~Phantom~
Love Never Dies
"Beneath A Moonless Sky"
Erik:"Dreams"
Why night, after miserable night I had to endure the same dream, I did not know. Yet, there I was again reliving the worst months of my wretched life; that in and of its self spoke volumes. It was nothing other than a cruel jest of God.
The dream – or nightmare, for that's more accurate a term – began each night with the arrival of de Chagny. Before his unwelcomed appearance, everything was going as I had planned. Getting Christine to see past the mask would take time, but I was no longer afforded that luxury because he was swiftly stealing her out from under me. I knew then that I had to act quickly or I would lose her.
Thus ensued my reign of madness.
The dream was almost at its end. Just as it began with de Chagny's arrival, it always concluded when I pulled my lips from hers and let her go, but tonight was different. There was something wrong. The whole time I felt watched, as though performing on stage for an audience which I could not see. As the dream progressed, so too did the unshakable feeling that I was not alone.
Then I saw him.
It was a child. He stood upon the banks of Lake Averne; looking on as I broke from Christine's kiss to gape at him. It was a boy, of that I was certain, but try as I might, I could not make out his face. No matter how I tried to focus in on his features, the blur surrounding them would not clear.
His presence highly unnerved me. For ten years I had been enduring the same horror, the same torture, and the ghostly apparition of a child was never part of it.
I felt as though I gazed at him for an eternity, yet it was no longer than a fraction of an instant, for the next thing I knew I was letting her go and watching as she walked away. What tore at me worse than anything else was that I knew she would return, and in the end, it would be me who would walk away. I had no one to blame but myself for throwing love away with both hands.
That was when I always awoke, in a sweat and alone . . . always alone.
But apparently not tonight.
"Do you never have one night of restful slumber?"
Nadir Kahn.
Perhaps the only real friend I could claim as mine, not counting Madeline Giry.
"What are you doing here, Daroga?" I inquired of the retired Persisn Police Cheif as I turned on the electric light beside my bed – electricity was a wondrous marvel – so I might peer at the clock resting on my nightstand.
Nadir, really." I sighed, sitting up. "It's 4:30 am. Could this not have waited until a more reasonable hour?" Unfortunately, I knew the damn man and if he was here at such an hour, it was important.
"Why, were you planning on going back to sleep any time soon?"
No, I would not be going back to sleep, in all likelihood I would tinker on one of the new attractions I had in mind for the park – my park. However, I was not about to let him know that.
"Well, if I had been, it is a rather moot point now, would you not say?"
"It is so refreshing to see that while the world around us has advanced so greatly in these past few years, some things will forever remain the same. I see that you are cheerful as ever." He walked slowly – infuriatingly strolling about the room, his hands in his pockets, the very picture of ease; he was inspecting the surroundings like one taking a leisurely stroll through a museum of fine art.
"I must confess, Daroga – I have missed the high quality banter your presence brings, for no one delivers sarcasm as well. However, I am somewhat curious as to what you are doing here at such an early – or late, depending on how you view it – hour?"
I got out of bed, walked to the dresser where I turned my back to remove the cloth mask I adorned for sleep; I would never again be caught without a mask of some kind. In that one's place, I wore the mask I had worn for nearly half of a century. I wrapped myself in the scarlet robe sprawled across the wooden chair and poured a glass of brandy.
I turned to Nadir. "Well?"
"A bit early for that, no?" he said, gesturing towards the glass held in my hand.
"Ah, as I said before, Daroga – a bit early or a bit late? It's all just a matter of perspective." I held the glass up to the white light beside my table, jostling its gold fluid, watching the miniature waves swell and crash within.
"Erik–"
I swallowed down my brandy in one gulp, its warm liquid a soothing elixir after such a cursed dream, and before he could go on I warned, "Do not, Daroga. I have missed your company far more than I had ever thought I might, but do not try my patience tonight. I have just had a rather unpleasant yet curious dream and I am in no mood for your preaching." It was far too early for me to contend with the damn Persian and his infallible morals.
"Very well, my friend – that is a discussion we shall leave for another day." While he spared me his lecture, he did not spare me a look which said more potently than any words ever could, just how concerned for me he truly was.
