Chapter Sixteen
Jenny looked up at the majestic
building that she knew well from books and brochures about France; the building
that was the testimony to the pious, medieval days of Europe... Notre
Dame de Paris. The grand cathedral was not much
smaller than the Opera and Jenny was consumed by the same sense of
insignificance as she had been when first entering the Opera. Lord, how long ago had that been? Four months, maybe five? It seemed lifetimes ago.
"What are we doing here?" she asked as Erik quietly ushered her inside the deserted cathedral. The priests and nuns had retired hours ago and the vaulted ceiling magnified the volume of her voice unnaturally in the eerie stillness.
Erik lit a candle before answering,
its waxed tip glowing with the brilliant flame. "It seems to me that a church would be an ideal place for a
full... confession."
"I don't understand."
Erik sighed, this was going to be
one of the most difficult things he'd ever done; listing all of the reasons why
she should not care a whit for a creature like himself. But he had to do it; it was only fair for
her to know exactly what sort of man she would commit herself to, before she
decided.
"I think it's time you knew
about me... my past... the many things I've done." he whispered, as though
afraid to break the silence of the church.
"Erik, you don't have to-"
she began.
He cut her off with a whispered
hush. "I do, mon ange. It's only right... for once in my life, I
want to do what's right."
The light of the single candle
shined in her eyes as she looked at him with all of the innocence and
understanding of a young, but inordinately wise child. And so she is, he mused in
thought. A child who loves me
despite myself.
He led her to a pew in the front of
the church, slightly uncomfortable in the presence of the monstrous crucifix
above the embellished altar. The last
time he'd been in a church had been ... as a small child, when he'd escaped
from the confines of his prison-like room and stolen away to the small church
in his village. But, he'd been more
interested in the architecture than in praying... for some reason, he now felt
inexplicably guilty about it.
"Erik?" Jenny's whisper
brought him back to the present time and place. He sat next to her, turning on the seat to grasp one of her hands
gently, using one of his long fingers to trace the back.
"I'm not an everyday man,
Jennifer... you know that." he breathed shakily, uncertain where to begin.
"Of course you're not... that's
what draws me to you."
"No... I don't mean that... I
mean..." he paused for courage.
"I mean that I have far more than my share of ungodly acts weighing
heavily on my accursed soul."
Thus he began his story, sparing no
details. His birth and what he
remembered of his childhood underneath the iron hand of his mother, who never
touched her son unless it was to hit him.
His life after he'd run away from that house of tears, when he'd become
a freak in a traveling gypsy carnival, stunning audiences with the splendor of
his voice and the horror of his face; how he'd stolen and sometimes killed at
night to survive. His sojourn in Rome
amongst architects and stone-masons, learning everything he could about
building. His dark existence in the
court of the Persian shah, a magician, advisor, and hired assassin for both the
shah and the queen. Finally, his
journey to Paris and the construction of the Opera... then how he came to see
and become obsessed with Christine Daae.
Jenny nodded and offered no comment
to interrupt Erik's tragic tale of murder, betrayal, kidnappings, rapes,
unspeakable crimes committed by both him and others. He was responsible for the deaths of what seemed like hundreds of
men, both criminals and innocents. He
had poisoned and out-right attacked people for the shah and sultana, always had
to strike out at others before they had
a chance to strike at him. But through
all this bloodshed, he'd never harmed a woman or child, never taken advantage
of anyone less powerful than himself.
Outside of Persia, he never killed except in self-defense; and even in
that treacherous court, he'd killed only because it was either obey the shah or
be executed.
"So... my soul, which you claim
is so beautiful, is even uglier than the face that I hide in from human
eyes." he finished, his voice weary and sad.
"Erik..." Jenny sighed,
leaning against his strong chest, as much for his comfort as for her own. "You misjudge yourself... you've done
nothing that anyone else wouldn't have done in your place. I can forgive you for all that you've done,
because I love you. Nothing can change
that, because it's not blind devotion, which can fade as quickly as it
appears... it's love... the love of a girl who is every bit as lonely and as
proud as you are."
