Two Steps Back

Christine strolled slowly, barely hearing Suzanne's constant chatter. She was consumed with thoughts of the mysterious singing angel. What could possess such a voice? She broke from her thoughts when a chilled wind blew her shoulders, and she pulled her wrap closer in response. The air smelled of the oncoming winter, and Christine breathed in deeply, relishing the clean scent. Despite her warmer clothing, her teeth began to chatter, and she rubbed her shoulders for warmth. "Come inside."

Christine flinched and swiveled around, coming face to face with Erik. "How many times must I tell you not to sneak up on me!" She glared at him, and though his face remained perfectly composed, she could see the amusement in his eyes. "And no I will not. Suzanne is showing me the gardens." Erik raised his eyebrow, looking unconvinced as he gestured to the dry wilting remains of what used to be flowers.

"You are freezing."

"I am fine." Christine replied, unwilling to admit she really was cold. How she wished she had listened to Suzanne and worn her cloak. Erik sighed and shook his head, not in the mood to ague.

"You don't look fine to me." She opened her mouth to retort but he held up his hand to stop her. "Please, Christine. Come inside before you become sick." She looked at him with eyes as wide as Suzanne's.

Suzanne had never seen him act like such a gentleman before. Well, almost never...

Erik offered his arm, and smiled triumphantly when she took it. Christine was still in shock of how kindly he had spoken to her, and couldn't help but smile at the pleasant change. Another cold wind came from behind, and she leaned in towards Erik, trying to escape the chill. He immediately grew tense, glancing down at the angel at his side. Her little hands were tangled in her shawl as she leaned heavily against him, her eyes closing at the feel of how warm he was. He slowly lifted his free arm and went to wrap it around her back.

Christine felt his arm brush her shoulders, and she gasped and quickly moved away, hoping he had not felt the raised lines of skin beneath the thin wrap. She wasn't sure what she would do if he looked at her the strange way Suzanne did. A look that made her feel like an outcast; someone who had done wrong. Erik immediately looked down, stepping quickly away from her, looking ashamed and sad. "I am sorry, Christine." Her eyes softened when she saw the way he wrapped his hands together. He thought she reviled his touch, and she quickly tried to find a way to explain. He gave her no chance though. "I will meet you inside." She hurried after him, refusing to let her mistake hurt him any longer.

"Wait!" She called, wishing he would stop his frenzied pace. "Please, stop!" Still he ignored her, and she broke into a sprint. "Erik!" He came to a halt as she grabbed his shoulder. Turning, she could see the anger and hurt in his eyes.

"What, Christine?" His eyes were cold, and she bit her lip, trying to phrase an answer. "Don't bite your lip." He snapped, and she instantly stopped.

"You have to understand!" She pleaded as he tried to push past her. She put her hands on his chest to stop him from escaping.

"What is there to understand? You've made yourself perfectly clear." He looked away from her, feeling once more unwanted.

"Erik. I did not push you away because of anything that had to do with you." He brought his gaze back to her, seeing the pleading look in her eyes.

"Why then?" He asked suspiciously. Christine looked at the ground, feeling like an idiot.

"I cannot tell you." He pushed away from her roughly, and she did not stop him. Instead, she sank to her knees in the cold dirt, knowing she was to blame. I have ruined everything, she thought mournfully.

By the time Christine returned to the manor, Erik had left. Suzanne said he took Lucifer, and was not expected to return until later that night. This thought only depressed her more. After a quiet lunch in solitude, she made her way to the music room, hoping the melodies would raise her spirits. However, when she sat down on the piano bench, she found herself unable to play a single key. Looking sadly at the ivory instrument, Christine began to sing. It was a song that could not be sung without tears, though she resisted strongly. As the final notes faded, she gasped to regain her breath. "You have a wonderful voice, mademoiselle."

She rose quickly from the piano bench to see Michael watching her from the doorway. "I wish everyone would stop doing that." She groaned in frustration at the fright he had given her. He closed the distance between them quickly.

"You will get used to it. Are you alright? You seem a bit...depressed." Christine nodded, once again settling herself on the piano bench.

