Chapter Four
When I awoke, I was Christine again and I was in her room again, only this time I was wearing a flowing white gown and there were beautiful bouquets of flowers everywhere. What did this mean? There were men pounding at the door, asking to see me so they could give me flowers. Madame Giry managed to get through, shouting at the men to go away as she shut the door. She turned to me and smiled, breathing heavily.
"You did very well, Christine," she said, handing me a red rose with a black ribbon tied around it. "Your Angel is pleased with you."
I smiled, playing with the ribbon. "I feel bad for La Carlotta though, Madame."
"She needed to go, Christine. You know that."
"Yes...I know."
She sighed softly, placing a hand on my arm. "He'll be here soon, probably after everyone leaves. Rumor has it that the Vicomte is wanting to speak with you."
"The Vicomte? Why?"
"I don't know, but I'd advise you to be careful."
"I will, Madame. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Christine. Have a good night," she said and with that, left, shutting the door behind her. I sat down at my vanity, holding the rose as I silently prayed that the Phantom of the Opera wouldn't hurt anymore people. Carlotta was lucky that she didn't get killed, but there had been other accidents before. I paid no attention as the door opened quietly and a man walked in, carrying a bouquet of flowers until he said,
"Little Lotte, let her mind wander. Little Lotte thought, 'Am I fonder of goblins or of shoes?'"
I gasped quietly as I turned to him, smiling brightly as I saw him. Blond hair, blue eyes, tall and handsome. He looked exactly like Drake, but it wasn't Drake. It was Raoul. "Raoul," I said, watching him.
"'Or of riddles or of frocks,'" he said, with a small chuckle.
"Those picnics in the attic..."
"'Or of chocolates...'"
I smiled. "Father playing the violin..."
"As we read to each other," he said, kneeling before me, "dark stories of the North."
"No. 'What I love best,' Lotte said, 'is when I'm asleep in my bed and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head.'"
He nodded, wrapping his arms around me. "You sang like an angel tonight."
I smiled, hugging him back. It felt so good to be in his arms again. "Father said," I said as he pulled away, "'When I am in heaven, child, I will send the Angel of Music to you.' Father is dead, Raoul...and I have been visited by the Angel of Music."
"And there is no doubt of it, Christine. And now, we go to supper," he said, standing up and going towards the door.
"No, Raoul. The Angel is very strict."
"Then I shall not keep you out late," he said with a chuckle, opening the door.
"Raoul, no!"
"You must change! I'll order my carriage. Two minutes, Little Lotte."
"No. Raoul, wait!"
But it was too late. He had shut the door and he was gone. I sighed, deciding to changed since I was finally left alone. The only thing that I couldn't figure out was what was going to happen between me and the Angel. I decided not to ponder it as I put my robe on, but as I tied it, the candles went out in my room. I froze, breathing slowly, then ran to my door, trying to open it, but it was locked. Then, a booming voice rang through my room, singing,
Insolent boy
This slave of fashion
Basking in your glory
Ignorant fool
This brave young suitor
Sharing in my triumph
I slowly turned, looking around as I sang back,
Angel, I hear you
Speak, I listen
Stay by my side
Guide me
Angel, my soul was weak
Forgive me
Enter at last
Master
The voice became more gentle, but was still booming as he sang,
Flattering Child, you shall know me
See why in shadow I hide
Look at your face in the mirror
I am there inside!
Just as he sang this, he appeared on the other side of the mirror, just as he did every other night before, but this night was different. Tonight, I had to thank him for my voice. I walked towards the mirror, almost as if I was in a trance as he softly sang,
I am your Angel of Music
Come to me Angel of Music
There was a rattling of the doorknob. I knew it was Raoul when I heard him say, "Who is that voice? Who is that in there!?" But again, my Angel sang again as he opened the mirror and held out his hand to me,
I am your Angel of Music
Come to me Angel of Music
I looked back for a moment as I stepped into the mirror, hesitantly taking his hand as the mirror closed and he led me through the passageway and down to the catacombs.
"Where are you taking me, Angel?"
"I'm taking you to my home, Christine," he replied, helping me into a boat.
"For how long," I asked, sitting down carefully as he got in.
He smiled down at me and said, "For as long as you want."
The boat began to move across the lake as I sat there, looking around in amazement. The Angel had the same charming smile as Monsieur Destler did. Once we got across, he got out first, then helped me out.