I set down the empty glass. One drink had done the job; if I wanted to lose myself in a false world, I knew first hand that there were finer ways to accomplish it than alcohol.
Nadir walked to the black leather armchair opposite me and hovered there. "May I?"
He was wearing on my last fraying nerve with his infernal formal etiquettes.
"Of course, please make yourself at home. Would you care for some tea, some cake, perhaps?"
My inquiry dripped with sarcasm but he ignored it, laughed and said, "You know, some of that wonderful English tea that you always have would be–"
That was the last straw.
"Nadir – I swear if you do not tell me why you are here. . . ."
Laughing with more gusto than I had heard in a long time, he raised his hands in supplication. "I am sorry, my friend but it has been too long since I have had the pleasure of – how do the Americans say it – pushing your buttons? For after all, they are so easy to push!" Again he laughed.
Amazingly – I found myself laughing along with him. The Erik of yesteryears would not have broken from his rage so rapidly. Maybe I was changing, after all. . . .
"No, Daroga, I am the one who should be apologizing. I am afraid that as hard as I have tried to quell my anger, it still takes hold of me on occasion." It was true. While my temper had calmed exponentially in the last ten years, in the two since Nadir's absence, I had found that the self control I had gained was beginning to wane. Without her, I was starting to question everything. I found that I was plagued by the same questions: Did I make the right decision? Did I really have to let her go?
"It takes hold of the very best of us from time to time." He smiled warmly from his seat. "Now, let me tell you why I am here."
I could not wait to hear it, for whatever made Nadir Kahn come to Coney Island, now – I had all but begged him to join me two years prior, when I finally began realizing my dream of creating a world of amusement so mind-boggling the likes of it had never been seen, and he had adamantly said no – I was more than intrigued to discover.
"Things have been dull in Paris. I am growing quite bored with my life there. I thought that perhaps I shall join you here after all. I too, have missed your companionship."
"Give up the farce, Nadir. Why are you really here?" He was good at many things, more than he gave himself credit for, lying however, was not among them.
He held out his hands in apology, a wide grin spreading across his face; he looked more worn than I had seen him in quite some time. "You have caught me, my friend. While it is quite true that I have grown tired of Paris and have genuinely missed you . . . it is not why I came. I am here because of a letter that I received, pleading for my help on your behalf."
"My behalf?" And then I knew.
Giry!
The fire I felt engulfing me was evident in my eyes, for Nadir no longer looked comfortable in his seat as a faint line of sweat gleamed upon his brow demonstrating as much.
Quickly he added, "Now Erik – calm down – she was only trying to help – she is only concerned for your well being!" He could see I had figured out who had written the letter; how could he think that I would not!
Any attempt of managing my anger went out the door as I bent forward, picked up the wooden chair that I had removed my robe from, and hurled it across the room, smashing it to smithereens as it collided with the unforgiving wall.
"How dare she!" I was livid, absolutely seething with rage. The audacity of her!
When I get my hands on her. . . .
"Erik, please calm down before one of us gets hurt – and I have a sneaking suspicion that it will not be you!" He was out of the chair and quickly moving as far from me as the space of the room would allow. He was not stupid – I'd give him that.
I was furious! The complete and utter gall of that woman sticking her nose where it should not be was beyond infuriating! Who did she believe she was meddling in my affairs!
She was nothing and no one!
In a whirl, I snatched up the empty glass off the nightstand, and prepared to hurl it at the complying wall, when that pestering Persian reminded me, "Please, Erik! Think of all that she has done for you!"
I lowered the glass, thinking I could almost sense the wall's great disappointment as I denied it its victim. I was going mad with conflicting emotions. I wanted to snap her neck for her impertinence, but I could also not deny all that she had done to assist me in my escape from Paris. Even now – all the things that no one had ever asked of her – she had done willingly.
True, when she had offered her help, she had expected a small favor in return; I was to tutor her daughter Meg, developing her voice to its full potential. While her voice was pleasant, at best, given the right song – which I of course could write – she would achieve fame quite easily. I needed someone whom I could rely on, and she needed someone to pave the path of success for her daughter.
It was more than a fair trade.
The worst day of my life was the morning that I walked away from the opera house, knowing I had left my heart within its depths, never to return. I had known then that there was only one person I could turn to for aid in Paris.
