Chapter Twenty-four

No, it couldn't be him. She was only seeing things.

He was moving forward, and then he was opening the doors and stepping through into the room.

He's here, the Phantom of the Opera.

Those beautiful haunted eyes were fixed solely upon her. Christine's heart was racing wildly, she felt weak in the knees, her head felt full of nothing but air.

He was walking slowly towards her, and she was backing away until she hit the wall.

Nowhere to run, nothing she could do…no point in fighting…

Sing once again with me…let the dream begin…now you cannot ever be free!…your chains are still mine, you belong to me!…lead me, save me from my solitude…Christine, I love you…

Every word he'd said, every memory she had of him, all flooded madly into her head at once. She could feel herself trembling all over.

He'd stopped, and was standing just a few feet away from her.

She couldn't breathe.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. He brought up his hand ever so slowly, reaching out to her. His lips parted, and he said,

"Christine."

Then the whole world went dark.

Christine opened her eyes. She was lying on the bed in her old room. It had all been a dream. She glanced down at herself, and saw that she was still wearing that first wedding dress, the one he had given her. Then she looked to her right.

There he was, kneeling by her bedside, watching her.

She gasped and jumped back, quickly moving to the other side of the bed.

"Don't be afraid," he said softly. His voice was like velvet. She'd almost forgotten how wonderful it sounded. And how dangerous.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, barely able to get the words out as her heart seemed to pound out of her chest. She desperately tried to understand what was happening…he was here, it was all real, and she'd fainted…

He got to his feet and looked across the room. "I see you've found what I left for you," motioning to the letters and the single red rose.

"Yes, I found them. Now please, tell me, why are you here?"

He turned his gaze on her, and this time, she looked him straight in the eyes without faltering. He was no ghost or magical being; he was just a man, every bit as human as herself, and she knew it better than anyone. He was not as strong as everyone thought... but still, he could be dangerous. She stared back at him, trying not to flinch as his eyes seemed to burn straight through her. How did he do that?

"Why do you think?" he asked her.

"I…I don't know…how did you get in?"

"I'm me." Oh, yes he was. Every trace of that weak, sad, desperate man she'd left behind in the Paris underground was gone, and now he looked as dashing and mysterious as he had the first night she'd seen him. "Come now, did you really think those iron walls could keep me out?"

"No…but…I thought you were gone. I didn't think you'd really come back."

"Neither did I." His eyes shone with longing.

Christine got off of the bed and left the room. She needed fresh air, and a few moments to think, to sort everything out in her head. There were so many questions running through her mind…where he had been, what he had been doing…what he planned to do now.

"Christine?" He had followed her out.

She turned her head. "Yes?"

"Why are you wearing that dress?"

She looked down at the familiar white silk gown, her cheeks warming a little. "I…I don't know." Why had she put it on?…it was almost as if she had hoped something like this would happen. It was like, as she'd put on the wedding dress, she had dreamed him into existence.

"You look even more beautiful than I remember," he said quietly.

Christine felt a pang of sadness. She looked down at the ground. "Thank you."

She could feel him, close behind her, and then she felt his arms go around her waist. A part of her screamed to make him stop, and leave her, and yet at the same time another part of her was at peace, and longed for him to stay. And so she stood there, letting him stay as he was. It had seemed so long since she'd been with him, since he'd held her like this. This is wrong. Everything about this is so wrong.

"Have you missed me at all, my angel?" He whispered in her ear. She could feel his breath on her neck, and his strong arms were wrapped around her tightly. The wiser part of her seemed to have gone, and she felt herself falling under his spell.

"Yes," she whispered back. He said nothing, but his grip on her waist loosened and she turned around to look at him. He put one hand on her shoulder, and with the other he softly touched her face, smiling at her. Christine had seen him smile, once, long ago…she'd forgotten how beautiful he could be. She could feel his joy as he looked at her now.

"Come away with me."

Her heart was skipping beats as it raced wildly, out of control. Run away with him…away from this new world of aristocracy, where she always had to make-believe she was something she was not. His world, strange though it was, was more real than this one would ever be. She didn't belong here. She would run with him, away from it all…away from…Raoul?

No, she couldn't leave Raoul, she loved him. He loved her. Raoul had saved her from the man who stood here now, a man who had tried to kill her childhood sweetheart and steal her away forever, to keep her from the true world. A man who had blood on his hands. How many people had he murdered? She looked back at him, her eyes full of fear.

"Please, Christine." His eyes pleaded desperately with her. "Please. I love you."

Her heart was breaking. He so wanted to be loved, and she so wanted to be the one to love him, and she was trying, but finding she could not. She stepped back from him. "I can't."

After a few moments had passed she dared to look at him. The half of his face not hidden by the mask bore the most forlorn, despaired expression she had ever seen.

"I'm sorry," she burst out, her eyes stinging with tears. "I've chosen my own path. My place is here, with Raoul."

