The next week went by slowly. I went back to my dressing room after every rehearsal but Erik was never there. How I wished I knew how to open that mirror! But try as I might to figure out how it worked, I could never get it open. I pounded on the mirror, calling out to him, begging him to come back, but it was to no avail. The harsh silence of my dressing room drove me to tears. It seemed that the fragile trust that had built between us had been shattered by my foolish ways.
Tension grew thick the closer it came to the opening night of Don Juan Triumphant. Tempers were short and nerves were frazzled as we rehearsed relentlessly. Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry worked us into exhaustion. Apparently Erik was satisfied with the results of our exhausting rehearsals for there were no more notes, no more complaints. Signor Piangi still could not sing his lines correctly, but I had come to just ignore him. Apparently Erik had, as well.
Christmas was fast approaching, but I had little interest in the holiday. Since my father had died Christmas was a sad affair. Having no other family I had always spent the day alone, missing my father and dreaming of the days when he had been alive and Christmas had been a joyous affair.
My thoughts wandered around in circles. Raoul, Erik, darkness, light. My thoughts wandered to the summers I had spent at the ocean as a child. I remembered when I would swim out too far and the undercurrent would grab a hold of me, pulling me under the water. I felt that same way now, as if the swirl of emotions was starting to drag me under. Part of me wished to just forget about Erik and marry Raoul. There was safety and security in that choice. But the other part of me craved Erik's darkness, his mystery. I felt as if a battle was raging inside of me, and the prize was my heart.
But now I had doubts, doubts that Erik actually cared for me at all. He had not returned, had not even spoken to me for so long. As for Raoul…well, Raoul was Raoul. Raoul was used to getting his way, and I could sense his growing anger and frustration with me. No doubt he was confused (how could he not be?) by my actions.
At once I was filled with an overwhelming desire to talk to my father, to ask for his advice. Erik's absence brought to light how truly lonely I was. In Erik I had found, for a while, the same gentle support that my father had given me, and I missed my father all the more.
It seemed that Raoul was always around, but as we spent more time together, I began to notice a good deal of things that began to shatter my illusions about him. He never wanted to hear how rehearsals had gone; in fact, when I tried to explain how frustrated I was with Signor Piangi just brushed my concerns aside like so much lint. It seemed he only wanted to talk about his job, his life. I began to feel that I was nothing more to him than just a fiancée, someone to show off to his highbrow acquaintances.
Melancholy enveloped me like a cloak, but Raoul seemed not to notice, and the mirror in my dressing room maintained its stony silence. There were times when I feared that I truly had gone mad, and that Erik was nothing more than a figment of my overactive imagination.
Christmas Eve arrived with a light snow that dusted the streets in white. There was to be an early morning rehearsal. No rest for the wicked, as my father had always laughingly said when I complained. Amazingly enough we were to have Christmas Day free.
As the carriage carried me through the streets of Paris to the Opera House, I noticed many families, rushing about to do last minute holiday preparations. Happy couples walked arm-in-arm; it seemed everyone had someone, and I felt a horrible ache in my chest as I thought about my father. So many memories! Decorating the Christmas tree, hanging stockings. Singing Christmas carols before bed and his dire warnings that I get immediately to sleep so Father Christmas could visit.
I sighed as the carriage came to a stop in front of the Opera. I climbed slowly out and walked slowly through the front doors. I dropped my cloak off in my dressing room, pausing for a few moments to listen for Erik, but, as usual, I was greeted by cold silence.
Rehearsal was brutal. Reyer was in a temper and it seemed nothing I did was correct. I was on the verge of tears when we were finally dismissed, with Monsieur Reyer giving me special instruction to practise my part the next day.
I escaped to my dressing room. My singing had been atrocious throughout rehearsal, lost as I was in thoughts of my father. I knew immediately what I had to do. I picked up my cloak and, as I was just about to leave, there was a knock on the door and Raoul walked in, grinning broadly.