Madeline Giry.
Her widowed sister had an apartment two blocks from the opera. That was where I decided I would go in search of her first. Using alleys and shortcuts unknown to most -learned from many years of having to remain unseen - I made my way there unnoticed; I kept the masked right side of my face close to the wall and as hidden as possible under the hood of my cloak.
I went. She helped. No questions asked. It was not until later, once out of Paris, that I would ask her to remain, and she would agree on the condition that I take Meg under my wing. But when I had first gone to her, she aided me, even though I been a wanted man; everyone in the city of Paris was on the lookout for the hideous monster who had brought on the destruction of their precious opera house. If Giry was caught harboring me, she would have been imprisoned as well. So how could I possible get infuriated with her for caring?
Very easily!
Part of me wanted to remain calm, and yet I could not – I would not!
I strode over to Nadir and grabbed him by his collar. "I want Giry in here, and I want her now! Do you understand? Bring her to me. She has some explaining to do!"
"Erik – I do not know if that is such a good–"
I shook him. "I said, now – NOW!" I had lost all control, that person who only moments ago had striven for serenity, no longer existed.
"I have news of Christine!"
The shock of hearing her name was as forceful as a strike of lightening and just as sobering. I released him instantly.
"What did you just say?" Perhaps the insanity of my rage had me imagining things as well.
"My God, Madeline was not exaggerating." He paled further at this new realization. "She said that something was occupying your mind as of late, and for the better. I would very much have to say she was justified in saying so. Look at yourself, Erik! Look at all that you have accomplished in these ten years with your life! Your gifts are finally being recognized and appreciated by the masses and yet here you stand, still blatantly fixated on the one thing in this world which you cannot possess! You are a spoiled child who wants what he cannot have, simply because he cannot have it!" He was hurt and angry, color swiftly began to return to his face.
"How dare you? How dare you tell me that I am akin to a spoiled child! She is all I have ever wanted! If the whole world fell away it would matter not to me, as long as I had her!" I exhaled in disgust at his ignorance. "How can you not see that what I feel for her is real? How? It has been ten years and still I am dying inside without her! The pain has not eased as you claimed it would. I need her, Nadir. I fear that perhaps I made the wrong decision. . . ."
I could never have known that one day I would walk in public with those whose oddities far surpassed that of my own. In the diverse and strange crowd of Coney Island, a masked man was nearly lost in the masses. It was a world which suited me perfectly; a world where perhaps Christine and I could exist together, live as any couple. . . .
"Of course you made the right decision letting the girl go. How could you keep her against her will?" He said aghast, pulling me from my dreams.
"Yes, you are right. It is just that – it is different here, Nadir. Here, I am revered as a God! Maybe . . . if I could get her here . . . and she could see me now – see all of this – then perhaps . . . perhaps, there is a chance she will feel differently." That was all I could say, for no one knew about that beautiful night she and I had spent entwined in the dark. As far as everyone involved was concerned, she had walked away when I released her and had never looked back.
"Erik, I am sorry, but I do not think–"
"I am lost without her." I admitted in defeat, cutting him off. "I was able to manage her loss for a time, but it has become too painful now. Do you not still miss the presence of your wife, Daroga? Why should my suffering be any different? Am I any less of a man than you?"
He shook his head sadly. "No, my friend – I would be the first to vouch for the humanity that fills you, despite what others may believe. No, you are no less worthy a man than any of us. Please forgive me, I was not thinking before I spoke." He walked to me, where I sat hunched upon the foot of my bed, acutely aching for her, and placed a kind hand on my shoulder. No one had done such a thing since Christine; no one ever willingly touched me.
While I was near tears at the gesture, unaccustomed to the kindness of it, instinctively, I stiffened. Sensing my unease, he removed his hand.
"Thank you, Nadir. You have been a kind friend and proved quite invaluable to me all these years."
"It has been my pleasure. Where else would I be granted the opportunity to attend the company of a genius – a mad one – but a genius still." He smiled a few moments, but then the light left his eyes.
"I suppose that you are going to tell me I am a fool who dreams of the unattainable, and that I must let it go if ever I am to find peace?" But she was not unattainable, it was I who had let her go. . . .
