Chapter 3

The Angel of Music

"Appearances can be deceiving." Leonardo De Vinci

The young woman's eyes were fixated on the mother she had only seen in pictures of black and white. How deep the redness of her strawberry blonde hair was and how drowning her blue eyes were. Her hands were soft and graceful paler than fresh milk and as smooth as silk. As her tune continued, the light dimmed to the intimacy of candlelight making Christine cringe, she had always hated the dark and felt awkward with her mother in such a setting. This was an environment for two lovers not for a daughter just meeting her mother.

Her mother returned to her instrument and took Christine's hand in hers strumming in handover to a beautiful love song. Christine felt like a child as she gazed at the closed eyes of her mother and the cultured smile on her face. Her hands looked easy and gentle as she caressed the strings of every note. She guided Christine's hand over hers and when she pulled back gently the music stopped. Christine was sorry for this, the music had been so soothing and lovely and her mother's presence with her hand over hers was comforting. But she had to get to the bottom of this.

How did she get here, why the hell was she even here and more importantly how did she get home? She tapped her mother with her other hand but she paid no attention, she did it three more times and when she continued to be unresponsive she sighed in annoyance. Her mother had gone back to her lullabies, something that was becoming tiresome and so the girl clapped her hand ever her mother's none-too-gently and the older woman gazed at her. Well, she wasn't really older than her in fact they looked to be the same age. But that was impossible… her thoughts were broken by her mother's soft voice, curious and questioning.

Her mother turned to her, "Do you not like the music my dear?"

"No," she said quickly, "It's beautiful but…"

"But," her mother echoed, "What?"

"I need to talk to you."

"Talk to me while I play." She said and turned back to her music.

"Well my dear you do not age when you have died…"

"But…you're…" she couldn't finish the thought it horrified her.

"I know, I am your age or rather not much older

Her mother smiled sadly and nodded, her eyes shaped like teardrops as she gazed at Christine's puzzled face. She said nothing and then slowly she rose from her chair and knelt down by her daughter pulling her to her feet gently. She ran her slender hands up and down the young woman's arms. Her mother twirled her by the arm and then a huge beam graced her mouth and she kissed her forehead.

"My goodness Christine you are as beautiful as Gustave says you are…" she said.

"Papa's here too?" she asked hoping to see him.

But the look her m

Her mother turned serious, "Yes and he is very disappointed in you young lady."

"Uh…" Christine muttered not knowing where to begin.

"Dear I do not speak mumble." She said.

"Oh mama where do I begin… why can't I make up my mind?" The young ingénue's eyes filled up.

Her mother glared at her and gave Christine a sharp tap on the head causing her to wince. Waving away her protest and crossing the room to pick up her mirror and handing it to her. Christine raised her golden eyebrow; her mother made a gesture, a wordless command for her to look into it. So, she did and staring back at her was the vision of her father lying on his deathbed, stroking her hair with tears running down his face and looking feverish. Her father was whispering to her that he would send her the angel of music. Her little face was splotchy and red from crying and her father was wiping her tears away.

"Little Lotte, let her mind wander…" he started, "Little Lotte thought, am I fonder of dolls or of goblins or shoes?" he let out a cough and blood trickled down his chin.

"Daddy…"

Christine could not bear to look at this anymore. She threw it down and it shattered into pieces with a clash and a horrible crunching sound. She stepped on the fragments crushing them into dust and then fell down to her knees and sobbed into her hands. She didn't want to see her father and she knew what was coming next he would promise her the angel of music who would never come. The angel of music that would turn out to be simply a man and not a very stable one at that, his mood swings were violent well to be honest even they were unpredictable, ranging from maniacal to pathetic in a moment's notice. Then he went to declarations of unconditional love and as for his anger well that was even worse.

She could look past everything he had done even the kidnapping if he didn't frighten her so much. But then, being the child she was maybe it was the intensity of those emotions that frightened her. Still the long-buried ache that came from reality made her want to cry, why did the world have to be so cold to her and steal from her the only steady love she had ever felt? To replace it with this type of turmoil was just another twist of cruel fate. Her mother's voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked up at the slightly annoyed blue eyes.

"Stop weeping; it won't do you any good…" Her mother said sternly giving her that parent-look.

"But I… wasn't weeping."