"Christine!" he said. "I am glad I caught you before you left. I thought I might have missed you!"
I smiled weakly as he handed me a bouquet of white roses. "Thank you."
"You are welcome. You will be coming to the Christmas Eve party at my estate tonight, correct?" he asked.
"Oh," I said. "I-I had not realised I was invited," I said stupidly.
Raoul laughed heartily. "Silly girl, of course you are. You are my fiancée!"
I fought back a grimace and tried to smile. "I am not sure, Raoul."
A frown creased his forehead. "What do you mean, you are not sure?"
"I am rather tired, Raoul. And there is something I have to do."
"Something? Something like what?" he asked, suspicion plain on his face.
I sighed. "I am going to Perros," I said.
"Perros? Whatever for?" he asked.
"To visit my father's grave."
Raoul looked bewildered. "Today?"
"Yes, today," I said peevishly.
"Can it not wait?"
"No it cannot!" I snapped. "Please, Raoul, try to understand."
He clenched his jaw. "Then I will come with you."
"No, Raoul. This is something I need to do alone," I said firmly.
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "If you insist," he said. "At least take my carriage. My driver will take you there."
Tears prickled behind my eyes. "Thank you," I said.
"You are welcome, darling," Raoul said, somewhat sadly. "You should know I cannot deny you anything."
I froze at his words, so similar to the whispered words Erik had said. Suddenly the room seemed hot and uncomfortable and I felt smothered. "Please, Raoul. I must go."
"Of course, Christine. My carriage is out front."
"Thank you," I said again. Raoul was looking at me lovingly and I turned and fled the room, guilt eating at me.
I ran the entire way out of the Opera House. When I reached Raoul's carriage I was out of breath and tears were running down my face. I told the driver to take me to the cemetery in Perros and settled back in the carriage's plush seats, sobbing.
Before long the carriage stopped before the tall, wrought iron gates that surrounded the cemetery. The driver opened the carriage door and helped me out. I thanked him and walked slowly towards the gates that led to the cemetery.
The sky was laden with dark grey clouds and the ground was covered with a light blanket of new snow. I walked slowly along the path that ran through the centre of the cemetery. Trees draped with moss stood silently along the pathway, while headstones of all shapes and sizes huddled in the snow, shrouded in a light mist of fog. The air was cold and silent and the only sound was the crunch of snow beneath my boots. I pulled my cloak tighter around me, my breath freezing into little white clouds.
My father's grave was toward the back of the cemetery surrounded by a tall ivy-covered wall with a small gate in front of the headstone. A large stone cross stood majestically on the wall above the headstone, which read 'Stephen Daae, 1832-1876.' I opened the gate and stepped through.
"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing," I whispered, reciting my father's favourite story. "Her father promised her that he would send her the Angel of Music. Her father promised her…" My voice broke as I began sobbing. "Oh, Papa!" I cried. "Why did you leave me? Why?"
A church bell began to toll in the distance, its hollow ringing echoing in my ears as I looked sadly at the granite headstone. A small marble angel stood watch over the grave, arms outstretched. It seemed a cold and inadequate memorial of a man, a father, who had been who had been so warm and gentle. Pain constricted my chest and made it difficult to breathe.
I was still holding the bouquet of white roses that Raoul had given me. I buried my face into their soft petals, breathing their sweet scent. I knelt down in the snow in front of my father's headstone and gently set the flowers on the ground, pulling one single rose from the bouquet.
A thousand memories crowded my mind as I knelt in the snow with my head bowed, crying. He had been my friend, as well as my father. My one companion, he had been the only person who mattered to me. My whole world had shattered when he had died so unexpectedly. Five long years I had been without him, and it just never seemed to get any easier. I continued to ache, longing to hear his kind voice just one more time, even though I knew I never would. How many times had I dreamed of him, dreams so vivid that when I woke I expected to walk into the kitchen and find him there, sipping tea.