"Christine, you were wonderful tonight," he said, leading me about his home.
"Thank you, my Angel," I replied, entwining our fingers. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have found my voice."
"You're welcome. But I wonder...who was the man that you were speaking with earlier?"
"That was Raoul de Changy, the Vicomte. He was just an old friend of mine that I hadn't seen in a while."
"I don't like him, Christine. I want you to try and stay away from him."
"I'll try."
"Good girl. Now I have a gift for you. I hope that you can accept it," he said, leading me over to a covered up mirror.
"You didn't have to get me anything."
He just smiled, taking the cover off. I gasped. It was a manican that looked exactly like me, with a wedding dress on. Overwhelmed, I fainted and he caught me. I felt myself being carried across the lair and laid onto a bed. Like a lullabye, I heard him sing softly,
You alone can make my song take flight
Help me make the music of the night...
The familiar chiming of the music box awoke me as I looked around. I was still in his home. I opened the canopy and looked around. I got up and walked towards the main part of the lair, seeing him sitting at his organ, composing. The mask intrigued me. Not only because of what he was hiding, but it was the fact it may have been Monsieur Destler. I slowly walked over to him, standing beside him. I placed my hand on his bare cheek.
"Mmm...Christine...your touch," he said softly, putting his pen down and tilting his head back.
I smiled softly, surprised that I had that effect on him. I placed my other hand on the mask, running my fingers along the edge of it slowly, placing my fingernails underneath it and peeling it off. I gasped as I looked down at the face before me. Scars. It was Monsieur Destler. He yelled, covering his face with his hand, pushing me down to the cold floor.
"Damn it! How could you, Christine!?"
"I'm sorry! I didn't know!"
He stood with his back to me, breathing heavily. I still held the mask, trying not to cry. He turned to me, keeping his face covered with his hand, kneeling before me. I crouched away from him, holding the mask close to me.
"Christine, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you that hard," he said, placing his free hand on my ankle. "May I please have the mask back?"
I nodded, slowly handing it back to him. He put the mask back on and turned back to me. He leaned forward, almost as if he were going to kiss me. He stopped, then stood up, taking me by the hand and helping me up.
"I must return you. The fools that run my theater will be missing you."
Before I could reply, he walked me back to the boat and sat me down, getting in beside me, rowing the boat back to the other side.
"Your theater? So...you're the Phantom of the Opera?"
He nodded. "I have been watching over you ever since the day that you arrived here with Isabelle. I fell in love with you when I heard you sing for the first time, but I knew that if I was going to get Carlotta out of here, I had to make you better. You became the greatest student that I could ask for. You did everything I said and you never complained, even when our lessons were so late at night."
I smiled, looking at him. "I owe everything to you, my Angel."
"You don't have to call me that anymore," he said, stopping the boat and helping me out. "From what you have seen tonight, I am definitely not an angel."
"You will always be my angel," I said, stepping in front of him, looking into his eyes.
He smiled down at me, running a hand through my hair. "Come. You'll have a long day tomorrow."
"What about you? What are you going to do?"
"Go back and write some notes."
I looked towards the stairs, then back at him. "Do I have to go up by myself?"
"No. What's wrong? Are you afraid of something?"
"It's...more like a someone."
"Me," he said softly, turning his face away from me.
"No," I said, turning his face back to mine, looking deep into his eyes, our faces close.
"Then who? You know that I will protect you, Christine."
"Buquet."
"The stagehand," he asked, taking my hand, leading me up the stairs.
"Yes. He's been peeking on the girls while they were dressing for rehearsal. I caught him yesterday and he said that if I told anyone, he would come to my room at night and...and..."
I broke off, turning away from him as we reached the mirror. He slid the mirror open, then turned my body back to his, our faces close again.
"I swear to you, Christine," he said, leading me into my room. "Buquet will never lay a hand on you. I'll always be there to protect you."
"Do you promise," I asked softly, resting my head on his shoulder.
"I promise," he said, kissing the top of my head.
I smiled, pulling away and kissing his cheek lightly. "I know. I need sleep."
He smiled softly. "You do. I'll leave you alone," he said, kissing my forehead, walking towards the mirror. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," I said, going to my bed and laying down at the mirror slid closed, falling asleep immediately.