Disclaimer: Same ol' thing. Don't own Leroux's characters and make no profit. Just writing for the sheer love of it. For this chapter, also don't own Traditional Welsh song, "All through the Night" which is rather lovely.
Hello again, everyone. Yes, that real life thing has been getting in the waylately and I will do my best to get out of this one update a month crap but thisterm ismore than a little busy (taking two lab courses, an extra class, and I'm a pledge for Sigma Alpha Iota, woo hoo!). My muse has been working on some original stuff lately too and I could not redirect her for all my efforts especially as she was doing a splendid job. Also had a horrible time trying to keep to character and whatnot in this bit. Anyway, done with the excuses. A thousand thank you's to reviewers and the 45 people who have this story marked as a favorite. I never thought I would see 300 hundred reviews; thanks so much to everyone.
Another fairly packed chapter, sorry to have left everyone at the end of the last chapter like that for this long.
Last time:
Christine looked at him helplessly as someone grasped her arms and pushed her to her knees next to a pallet on the floor. Ethan was there and his situation hadn't improved any from what she saw. He stared at her with an odd look in his glazed brown eyes…
And now:
Erik had an odd feeling, something tingling in the back of his mind. He shrugged it off until he felt it again and turned slightly. Philippe tired to look innocent but Erik could still see one of Emma's feathers clutched in his hand. Erik glared at him then glanced down at his other hand, the one with the broken finger. Philippe took the hint and shrugged with a smile, dropping the feather.
All the same, Erik upped his speed and soon made it past Margaret, who was guarding the cellar, and down the stairs. When he heard a small screech, he whipped his attention to Ethan's corner, watching for a moment as her head was forced closer to Ethan's chest, exposing her bare neck and pushed into his reach.
Faster than anyone could blink, Erik roared and shoved Dane away so violently that he smacked against the wall with an audible solid THUD. "Christine!"
Ethan flopped his head back in mild disappointment and weakness but Erik saw none of it as he pulled the sobbing Christine into his arms, running his fingers through her curls.
Aleta crossed her arms in front of her chest. "What do you think you're doing?"
Erik thought quickly. "Didn't Donald say we were not to go near the Baron's guests? Look at her gown; a maid wouldn't wear something like this. She has to be one of his guests." Sure enough, the gown that Meg had bought Christine would not be found in the wardrobe of anyone on a servant's salary; eating was usually more important.
"He's right," Donald agreed. "But what is she to you?"
Erik clutched her closer to his chest by means of response. Donald nodded in understanding, thinking back to the gypsy's reading.
"Will she cause any trouble?" Dane asked after picking himself up, seeing Donald's acceptance.
"No."
"Get her out of here," Aleta hissed, still frustrated with the whole situation. "And you had better find someone else for Ethan or offer yourself."
Erik nodded and gently pulled Christine to her feet. Philippe, who had been standing half-frozen watching the scene, made a move to help but saw that there was little else he could do and opted to let Erik handle the situation. Erik still held Christine tightly and made his way up the stairs. Glancing about quickly, he found a small room that looked to be of little importance and was thankfully unoccupied. He sat down on a chaise next to her and let her cry into his shoulder.
"He was going to…to…Erik, is it really you?" she asked hesitantly as a few frightened and relieved tears merged and slid down her cheek.
He smiled comfortingly as she looked up at him. "Yes, Christine."
She closed her eyes and the last of her tears were forced out. "I just wanted to be sure." Erik handed her his handkerchief and she decided (as she used it) that it certainly smelled like him, a scent she could never quite describe. As she collected herself, a thousand old questions flooded back into her mind. For the moment though, none of them really mattered; she was in his arms again and that was enough.
Erik held his beloved as if it were the last time they would meet, so grateful that he had arrived in time and that though she had stopped crying she hadn't left his embrace; quite the opposite she drew closer when she could. He sang softly to her:
"Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee, all through the night. Guardian angels God will send thee, all through the night. Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, hill and vale in slumber sleeping, I, my loving vigil keeping all through the night.