But of course they were just dreams, beautiful dreams that vanished like so much smoke in the cold light of morning. I had lost myself for so long in my dreams, not realising that dwelling in the past would not help me to accomplish all that he had dreamed for me to do. There were so many things I needed to do, decisions I needed to make, and I was starting to realise that rather than wish my father were here to guide me, I needed to just follow my heart.
Too many years I had spent fighting back tears, lost in my grief. I needed to put the past behind me and move towards the future, rather than dwelling on what could have been.
I rose and stood in front of my father's headstone. I took a deep breath.
"Papa," I said, much the same as I would have had we been sitting in front of a fire, talking. "Papa, I miss you so." I paused. "Please forgive me, but I must let go. I must say good-bye and try to live, instead of always dwelling on memories. Papa, I need to find the strength to try to move on, to stop looking back. I look back on these wasted years, years that I have spent hopelessly lost in sorrow, and I can see that I have to let the past just die. No more memories, no more silent tears," I said, wiping my eyes. "Help me say good-bye…"
The air was cold and silent, only the sound the last echoes of a passing bell. I took the single white rose and gently laid it in the outstretched arms of the marble angel. I ran my fingers lightly over the cold, smooth face before I closed the gate and turned with a newfound resolve to make things right in my life.
"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance…"
I froze as Erik's voice came from behind me, weaving its way around me. My heart began to race at the sound of his voice, which sounded just as it had when he had come to me as my Angel of Music, breathtaking and gentle.
"Angel or father, friend or Phantom….who is it there?" I asked, hoping he knew what I meant by my words. There were so many sides to Erik…
"Have you forgotten your Angel?" he asked. His voice was like a drug, wrapping itself around me, holding me so I was unable to move.
I turned slowly and looked up. He was standing on the wall above my father's grave, next to the large stone cross. There was a light mist in the air and it swirled around him, shrouding him in mystery. He was dressed entirely in black; black pants, black dress coat and hat and an elegant black cloak. The white of his mask and his dress shirt stood out boldly in the gathering darkness. He was holding a long bronze staff with a skull on the top.
I took a deep, shaky breath. "Angel…" I whispered.
"Too long you have wandered in winter, my child. You have been too far from me," Erik said. From where I stood I could not see his eyes, could not read his expression, but his voice was so soft, so calm.
I heard a noise behind me and ignored it as I stared up at Erik, my Angel of Music. I took a step towards him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a dark haired figure, striding towards me.
"Christine! What are you doing? Why are you listening to him?" someone hissed behind me. It was Raoul, sounding angry and upset.
"Wildly my mind beats against me," I said, almost to myself. "I cannot resist…" I whispered.
"You resist me, yet your soul obeys!" Erik said, his voice growing louder, more commanding.
"Why have you returned to him?" Raoul asked pleadingly. I felt him tug at my cloak, but I pulled away from him and took another step towards Erik.
"Christine, you denied me. You turned from me and the true beauty I offer. Do not shun me to your Angel of Music," he said, his voice hypnotic.
"Angel of Music. My guide, my protector…" I said breathlessly. I took another step towards him, feeling the irresistible pull of his mesmerizing voice.
"I am your Angel of Music. Come to me," Erik said softly, holding out his hand, beckoning me to him
"You are no angel!" Raoul called out suddenly. "Cease this torment."
It was as if Erik had heard nothing. Indeed, he was so focused, he may well not have. "Come to me, Christine. Come to your Angel of Music…"
"Christine, Christine, listen to me. Whatever you believe, this man…this monster, is not your Angel of Music!" Raoul said desperately. Then he stepped in front of me. "Let her go!" he shouted up at Erik. "For God's sake, let her go!"
I looked over at Raoul, startled. The web that Erik's voice had woven around me disappeared as I looked at Raoul, yet I still felt a need, a desperate need, to go to Erik. Raoul was shaking with anger, glaring up at Erik, murder in his eyes.
"Raoul!" I whispered. What was he doing here? Why had he followed me?
