Chapter 34

Hauntings

"The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe. I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad!" –Emily Bronte

Christine stood by the window, watching the rain fall and trying not to look at her own tearful reflection in the glass pane. Though a warm fire was blazing on the other side of the bedroom, she shivered, feeling cold and numb all over.

The world had been forever changed.

She didn't know how things could go on, now that he was gone.

As she stood there gazing out at the gloomy evening, she recalled a time not so long ago, a time she wished she could return to, so that she could alter the events that had taken place then and would not have to feel this way now. The memory of Raoul's words whispered into her mind…

"You said yourself, he was nothing but a man…yet while he lives, he will haunt us 'til we're dead…"

"You're wrong, Raoul."

"What was that?"

Christine started at her husband's voice. She hadn't realized she'd spoken out loud, and she'd also forgotten he was in the room with her. She turned to him and he looked at her, confusion and concern on his face as he put on an elegant blue jacket. It was almost time for supper, Christine recalled vaguely. She didn't want to go. She couldn't imagine eating now…or doing anything, for that matter.

"Christine?" Raoul moved closer to her, and she took a step back away from him. "What am I wrong about?"

So many things. Christine felt herself trembling all over and her voice quivered as she said, "He won't stop, you know." She saw frustration emerge on Raoul's face as he realized what she was talking about, but she couldn't help but continue. "He may be dead…but he's not gone. He's still there, in my mind." She shivered again. "He'll always be there."

Her husband sighed and put his hands on her shoulders, but she flinched at his touch and walked across the room. "It's over, Christine. Things will change in time. I know they will."

"You know nothing!" she shouted. "He's been a part of me for so long…his body may have been destroyed, but his spirit…it's still there. And it always will be. I can still hear him, even now. His music, his voice, it's stronger than ever." She put her hand to her head. "Don't you see? I can never escape it. We'll never be free of him."

"Christine, I…"

"It shouldn't have happened the way it did." Christine shuddered at the memory of the man being broken body and soul the night before. "We should have tried to reconcile with him, to make our peace! Then, maybe, we could have been free!"

"We are free! He's dead, and gone. He can't hurt us anymore, not if we don't let him." Raoul turned his back on her to face the mirror on the wall and adjust his hair.

"Erik…" Christine could hardly speak the word. "Erik was his name…why did I never ask him for his name?" Tears sprang to her eyes as memories of every word he'd spoken, every song he'd sung, everything he'd ever done in the years she'd known him all rushed through her mind at once. There were so many things he had done for her, and in all that time, what had she done for him? Not even asked him what his name was.

Raoul caught sight of her crying in the mirror's reflection. "Sweetheart." He moved closer to her, and this time, Christine did not back away. She let him pull her into an embrace. "I think you should see a doctor…"

Immediately she pulled away. "No! It won't help! Nothing will…"

"But it wouldn't hurt…"

He can't really be suggesting this. The thought of seeing a doctor filled her with dread. "They'd put me in an asylum, Raoul. I know." The nightmare would only grow worse. "You and I would be separated, and then I would have nothing left in all the world. I can't lose you now." As angry as she was with him for plotting to kill the Phantom, and recruiting her to help with that plan, she realized that Raoul was all she had and in spite of everything, she still loved him.

"I love you, Christine," Raoul said, "and I hate to see you like this. Please, darling, clean yourself up and come down to supper with me. Let us try and put these things behind us. In time, we'll forget." He spoke with complete, unwavering certainty.

"You may forget, Raoul. I hope you can. But I'll never forget. He was called a phantom in life …how much more will he haunt us now that he's dead?"

"Please, darling." Her husband's voice was strangely calm for someone who had allowed a murder to take place, Christine thought. "Come downstairs with me. The food and drink and company will do you some good."

Though all she wanted to do was…nothing, Christine sighed and said, "Very well." Then she went to wash her tearstained face, dress, and apply powder and rouge that felt altogether too much like a mask.

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

Cerise descended the grand staircase, feeling anything but grand. She was wearing one of the nicer dresses that she and Alana had packed, a cool blue gown that made her eyes look brighter than ever, but still she felt outclassed by the others who were gathering in one of the chateau's sitting rooms as they awaited supper. As she walked into the room, she thought she felt the eyes of all the aristocrats there, looking her up and down with disapproval. She couldn't wait to return home and escape from all the feelings of inferiority she had around the rich nobles, but at the same time she adored the chateau and deep down, she wished more than anything that she could belong in a place like that.

Across the room Cerise glimpsed Damien, and their eyes met. She knew she was blushing, and that made her face burn even more. He began heading toward her, and her heart started beating faster. In spite of what Alana had told her about Damien, she still couldn't deny she had feelings for him. And was that so strange, if Alana still loved Erik after hearing about all the things he'd done? Oh, my parents would be so displeased with us if they knew about the men in our lives…

"Good evening, Mademoiselle Cerise," Damien said after a slight bow. "You're looking well."

