Hark! I beseech thee to recall that such persons here are not under my jurisdiction. Verily, the characters of this world originate in the mind of one Gaston Leroux and I am but a lowly college student who finds joy in their manipulation.
Hey all. Behold! I just hope that a) my muse keeps this up and b) my schedule will allow me to work on it...it's been nice so far.
And I can't say it enough: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I can't believe that this story is on 54 favorites lists!
Bit of a shorter chunk this time but it seemed like a logical stopping point. Enjoy (that is if people haven't given up on me)!
With one last hug, Madame Giry walked out the door, bearing with her some of Christine's burden. Much more at ease, Christine glanced at the clock in her room; considering the hour, she resolved to have a long talk with Raoul in the morning. Absently, Christine riffled through her provided armoire and her gowns that hung inside, trying to decide which suited best for the next day. Satisfied, she pulled out a casual dress and hung it on the door. She returned to sit in front of her vanity, wiping away the remains of cathartic tears.
As Christine dragged the brush slowly through her curls, she heard something. She froze for a moment, trying to determine firstly what it was and secondly its origin. The sound stopped…then the strange scritching started again. It was an odd squeak, not like a mouse but of something hard rubbed against glass. That conclusion made, she whipped her attention to the window and the little balcony.
There was nothing there, of course. What could possibly leap up to this level? Her heart froze in her throat; what if Erik was trying to reach her? Tossing a robe over her shoulders and struggling to shove her arms through the sleeves, Christine walked over to the balcony and cautiously stepped out into the chilly air, oblivious to the marks left on the glass by the trespasser's sharp claws.
The night was clear with an occasional breeze and there was no obvious sign of Erik, no rose or, what would have been preferable, the man himself. Sighing, she leaned on the cast iron railing, hearing faint sounds of…something…quite far away.
Then Christine heard something else…a harsh breathing from behind, as though someone were trying to catch their breath; perhaps Erik had come after all. Turning around, Christine's smile melted.
The creature, hunched on all fours, grinned its demonic smile and watched her, ready to pounce at any moment.
"Go on, you precious thing," it rasped. "Scream. It won't do you any good now."
She took his advice and let off a bloodcurdling soprano shriek.
The monster bounded off the ledge and seized her about the waist. He landed softly despite the jump and ran awkwardly on three legs, holding her body in place over his shoulder with the other.
Something stopped them. Christine flew out of his grasp and was caught in a pair of arms, a set she was familiar with. The werewolf howled and reached blindly behind himself, trying to grasp something that glinted in the dark. Setting her down, Erik glanced behind with a look that meant several things at once, predominately "everything will be alright" and "you'd better find some cover while I take care of this." She obeyed the unspoken command and hid behind a large rock, peering carefully over the top.
"If you move a little to the left, you'll have a better view…and you won't be blocking mine," a voice behind her remarked.
Eyes wide with fear, Christine followed the voice.
"Oh, come now, Christine. You should see your face. This may sound cliché but you look as though you've seen a ghost."
"Philippe!"
"But I suppose that's partly my fault. The last few times that I saw you, I sort of threatened your life."
"What are you doing here?"
"Same as you, I guess. Watching the show." He glanced over at Erik. "Oh, that was close. Sure knows what he's doing. It's just damn unfair that he makes it all look so easy."
Christine laughed, an honest laugh, something that she hadn't felt in some time.
∞†∞
Erik had heard her scream echo across the landscape and it spurred him to greater speeds in sheer desperation and more still when he saw the werewolf bolting from the manor. He had been so much closer moments before but an updraft had caught him off-guard, thereby allowing the werewolf to gain a greater lead while he fluttered about trying to reorient himself. With all the agility he could muster, he switched directions and flew after the running beast, the creature's gait shortened by the load he carried. Erik then shoved a dagger into the werewolf's shoulder, a weapon he had kept concealed unless it was absolutely necessary. The strike had its desired effect, the creature halted as it howled in pain, but the inertia of the sudden stop sent Christine soaring. Pushing off of his prey, Erik took the force of Christine's fall, cushioning her with his body.
Setting her down gently, he took one last look at her in a manner he had hoped was reassuring before directing his attention again to his antagonist. His peripheral vision was hindered by his mask but he did hear an exclamation of surprise that was at least some distance back so he reasoned Christine had found cover.
The werewolf panted, intermixed with a few growling chuckles. "You cannot win. No matter what happens to this body, I will find another. I would rather claim yours; you've proven yourself worthy. But this woman would be in the way."
"You will not touch her," Erik growled, equally ferocious.
"We shall see."
Sharp and searching jaws lunged for Erik but he side-stepped the creature gracefully, ready to meet another attack as it turned again. Pushing off of the ground, Erik landed a palm on the creature's shoulder while his other hand grasped the hilt of his dagger, yanking it out as he shoved the werewolf down and landed deftly on his feet some few feet away. The creature turned to Erik with, if possible, an even angrier fiery glare. With its long claws, it grazed over the now freely bleeding wound, the knife having blocked much of the flow, and glanced at the glittering red reflecting the moon's rays. It held up two coated fingers to Erik.