"I am not depressed monsieur. Only confused." He nodded and sat down on a nearby stool.

"It's Michael, by the way." He said, holding out his hand. Christine gladly shook it, liking him already.

"Christine." He smiled at the invitation to call her by first name. "Do you know Erik well?" Michael sighed, knowing he should tread lightly on such a topic.

"As much as he will allow me to know him." She looked at him with confusion, not sure exactly what he meant. "It's frustrating isn't it?"

"Pardon?" She asked, wondering what he was referring to.

"Come now, Christine. I'm sure you've noticed by now how difficult it is to be around him. The fact he refuses to share any details about himself, yet asks to know everything about you? His unpredictable mood swings? It once took me an hour to figure out what he was talking about because he kept switching languages in his anger!" Christine laughed at this, and Michael took off into many of his tales with Erik. By the time he had finished, she was laughing so hard, tears were streaming from her eyes. She now sat on the floor, unable to breath as she continued to giggle.

It felt good to really laugh after so much seriousness. Christine felt as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders, and she was very grateful to Michael for that. He was laughing quite hard himself, and both were unable to do anything in their current state. Neither of them noticed the figure coming through the door behind them and continued in their merriment.

Erik watched the pair sitting on the floor with a look of question. He had returned mere minutes ago, wanting nothing more than a warm bed, but had become distracted by a sound. He now realized that the noise he had heard, was Christine's laughter. Even this was music to his ears, and he became quite jealous when he realized Michael had caused such joy. Unable to take the sight of her so happy with another, he made his presence known.

"What do you think you are doing.?" Both of them shot to there feet, seeing Erik coming toward them. Christine wiped the joyful tears from her eyes and rubbed her sore cheeks. She faced Erik, a smile on her face. Erik looked at her sternly, and her grin faltered.

"Christine and I were merely-"

"I would appreciate if you did not take the liberty of using her name. You will address her as mademoiselle." Michael looked down at his feet in submission, and Erik turned his gaze to an angry Christine.

"I asked him to call me Christine." She said. "Where have you been? You left so abruptly, I didn't-"

"You didn't what?" He said coldly.

"I would tell you if you stopped interrupting everyone! Erik, you can be as mad at me as you like, but I tried to explain myself!" She shouted. Erik saw Michael in the background and gestured for him to leave.

"Well you didn't do a very good job!" Christine groaned loudly and put her hands on her head.

"Well maybe I could do a better job if I trusted you!"

"And maybe we could establish trust if you didn't have so many damn secrets!" At that moment, Christine wanted nothing more than to hit Erik as hard as she could.

"You hypocrite! How dare you speak to me of hiding things, when you hide your very face! Why am I not allowed privacy if you are allowed yours!" Her lip trembled slightly as she glared at him.

"You are infuriating!" Erik growled.

"And you are exhausting!" Christine screamed back, before storming off. She realized she was acting like a child, but so was Erik. They would get nowhere if they kept acting this way, and their combined secrets weren't helping. Sooner or later, they were going to have to start being honest with each other.

She slammed the door to her room and began to pace the floor. How was she to survive a month in the presence of a man like Erik? How did anyone in this manor manage to stay in his company without slapping him every five minutes? Christine barely noticed when Suzanne entered the room. "My dear, are you alright?"

"How do you live with him?" She asked, sitting on the bed. Suzanne sat next to her and chuckled quietly.

"I'm afraid you have only seen the worst of monsieur Desslar. He is not used to people not obeying him, you must be patient." Christine began to take the pins from her hair, shaking her head slowly.

"How can I be patient with him? I don't know how to act around him! Everything I do seems to make things more complicated, and I just can't keep up with his moods." Suzanne sighed, getting a brush from the nightstand.

As she combed through Christine's locks, she spoke once more. "There is always the option of telling him." Christine turned, eyes full of despair. "I gave my word, I will not tell him. But... You should consider it, Christine. He would be more understanding than most."

"Understanding? So far he has been anything but understanding! I am another musical instrument to him! Waiting to be shelved like the others!" Suzanne grabbed the girls arms and turned her around, hating the look of sadness in her eyes.

