" She gasped involuntarily.
Erik sighed. "Yes, Christine. It was He, the Evil One. The Master, as I have long called Him..."
She suddenly sat up. "You have called him by such a name? What does that mean? Have you...pledged yourself to him in some way? You are frightening me! Oh!"
She would have leaped from the bed then, but Erik took her by the arm, and gently restrained her. He could not bear the thought that she might be afraid of him.
"Christine, no! Do not fear me! I love you with all my heart! I could neve hurt you, nor allow any harm to touch you!"
"Yet it was I who saved you, with the help of the angel who saved me..." She said this with some wonder.
"Yes, my love," he answered, reaching up to caress her tresses. "It was your pure heart, untouched by any evil, that allowed you to be my rescuer." He smiled at her, and all his heart was in that smile.
She returned his smile, but a solitary tear stole down her cheek. "I should never have allowed myself to succumb to your seductive charms, Erik. I am now a fallen woman..."
"Christine, my love! You are absolutely nothing of the sort! You are the most beautiful, wonderful human being that I have ever known! You are nothing if not noble and pure!" He pulled her into his arms as he fervently spoke, crushing her against his chest, planting kisses all over her tear-stained features.
She sighed happily, returning his kisses with affectionate ones of her own. Her eyes took possession of his, totally entrancing him. "We must make our union holy before God, Erik," she whispered earnestly. "I cannot live comfortably with you otherwise."
"We will indeed, my sweet. I solemnly promise you."
She stirred lazily, stretching her arms above her head, and Erik felt that now-familiar jolt of desire at his groin. She looked down at him, having noticed that he was staring hungrily at her, and smiled very, very sweetly.
"Now, Monsieur Le Fantome, do you realize that we have slept away nearly the entire morning? Are you not hungry?"
"Oh, yes," he drawled, contemplating her movements, for she was covering herself with a sheet until she could put on her dress, which she now picked up from the floor. "I am in fact quite hungry, my sweet little soprano...And why, pray tell, do you address me as 'Le Fantome'? I am no longer that personage, I assure you!"
She turned to him as she finished winding the sheet about her body. "Why, then, you must tell me your surname. I have never had the privilege of knowing it."
He sighed. He had forgotten this one unavoidable little fact about himself.
"That is because I have none, my love. I never knew my father's last name. My mother never revealed it to me."
She was mildly surprised, but only for a moment. Then a slow, teasing smile stole over her features. "Well, then, Monsieur, I trust you will have no objection to taking mine!"
He sat up straight in bed, indignantly puffing out his chest. "I shall do no such thing! Why, that is unheard of!"
"Then we must find a suitable one for you to assume, Monsieur..." she purred, sweetly.