He nodded slowly, dropping his gaze to his feet that were casually sweeping away fragments of the chair I had pulverized in my rage. "Yes, my friend – something like that."
"Do you not understand that I shall never attain peace without her? It took me my whole life to find a place where I belonged, where I could exist like everyone else. No longer do I have to hide in the shadows, there is a place for me here - for her." I halted my defense, for it would not work on him, so I would not waste my breath.
"There are others, you know – women, I mean."
"No, there aren't – not for me. It has and always will be her."
He sighed in defeat and sat down on the bed beside me. "I know how you feel. I will never love another as I did my wife, but since her death, I have found comfort in the arms of others. They are not her, they never will be, but it is nice to share such intimacy with another from time to time. I simply wish that you would not deny yourself this. There are plenty who would not shy from you here, as you said you are revered as a God. You will not love them as you do her, but I can assure you, a different kind of love can be found elsewhere. You have not tried, perhaps–"
"There is no one else!" I was angry, and he was jesting! How he could suggest that I lie with anyone but Christine astounded me; the very thought of it repulsed me. Let alone that I might actually love anyone else.
"Because you do not open your eyes and see what is right before you!" He jumped to his feet and stood before me. "You are so amazingly bright, yet so stubbornly stupid! Finally you see that you are not the monster so many before have perceived you to be, and instead of taking hold of that, here you sit pining for the past!"
"No, Nadir. Not the past." I clarified sadly. "Never the past. I would give my life to alter the events of the past, but I cannot. I simply want the chance to have what could have been mine ten years ago, had I not been so foolish."
He sighed, blanketing the atmosphere with his frustrations.
"Please, Daroga I must ask for your help." I needed him to understand without knowing exactly why. "One last time. I must me see her, hear her . . . once more if nothing else. If she does not want me now, then I will let her go for good. Do not deny me this one request." I watched the battle that was taking place on his face; his thick black brows furrowed as his teeth bit down upon his lower lip in deliberation.
"I will help you Erik, but, when things turn wrong, remember that I warned you of such. And while you can drive me nearly insane on occasion, you are still my friend, and I have great fears what this will do to you."
I could not fault him for such legitimate concerns, but I still needed him to know. "I am not the man that I was ten years ago, Nadir. If she refuses me now, it is final."
"Oh, Erik" he sighed, shaking his head. "I fear you are dreaming and such dreams will be the destruction of you. You shall never let her go and it will kill you." He was not angry, but sad.
I remained silent. I could not look at him and lie. He was right. I would never let her go, never love anyone else – my heart was incapable of it. It was best just to ignore the statement altogether and move on.
"Thank you for trying to understand, Daroga. I highly value your friendship. I do not know how you put up with me sometimes."
"No, nor do I." He laughed, I smiled. I really did not know why the man remained my friend, but I was grateful.
"Would you still like me to fetch Madeline?"
I was infuriated by the woman's impertinence, but no longer did I want to snap her neck. I would not confront her at the moment.
I sighed, tired from ten years of unrest and age. I was not getting any younger and outbursts, like the one before, took their toll on me.
"No, leave Giry – the meddling fool – right where she is. I have more pressing matters to attend to than her. However, you are not to tell her that I know it was she, who summoned you here, do you understand me, Nadir?"
"I have come to know that with you, Erik – discretion is the better part of valor." A mischievous smile graced his face.
"Good, because I need you to do something for me."
He smiled, again that good humored grin playing upon his lips. "What can I do to help, my friend?"
"Do you truly have news of her, Daroga?" It had been so long since I had learned anything of her. I had sworn six years ago that I would not torture myself by shadowing her life, and I had held true to that.
While Christine had not seen me for ten years, it had been only six for me.
In the beginning, I had deluded myself into believing that to stay away from her, was what was right, what was best. That only persisted until the gnawing ache was too great. Her absence ate at me like a cancer, an addiction. Yes, addiction was indeed, the correct term, for after four years, I could stand the craving no longer. I returned to France, back to torment myself with what I gave up.
I told myself that there was no harm in seeing her; she would not know of my presence – I simply needed to see her for the pain to ease – that was all.