"While the moon her watching is keeping, all through the night. While the weary world is sleeping, all through the night. O'er thy spirit gently stealing visions of delight revealing breathes a pure and holy feeling, all through the night."
There was little need to sing more; Christine's eyes had closed and her breathing was soft and regular. Not wanting to leave her in this room where she would likely catch a chill, he lifted her up, still humming the Welsh lullaby. Though it was probably not the best of ideas, he wandered around in hopes of finding her room. Erik bumped into a maid eventually.
"Sir, your humming is lovely," she whispered, a glazed look about her eyes.
Erik stared at her for a moment. The maid never blinked nor did she seem to be looking at anything really. Erik shook his head lightly and requested to be shown to Mlle. Daáe's room. She led the way without a word or a curtsy for that matter. Shifting the unconscious Christine in his arms, he smiled as she nuzzled closer to his chest. The maid's hand reached for the doorknob and whisked the door open, still in a daze. After laying Christine gently down on her bed, Erik returned his attention to the maid who was still standing rigidly near the door.
"Return to your duties and forget you ever saw me," Erik ordered, hoping that his musical hypnotism was strong enough to do the trick. She inclined her head lightly, still with eerie glassy eyes, before turning sharply and heading down the corridor. The corner of his mouth quirked, satisfied with the results and vaguely wondering how the other gift the gypsy spoke of could be much more useful than this.
Erik sat down on the bed and gazed at Christine's face, admiring how her hair splayed out on the pale yellow pillow. He reached out and ran his fingers along the side of her face, resting on her cheek and rubbing his thumb lightly on her skin. She was such a troublemaker, he mused, but he loved her all the same. To give up would have been so much easier but lacking, without a doubt.
Christine's hand covered his and she murmured his name, slowly pulling back into consciousness. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, pulling back to see the eyes that he'd seen again and again in his dreams and a smile that reminded him of a warm fire on a winter's day.
"I'm sorry. Must have dozed off," she mumbled through a yawn.
"You've done nothing wrong, Christine. You just cried yourself out," he covered.
"I suppose so." She sat up and made a brief attempt to settle her hair before turning back to Erik. "What are you doing here? How long have you been here? Were you traveling with them?"
Erik sighed. "You really don't want to get involved in this, Christine."
Christine fell silent for a moment. "You never answered my question last time we met, Erik." He cringed lightly but said nothing. Christine pressed further: "What are you? You at least have Erik's appearance, his voice, and his memories, from what I can tell but…" She glanced away for a moment, trying to phrase her question but eventually settling for "You're not human so what are you?"
Erik tore his eyes from hers and glanced at the moon and the reflected light cascading through Christine's window. "I am one of them."
Christine closed her eyes for a moment, allowing the affirmation to soak in. She had her suspicions but needed to be sure: "What are they, Erik?"
He turned around to face her again. "We are vampires, Christine, hiding from the sun and feeding on the blood of mortals to sustain our own immortality."
Christine closed her eyes and covered her mouth with her hands, nodding slightly. "I really don't know what to think, Erik," she whispered finally. "Erik, I love you. Know that I love you. I just…" she faltered, searching for some way to explain that she was overwhelmed.
He grimaced inwardly but kept his face as unrevealing as his mask. All of his senses and earlier trepidations were slipping away, having her so close; his proclamation that he would not involve her in the affairs of vampires faded into the background until the only clear part of the picture was her.
Angrily, Erik tore off his mask and sneered when Christine flinched involuntarily. "You had no problem when you thought I was an angel and perhaps less when you thought I was a ghost. As a man or a vampire, I am an obvious failure for your acceptance, trust, or love for that matter." He rose to his feet and started for the door, replacing his mask. Christine, hot on his heels, reached for his hand.
"No! Erik, don't go yet!"
He tired half-heartedly to shake her grip but she refused to let go.
"Erik, I've made mistakes. God knows, I've made mistakes but I'm not the only one. No, I don't know what to think about all this but I'm damn sure that I don't want you to leave."
Erik raised an eyebrow, surprised at Christine's choice of words, but he stopped resisting enough for the determined look on her face to soften.
