Chapter Nine
Carlotta took mysteriously ill on
the next opening night and the managers couldn't possibly cancel! Therefore, for this opening night of
Faust, Christine would play Marguerite and Jenny would play Siebel,
Marguerite's adolescent admirer. Her
heart was all aflutter as she pulled on her costume (tights! her grandmother
was surely turning over in her grave!) and applied her wig and makeup. Tonight she was determined not to dwell on
her love life (or lack thereof), she had to concentrate on music.
Up in Box Five, Erik watched the
performance as well, barely noticing Jenny's anxiety or her success. All of his attention was focused on
Christine as she danced and sang her heart out beautifully. She was such a gorgeous creature, slim and
dainty... almost like a tiny nightingale that demanded both love and
protection. Yet, this woman was
perfectly human, as he'd learned earlier that evening on the roof.
"Oh, Raoul... I don't know
what to do!" Christine's voice, high and frightened, rang out across the
roof to Erik's ears.
"Whatever is the matter? We'll be married in a few months no matter
what my brother says. You needn't worry
about him." the boy tried to console her.
"Raoul, it's not Philippe I'm
talking about..." she whispered, almost as though she were aware of Erik's
presence nearby. "It's him... my
teacher."
"Your teacher?" Raoul
repeated, stiffening slightly.
"What of him?"
Erik crept closer to the couple,
some morbid curiosity wondering what Christine thought of him when he wasn't
around. With the agility of a night
predator, he climbed to the top of The Apollo's Lyre, the great statue that
dominated the roof of the Opera. From
that vantage point, he was able to look down on the two lovers without their
knowledge.
"I don't know where to begin...
he's so difficult to describe."
Christine faltered, perhaps a sixth sense alerting her to the extra pair
of eyes watching her. However, she
chose to ignore that instinct and continued.
"You've heard of the Phantom of the Opera, have you not?"
"Of course, Meg talks about him
enough." Raoul nodded.
"This is more than one of Meg's
silly horror stories, my love." she sighed.
My love... oh, how those words cut him to the
quick! For her to be calling that
fledgling colt of a boy "love" was utter mockery to his love for
her! That exquisite woman deserved a
god for a husband, the best humankind had to offer. The best certainly was not himself... but it was not that young
vicomte either!
"He... the Phantom... he is my
teacher." Christine whispered.
"He has been teaching me from behind my mirror. It was he who engineered my triumph in Faust that night, both through his
tutelage and through his influence over the management. It was he who took me down to his house only
last night to pledge his great love for me."
Erik sensed rather than saw Raoul's
entire form freeze with the shock at that revelation. To Erik's surprise, he did not accuse the poor girl of
fraternizing with the enemy, or of infidelity, or of any of the other
insinuations that he might have expected.
The youth merely held Christine closer, as if she'd been through hell
and back.
"You wish to leave me,
Christine?" he asked in little more than a whisper.
"No!" Christine exclaimed
quickly, dashing any futile hopes that Erik may have harbored. "I love you, Raoul... surely you know
that."
"I do, sweet. But I couldn't help but wonder." he
nodded, obviously relieved that she was still his and Erik felt the sudden
impulse jump down and toss the boy off of the roof. However, he stayed where he was, quietly keeping his temper
reined in.
"But he claims to love me, he
wants me to marry him... I dare not think of what he might do to you if I
refuse him. He's so lonely and I feel
terrible for not loving him the way he wants... but he's so... so..." she
broke off, apparently overcome with fear for a second.
"Christine, what is it? You can tell me. He can't get you here, not while I'm around. I'll protect you." Raoul calmed her.
"No... no one can protect me
from Erik."
So... he thought, his eyes narrowing with anger. I'm something that you need protection
from?! Good God, I told you I'd never
harm you! Involuntarily, a strangled
growl escaped his lips and the two sweethearts started, looking about nervously. Some self-hatred in Erik's soul prompted him
to whisper in Christine's ear, using his ventriloquist's skills to keep Raoul
from hearing.