Raoul turned around at the sound of my voice and wrapped me in his arms. I looked up at him, at the fierce protectiveness and love in his eyes. But it was not Raoul that I longed to be with. I glanced up at Erik. He was standing next to the cross, frozen. I could not see his expression, but anger radiated from him. I struggled out of Raoul's grip and backed up a few steps. I was suddenly afraid for Raoul, sensing the danger that surrounded Erik like his cloak.
Erik took the staff that he held and raised it. With a flash that almost blinded me, a ball of fire erupted from the mouth of the skull that topped the staff that he held. It streaked down and landed a few feet from where Raoul stood. "Bravo, Monsieur, such spirited words!" Erik said. His tone was light, almost joking, but I sensed the deadly fury that boiled under the surface of his words. Another fireball streaked out of the skull, landing at Raoul's feet.
Raoul stared impassively up at Erik. "More tricks, Monsieur?" he asked.
"Shall we see, Monsieur, how far you dare go?" Erik said as he shot another fireball.
"More deception? More violence?" said Raoul, taking a few steps towards the wall where Erik stood.
"Raoul, no!" I cried. I was terrified that Erik would kill Raoul.
"That is right, Monsieur!" Erik called out encouragingly. "Keep walking this way!"
Two more fireballs fell at Raoul's feet, but he ignored them and took another step towards the wall. "You cannot win her love by making her your prisoner!" Raoul shouted.
"Raoul, stop!" I cried, trying to grab his arm.
"Stay back, Christine," Raoul said sternly.
"I am here, Monsieur, the Angel of Death! Come on, Monsieur, do not stop now!" Erik taunted, and three more fireballs fell to the ground, erupting into a shower of sparks as they hit the ground. Raoul was almost directly at Erik's feet and fear clutched me as I saw the deadly gleam in Erik's eyes as he looked down at Raoul.
I ran to Raoul, clutching his arm. "Raoul, please, come back!" I said desperately, pulling at him. I could not stand by and watch Erik kill Raoul.
Raoul looked down at me. What made him back off, I do not know. I do not know whether it was fear of Erik, or the desperate fear in my eyes, but Raoul looked down at me for several seconds before he wrapped an arm around me and pulled me away from my father's grave.
"Do not go!" Erik called. I struggled against Raoul's grip. I had to get back to Erik! But Raoul was too strong for me and he all but dragged me back to the carriage.
"So be it! Now, let it be war upon you both!" Erik shouted, his voice icy with fury. I glanced back and saw an explosion of fire from my father's grave and I shivered with fear.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Day after day I watched Christine from behind her dressing room mirror. I had not spoken to her since the day of her last meeting with the managers, when I had realized the depth of her deception. I had waited for her for hours, expecting her to return, but she never did. By the time I left to go back to my chambers I was furious, out of control with rage. I stormed into my chambers and sat at the organ, pouring out my frustrations into my music. The walls shook with the intensity of my playing.
Night after night I watched Christine return from rehearsals, expecting me to be waiting for her. I stood impassively behind the mirror, listening to her beg for me to come to her. I watched as she almost drove herself mad trying to open the mirror to no avail. I saw the desperation in her eyes, but I studiously ignored it. I wanted nothing more to do with her games.
Her singing went quickly downhill. I watched their rehearsals with growing disgust. Mediocre at best, it was not what I expected for my life's work. And yet I began to feel a strange sort of apathy. Without Christine, little seemed to matter. And, as I watched her leave with the Vicomte every night, I realised that I had lost. I did not take kindly to losing, but short of getting the Vicomte out of the picture permanently, I did not have a chance. Tempting though that thought was, I knew that if I were to kill Raoul it would only prove to her that I was the monster she believed me to be.
The end result was always the same. Christine had chosen. The Vicomte had won.
I continued to watch her. She was like a drug, and I was an addict. To watch her, listen to her, even in secrecy was almost enough. Almost.