This was madness, he decided; he needed to know.
"What do you want, Christine?" Erik asked her quietly. She bit her lip but said nothing. "What is it that you want, Christine?" Using the hand that still clutched his own, he pulled her sharply in and locked her to his chest with his arms, hungrily covering her lips with his own and tasting a sweet sacred bliss long denied. Her arms snaked around his neck and pulled him closer still. Reluctantly he pulled away, panting slightly, and rested his forehead against hers.
"I've made myself clear. I never wanted more than to wake up next to you, to hear your voice in the other room, to…to…" Erik gave up on his soliloquy, lost in the look in Christine's eyes. "I've made myself clear," he repeated. "But what do you want of me? I can no longer tolerate a fickle attitude. I tire of your games; make your choice and I will honor it. I'll give you some time to think." Next to her cheek, he murmured, "I love you," in a pained tone before abruptly breaking away and marching toward the door, not daring to look back.
Just as he was reaching for the handle, there was a dull knock on the wooden door. "Christine, may I come in?"
"How does this always happen?" Erik grumbled under his breath as he turned and leapt into Christine's mirror, hiding behind the reflection of the bed. Christine stared after him for a moment before Raoul knocked again and brought her to her senses.
"Just a moment," she cried, meeting Erik's eyes in the mirror before reaching for the handle. "Is something wrong, Raoul?"
"Nothing's wrong, dearest. You've just been so distracted today that I wanted to make sure everything was well. Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm perfectly fine, Raoul." Christine pulled her face into a smile, hoping that it looked natural. "I've just been thinking."
"About what?" he asked casually, walking about the room.
Christine searched her mind for a plausible subject but was running dry, especially with the mild panic settling around her senses as Raoul walked by the mirror again. Instead, she looked guiltily at her fingers as she twisted them nervously and sat down on the bed.
Raoul smiled reassuringly and sat down next to her. "Christine. I told you. You won't have to worry about that monster ever again. He's sure to be nowhere near here. I've seen to a few precautions and he wouldn't dare set foot within an acre of this house."
Christine, far from reassured, prayed that Erik wouldn't rise to the opportunity. Too late, she saw his lean leg stretch out from the mirror's surface out of the corner of her eye.
"Are you so sure, boy?"
Raoul's smile shrank away and his face turned the shade of old parchment. His jaw seemed to loose function for the moment, hanging uselessly open, and Christine watched on helplessly.
Finally, Raoul regained his senses and stood pointing an accusing finger. "You! What are you doing here? I'll drive a stake through your heart, slice off your head, and stuff your mouth with garlic!"
"Harsh. Seems a bit like overkill to me, little brother," Philippe drawled from the doorway. Raoul sat down heavily on the bed. "Really, is all that necessary? You're going to catch a fly if you don't close your mouth, you know." Raoul snapped his jaw shut.
Philippe turned his attention to Erik: "They sent me to find you. First off, Aleta's angry that you haven't brought anyone back for Ethan. I suspect she has a deeper attachment to him but more importantly, 'Bastian says that Emma's spotted some trouble heading our way. There's still a group out there and all able hands are ordered to help make sure everyone gets to shelter, not that it would be a terrible loss if a few furry heads didn't make it back to their pack."
Erik nodded and shared a significant look with Christine before throwing open the doors to Christine's small balcony.
"Ah, one more thing," Philippe added cheerfully before shifting tone and audience, "Should either of you speak of this to any one, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur." Christine and Raoul flinched and Philippe and Erik again swiftly took the shape of bats and flew off into the night's sky.
"A disaster beyond your imagination will occur?" Erik questioned lightly once they were soaring over the plains.
"Yes," Philippe replied smugly. "Found a couple of your old letter drafts back at your little hole beneath the opera. Sounded like a worthy line."
Authoress rambling: Couldn't resist at the end there. That and having the whole gang back together again. ;)
Until next time. Take care.
Love it or hate it, please let me know! (Reviews will be contributed to Ethan and IrvingRelief Fund, a charity created by the Erik and Philippe Fanclub, for the aid of wounded vampires everywhere.)