"Christine...
Christine..." he hissed with practiced ghastliness.
"What was that?" she
glanced over her shoulder in terror.
"I didn't hear anything."
Raoul's brow furrowed.
"Oh, Raoul, what am I going to
do? I can't say no to Erik, he'll kill
you, I'm sure of it! But I won't say
yes either! What can I do?" she
clung to him, desperately seeking an answer.
"I'll tell you what you're
going to do, my dear. You are coming
with me right now. We'll get into my
carriage and ride until we can go no further; to England, Italy, Sweden, wherever
you want. Even America, if it means
getting you away from this madman! Run
away with me, Christine, and I swear I will do all in my power to keep this
monster's hands off of you." Raoul plotted quickly, already pulling
Christine from the roof.
"Raoul, wait!" she
exclaimed pulling away from him for the first time ever. "I can't just leave without any word to
him. I promised him that I'd give him
my answer tonight, after the opera."
"A promise made to a creature
like him need not be honored, Christine.
You only made it because you were frightened for your life, I'm
sure." Raoul pleaded.
"Please, let me take you far away from this place."
Away? Now she
was running from him as though he were the devil himself? Erik gritted his teeth against the
pain. No, his precious Christine
wouldn't be so cruel as to do that to him.
Would she? Please, dear God, no…
"I refuse to just abandon him,
Raoul. Try to understand; he hasn't
done anything to harm me. And although
he's accused of doing some vicious crimes… he's really a very gentle soul. He loves me, Raoul… just as you love me. And after all that he's done for me, I at
least owe him the respect of singing tonight… only for him… as he wanted. After the opera, we'll leave as quickly as
possible to get out of Paris. But I
must at least say goodbye to him… he deserves that much from me."
Christine acceded. "I love you,
Raoul… more than anything." She smiled gently, apparently relieved at her
final decision. With purpose, she
leaned forward, her lips meeting Raoul's in a sweet, passionate kiss.
Darkness swirled dangerously in Erik's
head as he clung to the Apollo's Lyre for support. An anger unlike any he'd ever experienced before welled up inside
of his soul, growing in his brain like a deadly cancer. Damn her… damn both of them to hell! If the little chit thought she was just
going to walk, no run
out of his life without so much as a note or a word, she was more naïve than
he'd ever imagined.
Fury blocked all coherent
thought. It was a lucky thing that the
young couple quickly departed the chilly roof, else the Phantom of the Opera
might've finished them both off with two flicks of his wrist. Caring not about the danger of being so
high, Erik leapt from the very top of the statue and landed squarely where
Christine and Raoul had once stood, almost like a cat landing on all fours. A plot was forming in his head just as
quickly as the escape plan had in the vicomte's, however, Erik's had a much nastier goal to
consider.
This night would not end without the death of either
the Opera Ghost or the Vicomte de Changy… and Erik knew where his bet lay.
****
The first four acts of Faust went
absolutely splendidly. The entire
company sang beautifully, the audience was responsive, and Jenny felt as though
she were finally living a life-long dream, her beloved parents and grandparents
were smiling on her, she knew. For a
brief while, she managed to forget about her tragic feelings for her darling,
lonely Erik and her vow to help him find his love. Finally, at the end of the final act, Christine's biggest triumph
began; when Marguerite's soul is carried to Heaven, despite her crimes. She sang the invocations to God, tears
streaming down her face as Erik's long hours of tutoring paid off in full. As the entire audience burst into thunderous
applause, Jenny ran out next to Christine, taking her hand for the company
bows.
Without warning, the auditorium was
plunged into complete darkness, and the sound of breaking glass and screeching
metal filled the air that had once carried notes of music. A deafening crash swiftly followed and Jenny
heard people in the audience screaming in complete terror. Panic ensued and with a cry, Jenny felt
Christine's hand wrenched from her nerveless grip. Jenny was flung to the floor in the pandemonium by whoever had
grabbed Christine and she was repeatedly knocked down by the dozens of actors
and stagehands who were just as distressed as the audience. Then, as suddenly as they had been
extinguished, the lights were resurrected.