"Want to taste?"
Snarling in disgust, Erik charged the werewolf again. He struck out several times, lunging quickly enough to inflict some damage before returning to a safer distance, much to the outrage of his opponent. The beast seized his arm and flung him straight into a trunk of a nearby tree. Momentarily stunned, Erik fumbled for his dropped blade.
A paw smacked him hard squarely on his chest and pinned him to the tree. "It won't be long, you know," the feral voice taunted. "The other sprites will either control or slaughter the vampires. Either way, we win. Humans are doomed anyway, why save that chit? She'll die in a few years, no matter what you do. Nothing lasts forever."
Groping discreetly, Erik's hand finally closed about the dagger. "Some things last forever. I hope your pain is one of them." He plunged the dagger into the beast's eye with one ferocious swing and smoothly yanked the blade out, rolling from the werewolf's grasp as it clutched its face, blood leaking through its fingers. The other paw slashed blindly, finally scraping across Erik's chest, shredding his clothes and grazing his skin.
Incensed, Erik reached for his lasso and, using a tree for leverage, leaped over the werewolf. A bloodstained paw reached out reflexively and snatched his leg from the air, disrupting Erik's trajectory. The beast held him in the air for a moment, perhaps delighting in his momentary upper-hand.
"One thing your memories didn't completely explain was why you wear the mask. There were always terrible consequences when it was removed but no true image," the werewolf growled in a low voice. The werewolf reached for Erik's head but, unfazed, Erik took one of the creature's overly large fingers on its paw and wrenched it until he heard a small snap. The werewolf dropped him, but Erik flipped over to land on his feet, already running behind the creature. The werewolf, having learnt something it seemed, whipped around…backhanding Erik squarely across the face and sending his mask askew. The werewolf stopped and stared, distracted long enough for Erik to secure a choking rope about its neck.
"Gawk all you like. It's the last thing you'll ever see."
Rasping for breath, the creature still managed to chuckle darkly. "From this body perhaps, it no longer suits me. I will continue to strike at you any way I can. Mark me, you will not be allowed to interfere with the course already set in motion." His lasso suddenly slackened as the werewolf shifted back into the normal form of a man who whispered, "Thank God it's over," before succumbing to eternal slumber. The little ball of light laughed shrilly before zipping away out of sight.
Coiling his rope, Erik replaced it and sheathed the dagger. He didn't glance back at the prostrate man as he walked to where his white mask, now a little worse for the wear, shown in the light of the now descending moon.
"Bravo! You showed that," he glanced at the body lying in the grass, "Scrawny man who was boss. I swear he looked much more ferocious further back."
"Thank you for all your help, Philippe," Erik muttered.
"Anytime," he smirked. "Besides, you had things well under control."
Erik shook his head and turned to watch Christine emerge from behind the rock. She pulled her robe tightly over her shoulders and quickened her steps until she stood just in front of him.
"Are you alright, Christine?"
"I'm fine. How about you?"
"Fine."
Awkward silence hovered between the two of them as Philippe rolled his eyes. Without another word, Christine flung her arms around Erik's neck. Erik stood shocked for a moment before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close, sighing with relief of all sorts.
"You two are mad," Philippe added, shaking his head with a small smile. "Of course, I'm not one to talk but all the same, we need to head back to the manor. The wolves left to regroup and likely won't return until tomorrow and I imagine that someone might be looking for Christine, I mean that was one heck of a screech." Christine gave a small embarrassed grin.
"And what the hell was that little sparkly thing?"
"Long story. Later perhaps. It is a manner of some importance." He returned his attention with a small smile toward Christine. "I'll see you to your room first." Erik swung Christine up into his arms and bounded off toward the estate.
∞†∞
Whizzing over the remains of the battle, one sprite surveyed the damage and awoke his brothers who had forgotten to leave the host before it died, resulting in temporary paralysis. They left to find new hosts of their own, preferably those with the ability to cause a little mayhem. This sprite in particular had a vendetta. Anyone who could refuse his control had a mark and were to be exterminated as soon as possible…plus it was fun, pure and simple, to toy with these creatures, the more powerful the better. After all, power corrupts; absolute power is kind of neat.
Smirking, or as much as a small ball of light can smirk, he made his way into a room in a rather lovely manor and found his object sitting in a chair next to the door of another room, trying to fend off sleep. The sudden light in the hallway diminished as the sprite settled behind Raoul's ear, resolving not to act until tomorrow.
∞†∞
Authoress Rambling: One thing sorted out, another thrown in the mix. I was just looking back at the beginning and finding it strange that I ended up here...it's been quite a trip but I do have an end in sight...not exactly sure when but it's still there.
Regardless, Love it or hate it, please let me know! (Reviewers recieve an official Erik & Philippe Fanclub sprite-catching kit, complete with enough foil to protect your head from not only sprites but falling sateilitesplus a selection ofvarious other spiffy tools.)
Take care, everyone.