Cerise curtsied and smiled. "As are you, monsieur."

"And your cousin? Has she improved any?"

Cerise felt her face fall. "A little, perhaps. She's not quite well enough to join us for supper yet, however."

And then his face darkened as well, making Cerise's mood worsen more. "Well, that's indeed a shame. Please, continue to tell her that I sincerely hope her health improves soon. In fact…" his eyes brightened. "I'll send for a doctor in the morning. It wouldn't hurt for her to receive a full medical report. He could be here by afternoon tomorrow."

Cerise swallowed hard, and rubbed her sweating palms on her skirts. "Tomorrow, monsieur? Are you quite certain you wouldn't mind going to all that trouble? Besides, Alana isn't very fond of…"

"I assure you, Mademoiselle Cerise, it would be no trouble at all. And while your cousin may have a certain aversion to doctors, it would be best for her to at least be examined by one. He will be arriving tomorrow, without fail."

She nodded, hoping she didn't look as nervous as she felt. "Very well then, I'll warn her in advance as soon as dinner is over." Damien flashed a smile that made her want to melt, and then the valet came into the room to tell them that their meal was served.

Much to her displeasure, Cerise found herself being seated next to Seraphine. She avoided the dark-haired Comtesse's gaze, even when she was asked about Alana's absence. Out of the corner of her eye, Cerise glimpsed Damien's parents, seated on either side of him, casting disapproving glances at her. Her heart sank, and once again she realized just how much she longed to go home.

Four of the seats at the table were empty, and the diners looked about impatiently as they waited for them to arrive so they could begin eating.

"Mademoiselle Valjean?"

Cerise turned to face Damien, who was looking strangely at one of the empty places. "Yes, Comte?"

"Do you know if Monsieur…Erik will be joining us tonight?" As he spoke a dark haired woman and a ginger haired man entered the room, the latter apologizing to everyone for being late. After a moment, Cerise recognized them as Raoul and Christine de Chagny, the ones who'd helped Damien with Erik's undoing. She noticed both of them pale a little as they heard what the Comte was saying.

"Oh…I don't think so. I haven't seen or heard from him the entire day," Cerise said.

"Really?" Damien was a good actor, Cerise had to admit. The Comte looked genuinely surprised to hear it. "Well, that's curious."

"Yes…isn't it? I think perhaps we should stop waiting for him to arrive; I think it highly unlikely that he'll be joining us."

Damien nodded slowly. "Yes, I think you're right."

The long line of dinner courses was delicious, but Cerise couldn't wait for it to end. Some of the guests talked on and on about things she had no knowledge of, and her end of the table, with Damien and his parents, Seraphine, and the de Chagnys was strangely quiet. There was the occasional small talk here and there, but it was clear that there was something unspoken between everyone on that side of the table. Something terribly wrong.

Cerise wondered frankly how Damien and the de Chagnys could show their faces after what they'd done...or tried to do. They were just pretending as if nothing had happened, but then again…nobody else knew anything had taken place. Nobody but Alana and herself.

Once the last course had been eaten, the party retired to another room to drink and play cards, but Cerise quickly stole away unnoticed. As she hurried up the stairs and down the hall to her room, she could feel her heart pounding wildly as her thoughts raced in a panic. She'd had to keep a cool head while she was downstairs with everyone, but now that she was on her own, the dangerous reality of her situation had hit her. But a plan was starting to form in her mind…a plan that had to work if she, Alana, and Erik ever wanted to have a normal life again…and in Erik's case, any life at all. She was afraid though, that there was no escape for any of them. Alana had been in too deep, and had dragged her down too. She shook the frightening thoughts from her mind and concentrated on the task at hand.

When she got to her room, she took up the sewing kit she'd brought so that she could work on embroidery if she got bored during the carriage ride. Now she was going to have to use it to sew up a man's gunshot wound, she thought with a shudder. She tucked some extra matches and candles into her small cloth bag, put on a cloak, and left the room, sneaking her way out of the chateau. The wind pulled at her skirts and rain soaked into her cloak as lightning lit up the landscape. The brief periodic flashes of light were all it took for Cerise to find the way back to the hunting shed.

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

Alana woke in her room at the house back in Détente. She blinked several times, confused. What am I doing here? She wondered. Up above, she could hear the sound of rain falling on the roof, and it sounded different than what she remembered from rainy nights past. She got out of bed and left her room, finding herself walking down the hall to the kitchen. What she saw there made her gasp.

A petite brunette woman stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot as the familiar smell of what was once her family's favorite stew filled the room.

"Mother," she whispered.