Jenny stared at the horror in the orchestra
seats. The grand chandelier, one of
Garnier's
favorite
pieces in the entire Opera, had fallen onto the audience. People swarmed all around it like ants
around a piece of rotten fruit. Under
the twisted fixture, lay several dead and more wounded, crushed by the weight
of the two-ton chandelier. Cast members
screamed as well, a few of the dancers and chorus members fainting at the
gruesome sight. Pierre, the baritone
who played Mephistopheles, hauled Jenny to her feet, apologizing for knocking
her down and trying to shield her eyes from the terrible scene.
This was no accident, Jenny quickly realized, after taking a good look at
the chandelier's
supports. They hadn't given under natural fraying or
wear-and-tear. They had been
deliberately cut! There was sabotage
here! What kind of a person did this to
innocent people? And for what possible
reason!
"Christine? Where's Christine?" she suddenly
recalled her friend's panicked exit, a sick feeling forming in the pit of her
stomach.
"The Phantom!" Meg
shrieked. "The Phantom took her! I
saw him run off with her in the halls!"
Without a word, or even a thought that could be called
coherent, Jenny dashed to her dressing room, pausing only to pull on a skirt
over her peasant costume and to toss her itchy wig onto the dresser. Lighting a lantern, she activated the
mechanism in the mirror that granted her access to Erik's tunnels. He had divulged her with most, if not all,
of the secrets to his traps; if she needed him for any reason, he wanted her to
be able to get to him safely.
What on earth was he thinking? Jenny kept trying to convince herself that
she was worrying over nothing as she plodded through the darkness, avoiding
Erik's traps with expertise. All the
while, that nauseous feeling grew steadily worse the further down she went. By
the time she reached the banks of Erik's lake, she was barely surprised to hear
the high-pitched sobs that could only be Christine pleading for mercy. With the skill of an experienced climber,
Jenny crawled along the five-inch ledge that bordered the dark waters,
eventually winding up on the other side.
Without a sound, she entered Erik's drawing room and was struck
speechless by what she saw. Raoul was
strung up like a common criminal, a noose tight around his neck, though not yet
tight enough to choke him. Erik stood
over a kneeling, supplicating Christine, his eyes ablaze with anger. Christine was crying hysterically, pleading
with Erik to release her fiancé.
"Stop everything!" Jenny
yelled, sprinting between Erik and Raoul, not caring that she was a runner of
very little grace. "What the hell
is going on here?!"
"I've decided that I'm going to
win this little game that Christine has determined we should play!" Erik said harshly, his rage distorting his
voice into ugly tones.
"What are you talking
about?" Jenny was quick to recognize that rage had reduced Erik to a
desperate man who would probably kill her without a second thought. His pale eyes sparked and glinted angrily in
the candlelight and his hands trembled visibly with barely controlled
fury. This was not the same man she'd
fallen in love with.
"It's so simple. Christine will choose between that wretched
boy and me, once and for all, for better or for worse." he drawled as
though she were stupid.
"Sounds good."
"If she chooses me, Raoul goes
free... if she chooses Raoul, it's curtains for the little Vicomte."
"Then again..." Jenny
grimaced. Slowly, careful not to arouse
Erik's suspicion, Jenny approached Christine.
"Jenny, you have to help
us!" Christine sobbed from her kneeling position, clutching at Jenny's
skirt. "Erik won't listen to me...
he's gone mad!"
"Shhh... just calm down. You can't make good decisions when you're
this supset. You just relax... I'll
handle Erik." Jenny patted her friend's shoulder
and prepared to approach the vicious lion, feeling rather like a mouse in
wolf's clothing.
She came at him directly, with no
apparent concern for her own safety and grabbed him by the lapels, hauling him
down to her eye level, almost a foot below his natural one. "Just what in the hell do you think
you're doing, Erik?!" she demanded.