I lingered no longer than five minutes, concealed in the hedge which spanned the front of the de Chagny residence, when as if willed there by my need, out strode Christine. The sight of her, her unmatched beauty, stole my breath. She stood on the front steps fitting her black leather gloves into place; it was December and her coffee colored curls billowed out behind her in the blustery wind. She was as exquisite as ever.
"Gustave, if you are not out here in three seconds, I shall leave for church without you!" Christine called over her shoulder in the direction of the house.
"One . . . Two . . ." Before she could reach three, bounding out the front door, came a young boy. He was light, fair skinned, and beautiful; like Christine – like Raoul; a golden ray of light.
My little angel was a mother.
"Gustave, I have told you time and time again that we must always be punctual." She took hold of his small hand and led them down the front steps.
"Yes, Mama. I'm sorry."
"You are forgiven, my love but we must hurry if we want to hear the–" Her attention drawn to their apparent tardiness, she failed to see a patch of ice layering the frozen ground and slipped. Before she careened to the solid earth, she released the child's hand sparing him the fall.
It took all the self control within me not to run to her, but before I ever could have made it to her, the boy – Gustave she had called him, named I knew after the father she had loved so much – had fled to her side, dropping down upon his knees beside her.
"Mama! Are you alright?" He looked as concerned as I felt.
Sweet silvery peals of laughter greeted my ears. I inhaled the crisp air gratefully, then sighed in relief. She was unharmed.
When at last she had breath to answer, she replied, "Yes, darling, I am fine. Your, mama is very accident prone and I must laugh at myself now and again. I am a nothing more than a klutz!"
This amused the boy and he began to laugh, Christine joining him. They laughed together, mother and son – the sound so melodious it crippled my soul with its beauty.
He attempted to help her to her feet, even though the effort was fruitless. He loved her; it was written on every feature of his perfect little face. While it killed me to think of Christine being so eternally bound to de Chagny, I could not begrudge her such happiness. She was more radiant looking upon her son than I had ever seen her. Raoul had given her what I knew that night, I never could – a healthy, normal child. There were several different precautions which could be taken to assure there would never be any child, I knew that, but it did not matter – she deserved far more than the life I could have offered her then, and she appeared to have it.
Rising to her feet, wiping off the snow from her voluminous burgundy skirt, she again took hold of his hand and began to walk, her stride noticeably slower than before. A small grin played upon my lips.
"Mama?" The angelic child suddenly paused, causing Christine to come to a screeching halt.
"My love, we really must be going or we shall be late."
"I'm sorry I misbehaved and didn't listen when you called. If you weren't rushing because of me, you wouldn't have fallen." He hung his little head with the weight of his guilt.
She bent down on one knee, so that she was eye to eye with the boy. "Angel, it is not your fault that I slipped. Your mama was not watching where she was walking, and therefore it was my own fault, not yours." Lightly, lovingly, she brushed back a golden lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes.
"I'm still sorry that I didn't listen to you, Mama."
"Apology accepted." She kissed his pink cheeks. "Now, we must hurry or we shall miss all those beautiful voices when the choir begins to sing, and I know how much you love listening to them."
With the boy still in hand she walked through the front gates, no more than two feet away from where I crouched concealed in the hedges that bordered the front of the estate. She turned down the street and I watched as she made her way further and further away from me.
I told myself that I should not follow, but like an addict – I could not resist.
I pursued them to the church, but did not go in; it was an establishment which I did not like being within. I crossed the street and walked into the Le Bois de Boulogne, where I sat upon a stone bench and waited. While I sat there, I heard the choir begin to sing, and I immediately understood why Christine and the child hadn't wanted to miss their voices which soared with purity and vibrancy. Their music was breathtaking.
As their voices ceased, and I watched people began to leave the church, a part of me - the part that cared about self preservation - wanted to flee, to leave before I could see her again, but my heart and body would not respond.
Just one more look, I had thought. One more. . . .
The crowd flowing from the church was beginning to thin, and exiting last was the object of my addiction, hand in hand with the child. I rose from the bench and slowly followed her from the cover of the hedges lining the park. I couldn't help myself; I was pulled to her like steel to a magnet.
At the bottom of the steps to the church, Christine paused, her head turning in the direction to where I stood. She was looking for something – or someone. Was it possible that she could sense me? Was perhaps her bond with me as strong as mine was with her?