As opening night drew ever closer, murmurs of the imminent trap were heard whispered between cast members and the managers. I laughed silently at them. They thought that whispering would keep their words from my ears. I would have thought by now that they would have learned. The Opera Ghost misses nothing.
I felt a strange coldness overtake me in that week after the managers meeting. I was angry, yes. But I was also terribly tired. Tired of the foolishness of men.
Everything came to a head exactly one week before opening night. After Christine endured a particularly harsh rehearsal she escaped to her dressing room. I followed through the corridors and came to stand in my usual spot behind the mirror. She seemed terribly upset, rushing about the room, gathering her cloak and hurrying to the door. Her eyes were luminous with the unmistakable shine of unshed tears. Before she could get out the door Raoul burst in, grinning like an idiot and carrying a bouquet of white roses.
They spoke for a few moments. It seemed Raoul was having a Christmas party that night. It was Christmas Eve, I realised with a start. I held no importance to such holidays and rarely remembered them at all.
They continued to talk and Christine told Raoul that she was going to the cemetery, to her father's grave. It irritated me the way he refused to take anything she said seriously. The self-centred fop.
I watched in amusement as Christine snapped at him, showing a bit of that well-hidden fire that I had only seen on a few rare occasions. Raoul offered to go with her and she refused, so he offered his carriage. How chivalrous, I thought snidely.
"Thank you," Christine said, her emerald eyes filling with tears.
"You are welcome, darling," Raoul said and I clenched my fists at his endearment. "You should know I cannot deny you anything."
I stiffened at his words. I had almost the same thing to her.
Christine hurried out of the room and, after a few moments Raoul made to follow her. As rushed out the door he almost knocked over Madame Giry, who was walking past Christine's dressing room door.
"Monsieur," she said with a stiff nod. "Where are you going in such a hurry?"
"Christine is going to the cemetery in Perros. I do not want her to go there alone, so I am going to follow her. Please excuse me," Raoul said with a slight bow as he hurried away.
I clenched my jaw. He was going to follow her, was he? Two could play at his little game, I thought and ran the five levels to my chambers. I picked up a staff, a novelty that I had created while working for the shah in Persia and hurried back aboveground. With enough money as motivation and by taking little used back roads, I had no doubt that a rented carriage could beat Christine and the Vicomte both to the cemetery.
X
I followed Christine through the cemetery, gliding through the shadows as she walked slowly and purposefully towards the back of the cemetery. From a distance I saw the headstone with her father's name. I made my way to the tall, ivy covered wall that surrounded the grave and leapt lightly on top of it. I skulked across and stood behind the large stone cross that adorned the wall above her father's headstone. Focused as she was, she did not seem to notice me.
I watched from the shadows as she knelt before her father's grave, her head bowed. She was sobbing quietly and her grief was like a living entity, consuming her. She cried for quite some time before she finally stood. I listened with growing sympathy as she spoke to her father.
"Papa," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Papa, I miss you so. Please forgive me, but I must let go. I must say good-bye and try to live, instead of always dwelling on memories. Papa, I need to find the strength to try to move on, to stop looking back. I look back on these wasted years, years that I have spent hopelessly lost in sorrow, and I can see that I have to let the past just die. No more memories, no more silent tears." She paused, wiping her eyes. "Help me say good-bye…"
I watched helplessly as she placed a single white rose in the arms of the marble angel that adorned her father's grave. A bell tolled in the distance, echoing throughout the cemetery. She turned to leave and I felt a sudden desperation, a sudden reluctance to let her leave. I felt an obsessive urge to try one last time to see where her heart truly was.
"Wandering child, so lost, so helpless. Yearning for my guidance," I said.
She froze. "Angel or father, friend or Phantom…who is it there?" she asked.
Behind my mask I smiled. "Have you forgotten your Angel?" I asked softly.
She turned slowly and looked up at me. Her eyes were red and her face tear-stained, yet she was still breathtakingly beautiful. Her expression was almost one of awe as she gazed up at me. "Angel…" she said softly.