"If I can't have her, then no
one will." he growled violently, shoving her aside like a child's
rag-doll.
She hit the floor painfully, her hip
jarring at the impact. She was back in
his face almost immediately, despite the pain, pushing him away from
Christine. "Will you listen to
yourself! Will you look at what you've
done! There are half a dozen innocent
people dead now, because of that chandelier trick! Who knows how many more are wounded! All this so that you could ruin Christine's life, and yours as
well?! Do you really want her to lie
to you? For God's sake, man, you are
better than this! Stop it!" she
yelled, matching him temper for temper.
"I can't..." he whispered,
the anger in his eyes suddenly replaced by years of sadness. "I can't bear to lose her."
"Erik... believe me, I know how
much it hurts. But if you force her to
stay with you, you'll still lose her... to hatred." Jenny pleaded. "You can't love a jailer. Please, Erik... release the Vicomte and let
her choose without fear."
He looked at her with frightfully
blank eyes and Jenny wondered briefly if he had indeed gone insane. However, he nodded in response finally,
heading towards the pipe organ with stiff, painful steps. Silently, he took a candle and burnt through
the rope that restrained the Vicomte.
Without bothering to check on his would-be victim, he went and sat on
his throne, his posture weary and aged.
The young Vicomte took a few deep breaths, then managed to stand, his
neck red and raw from the rope.
Confused and uncertain, he merely stood as is, in exactly the same way that Christine sat on
the couch in stunned stillness.
"Choose, Christine... Raoul or
me... no tricks, no consequences... no fear." Erik sighed, his voice
cracking on the last word, as he looked towards Jenny.
Christine also looked to Jenny for
guidance, seeking assurance that all was well.
At Jenny's shake of her head, signifying that she would not choose for
her friend, Christine looked repeatedly between the two men, her eyes betraying
the inner conflict. Hesitantly, she
drew closer to Erik, one hand slowly coming to rest on a broad shoulder.
"Forgive me, Erik." she
whispered, her eyes filling with tears.
"There's nothing to forgive...
I can't make you love me... and I'm sorry that I tried to make it
otherwise." Erik replied, his voice thick and his own blue eyes bright
with unshed tears.
Tears coursing down her cheeks,
Christine leaned down and let Erik hold her tight against his chest, savoring a
warmth and comfort that Jenny had to turn away from in pain. "Good-bye, my angel of music." she
breathed, giving him a light kiss on his unmasked cheek.
Erik stiffened abruptly, as
Christine's flesh touched his, his desire all but overtaking him. Years of restraint had taught him to control
such dangerous instincts, but nonetheless he wrapped his arms about Christine's
waist and held her close, his body shaking with the weight of his grief.
"Christine… I love you…"
he whispered, so that only she could hear.
"I've always loved you from the first moment I saw you."
"Erik…" she breathed,
burying her head against his shoulder in guilt. He silenced her with a hush, simply content to hold her for a
brief time, his mind a tangle of conflicting emotions and thoughts. Only one rational thought tore through
Erik's muddled mind, the danger that they all faced.
"The mob will be here soon, you
must leave or they'll kill you, too." Erik ordered, reluctantly pushing
Christine away. "There is a boat
moored down on the lake, take it and go down the second archway on the
left. It will lead you to the Rue
Scribe... from there you should know your way.
Go... quickly!"
"Thank you, Erik... I'll never
forget you." Christine called as
Raoul hurried her off into the darkness.
"Farewell, my
nightingale." Erik whispered, his spirit broken, his heart dead from the
long years of pain.
Jenny rose from her seat on the
couch, trying her best not to cry. She
knew the pain he was going through so well... oh, so well. Her own heart ached for him, wishing that
there were some way she could comfort him.
Suddenly, crashes overhead startled her, voices yelling curses and cries
for the murder of the Opera Ghost. The
mob! They were coming to kill Erik for
his crimes, real and conceived!
Over my dead body!
