XXI
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Christine's lungs burned with flame, searing the fear deep inside her as she raced through the devil's dark tunnel. His abrupt curse and the pounding of steps coming up behind testified that he had spotted her.
Frantic, she drew on another burst of speed.
A corridor branched off to her right. She took it, squelching the old fear to find it filled with darkness and no torches to light the interior - hoping somehow to find a cubbyhole to hide, knowing it was useless but frantic to try. A film of water on the stones gave her location away as her feet splashed in wide puddles, and she heard him close in behind.
She ran in a fool's panic, aware that she could not possibly evade him, aware that he was faster and stronger and would catch her, even as tears of hopelessness clouded her eyes…
Suddenly she felt her shoulders grabbed and her body thrown sideways as he brought her with him against the wall. Her arm slammed into stone while her cheek grazed its coarseness as he covered her body with his, trapping her. Scalding tears from the fiery pain rushed to her eyes.
"You little fool! Did I not warn you?" he grated low in her ear.
She did not answer, could not attempt it, and felt thankful that darkness enshrouded them both. She did not want to bear witness to his fury, which she felt in the tension of every taut muscle and ridge of hard flesh pressed against her back. Her breathing came shaky as she tried in vain to stifle her quiet, terrified sobs. Her shoulder throbbed, her feet were icy and numb and every part of her shivered from fright and cold, except where the heat of his solid form scorched her.
He wrenched his body from hers, grabbing her above the elbow as he did and spinning her around to face him.
"Do you wish to see the consequence of such folly?"
Without waiting for an answer he savagely pulled her out of the corridor, his gloved hand a vice threatening to cut off her blood flow, and grabbed a torch from the wall of the main corridor. Pulling her along with him, he stormed back into the dark tunnel. She practically ran to keep up to his swift pace so as not to stumble or fall on the wet paving.
He reached an area a short distance from where he'd caught her and came to an abrupt halt. Releasing her, he pushed the torch her way, "Hold this." The fire reflecting in his eyes warned her not to run. He picked up a loose hunk of rock from the ground with both hands and threw it hard ahead of them. She gasped as the center of the floor gave way where the rock slammed onto stone.
Ruthless, he snatched his torch away from her and pulled her with him to the edge of a set of dripping trapdoors. He brought her perilously close to the rim, thrusting the torch forward and down. She closed her eyes, fearful that in his black rage he might throw her inside, but felt too stunned and numb of mind to fight back.
"Look – damn you!"
His powerful grip on her arm never loosened. Cautiously she opened her eyes - and gasped in horror.
Her toes rested at the edge of a square pit that led into black, gaping nothingness and … she drew her brows together, staring beyond, where the torchlight illuminated past layers of thick darkness. Far below where she stood she saw the ground of the pit slither and undulate in serpentine coils.
The blood rushed from her head and her stomach turned, bile rising to her throat as she realized what the pit held. Had she run several feet further before he caught her she would have been its victim … the victim of many ...
Shock made her dizzy. Fearing that she might lose consciousness again, she squeezed her nails into the flesh of her palms until she was sure they bled.
"Throughout the darkened tunnels are trapdoors such as these," he bit out twisting her swiftly away from the trap and stepping closer to her. "Each one contains something dangerous, even deadly. Any attempt to escape your fate will lead to certain death! Now do you understand?"
Aghast by his words and what horrors this pit held, she timidly nodded. Her wide eyes never left his burning ones.
He released his hold on her to press his gloved hand to the wall against a rock. The trapdoors slammed upward and shut. Grabbing her arm again, he turned with her back to the main tunnel, the leather fingers of his glove digging into her flesh. He needn't have worried that she would try to break away and run; she now knew such escape was futile but couldn't find her voice to tell him so.
He pulled her a long distance through the main torch-lit corridors. She dared not look at him the entire time. A small, remote part of her marveled that she had run so far and she wondered about the vastness of these caverns. Certainly they must extend far past the opera house.
At last he pulled her into her prison chamber and thrust her from him. She staggered a few steps, grabbing the bedpost so as not to fall to her knees. She kept her head down, her eyes glued to the rug at her feet. Bile coated her throat, stronger than before, her stomach rising up in roiling protest.
"How did you get out?" His words came clipped. "Tell me!"
She shook her head, clapping her hand over her mouth, but made it no further than halfway to the bath chamber before her churning stomach gave over its contents. Retching and shaking violently, she fell to her hands and knees.
She would have fallen face down in the stinking refuse if not for two large hands that suddenly gripped her hard. Her stomach continued to heave, though it had nothing left to give, while he held her up with one arm spread beneath her collarbone. Then, for the third time in less than a day's span, the Phantom lifted her weakened body in his arms and carried her to the bed.