He looked as if she'd stabbed him with a knife. Christine felt like a murderer herself.

"We're not meant to be, you and I."

He stood there speechless, and she tried to keep from sobbing uncontrollably. She couldn't bear to see his face anymore.

"I never wanted to hurt you," she said, covering her face with her hands. "Why does this have to be so complicated?" She had feelings for him, she truly did, but they were wrong. She was married to Raoul, she loved him, and she didn't understand what she felt for…her old teacher. "I just wish this would all go away." She opened her eyes and looked over at him.

The man still stood there, unmoving. But now, tears were running down his face, down his mask.

Christine put her hands on his shoulders. "You should go now."

He stepped back slowly, unsteadily, like a dead man walking.

"It never would have worked between us," she wept. "Please, forgive me."

Suddenly she heard a sound like a door slamming.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Raoul's voice. Both of them spun around. Christine hadn't expected him home so late…

Her husband was running towards them, pulling something out of his jacket. She caught a glimpse of something metal, and her former teacher running across the balcony. He jumped up on the edge of the railing. Raoul burst through the doors, brandishing a revolver.

The other man leapt off the railing. Raoul fired the gun, the loud crack shattering the night's silence. Christine screamed.

But the Phantom was unharmed and out of sight. He was in the tree somewhere…no, somehow he was already dashing across the garden, making for the back gate.

Christine heard Raoul curse, and then he shouted out, "Leo! Wendel!"

She heard them before she saw them; their deafening barks filled the night air. The two giant mastiffs were barreling across the garden, their teeth bared and their gaze fixed upon the intruder.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

There wasn't time to escape. Erik stopped running and pulled out his sword. He didn't want to hurt the guard dogs…he'd always had a love for animals, who, unlike people, had always trusted him, never feared his face. But these dogs were trained to kill, and now they had their sights set on him. He turned to face the enormous creatures that were charging straight for him. One of them, a great dark-colored dog, leapt at him, teeth bared, but Erik sent his sword slicing across the dog's back. The mastiff yelped in pain and stepped back for a moment as the other dog attacked. This one was larger and even more ferocious. And suddenly both of them were lunging at him. He tried frantically to avoid their gigantic jaws, and sent them dodging with slashes from his sword. But they were faster and even more powerful than he'd imagined.

Then he felt the teeth sinking like a set of knives into his leg. Erik gasped with pain and staggered back, sending the dog running away with a blow from his sword. But the other leapt at him, crashing into his body with all its might. He heard the dog snarling as they fell to the grass, and from somewhere he thought he heard a distant scream.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Christine covered her mouth in horror as she watched the enormous brute of a mastiff knocking her former teacher to the ground. The man was pinned, his sword fallen on the ground. Wendel had retreated to lick his wounds, but the Phantom was wrestling wildly with the other, using nothing but his bare hands. In a spectacular display of strength he threw the giant mastiff off of him, and scrambled for his sword. But Leo was fast, and almost immediately he had pinned the man again.

Then she saw it. The dog sunk his teeth into the Phantom's shoulder and pulled away, black face covered in blood. And then Wendel was charging back into the action, and she saw him mauling her former teacher. She screamed. He would be torn to pieces any moment. They'd kill him.

"Please, Raoul!" she ran to her husband, grabbing him tightly by the shoulders. "Please, make them stop! I can't bear it! Oh please, make them stop!" she cried, her voice shaking with desperate panic.

Raoul looked hatefully at the scene unfolding below, then gazed into her frightened eyes. His expression softened, and he ran to the balcony's edge and shouted, "Wendel! Leo! Enough!"

Immediately the dogs pulled away from the broken body below them, and looked up obediently at their master.

"Good dogs. Come to the door now." Raoul turned to Christine. "All the servants should be awake now. Get them to help you find bandages and things to clean the dogs' wounds with. The valet and I will get him."

"Oh, don't kill him!" Christine begged. "Let him live!"

"He may already be dead, Christine," her husband said evenly. "But if he's alive, he'll be in the law's hands soon."

Several of the maids rushed into the room, and Raoul barked out instructions to them. They pulled Christine along with them in a rush to send for the police and help tend the wounds of the heroic dogs who had saved their beloved Vicomtesse from the madman that had come back for her. She ran with them in a daze, half glad she had escaped him at last and that her life would return to normalcy. But the other half of her heart broke for him, for the despair she had caused him. She hated him…she cared about him? She didn't even know. Nevertheless, she sent up a prayer for him, that whether he lived or died, that his pain would finally be ended.

Raoul and his valet, Claude, rushed through the house. The Vicomte flung open the doors to the back garden and charged toward the place where Leo and Wendel had pinned the lunatic. He had been strong, but he would be no match for them now. He ran past the fountain and took a shortcut through the grove of cherry trees, and stopped dead in his tracks.