"No, Christine! You mustn't think that! You are more than a voice to him, really you are! The master just...has trouble expressing it. Please, give him time and you will see." Christine finally calmed down, and Suzanne went to help her change, still carefully avoiding the morbid skin of her back.

Christine lay down and gave a moan of relief. She would never get used to the wonders of a soft bed. She closed her eyes, but all exhaustion had left her. Quietly she left her room, staying hidden in the shadows.

"Master?" Erik sighed, taking a long sip of his brandy.

"What is it, Suzanne? I'm not in the mood for mindless chatter." He growled. The plump woman hurried before his chair, wringing her hands.

"It's about Christine." Erik instantly sat up straighter, hating how his heart began to race at the thought of her. He should be furious with her for being so disrespectful! So why wasn't he? "It's just that, she is quite upset from your last encounter."

"And?" He replied in a bored tone, finding this bit of information quite obvious.

"She thinks she is nothing more than a musical instrument to you. Please, tell me it's not true." He rubbed his temples, trying to think just how he thought of Christine.

"When I first heard Christine sing, I cared only for her voice. I brought her here for one purpose, and one alone. To sing." Suzanne shook her head, pitying the young girl. "When she came here, I made the mistake of assuming she would do what I said without question." He smoothed his black hair before continuing. "In fact, she reminds me a bit of Jane in that sense... she's very spirited." Suzanne smiled at the thought of Jane, wiping stray tears from her eyes. Erik's eyes softened slightly, a bittersweet feeling overcoming him. "I miss her too."

Christine took a step back from the door, not wishing to hear any more. She blinked her eyes to rid them of the welling tears, and stumbled down the hall. Erik had admitted caring only for her voice, and never had she expected the truth would hurt so much. The other piece of information pained her equally. There was another by the name of Jane. He obviously cared for her very much, and Christine once again felt how alone and unwanted she was. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, she slowly made her way to her room, trying to stop her tears.

"Monsieur? Do you truly care nothing for the girl?" Erik turned quickly, knowing he had phrased himself incorrectly.

"Oh course I do! I was wrong about her, Suzanne." He approached her quickly, a strange light in his eyes. "She is the most intriguing woman I have ever met! I wish we had met on different terms, for I abhor being her jailer!" A look of disgust shown on his face.

"Are you in love with her?" She asked, wondering if such emotions could sprout so quickly.

"Love does not exist for monsters like me. She will leave in a month, and that will be the end of it." Suzanne nodded and left her master to his misery.

Meg watched as a strange man entered the chateau. He had long blonde hair tied back and eyes like obsidian. Something about him made her skin crawl and she shuddered slightly. Isabel descended the stairs, and Meg watched the pair of them closely.

"Alexander, how wonderful to see you again." She said, her icy tone warmer than usual. He took her hand and kissed it, his lips lingering longer than appropriate. Meg rolled her eyes at the exchange happening in the foyer.

"Believe me, the pleasure is all mine." His black eyes shone with wicked desire as she led him to the study. He was well aware of how attractive Isabel was, and it was always enjoyable to be working for such a... generous employer. When she had shut the door, he continued. "It's not like you to call on me like this... What's the occasion?"

"I have a job for you." He raised an eye bow, waiting for her to continue. "There's a servant here who recently escaped. I need her back." Alexander laughed loudly at this.

"You want me to scour the woods and villages for a servant girl? You've got to be kidding me!" She scowled at him when his laughter continued, the expression twisting her features.

"No." Isabel snapped. "I know who has her. He should have known better than to cross me... Are you familiar with the name Erik Desslar?" Alexander shook his head, looking quite bored with the whole situation. "Well, I need you to go to his manor and bring her back."

"Well that is easier said than done. Does he know you want her back?" Isabel nodded. He took this into account. "How much damage are you comfortable with me causing?" Isabel gave a cold grin.

"Do whatever it takes to return her here." He returned the grin.

"I will start planning." Isabel handed him his coat and he left the study. Erik should have known better than to double-cross her.

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