Once he laid her on top of the coverlet, she curled into a ball on her side, mortified that he'd seen her in such a wretchedly indisposed state, at the same time not without satisfaction to hear him return to the corridor and clean the mess. It was no less than he deserved for keeping her his prisoner! No doubt the combination of the wine, the drug, and her narrow escape from his fanged pets within his maze of horrors had all contributed to her physical distress.
She heard him enter her chamber but did not lift her head from the pillow to acknowledge him. He exited without a word.
She dully noticed he left her door open, no doubt assured of her change of heart after witnessing the frightful secrets of his dungeon. He was only half correct. She would never again attempt to flee through any dark corridors to find safety. But there had to be another way to escape this hellish prison. She would not live out the rest of her days with that madman!
The shock began to fade, a spark of her old spirit returning. How dare he do this to her - how dare he! She would find a way to escape him …
...even if she had to kill him.
The sudden thought made her heart pound with nervous shock. She had killed once, by accident, to safeguard her virtue. Could she actually kill a man in cold blood, even to regain her freedom?
She lay on her side and watched the torch flicker against the corridor wall, the shadows dancing madly as she considered such a desperate solution. After some time a shape obstructed her line of vision as her abductor returned, a chalice in his hand. He moved to the edge of the bed and looked down at her though she did not look at him. He did not lay a hand on her, but she felt his presence through every fiber as if he had.
"Drink this." He held the golden cup toward her.
"You cannot be serious." A returning flicker of resentment caused her to push herself up with one hand and glare at him. "You really don't suppose that I would drink anything you have to give me?" She almost laughed.
"Unless you plan to wither of thirst during your time here then you have no choice."
"And how do I know you haven't drugged it!"
"For what reason would I do so now that I have you in my home?"
"To keep me insensible? To have your way with me?"
He lifted his brow, she could tell by the manner in which his mask moved. His golden eyes regarded her with disdain.
"I told you I have no interest in you other than having you perform the lead in my opera."
This time she did laugh in scorn. "Why should I believe you?"
"Believe what you will, but you are not the type of woman with whom I would wish to consort."
She glared at him. "No, I would never wander the halls late at night, crying out for you like some wanton cat in heat!"
His eyes narrowed to golden slits. "Drink the damned tonic before I pour it down your throat!"
"NO!"
He stepped forward in threat. Startled, she drew back and brought the pillow up against her chest, crossing her arms over it.
His nostrils flared as she warily eyed him. In an instant, he seemed to calm and think better of what he first planned.
"You fear it is drugged? Perhaps this will convince you." He took a swallow from the chalice. "As you see, it is untainted. Free from all but the mint which will help settle your stomach."
She lifted her chin peevishly. "I told you, I want nothing from you."
He slammed the chalice down on the table. "Then suffer in your infantile foolishness if that is your choice!" he sneered, "I wash my hands of trying to help a young chit with not even half the sense of a silly child."
He swept to the entrance, his long strides eating up the distance.
"Help me?" she cried after him in disbelief. "If you truly wish to help me you'll let me go!"
He exited her chamber, slamming the door behind him. She heard the bar ram home.
"Damn you," she seethed, then louder so he would be sure to hear - "Damn you!"
Picking up the chalice Christine threw it with all her might. It hit the door, the contents splashing stones and wood, the golden chalice hitting the ground with a strident ring.
Any morsel of satisfaction to dispense with his feeble offering of comfort was lost as the weight of her plight weighed heavy on her soul, and she collapsed back to the bed.
Christine stared a long time at the canopy, her altercation with the Phantom giving her an idea. The next morning she would waste no time with putting her plan in motion.
xXx
She woke to see breakfast in its silver covered dome had been brought to her. Ignoring it, she tended to her needs in the bath chamber.
Her clothing felt sticky against her skin but with nothing to change into she did her best to clean up. First, however, she thirstily drank water directly from the new pitcher on the table that he had put back to its original position, assuming he would not lace her wash water with any drug. She then poured half into a basin and sponged her face and what skin was exposed at her neck and above her bosom, gingerly tending to her arms, both the new bruises he'd put there and the fading ones from almost two weeks before.
With a frown, Christine glanced up at the gap in the wall, deciding further discoveries would have to wait. She had no strength to put the table back where she had placed it.