"Well don't start."

"Mama I…"

"You what…love do you ever finish your sentences?"

"I don't mean to stutter I just…"

Her mother rolled her eyes, "talk with me when you've collected your thoughts."

Christine sat silently for several moments by her mother, her eyes shut as she tried to form her explanation. Her mother was silent also and stayed that way as she put her daughter at ease with a lullaby. Finally she turned and looked at her and reached her hand out to her child squeezing her hand. Christine laced her fingers through her mothers and squeezed her hand back, trying to pluck up the courage to speak. After all what did one say to their dead mother in the first place?

"Try, 'hello.' "Her mother said, guessing her thoughts.

"Mama, I am in love with two men at once."

Her mother nodded, "Go on."

"One is so beautiful and the other one is well not so much…"

"Ah, well the one who is 'not so much' is the one who loves you more."

"How do you know?"

She laughed prettily, the sound like a Christmas bell, "I'm an Angel I know everything."

"Oh?"

"Of course loving come along I have something to show you," said her mother, holding out a slender hand. "Your father did in fact send you the angel of music."

"No he didn't." she replied.

"Be silent child!" she snapped, "Don't you ever cease to complain?"

Christine followed her mother silently listening to her mother mumble something about never seeing such a whiny child in her afterlife. How she had seen people on earth in far worse situations and were perfectly content in their lives. She reached behind her and caught Christine's hand tugging her toward a thick wooden door. Her mother reached down where a small silver key appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She turned it and it made a tinkling sound like a wind chime in a light summer breeze.

She lead her daughter to the room where a harp and mirror where mounted atop one another where she sat down before her and pulled her down beside her motioning for her to look at it and strumming her fingers over it. The beautiful music seemed to continue through the room even though the musician had ceased to play. It swelled around them softly and seemed to wrap Christine in warmth and comfort. They stared at each other for several moments and Christine drank in the sight of the woman before her. Her papa had been right; she did resemble her mother—almost to the point of spookiness. The hair, the eyes all of it was just like her and her mother seemed to know it too. Nodding wordlessly as she released her to look deeper into her face.

She couldn't believe her eyes; her mother was sitting there as if she hadn't died when she was born all those years ago. Christine was ashamed to admit that she had forgotten what her mother looked like having not seen the pictures of her in years. She hoped that her mother was as forgiving as papa said she was and would pardon the shock. The other woman seemed overjoyed to see her, indeed her mother smiled and nodded at her. She was staring into her eyes, kissing her forehead again and simply gazing at her with a watery smile. Christine closed her eyes as the woman framed her face with her cool fingers.

"Watch the mirror Christine." She said.

So she did and its clear smooth surface reflected a picture of the sky and a castle on a clouds. In the mirror there stood a beautiful man with raindrop eyes on the steps of a gilded throne. He had thick chestnut hair and the purest wings she had ever seen. He had dropped to his knees to kiss the man's ring on his master's hand. He nodded to him and then he spoke and Christine's heart stopped at the sound and that familiar chills went down her spine.

"I wish to live Master…" It was Erik's voice there could be no mistaking it.

Christine had a sudden tremor of fear, no it couldn't be! Erik couldn't be dead! Her mother placed a calming hand on her shoulder and shook her head. Christine took a deep breath to steady herself her eyes suddenly glued to the mirror. It was as though she were watching the first act of the most elaborate opera she had ever seen. The man who sounded like Erik and the man who was the greatest ruler in the universe speaking to one another right before her mortal eyes. She knew that what she was seeing was real but at the same time she didn't believe her eyes. There was the royal family of the celestial kingdom, the savior on his left and the holy virgin on his right.

Her hand was in his and her head was nestled in his shoulder, they looked like the typical happy married couple. Who would have guessed that in actuality the Lord seemed to be your typical family man? After pondering this a moment Christine decided it was not so unusual, after all he was technically the 'father' of all mortal beings but still she hadn't expected him to seem so… normal.

The older man raised a quizzical brow and stood from his chair, gazing at the other with a look of confusion. He walked to him and pulled him to his feet, the man gazed at him hard. It was as though he could not believe his ears. The angel with Erik's voice seemed pensive and as though he was confused. The old man looked at him through sharp eyes and furrowed his brow seriously. It was the kind of look that a grandfather (for the man appeared to be elderly) would give an adolescent wishing to try his first alcohol. The other angel version of Erik was shifting his feet and plucking at his fluffy wings in obvious nervousness. Christine watched him as the other man finally spoke, his voice full of a question mixed with the first statement.