"Too long you have wandered in winter, my child," I said softly. "You have been too far from me." I could feel my voice surround her and hold her.
A sudden movement from behind her caught my eye. In the foggy twilight I saw Raoul storming through the cemetery towards Christine. I willed myself to stay calm. Christine was under my spell, I could not afford to lose my concentration. She took a step towards me.
"Christine, what are you doing? Why are you listening to him?" Raoul asked, sounding angry.
Christine did not seem to hear him. "Wildly my mind beats against me. I cannot resist…"
"You resist me, yet your soul obeys!" I said.
Raoul tugged at her cloak. "Why have you returned to him?"
Christine pulled away from him, and took another step.
"Christine, you denied me. You turned from me and the true beauty I offer. Do not shun me again…come to your Angel of Music," I said.
"Angel of Music. My guide, my protector…" she whispered and took another step. Her eyes were wide, trusting.
"I am your Angel of Music. Come to me," I said, raising my hand and summoning her towards me.
"You are no angel!" Raoul shouted at me. He was standing with his fists clenched. "Cease this torment."
I ignored him. "Come to me, Christine. Come to your Angel of Music…"
"Christine, Christine, listen to me. Whatever you believe, this man, this monster, is not your Angel of Music!" Raoul said, his voice desperate as he pleaded with her. Then he moved in front of her and faced me. "Let her go!" he shouted. "For God's sake, let her go!"
Christine turned towards Raoul, looking startled. She looked bewildered, like a sleepwalker who is woken suddenly.
Raoul continued to glare at me and I felt my anger, which was already close to the surface, explode.
"Raoul," Christine whispered and Raoul turned and scooped her into his arms, holding her close to him.
My jaw clenched as I watched them, clutching each other desperately. I was barely able to leash my anger. It was all I could do not to leap off of that wall and kill Raoul with my bare hands.
The fire of rage burned through me as I lifted my staff. I pulled the trigger and a ball of fire exploded from the mouth of the skull and fell a few feet from where Raoul stood below me.
"Bravo, Monsieur, such spirited words!" I called out, my voice light, yet dripping with venom. I shot another fireball which landed closer, at Raoul's feet.
Raoul stared up at me, not acknowledging the fireballs. "More tricks, Monsieur?"
"Shall we see, Monsieur, how far you dare go?" I asked and shot another fireball.
Raoul began walking towards me. "More deception? More violence?"
"Raoul, no!" Christine cried out.
I smiled humourlessly. "That is right, Monsieur! Keep walking this way!"
"You cannot win her love by making her your prisoner!" Raoul shouted.
I froze at his words and at the truth in them that I did not want to admit. It enraged me all the more, especially when Christine grabbed at him. Raoul told her to stay back and she obeyed, her eyes wide with fear.
"I am here Monsieur, the Angel of Death!" I goaded. "Come on, Monsieur, do not stop now!" I shot three more fireballs which fell inches from where Raoul stood, exploding into a shower of sparks. Raoul was almost directly beneath me. Christine ran over to him grabbing his arm.
"Raoul, please, come back!" she cried. He looked down at her and an instant later he wrapped his arm around her and began pulling her away from me. I glared down at him, hating him. Hating his handsome face and his charming ways as he left once more with Christine, the woman I loved.
"Do not go!" I roared, but Raoul continued to lead her back to the carriage. "So be it!" I shouted after them. "Now, let it be war upon you both!" Shaking with rage I pulled a different trigger on the staff and an astonishing burst of flames exploded from the skull's mouth.
I had tried to be patient, I had tried to be kind and time after time Christine had snubbed me. She had chosen Raoul each time. Raoul and his handsome face. I cursed her, I cursed both of them and their naivety.
They had angered the Phantom for the last time. They thought that they would capture me. They thought they had me where they wanted me. Well, they would soon learn the true power of the Phantom of the Opera. And they would be sorry, indeed, that they had ever challenged me!