As I pulled together my costume for the masquerade, my hearing completely left me again, which was just as well. There was nothing for me to listen to, save for a few angry beatings my organ had to put up with as I worked to keep my cool. I wanted nothing so badly as to find the Viscomte de Chagny and string him up in much the same fashion that I had Buquet, but I knew that what I had planned for the boy- should he interfere- would be far more satisfying.
I kept a low profile in the weeks leading up to the event, going up to the surface only if it was utterly necessary. I didn't want to ruin whatever false sense of security they all might be beginning to have. But at the same time, I was growing ever more desperate to see Christine. I wanted to see the fear in her eyes again. Even thinking of it made my pulse quicken. I began to long for her the same way an opium addict longed for his next fix.
A week before the party, I stole away to the surface to deliver a note to Madame Giry, who would, in turn, deliver it to Christine. It begged her audience on the roof, where my heart had broken, where she had driven me to the madness that now consumed my soul. In the note, I instructed her to come alone, that her angel commanded her full attention for just one night more. It didn't matter to me that I wouldn't be able to hear her, in fact it was probably for the better.
For I knew that anything she could possibly say would only serve to unravel what little sanity I could still cling to. Still, I had to see her. Handing that note to Giry was the most masochistic thing I had ever done. Even more so than staying on the roof and listening to Christine and the viscomte had been. I waited in the darkness, just beyond where any of them normally dared go, while my message was delivered.
Madame Giry came back far sooner than I anticipated. An awkward few moments of silence passed before I managed to croak out, "Will she come?" She nodded once. "Thank you."
I returned to my home as quickly as I could to fetch my cape and hat. I wrote for her to expect me at nightfall, but I would wait up there, just out of sight, until I was certain that she would come alone, that she wouldn't send someone ahead of her or worse. Her foppish lover seemed the type to send a protective detail. If he enjoyed his life, he wouldn't. If she valued his life, she wouldn't tell him.
Yet I secretly hoped that she would. I would so enjoy putting an end to his life. I had imagined it countless times since witnessing him kissing the lips that should have been mine to kiss. Even remembering that it had happened was enough to bring my blood to a boil. I very nearly snapped my oar in half as I made my way across the lake to my home.
I feasted on a chunk of bread that was just beginning to mold as I decided precisely what I would wear. Normally, I would've tossed the food out, but my pants and jacket still didn't fit me quite right again. I was beginning to fear that it would be a permanent change. It didn't bother me particularly, but I feared that Christine would be frightened by how sharp my exposed features now were. The cool porcelain of my mask felt heavy and awkward against my cheekbone; I hadn't realized what cushion my flesh had given me before.
I hoped she wouldn't find me too ghastly.
I put on my cape and my hat, checking my reflection in the mirror one last time. The shadow from the brim of my hat would help to mask the stretched-too-tight skin of my face. I managed to convince myself that she wouldn't notice, perhaps she'd even forgotten what her angel looked like, before I finally pulled myself away from the mirror. There was nothing more I could do but hope.
I scoped out the roof carefully before deeming it safe to show myself. The sun was beginning to set over Paris, a sight I had seen the end of a handful of times when I had misjudged the time, but the brightness of its earlier stages burned my eyes, and I found myself having to retreat down the stairs I'd come up as I waited for the sun to duck beyond the horizon so that I could stand exposed again.
The colors that the sunset splashed across the statues that adorned the roof of the opera house were awe-inspiring. Even as mad with jealousy as I was, I could enjoy the simple beauty of it.
As I climbed from my hiding place, I was allowed to enjoy an even more beautiful sight. Christine was coming up opposite me, though she seemed not to notice me. She also seemed to be alone. So, I thought, she still trusts her angel. I smiled a small, sly smile as I ducked behind one of the statues, but thankfully not the one I'd sought cover behind on that particular night. I adjusted my mask and swallowed hard, and for the second time since my foolish mistake that had crippled me, horrible pain shot through my head.
This time it was not localized to either side, but rather seemed to start directly in the center of my skull. I could not disguise the noise I made as anything but a moan of pain as I sank to my knees. But what happened next caused me to completely forget the pain.
"Angel? Is that my angel?" Christine asked. Her voice was so loud! I clasped my hands over my ears, wincing against the volume, before I realized that I was hearing again. I was able to hear her, and not in the same limited way I had been before.