Her hair was a straggled mess; she needed no mirror to tell her that. She was almost grateful to see a silver handled hairbrush in the inclusion of items he'd thought her worthy of having. She brushed her hair with relentless strokes until it lay in a shawl of ripples almost reaching to her waist. As the day progressed, the ripples would invariably spring into an untidy abundance of coils, not that she cared what she looked like; but wearing her hair down helped to warm her. She wished for her cloak to completely cover herself. She had left it in her dormitory and wondered if in her absence one of the other workers had taken it. It had been of simple, sturdy weave - certainly not as fine as what she had worn during her stay at The Grange - but it had kept her warm.
With a sigh, she returned to the bed, sat down and lifted the dome. Broiled kidneys along with a poached egg on toast tantalized her senses. She grimaced at the sight of the food. In direct opposition, her stomach betrayed her with a demanding growl. It would have to be a morning meal similar to those she had enjoyed in England.
Determined to follow through with her plan, she grabbed the fork, wryly noticing he'd given her no knife. The fork would have to be enough. With no corset to hide the utensil, she looked for a place of concealment, at last deciding to stow it beneath the edge of the mattress.
Should his words prove a lie - a likelihood that wouldn't surprise her - at least she would have a weapon to prevent him from doing something even more despicable than drugging and abducting and terrorizing her. After Henri's treachery she trusted no man living, save for Raoul. He had never caused her pain, and she wished she could have found it in her heart to love him as he wanted; it certainly would have prevented all this! She would be home in England, not France, and perhaps enjoying the morning sunrise in the breakfast room - not shivering in a dark, dank cave. With a sigh, she replaced the dome over the food, turned her back to it, and lay down on her side, pulling the coverlet high to her neck.
The prolonged creak of the door brought her out of a light slumber. Slowly she draped her arm over the edge of the mattress, her fingers feeling for the fork. Finding it, she turned her head to look.
The sight of the girl standing there with another covered dish made her sit up in surprise. She blinked at her. "Hello."
The girl inclined her head in greeting and swiftly moved to the table. She set the dish down and took up the other then moved back toward the door.
"Wait!" Christine cried, stunned that she would leave so quickly.
The girl turned, curiosity etched on a face lightly freckled.
A multitude of questions raced through Christine's mind but she could not seem to select one. Now that the girl stood closer and in better lighting, she noticed she was older than Christine first guessed, no more than a few years her junior, fourteen perhaps, sixteen at the oldest. She had a pretty face, the plump, sweet face of a child but bore the full curves of a woman, as well endowed as Christine. Her hair was a waterfall of dark auburn ringlets, pulled back with a ribbon, and hanging to her waist. Her dress was of good quality material, better than what Christine would have expected, appearing new and embroidered at the bodice and sleeves.
Certainly she couldn't be the Phantom's daughter, as she originally supposed, though she could well believe with his lurid reputation that he had bastard children all over Paris. But she assumed he was in his twenties and too young to have fathered this girl.
"You're the one I spoke to yesterday?" Christine asked. "With the boy, by the lake?"
"Oui. Jacques is my brother," she said in heavily accented English. For the first time Christine realized that the Phantom's accent was much less pronounced, unlike the girl's, who was clearly a native of France. But he did say he was from Persia.
Christine bit her lip. "Does the Phantom keep you here as prisoners? Are you his slaves?"
There was little use to continue the pretense that she herself was not a prisoner, since this girl had unbarred her door to bring her a second meal.
The girl's eyes widened. She backed up a step in uncertainty.
"No, it's alright. Please don't be afraid." Christine moved closer, to the edge of the bed, worried she had frightened her by stating the truth and certain the girl was too anxious to admit it. "You don't have to tell me. I understand. Only, please, help me find a way out of these caves and I'll make certain that you and your brother leave this place too. I swear it. I'll take you back with me, to the world above - as God and his angels are my witness, I will -" though she wondered if a holy deity and his servants could hear her vow this far beneath the earth in the devil's cold playground…
The girl shook her head slowly from side to side, fear now distorting her face, her body trembling so hard the lid of the dish rattled against the platter. She swung around and ran from the room, leaving the door wide.
Christine gaped. What did that beast do to her?
In dismay to lose a possible ally, Christine hurried to the entryway.
"Please don't go - I want to help you if you'll let me! Please - we can help one another!"
The girl never broke her frenzied pace down the corridor. Christine recalled that she, too, had run down many lit passageways without mishap. The lighted corridors must contain no traps ...
But surely one of them in this vast, infinite cave would provide a way to the world of sun and air and reason above. Determined to succeed in her second escape attempt, she hurried in the opposite direction and toward another torch-lit corridor she had never before entered.
xXx
A/N: Don't worry, everything you guys are confused about will be addressed soon... patience, my phriends. ;-) Keep the comments coming! Am loving them and to see where you are with this...