"Wait a moment, darling." She said, still searching in my direction.
As she peered closer at the spot in which I was concealed, sure she would spot me, de Chagny bounded down the street calling, "Christine! Gustave! It's Papa!" The idyllic idiot had a grin from ear to ear.
She turned in surprise and said, "Raoul, darling!"
"Papa!" The child echoed in equal shock.
"My beautiful family!" He sang, kissing Christine's cheek, picking her up, whirling her around and placing her down, where he again took her into his arms. "You look lovely, sweetheart." He lightly kissed her lips, and then bent down to fondly ruffle the golden hair of his son.
I hated him. Watching as he possessed all that I secretly yearned for was an agony that stole my breath. I could only look on, trapped there to endure more of their happy torture.
"Raoul, you're certainly in good cheer." Christine smiled. "But I thought that you would be busy for the day?" His appearance did not seem as welcomed as one would have thought.
"I did believe that I was going to be tied up for the majority of the day, but luck has been with me! Today, my dear wife, I have just acquired more money than the de Chagny lineage has ever seen!" He glowed with elation.
"But, Raoul – how did you–"
"It does not matter." He said, cutting her off. Then smiled again as he went on. "Do you know what this means – for all of us? All of our debts shall be paid and we will not put a dent into the sum we now possess!"
Again she smiled, but it was forced. I sensed that our debts, in reality, were his debts.
Either ignoring or not realizing her false happiness, he jauntily continued on. "What do my beautiful wife and son have planned for the afternoon?"
"We're going for a walk through the park. Gustave loves the sights, and then I thought we would take a late lunch. Would you like to join us, darling?" I was intrigued; the furrowing of her brow seemed an indication she did not want his company in spite of her offer.
"Yes, Papa! Please say you'll come along!" sang the little ray of light beside his raven mother.
"You know, I believe I shall!" Raoul smiled.
"Really, darling, you'll come?" I was only fooling myself before when I believed she had not wanted him along; her face was alight with genuine pleasure.
"Oh, Papa! Mama and I can show you the swans! They're wonderful! The little ones are so ugly, but then they grow up and become beautiful – I think they're the most magnificent creatures!"
"You may show me anything you like, my boy." This seemed, to not only please the child, but Christine as well.
I watched as de Chagny swooped down to pick the boy up, swirl him around, as he had his mother, which elicited peals of laughter. He kissed the boy's rosy cheeks, and held him in his arms.
Why I wanted to torture myself further, I could not say, but I felt the need to be closer to her; to see the emotions displayed in their eyes and to view in precision what could never be mine. I crossed the square unseen and lurked mere feet away in the alley behind them. Once there, I noticed that de Chagny was not appearing as dashing as he had four years prior. There were faint lines and creases in his features, where before there had been none. This pleased me. For his undeserving beauty was beginning to fade. Age takes mercy on none of us.
"Come my loves, and let us enjoy this glorious afternoon that God has been kind enough to bless us with!" He kissed the boy's cheek, still held in his arms, wrapped his free arm around Christine and kissed her as well.
My heart ached as I watched her blush from his kiss. Married four years and she still blushed like a girl unaccoustomed to being kissed. I watched from the shadows as they strode across the square and through the gates of the Le Bois de Boulogne. I could stand the sting of their happiness, of their blissful unity, no more. As the joyful family began to disappear from sight, heading further into the park, I turned and walked in the opposite direction; intent on returning to America without ever looking back.
But of course I had to – just once more.
I turned to spy the little family walking embraced together through the tree lined path, the snow covered pines glinted like towering opals in the brilliant light of noon. They were all picture perfect, but Christine was still the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I heard her melodious laugh ring high, as she watched father and son playfully chase one another through the park. She was absolutely glorious set against the sparkling white backdrop of the park – onyx among pearl.
I loved her so much; the feeling consumed me, and nearly brought me to my knees.
I would never return to Paris, I knew that. I would never again see her in the Le Bois de Boulogne, or anywhere. They were almost out of sight around a bend in the path and before I could blink she was gone; taking my heart with her.
I turned, walked away and booked passage on the next liner that left Cherbourg. I returned to America intent on achieving something no one dared imagined would exist. Phantasma – a world of wonder unlike anything seen before. A place where fantasy would become reality.