What had I done? Would it be permanent? I couldn't be sure. I decided to make the most of it while I could hear.
"Foolish child, you have not been practicing as I've instructed you to," I said, my words harsher than I intended, but they bore my full anguish. I peered around the statue I was hidden behind. She looked so sad. I immediately felt like the worst person in all of Paris. Twas I who caused her pain, who caused her fear. Her eyes were brimming with tears already. What a fool her Erik was to treat her so harshly. She did not know what she did wrong. How could she?
"Why have you abandoned me, my angel?" she asked, trying to catch a good look at me where I hid, "I've been trying my best, it's hard to keep up my lessons when my great tutor has left me." Her voice cracked as she tried to explain herself.
"Calm yourself, Christine," I purred, "Your angel is not angry with you, merely saddened. You've the ability to sing beautifully if only you keep up with you practice. If you ever hope to outshine Carlotta-"
"But what if I don't want to outshine La Carlotta? She's a horribly jealous woman," Christine demanded, relaxing noticeably at my comforting words. I couldn't help but grin as I finally stepped out from behind the statue, hesitating before taking a few cautious steps forward.
It was only then, as she finally got a proper look at me, that the fear I had been so looking forward to seeing in her eyes again revealed itself. "You- It was you who cut down the chandelier!" she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as she stepped backwards and away from me. I held a hand out instinctively, remembering what had happened the last time I'd done such a thing. Thankfully, she was lighter on her feet and the walkway here was far smoother.
"You have nothing to fear in me, Christine," I assured her, but I could not wipe the self-satisfied smirk from my lips. "Everything I have done thus far has been to further your career."
"You very nearly killed me!" she cried in protest, shaking her head, "Had I been closer to the edge of the stage-" She seemed unable to finish her thought as tears streamed down her face. "Why have you brought me here?" she demanded.
"I merely owed you an explanation for my absence," I replied, keeping my voice even, my words soothing, even as I felt the fire within me burning hotter and brighter with each passing moment. Before I realized what I was doing, I found myself crossing the roof to meet her, catching her by the wrist as she tried to turn and run.
"Please, let me go," she begged, her eyes wide with fear that surpassed even the terror I had seen that night.
"You've no reason to be frightened of me," I reminded her, my calm words and steady voice a stark contrast to my actions, "I am your angel of music."
"Please, angel," she pleaded, but her pleas and struggles only caused me to tighten my grip.
"I've been unwell," I continued, ignoring her. "For the longest time, I was too weak to visit you. As you can see, I am feeling much better." In her eyes I could see my own reflected, could see them flash with an intense anger. I wished that her precious viscomte would come and find us in such a compromising situation. What little of me was still human enough to feel sorry for her compelled me to let her go, and she was sent stumbling back a few steps before she fell to her knees, sobbing into her hands.
Perhaps I had been too hard on her. For a moment- just a moment- I questioned myself. I worried that I would drive her away, but she had to understand. I couldn't let her go. I couldn't share her with the viscomte. She was mine and mine alone. "You will break off your contact with the Viscomte de Chagny," I said after giving my words careful thought, "and you will return to my tutelage."
"What?" she asked, her voice tiny and frightened. I could see all the words she wouldn't dare speak in her eyes.
"Did you think I wouldn't find out about your little love affair?" I asked simply. "Come now, Christine, give me some credit. I've known everything about you since you came to study ballet as a young girl."
"You frighten me so," she said, "nobody was supposed to know about that."
"It should not have happened in the first place," I snapped, "Your focus should be on your art, not on some boy."
"But he loves me," she whispered. I closed my eyes and sighed. "And I love him."
Her words were the final straw. I felt the small pocket of humanity to which I had so desperately clung slip away, leaving nothing but the snarling animal she all but insisted I become.
"Either you break it off with him, or a tragedy beyond your imagination will occur," I roared, "Those are your choices. Should you decide to continue under my tutelage, send word through Madame Giry." I let one last animalistic sound escape my throat as I twirled around on my heel and fled back down into the opera house, leaving a stunned Christine sitting in the snow, crying softly after me.
She would implore me to not make her choose. She would claim it was an impossible choice, to leave her precious fop in order to save his life. True, she didn't know that was my plan- to kill him if she chose him- but that was half the fun of it. She would surely invent all these horrible things that might happen. I was sure to win.
She would be mine.