"But you are alive… here in paradise, where you have music and no care in the world. What do you mean you want to live?"

"As a mortal in the human world…" he responded.

The other threw his head back and laughed, seeming to think this a very good joke. "But my boy, you're the Angel of Music. The finest seraphim in my choir and surely there are many beautiful angels here in paradise for you to choose from."

"None as beautiful as her, she's one of your finest creations, she stirs something in me…" he started to weep with the same wretchedness that tore her heart out. "I have committed a mortal sin…I feel the lust of a mortal man."

The old man looked at him seriously and tugged his hand over his mouth to cup his wrinkly chin. He looked at Erik seriously. "Which mortal woman causes an angel to sin?"

"Christine Daaè," he said," The one whose voice is good enough to be one of us."

God seemed to get a proud gleam in his eyes, "Ah yes, took me some time to make her. You have good taste in a mortal to break the rules with. All right, you can go but for a price."

"Yes master, I will pay any price you ask."

"You must choose your voice or your beauty. You can only take one. That is my price."

Erik looked down in deep thought, before answering, "My voice, a woman with a voice as hers will surely appreciate music more than beauty."

He gave him a questioning look saying 'are you certain' and Erik gave a grave shake of his head as though he knew this decision was one he could never reverse. The Lord shook his head apologetically and nodded and reached toward Erik gripping the skin on his face and giving it one sharp tug. He screamed in agony as the flesh was torn away and The Lord nodded as he gave him a light push. In one moment she saw him falling faster and faster into a never-ending darkness and then the mirror went back to its clear surface. Her mother nodded and looked at her seriously as she turned fully in her direction.

"Erik gave up his beauty and his place in eternity for you and you'd give him up." Her mother said.

Christine felt ashamed of herself for being so shallow and simple-minded, knowing that the most beautiful angel in the heavenly choir had come down to live the life from hell. He had doomed himself to torture and isolation and all for her love and yet she looked mainly at the twisted scarring and thought of only physical attractions. What made it hurt even more was the realization was that he would have never been in that position if it weren't for her. Raoul would never have done that for her, she didn't know how she had figured this out but she just knew it from the bottom of her heart. In that one moment she knew that Erik's love for her was so much deeper than Raoul's and it tore a hole in her heart.

How could she have been so cruel to the man when he had given up so much on her behalf? She felt her eyes water and this time her mother did not stop her tears instead she sat silently and waited for her to stop. But she didn't, she cried herself out till she fell back into that spiraling darkness. Christine vaguely heard her mother's voice telling her to wake and then she heard the sound of her own snoring rumbling softly in her ears. She woke then, the room blurring into focus as she stumbled clumsily to her feet intending to go back to her dressing room. But as was her habit she became too distracted to notice where she was going,

The next thing she knew, something sharp poked her in the foot and she winced muttering 'ow'. There was an eerie creaking sound and she looked down her eyes widening at what she saw. The floor was opening like a chasm before her eyes, spreading wider and wider still until she was standing on air. As is the case with air, one cannot stand on it and so she was falling into the space with nothing to grab onto to steady herself. She fell faster and faster until she hit something as hard as stone. It was cold and hard and she felt herself being submerged in it completely, struggling to the surface when she registered that it was water.

Erik's underground lake to be exact, she spit out the water and coughed, attempting to propel her tired body forward. Her muscles ached as she forced herself to swim and she swallowed the foul water as it rose to her chin and seeped through her lips. She gagged and sputtered till at last she felt something solid beneath her hand. The river bank at last, she heaved herself up onto it and vomited up the water. She heard music wafting from the inside his home, horrible tortured music that rang with agony and self-hatred. Christine could see the wooden gate with the alarm on it and she crawled to it, reaching for it with the last of her energy to pull it as she collapsed fully against it causing it to shriek. She heard grumbling and then in the dim candlelight she saw two raindrop eyes looking rather annoyed.

"Who goes there?" he asked.

"Erik…" she moaned and then her world went black.

Sorry for the wait I was sick and out of town