Nadir sighed loudly with irritated disapproval, pulling me from my reverie and at last confessed, "Yes, I have news of the Comtess de Chagny."
I winced at the hideous label. Christine was glorious, beautiful and far above the earthy title of a mere Comtess.
"And?" Anything, I would take anything at all – again the hopeless addict.
"It is widely known in Paris – as well as many other places – that the de Chagny's are vastly in debt. It is said that they are virtually penniless, due to the Comte's affinity for gambling. All that remains is the family estate, and by the word of things it will not be long until that has too, been wagered and lost in a hand of cards." He paused, contemplating whether or not to go on.
"What else, Nadir? What aren't you saying?"
"The Comte has taken up a fondness for drinking in the last two years." He said no more, as though no further explanation was necessary.
"So?" He was grating on my nerves again.
"So, my friend, it appears that he is not only a gambler but now a drunken one at that. It is not wise to mix drink with betting – he has lost dearly for doing so. There was an incident involving the Comtess because of it."
My heart ceased beating as I waited for him to continue.
"It happened close to a year ago." He began at last. "The Comte failed to make good on a wager of sorts, and those to whom he owed, were not ones you would want to be indebted to."
"What happened to her, Nadir?" I tried to remain calm, but a cool layer of sweat began to line my brow and the blood coursing through me felt like ice.
"She was abducted and. . . ."
I felt physically ill. "And what? WHAT!"
"Before de Chagny was able to arrive with the money at the location where Christine was being held, they – they cut her."
The room began to haze, my vision failing. I blinked rapidly, trying desperately to focus and cease the deafening ringing in my ears.
"How bad, Nadir?" I swallowed, attempting to steady myself for his reply.
"They cut her throat."
The room was beginning to morph into a tunnel, the ringing intensifying.
"Erik?" He was upon me, but I could not see or focus. I had to know.
"Please, Daroga – tell me what happened."
"de Chagny had been warned that every minute he was late, Christine would be cut. The sum was so large, that acquiring it took some time. He was three minutes delayed."
I felt the bile rise high in my throat. I swallowed it back down, appalled. "They wounded her three times . . . Do you know where, Daroga and how gravely?" I knew there was nothing that I could do to change it, but for some odd reason I had to know just where she had been damaged. I could not bear to think of my perfect girl scarred in anyway. My atrocities were enough for the both of us. She was the glorious swan, and I the ugly duckling who had never morphed. My swan could not be flawed.
He shifted uncomfortably. "They cut her throat in two places – a vertical line on each side, below either ear, they are just surface cuts. And then they cut her–" his face flushed and he couldn't continue.
"Nadir, if I must keep prying information from you, I swear. . . ." I let the threat hang heavy in the air.
"Her breast," he relented. "They cut the flesh of her breast." The look displayed on his face told me that their act revolted him as much as it did me. Quickly, rushing through the awkwardness that permeated the room, he went on. "While the Comte tried to keep the scandal quiet, the story leaked. That, my friend is sadly all that I know."
"What do you mean all that you know? What of the fiends who did this to her? Please tell me that de Chagny handled them afterwards?" If it had been me, and they had done such a thing, rest assured that I would have handled them.
He shook his head sadly. "I am afraid that nothing could be done, for how could de Chagny alert the authorities, when doing such a thing would illuminate his affinity for illegal gambling?"
"Who was it? Do you know who did this to her, Nadir?"
I would find them, and when I did. . . .
"It was not one; the Comte was indebted to many – a group of sorts." He suddenly shook his head before I could raise the question. "No, I will not tell you who they are, even if you tried to torture it from me because I know you, Erik. I know you will go seeking vengeance and these years of redemption shall be lost. They will get their just rewards in the end, fear not."
"So is that it then?" I rose abruptly, my voice tainted with bitterness. "Is that what you have come all this long way to bother me with, Nadir – with the fears of an idiotic meddling woman and an event which I can do nothing to alter!"
"Erik, I am here because I am worried about my friend. I want to see you find redemption for the sins of the past, not repeat its mistakes."
