Author's note: A short chapter, but with this story planning to have a few small interlude chapters (much like laten), this is rich with important information. I'm hoping the end of my spring semester coming soon will give me more time to get chapters up in this story. Though I do have one more planned trip for this year which will take away from my writing time (unless I write on the plane again, like I did for this chapter ;D), I am hoping for a productive summer. Thank you all for your generous comments and I do hope you continue to enjoy!

- Phantom's angel

Le Fantôme et L'ange

Chapter Four

Ultimatum

The days which followed la Toussaint were quite difficult. As Christine and Papa Daaé walked through town on their errands, eyes cast upon Christine with contempt and disquiet. No longer was she the charming young foreigner spreading her appeal through Perros, but a threat to all who lived there. With her attempts to speak with those she recognized from the feast, she was shooed away or ignored, openly discarded despite her attempts to explain. In time, she began to give up. None would listen to her story if she tried. Papa looked to his daughter in questioning when he overheard comments made as they passed by. None of these words gave much answer to why they were given, but were presented often enough to stir questioning. Christine pacified each comment, brushing them off as nothing for so long. He was unaware to the rumors circulating around them, as Christine did well in keeping them hidden from him, but even with her talent at distracting him, he finally grew suspicious.

Charles took his daughter by the arm and pulled her back to their cart, gathering their purchase along the way. He asked Christine if there was anything she needed to tell him – if anything was wrong – but she said no, and promised that if she needed to talk, she would. He was not persuaded, but believed in his daughter's promise and nodded slowly, knowing that if there truly was trouble, she would come to him.

Back at their home, it was coming along nicely and becoming filled with attention. Their small stock of items from Knivsta was all put away and their trips to the town's square of shops were beginning to add charm to their dwelling. Papa now wanted to set his focus on the outside. Christine and her papa began preparations on their land before the winter settled in. Papa said it would be beneficial for them to uproot as much of their land before the snow came as possible. Then when it melted in the spring, they would have less work to prepare for their harvest.

Together, they pulled the aging dapple-grey horse they acquired in Sant-Brieg out from the weathered stable and hooked him up to a manual plow. Papa Daaé set to work on churning up the land, rooted deep with weeds while Christine plucked out the withering wild flora from around the porch and stable.

Their work was coming along well as the transformation from far-woodland to planting field commenced. They spoke not a word to each other once starting, but occasionally would catch each other's glances and would smile, giving further encouragement in their chore. In-between these moments, Christine would hum to herself quietly, moving the time along.

She was so engrossed in her work and the tune that she sung that she didn't noticed the presence watching her from the porch above her. Christine's eyes were cast downward, focused on the soil coating her hands that she never heard the footsteps as they approached her. Yet as soon as she saw the shadow resting to her side, her eyes shot up to the porch.

"Good afternoon," Papa cried out heartily from the field.

He seemed to have spotted their visitor at the same moment Christine had.

Philippe did not respond, but kept his eyes intent on Christine, advancing toward her with great purpose. Charles rose from his hunched stance over the ground and walked his way toward the porch. Daaé's gait was casual, but as Philippe stopped in front of Christine and continued to look downward, Daaé's pace quickened. Christine continued to stare up at Philippe as if daring him to take another step.

"Is there something I may accommodate you with?" Charles asked, calmly stepping in front of his daughter from the side protectively.

"I must speak with Mademoiselle Daaé," Philippe said impatiently.

"You are welcome to it," Charles said, stepping side to reveal Christine again.

He crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Philippe to begin.

I was precisely what Christine was afraid of. Her papa knew nothing of what happened during the time of the story tellings. Her behavior over the past few days only hid the secret which she could not find the courage to tell him. She couldn't even explain it to herself. If only she had told him sooner; then it wouldn't have to be like this. Then she wouldn't have to speak about it in the presence of such an intolerable man while also revealing to her father.

"I will speak to her alone, Monsieur," Philippe said. "I will not be trifled with further over the issue."

"But sir—"

Christine stood up and grabbed hold of her father's arm before he could speak further.

"All is well, Papa," she said. "I will speak to Monsieur de Chagny alone, if he so wishes."

Daaé bowed politely to Philippe and then patted his daughter on the back, allowing her to pass. She looked to him and nodded, assuring she was willing enough to allow his desire to talk.

Philippe led Christine to the front of the house, where Christine allowed him inside of the cottage. She gave him a slight, sarcastic bow as he passed through the threshold, but only so he was unable to notice. She felt a slight gain of strength before the conversation she found was inevitable at this point. Christine never felt so old before in her life, for she now knew what it was to confront true fear straight on. This was no strange mystery of creature of the lore, but a real dilemma with true consequences. And the idea of not understanding frightened her greatly.

Philippe walked to the table and turned quickly as Christine approached from behind him.

"May I offer you anything, sir?" she asked out of habit.

Philippe simple gestured to the bench seat in front of him, making it clear what he desired. Christine took the seat in front of him, trying to conceal her frustration. With a heavy breath of air, she looked up directly into his eyes. He stared straight back at her for a long time before speaking.

"You surly know why I am here," he said.

"I am afraid I do not," Christine said.

Just like you rehearsed, Christine thought.

Philippe returned her glance of questioning with a scowl.

"Do not toy with me, Mademoiselle," he scowled. "I have heard from far too many sources for the rumor to not be true."

"Perhaps, just like a story, rumors spread by word of mouth travel rather quickly."

Philippe slammed his hand on the table at her comment.

"This is a serious matter, Mademoiselle, and I will not have you mocking it with your riddles!"

