A/N: Again I find myself indebted to Kay for inspiration. Her novel is truly a masterpiece, one not to be missed! She gives us an immensely compelling, deep understanding of Erik's soul, mind, and heart.
l have here alluded to Erik's birth, with the observation that his disfigurement was NOT caused by God, as he has always bitterly believed.
Once more, I am also referring briefly to the scene in Kay's novel in which Erik made his decision to follow and obey "The Master", although of course, he had already been walking close to "the edge" for a great part of his life. To some extent, he is a madman. However, his unfortunate decision, although perhaps born of madness, created a bondage that is not easily broken...
By the way, I must admit to another influence: C.S. Lewis; specifically, one of his books, The Screwtape Letters, which is a marvelous, small example of the power of irony and satire. If any of you have never read it, please do get yourselves a copy, as I shall not divulge any details about it, except to say that it has to do with "paternal" advice given by a senior demon to his nephew...
Chapter 16: A Nocturnal Confrontation
He waited for night to fall again. It would go against his purposes to allow himself to be seen in the daytime. Nocturnal breezes, the cold moonlight, all the myriad sounds made by night creatures...they were all perfectly congenial to him. Daylight was inimical to him. He wholeheartedly detested it. Besides, there was definitely something to be said for pipe smoking in the dark hours...
He walked leisurely through the town as the sun began to sink. It had been centuries since he had toured this part of the planet. After all, he often preferred to delegate the obligatory inspections of his kingdom to his subordinates. However, he had made a brief visit to attend a most singular birth, miles away from his present location on the northen coast of France. The birth had taken place in the wee hours of the morning, while it was still dark. The memory brought a cruel smile to his chiseled, grim features. The child had been born horribly disfigured, although the most HE had been able to accomplish was to make sure that at least the right side of the baby's face bore his unmistakable, evil mark. He had been prevented from disfiguring the entire face by the shining presence of one of those despicable creatures from above...He gritted his teeth as the image exploded in his brain anew. Such beauty! He had cringed in the light that burst forth from the angel's face, his clothing. He had shut his eyes and slunk away, his gloating abruptly ended. Ah, but he had done sufficient damage, he knew. The child would most certainly not have a normal childhood, growing to become a twisted, bitter soul...
Through the years, he had checked on the growing child frequently. If other, more pressing matters, required his attention, he had made sure to send one of his faithful attendants to see to the child's progress, and return to give a full report. He had been more than satisfied with the results. Not only had the child's mother completely rejected him, a fact which in itself was immensely satisfying, but the child had indeed grown to hate the entire human race, turning to the darkness for solace. Most impressive...Occasionally, however, HE had been quite disturbed to find evidence of the continuing presence of the shining one, as well. The angel had been there, in Italy, when the master mason had taken the now adolescent child under his wing, showing him the kindness of a father. Then there was the dratted Persian. It had been impossible to be rid of him, and he was, unfortunately, a benevolent influence on the child, now grown to manhood. Ah, but then there had been all those assassinations, ordered by the khanum herself, one of HIS most devoted followers. He smiled to himself in great satisfaction. There was much promise in the lad...It mattered not that he bore a priest's name...Erik. For had he not sealed his allegiance to HIM, on the rooftop of the Opera House? HE now allowed his lips to smile once more, as the pipe smoke wafted around him. How very appropriate, for Erik to have called HIM "The Master"! As indeed HE was...
"You must believe me, Christine," Erik cried out, in the throes of passion, so earnestly that he began to tremble. "I am caught in a trap of my own devising, but I will not allow you to be dragged into perdition with me!" He gazed unblinking into her eyes, inches from them.
The night spun around them, listening. Perhaps there was only the night... but perhaps the night was full of hidden meanings, and beings that could not be touched with flesh-and-blood immediacy, beings that flitted about invisibly, one with the darkness.
Why should the darkness have welcomed him? He had embraced it with open arms, even in the midst of his initial fears. It had been his true mother, he had once thought. That was until his angel of light had arrived, in the midst of his obsidian dreams, to claim him for the light. The light. Could he completely share it with her?