"Erik... come on... we have to
leave before they get down here!" she pulled at his sleeve, completely
unprepared for his savage reaction.
He threw her to the ground and
straddled her, his unsatisfied lust evident, his hands at her throat. Jenny was no bit of fluff, but caught
off-guard, she was no match for Erik's superior strength; he was heavier,
fueled by rage, and could easily rape and kill her.
"I am through with you, you
meddling witch! Thanks to your 'noble'
interference, I'll never see Christine again!" he spat at her, tightening
his hold on her windpipe and pressing his swollen sex into her stomach.
"Erik... stop... can't
breathe..." Jenny gasped, blackness starting to close in.
With a cold glare, Erik released
her, standing over her like an outraged god of mythology, his eyes glowing with
fury. "Go away..." he growled.
"The mob will be here soon... they'll make short work of me."
"Not unless you come with
me." Jenny rose to a kneeling position once the descending darkness had
gone for the most part, her hand instinctively clutching at her throat and her
back aching from being crushed into the stone floor by Erik's weight.
"Christ, woman! I am offering you your freedom!" he
yelled.
"I am not going to let them
kill you!" Jenny fired back angrily, mutinously crossing her arms in front
of her, her eyes flashing green fire.
"I want to die!!!"
he roared, his voice breaking with the anguish.
"No..." Jenny whimpered,
an errant tear sliding down her cheek.
"Don't say that! Don't
ever say that!"
Desperation spurring her on, she
managed to grab his arm and drag him several feet forward. "We have to hide! They can't find us! We have to leave!"
"Let go of me, you little
whore!" Erik struggled, keeping her from hauling him any further with his
greater strength.
"We have to leave!" she
repeated, tears streaming down her face in earnest.
Erik saw red and reacted
instinctively to her lack of response to his verbal anger, drawing his dagger with
deadly impulse. With a growl of rage,
he stabbed at her point-blank, the knife cutting through cloth and into
flesh. Jenny screamed with the pain and
fell backwards onto the carpeted floor, clutching at her left arm, where blood
was staining her ivory blouse crimson.
"Leave me..." Erik
repeated heavily.
Dimly, through the pain, Jenny
stared up at him from the floor. Pain,
desperation, and the looming threat of continued loneliness possessed her. She hurled herself at him, pounding at his
chest and shrieking like a maniac. "You bloody bastard! You could've killed me! After all we've shared, you treat me like
some piece of garbage you can just toss away?! Think again!!!" she screeched, forcing him through
the doorway of the torture chamber.
Before he could say a word or fight back in any way, she slammed the
door shut and locked it.
She leaned against the door panting,
relieved that her temper had finally succeeded in getting Erik to a safe place
to hide, if ironically so. The mob
would be knocking down the doors at any minute, she had to come up with an
excuse for being down here and for Erik's whereabouts. Thinking quickly, she snatched up the bloody
knife from where Erik had dropped it and seized upon one of his spare masks
from his bedroom. Grimacing with pain,
she rubbed the mask against her wound, staining the white leather with dark,
red blood. For an added touch to her
fabrication of events, she dipped her arm in a small pool of the lake, clouding
the clear water with red and effectively washing it at the same time.
Oh... she didn't feel too
good. Her vision was funny, dotted with
little swirling stars of light. Twinkle...
twinkle... little star... she mused dizzily, remembering the nursery rhyme
her mother had sung to her as a small child.
Up above the world so high... like a diamond in the sky... She felt hot, cold, and dizzy all at the
same time. Her confused brain refused
to stay focused on the here and now, but drifted through a billion different
memories all at once, combining then so that they made no sense at all. Blood loss, she thought in a brief
period of clarity, it's from the blood loss. Her mundane strength rapidly waning, she slowly sank to the cool
floor, willing the dizziness to pass.
But it increased in waves and blackness cloaked her brain, bringing with
it blessed relief from the pain in her skewered arm and heart.
For now, there was nothing she
needed to worry about.