Christine flinched backwards, shying away from his face elevated only inches away from hers. His eyes were wild with anger, yet after a moment, they softened.

He began to chuckle quietly to himself, which grew into a full fledged laughter. He realized his temper and stepped away from Christine, holding his hand over the back of his neck – a characteristic Christine recognized from Raoul which he must have picked up from his elder brother – and he turned away for a moment to recover.

"Forgive me, Mademoiselle," Philippe laughed. "You see, I truly do not find this a situation to laugh at, but you must understand my frustration."

Christine looked up to him for a long moment, trying to understand the fire behind his eyes. It was not anger like he was pretending to present to her: it was hunger. Like a beast stalking its prey, Philippe seemed to be interesting in more than just interrogation.

"I did not see anything that night," Christine said plainly.

"You may have not wanted to, but you did," Philippe corrected.

"It was simply a hoax gone too far," Christine said.

"No, Mademoiselle Daaé," Philippe said. "No, the details are all too clear, even for an intended trick on children. All of the evidence is far too accurate for one unfamiliar with our ways. Despite my conformation of your tale, we both know the truth.

Christine looked at him suspiciously.

"You told others it was only a joke?" Christine questioned.

"Of course."

"But why?" Christine asked.

"We cannot go stirring the imagination of the village over something which can easily be covered," Philippe said casually.

Christine shifted in her seat.

"Continue giving your tale as you will, Mademoiselle," Philippe said. "I am merely here to give you a warning. And an ultimatum."

His glance was almost vicious, as if he would consume Christine if she made a false move. He leaned toward her again on the table, this time finding great power in lowering himself even closer toward her face.

"Do not tell a soul about what you have seen. It will prove very dangerous for you if you do."

"Dangerous?" Christine asked. "But if the korrigans are part of your lore, why would simply seeing one – or any spirit for that matter – be a threat?"

"This is not a matter to fool with, Mademoiselle," Philippe spat.

"I do not intend to; I only ask a question," Christine said.

"It is not to be tempted."

"Please, if you do believe I saw the korrigan, then why will you not help me?" Christine begged. "How could one see a korrigan when no other could? Why is it all such a terrible secret in this village? What can be done to stop this?"

Philippe placed his hands on Christine's shoulders. He looked down at her as if he was planning to tell her, but then he went back to his seemingly casual frown.

"This is not a matter to be tampered with," he said. "We have both admitted to your seeing a spirit the night of la Toussaint and now it must be put away. You will not speak a word of this again. To anybody."

Christine knew immediately what he meant with this comment. He did not want her to discus this even with Raoul; his own brother.

"I have not agreed to seeing anything," Christine said. "I will continue telling my story how I please."

"So long as it continued how you have claimed to me," Philippe said after a moment of thought.

"And if this all is meant to be kept away from the town, what possible ultimatum could you offer regarding my current situation at hand?" Christine asked defiantly.

Philippe turned his head about the room, as if checking to be sure there was truly nobody else in the area. Christine found herself following his gesture, searching for faces she knew she wouldn't find. As Philippe seemed satisfied in his assessment of the space around them, he turned to Christine and kneeled down beside her, suddenly allowing his furrowed brow to soften to eyes which pleaded with her.

"Mademoiselle Daaé, I am going to ask you something very serious and I expect an answer which is unafraid of truthful from you."

"Why must I fear an honest answer, sir?" she asked hesitantly.

Philippe grabbed onto Christine's hands. She looked down nervously and nodded her head, understanding his silent plea for her understanding. For some reason, she suddenly felt pity for whatever it was which drove the poor man.

"Christine, are you able to communicate with the spirits?"

Christine nearly laughed out loud. The irony of his asking her with such hope when he seemed to condemn her only moments before was nearly amusing. Yet as his hands clung onto hers and his eyes widened with impatient longing, she pushed her thoughts of the satire away and tried to consider why he would even ask.

"Even if I could," Christine said slowly. "In what interest is there for me to reveal such a risky talent to you?"

"Precisely why I ask for your honesty," Philippe said. "But in a place such as this, a talent so risky could be quite convenient."

He was leaning even closer to her now, looking up to her while still holding tightly to her hands.

"If you should reveal such a talent to the right people, you may find yourself in fine company," Philippe added.

Christine nearly wanted to confess to the sighting of the korrigan just to learn more about Philippe's proposal of good company. His words poured from his lips like honey; sweet, yet sticky. There was promise behind his words, that was clear. But it seemed his promise would be nothing Christine would truly desire.

"Miss Daaé?"

"No," Christine said. "I cannot communicate with spirits."

He glared at Christine for a moment and then stood abruptly. It seemed clear that he believed in Christine's word enough not to fight it. He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck before turning from her and walking to the door, only turning to offer Christine a sarcastic "good day" before leaving. The door slammed with a heavy thud as he left and it was not long before Christine heard the clap of his boots against his stallion's haunches as he turned the creature up onto the western path.

Christine gave herself a moment before forcing herself back out to assist her papa outside. She knew he wouldn't ask what their meeting was about. He trusted is daughter to tell him her troubles when she was ready. It was probably foolish of him now to be so trusting. Her secrets were piling over his head by the minutes.

She never before had been faced with such a problem as being part of everybody's fears. Despite her spirited nature and courage, she was quite afraid now more than ever. Why had Philippe demanded the truth from her yet accepted her denial of it out in the town? And what was his interest in an ability to communicate with the spirits? If he condemned her ability to see any spirit on la Toussaint, why would he want for her to be able to communicate with one?

Whatever his purpose, Christine knew one thing: she needed to know more about the stories surrounding Perros.