Why that infernal Persian always had to be right, I did not know; he made my head throb and I knew that I could take no more. Too much had happened in too little time. I needed a few moments to process it all – alone.
"Please Nadir, I can speak of this no further – leave me now." I wiped the sweat from my brow as I hurriedly herded him towards the door. "Have you a place to stay in town, Daroga – if not, you are very welcome to stay in the room below, this is after all a hotel – in case you failed to take notice." I was sweating profusely now and he sensed my distress, but said nothing. The room was still spinning, still swirling. I had to get him out before I collapsed before him.
"Thank you, my friend – I shall humbly accept your offer." He bowed in thanks. "I am so very sorry that my words have troubled you. I came here to help, not make matters worse."
"Do not be simple, Daroga. Of course your words upset, but they had to be told, and I do thank you for such candor. You and Giry are the only ones who are unafraid to tell me the truth."
He laughed. "Well, I would not say unafraid, exactly, but I do not think I would be any worthwhile friend if I held my tongue due to fear." He smiled, his eyes shining orbs of wisdom I could not look upon at the moment.
I opened the door, praying for his haste exit. "Goodnight – good morning Daroga, and if you have any need, there is a black knob placed next to the light in the bedroom below, turn it in any direction and my man shall tend to you."
"Thank you again, my friend." He smiled once more, turned and left. As he did, I closed the door, falling flat against its frame, and slid down to the floor in despair.
My beautiful girl . . . miserable and marred!
I couldn't bear to think of what she had had to undergo; the images which filled my mind only served to sicken me. The dream which had unsettled me earlier was now forgotten.
I had to get her away from him – she was far above him and his actions had now proven such. I didn't know how he could have turned so vile, for he was not one I had ever pegged as the type. While I did hate him, I could never have denied that he did love her, and could not fathom how he had changed so vastly. I hadn't known him to be a gambler – I did my fair share of background research on Raoul Francois de Chagny when he had come back into Christine's life ten years ago. I had gathered quite a bit of information on him, but none of it had ever hinted at an affinity for gambling or drinking. I couldn't help but wonder again what had changed him so greatly. He obviously had a problem, one which was gravely affecting Christine, and that I could not allow. Now I was kicking myself for staying away from her these last six years, for while I thought I was doing her good, I was not. In fact, perhaps she would never have been hurt if I had kept a closer eye on her. The forbidden urge, that had been claiming me more and more as time wore on, was now seemingly founded, and possibly . . . for the best?
I stood, still a bit light headed, but walking with purpose as I strode to the desk opposite my bed.
I knew how I would bring her to me, for with the swiftly approaching opening of Phantasma, opening this very day, it would not be feasible for me to go to her; she would have to come to me. And I knew precisely how.
I would offer them money, heaps and heaps of money. A sum so outrageous that there would be no chance of their refusing the request that the famed Christine Daae perform – one night – one aria – it would be too enticing. She would tell her husband of the offer and he would pounce on it.
It was perfect.
Once I had her, I would tell her what a fool I had been for ever letting her go and I would beg for her forgiveness. I placed a sheet of cream colored paper before me on the desk, picked up a pen and began to write. Hopefully this letter would be the beginning of the end of my pain – for I would soon see her. I knew the Comte, so in debt, would never refuse once it was offered. As I stood, hunched over and wrote, I smiled. Who would have ever dreamed that in the end, I would be better for her than him?
Dreams were strange creatures. They could heal or they could cripple. For there are some dreams which shall never come to pass, and the pain of that reality is a brutal thing.
But Christine could be mine – could have been mine before if I had not been so stupid – it was no dream after all.
Soon it would be a reality.
*Author's note: Sorry it took me longer than usual to get this chapter to you guys, but a lot's been going on, and it took me a while to write. I'm already a few pages into the next chapter, so I promise I will update soon. I really hope you all are enjoying where I'm taking this so far (let me know what you think in a review) and like my style of writing. I thank you so much for reading, reviewing and adding the story to your favorites :) I know I say it all the time, but it's true – the only reason this story has gotten this far is because of all of you and your encouraging comments. Again, I thank you.
To GraySkies29: What the hell would I do without you? LOL! You are the best beta anyone could ever ask for. I'm really happy we met and I thank you so much for all of your help :)
Till next time!
-Shannon*