Una turned and smiled at her. "Alana. Would you mind helping me finish this supper? Your father will be coming in any moment!"

"Wait." Alana rushed across the room and wrapped her arms tightly around her mother, who dropped her stirring spoon, but hugged her daughter back just as tightly.

After a moment, Una stepped back, smiling. "What was that for, sweetheart?"

Alana wiped a tear from her eye. "It's because I love you." She blinked again, and pinched her arm. Maybe everything had been a dream. Maybe Erik, her time in Paris, the nightmare at the chateau…maybe none of it had ever happened. Maybe she still lived here on the farm just outside Détente, with her mother and her father. Maybe Andre had never been…the way he was. Maybe he was the way he'd been before.

"I love you too, Alana," Una said as she tucked a stray piece of her daughter's hair back into place. Suddenly, there was a deafening clap of thunder outside, and both of them started. "That's strange." Una looked out the window. "It's not raining, and the wind isn't blowing."

Before Alana could respond, she heard the sound of someone fiddling with the lock on the front door. "Oh! That must be Father…" She found herself holding her breath as the door slowly opened.

There was Andre in the doorway, but he didn't look right. His eyes were wide and vacant, his brow furrowed as if in pain. His mouth hung open slightly and his body was strangely rigid, the breast of his blue jacket quickly growing more and more stained with…blood.

Behind her, Una screamed as Andre fell forward, crashing onto the floor. Alana swayed, nearly fainting, and then she saw what had been behind her father.

Erik stood there, unmasked, holding up a smoking revolver. He stared back at Alana and her mother, murder in his eyes.

"E—Erik? What…how?"

The monstrous figure before her turned and slammed the door behind him. Without thinking, Alana ran across the kitchen, trembling all over as she maneuvered around her father's body. She reached for the door handle and pulled. Nothing happened, so she pulled and pulled again. But it was stuck. Somehow, Erik had locked them in from the outside.

"Alana…do you smell smoke?" Her mother's voice shook.

And then the room filled with smoke, as flames began to engulf their entire home…

"Alana! Alana! Wake up!" She opened her eyes to find Cerise shaking her awake. Wiping the cold sweat from her forehead, she blinked in the dim light of the candles her cousin must have lit, and shivered from the memory of the nightmare. "Bad dream?" Cerise asked, looking worried. Alana nodded, and the other girl wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder. "I'm sorry, cousin." She sighed. "I wish I could bring you better news."

Alana only half heard what Cerise was saying. So it hadn't all been a dream…her mother was still dead, and her father was still…well…not quite the man he once was. The only thing that was real was that Erik was a killer. While she tried to reassure herself that he did not kill Andre, and didn't attempt to burn her and her mother alive, the dream still chilled her to the bone.

"Are you listening?" Cerise asked her.

"Oh…what?" Alana shook her head, trying to pay attention to what her cousin was saying.

"I said, Damien told me that he's sending for a doctor in the morning to make sure nothing is seriously wrong with you…"

"Oh no. You can't be serious."

"I'm afraid I am," Cerise said. "He really does care about you, you know."

Alana felt a prick of annoyance at the mention of the Comte, and she recalled with disgust now the day the two of them had shared a kiss. "Well, I'll have to go back to the chateau before the doctor arrives then, won't I?"

Cerise nodded, and Alana turned to look at Erik, lying still beside her. He looked so…hurt, so weak. Nothing like the homicidal monster in her nightmare. Now, he couldn't hurt anyone. He was in desperate need of help. "I hate to leave Erik here alone…" she began.

"Just listen to the plan I've thought out," Cerise interrupted. "Tonight, I try and sew up that gunshot wound of his, and when I leave, you come with me. You'll go back into your room, clean yourself up, and get in bed, where you'll be when the doctor arrives tomorrow afternoon. By then, you'll have made a…miraculous recovery, and when he examines you, he'll find nothing wrong. Then we'll be free to leave. We'll pack up our things, send for our carriage and driver again, and be on our way home."

"That's all well and good," Alana admitted. "But what about Erik?"

"I was getting to that," Cerise said with a toss of her auburn hair. "Once we've gotten a ways from the chateau, we'll tell our driver to take a little detour, off road just a bit so that we'll all be out of sight. Then, you and I will come back here to the shed, and help Erik to the carriage. We'll pay our driver extra not to ask any questions or tell any tales of what's happened, and we'll drive back home. Then…I'm honestly not sure what we're going to have to do with Erik."

"It's as good a plan as any I suppose," said Alana. "I don't see any other possible way." She stopped to think for a moment. "As for what to do with Erik once we get back to Paris…I think I may know someone who can help us."

Cerise shrugged. "Whatever it takes to get us out of this mess."

"We will get out of this, Cerise. I promise. It'll all be over soon."