"Erik..." He heard her divine voice, as if from deep within his own soul...It played upon his sensibilities with a very different harmony now. Bringing his face down, he gently pulled on her lips, and her body shifted beneath him. He was inside her. They were soaring through the darkness, together...He shifted as well. His body had entered her, remained inside, as her warm woman's cave welcomed him. Inside Christine. He now knew her internal rhrythms...Indeed, he navigated her blood with ease...
"You are an intoxicating elixir, my love..." His voice spoke breathlessly into her ear. She sighed, her mouth moving to his, taking it as possessively as he himself had taken hers earlier. She kissed him to his very soul...His world shifted, whirled, turned, as he swam across the darkness, through all his night's realm, and she was with him. She stayed with him, a sweet, lilting melody, a slip of a girl who owned his heart, strumming upon its strings as deftly as he roamed her body.
Their nude bodies soared, then sank, into each other. And the darkness sheltered them, even as their passion took them ever deeper into the uncharted territory of their inner selves.
"Please..." Her entreaties were the pulsebeat of his desire. He slid his hands underneath her, lifting her to him, so that he might go deeper still. Her head thrown back in heedless abandon, she offered her swollen breasts to him, as a pagan sybarite might. She had become a woman, with a woman's wild passion. Her body arched into his, and he plundered those hidden depths, that rich ecstasy that lay ensconced within.
"I...will not...let them take you...my love! No!" He plunged again and again, and she grasped him with all her might, sending him soaring...
"Erik!" Her scream of release set him free...His answering, triumphant shout flew out the window, on the night's breeze, on a sigh of longing fulfilled...
Outside, a few yards away, a lone figure stood beneath a tree, sheltered by its shadow. A glint of moonlight briefly showed a thin mustache, a neatly-trimmed goatee. The ubiquitous pipe was clenched between his teeth, and his eyes were turned upward, toward the window, from whence the joyful cries of lovemaking came.
Things were moving along quite nicely, HE had to admit. Already Erik had successfully made her fall again...they were still unmarried. She was steadily falling further into darkness, the darkness she now shared with her beloved. Ah, but then, the Phantom had always been one of his better pupils. The incident with the chandelier had been nothing short of brilliant, and that torture chamber...
HIS thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a sigh, accompanied by a rustle of invisible wings. He whirled around furiously, only to be met by the smiling splendor of his constant adversary...
The angel floated a few inches off the ground, grinning from ear to ear. The light emanating from him was so incredibly bright that HE had to shield his eyes from it, by taking off the ever-present fedora and placing it before his face. He had dropped his pipe, too, and that added fuel to his rage.
"Why, Monsieur!" Melethiel greeted HIM, so cheerfully that HE had to stifle a gagging sound. "What a distinctly unpleasant surprise!"
HE stiffened, bringing himself to his full height, even as he continued to hold the fedora in front of his face.
"If you think I shall leave, just because you seem to enjoy drowning me in your light, you are quite mistaken!" He was indeed in a rage now. "Besides, I can command some light of my own! Would you care to witness a dazzling display of hellfire?"
Melethiel laughed. "Begone, Satan! You have nothing further to do here tonight!"
The evil one smirked rather smugly. "Is that so? In case you were not already aware of it, which I find quite difficult to believe, he is having her again, tonight! He has entirely seduced her! Pray tell, is that not the sin of fornication? Or has your great and powerful wizard changed the rules?"
Melethiel simply shone more brightly, and was quite satisfied when HE cowered, making a futile attempt to shield himself from the light.
"You shall not have their souls, Monsieur. I shall see to that!" The wings fluttered, spreading the light.
Melethiel was satisfyingly rewarded by a strangled cry of impotent rage from the one known as "The Master", who now began to retreat, slowly. Then, in a show of vain confidence, he spat, "He swore allegiance to ME, on a night of smothering darkness! Surely all of you must know that up there!"
The angel smiled. "There is no end to the infinite mercy of God, while mortal creatures still live."
The evil one uttered a terrifying cry of rage and pain, and shrank further into the darkness, until suddenly there was nothing to be seen but the gently swaying branches of the trees he had stood in front of.
The angel turned his bright face up to the window, smiling once again.
"There must be a wedding, and very soon indeed!" Then, he, too, was gently swallowed up by the night, one shining atom at a time.