"What is it monsieur?" Claude asked, mopping his brow and attempting to catch his breath.

"He's gone," Raoul whispered. He turned to face the other man. "He's gone!" he shouted. "How could he be gone?"

Claude shrugged helplessly, and Raoul cursed, kicking over a stone statuette of a horse. He gave a shout at the sudden pain in his foot and let a few more obscenities slip. It was a stupid statue. He was stupid. He shouldn't have listened to Christine; he should have let his guard dogs tear the awful man to pieces. No one who tried to steal what was his should be able to get away with it, and yet, here he was, looking in utter confusion and helpless rage at the empty place where the Phantom should have been lying dead.

"Send for the police, Claude," he said through his teeth. "Send for all my people. Let the army know too. I want everyone in this city after him. This time, he won't be able to escape."

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Erik staggered down the forest path, limping and nearly falling to the ground with every agonizing step. Pain shot through his leg and shoulder, chest and stomach, everywhere the dogs' teeth had left their mark. He could feel the blood starting to soak through his clothes. But worse than any of the pain from his physical wounds was the blow Christine had delivered straight to his heart. The weight of her rejection was unbearable. He hadn't been able to react when she'd said, "You should go." He still couldn't react to it. Now, he couldn't even cry.

Gazing across the forest path, Erik tried to remember where he was going…the apartment, to find Madame Giry…which way was it again? Somehow he'd forgotten. He felt light-headed, and there was a throbbing pain in his skull in addition to the wounds from being mauled by the dogs. Still, he had to press on. Sooner or later he'd find the house. But each step was becoming more and more labored.

Finally, his injured leg gave way and he collapsed into a pile of dead leaves. He gasped with pain and brought up his torn cloak, pressing it into the more severe wounds he'd received to his shoulder and chest, trying to stop the bleeding. He lay there looking up at the night sky in stunned silence, so broken in body and heart that he did not know what to do.

Christine had refused him again, and the Vicomte had almost let him die just now. Erik knew that he could never go back…what had existed between him and Christine was over now, forever.

And so was his life.

She was the only thing he had ever truly wanted.

Now what did he have to live for?

Maybe he didn't want to make it back to the apartment.

At last Erik gave up the fight and let his heavy eyelids slowly close as he drifted off, escaping from the crushing despair and overwhelming pain.

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It was early the next morning when the Vicomte de Chagny burst through the front doors of the Bellamy house and rushed up the stairs without waiting for any of the staff to receive him. He ran through the halls until he reached the door to Damien's bedroom.

"Damien! Damien! Open the door!" he shouted, pounding furiously on the door. There was no answer, so he kept knocking loudly on the door. He'd break it down if he had to. Finally, the door opened, and there was the Comte, with half-open, bloodshot eyes and disheveled hair, still wearing his clothes from the day before, all wrinkled.

Damien groaned, blinking in the light of the hallway. "What's so blasted important that you had to come here at this ungodly hour?" he growled, bringing a hand to his head and running his fingers through his hair.

"You wouldn't believe what happened last night," Raoul began.

"Come inside," Damien muttered. "My head's killing me, I need to lie back down."

"Too much cognac again?" Raoul asked as he walked past his friend.

Damien shook his head, wincing at the pain in his head. "No, it was Chartreuse. I think."

"Well, I have some news that just might help you quit your drinking habit," the Victomte announced as Damien threw himself back down onto his enormous bed.

"Oh really, what's that?" the other man asked nonchalantly.

"Christine had a visitor last night."

Damien rolled his eyes. "So?"

"Not just any visitor. It was him." Raoul watched as his friend's eyes grew wide.

"What?"

"I think he was trying to get Christine to run away with him, but I came back just in time to catch him in the act."

"Well what happened?" Damien asked intently.

"I shot at him, but I missed." Raoul glowered at the Comte, who made no effort to hide his snicker at that bit of information. "Then he jumped off our balcony, and I set the dogs on him."

"You did what?" Damien scowled. "This isn't how I wanted it to happen at all."

"Before you say anything else, you should know that the dogs didn't kill him. I called them off."

"What? Why?"

Raoul looked away awkwardly. "Christine begged me to." He ignored Damien's groan of irritation. "They hurt him, badly. Claude and I went down to get him and deliver him to the police, but by the time we got down to the garden, he'd disappeared."

"He's good at that. So what now?"

The Vicomte shrugged. "This entire city is crawling with police and soldiers now, looking for any sign of him. He can't have gotten far…they'll find him. Soon he'll be brought to justice, I can promise you that, my friend. Now, will you get yourself together and help me hunt for him?"

Damien's only reply was a silent nod, and a dark stare.

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Madame Giry had heard enough. She hurried out of the hall and down the stairs as fast as she could without drawing too much attention to herself. Her heart was pounding from the things she had just heard spoken. She went through the back door unnoticed and quickly began making her way across the neighborhood, determined to find Erik before anyone else did.