Chapter Nine: The Violin and the Mausoleum
Paris, France, January 2, 1882: That Night
Christine stepped out of the opera's doors. A bitter breeze was blowing through the street. She pulled her cape closer around her shoulders, shielding the delicate flowers she held from the cruel wind, and hailed a carriage.
The ride to the cemetery was short. A song Christine's father had taught her in her childhood echoed in her mind. She sang the words softly.
Little Lotte thought
Of everything and nothing...
Her father promised her
That he would send her the Angel of Music...
Her father promised her...
Christine's voice cracked slightly as she repeated the last line.
Her father promised her...
The coach stopped at the cemetery gates. Christine gave the driver a handful of coins and stepped out onto the snow-covered ground as it clattered back to Paris.
She had memorized the path to her father's grave years ago, ever since she started setting aside trips to visit his tombstone. A turn here, a corner there, and she arrived at his grave.
The words etched on the smooth stone were faint, nearly worn away by time. Charles Adolphe Daaé, beloved father and guide. Christine always thought the words were cold and lifeless, not at all like the spirited man who she had loved for twenty years. There was a violin carved into the stone; it seemed to taunt her, that she would never hear the strings of his well-loved violin make beautiful music.
She carefully laid the spray of flowers just below the words. "I didn't forget, father," she said softly. "I came back. Are you happy?"
She paced as she spoke. "I met Raoul again. We became engaged during the summer of last year. You always said we would marry, and you are turning out of be right. You were also right about another thing." Her voice cracked again. "The Angel of Music came to me. He gave me a voice beyond imagining.
"But you were wrong about one thing, father. He is not an angel. He is a monster, a man who kills without a thought." She turned to face the grave, furious. "You promised the Angel of Music would be sent by you. He isn't. He wants to marry me! Why would an angel want to marry me?"
An unbearable anger suddenly filled her body. In a blind rage, she picked up a stone and hurled it again the tombstone. It bounded off, making a small scar on the stone violin.
"You promised you would protect me! You promised! Now I have to go through a plan that may get me killed, just because I want to live! How is that protection?"
She stood there, enraged, staring at the carved words that suddenly repulsed her. Her thoughts were spiraling haphazardly.
I adulated my father, worshipped him, and to what result? He was human. He promised me the moon, the stars, and he never followed through with his promise. How is the "Angel of Music" any different?
"Father…" The word was a breathy sigh. She began again. "Father, I was wrong to trust you and your word completely. You didn't send the Angel of Music. Erik lied to me. He got me to trust him, under the guise of your order.
"Will you forgive me if I let your spirit go?"
Of course she did not expect a response. The wind did not whisper anything as it rushed past, not the trees as their leaves shook. However, she felt a weight lifted off her shoulders, a weight she had never known to be there.
"Drifting, helpless child…"
Christine tensed.
"You long for my guidance, my leadership, don't you?"
Why did Erik have to come now?
The strains of a vaporous violin came on the back of the wind. "What are you?" Christine demanded, staring at a large marble mausoleum from which the voice emitted. "How can you be human if you have done all this?"
"Come to me, my beautiful Angel of Music…"
"How can you use that? Knowing that it was from my father, knowing you were deceiving me every time you spoke!"
"Forget everything, Christine. Just forget…"
Once again, she felt the enchantment of the phantom, the spell that demanded she walk to Erik. She resisted fiercely, but for the second time, Erik won.
Then Raoul appeared out of nowhere. Did he follow me to the cemetery? Whatever had happened, it did not matter.
"Stop deceiving her!" Raoul called furiously at the direction of the mausoleum where the phantom hid. "Stop tormenting her with her father's memory, you demon of cacophony!"
"I will never stop." The phantom's voice echoed mockingly. He finally revealed himself, wearing a large black cloak that drowned him in darkness. "I will always be in your mind…"
Suddenly, the phantom raised his hand and threw something burning, unbearably bright. It was a ball of flames, of lightning. The spheres kept falling to the ground, landing just around the pair.
Christine seized his arm and dragged him back, but he shook his arm out of her hold. "You can't gain her love by making her your captive!"
The phantom disappeared, and his voice echoed from the voice of a stone cherub. "Are you coming to challenge me, monsieur? By all means."
Raoul reached inside his coat and drew out a pistol. He readied the revolver and fired a shot at the cherub, blasting off a portion of curling stone hair.
"Wrong direction, monsieur!" The phantom's contemptuous voice moved to another gravestone. Raoul pulled the trigger again, and the bullet drilled a hole in the smooth surface. "I'm here, monsieur. The phantom of the opera! You will never find me!" With each statement, his voice moved to a different position in the cemetery. Raoul lost all his cartridges attempting to find the owner of the voice.
"Raoul!" Christine wrenched the gun out of his hand. "Stop!"
He looked at her and seemed to come to his senses. Then he took her hand and led her out of the graveyard at a run. The last thing they heard was the phantom.
"It shall be war on you both!"
I didn't want Christine sobbing all over the place. She should get mad at least once.