Erik closed his eyes against tears,
touched by both Jennifer's words and her body.
Perhaps, redemption was not as impossible as he thought... surely if a
pure, young woman like Jenny could see past his crimes and love him despite
them, so could he.
"Mon ange..." he
whispered past the lump in his throat.
"You are my hope, Jennifer, my very salvation."
"And you're mine." she
answered in voice so soft, he thought he'd imagined it.
"Your salvation?" he
repeated. "What sins could you
have committed, love?"
She laughed gently. "You don't want to know. I'm a piece of work, I am."
"I think I can guess." he
breathed huskily, his gaze arrested by the low neckline of her blouse; the thin
silk of the garment clung to her figure, accenting the deep curves of her
lovely, rounded breasts. He felt the
familiar constriction of his own clothing, particularly his trousers, and
pulled Jenny closer to him, breathing in the heady scent of her perfume. Whatever that scent was, it now had a knack
for driving him insane with desire.
"You're guilty of being
mind-numbingly romantic... of having a passionate nature carefully concealed
from most others." he whispered, skimming tender kisses along the side of
her throat.
"Yes... " she said,
gasping as his kisses grew more insistent against her tingling skin. "You have no idea how... how... uh...
suggestive... my dreams can become."
"I think I just might."
Erik laughed gently, pulling away, lest he lose control and take her on the
stones of the cathedral floor! "If
they're anything like mine."
"Oh, really?" she replied,
sorry that he'd stopped his physical assault , but relieved that she could now
think clearly. "So, what do you
dream about?"
"Not in the church!" he
assumed the expression one might expect from a matronly aunt. "Behave yourself!"
"You!" she slapped at his
arm in mock-frustration. "You're
the one who can't keep his hands to himself, Mr. High Almighty!"
"Guilty as charged." he
smiled. "What is my sentence, Your
Honor?"
Jenny grinned impishly and thought
very quickly. "I sentence you to
one full night in Jennifer Marie Black's bed, doing whatever happens to catch
your fancy."
Erik groaned. "Torture, indeed! I do protest in the name of common
decency!"
"Save it, Phantom!" Jenny
ordered majestically. "Just serve
your sentence with no whining."
"Yes, mademoiselle."
he smiled, his voice low and hoarse, sending shivers of delight up Jenny's
spine.
He stood and offered Jenny his hand,
which was gloved in the familiar black leather. It was relatively warm inside the church; and Jenny took the
opportunity to pull both of Erik's gloves off.
He didn't resist, but gave her a quizzical look as she stuffed the thin
gloves into her pocket and rested her hand in his.
"You don't need them." she
offered simply.
"Force of habit." he
nodded. "I've been told that my
hands 'feel of death' and do my best to hide it."
"I don't think that your hands
'feel of death'... in fact I think they're simply beautiful." she said
absently, stroking the tender skin of his palm with the tips of her fingers.
"My hands...? Beautiful?" he echoed faintly. "These hands that have killed?"
"These hands that have also
made the most extraordinary music in the world... these hands which have also
healed and comforted." Jenny whispered, kissing his palm.
Erik's eyes glinted in the darkness,
their strange, pale color reflecting the subdued light of the distant candles
like a cat's. Without a word, he lifted
her up on her tip-toes and covered her mouth with his. It was the only reply he could think of that
even came close to asserting his emotions; a brutal kiss filled with both
desire and gratitude.
"Mon ange..." he
moaned against her lips, struggling to contain the tears that threatened to
spill down his cheeks. No, he
ordered himself, no more tears... this is a time for loving not crying.
"Come... " he said softly,
letting his now-naked hand encircle hers.
Strange, that small contact was just as comforting as her embraces and
kisses; the simple human gesture of holding hands without a barrier of cloth.
"Now where are we going?"
she asked, gripping his hand tightly as he led her out of the church and back
onto the dark streets.
"Someplace special." he
said cryptically, leading the way to the banks of the River Seine. It was some time before he stopped and the
sight that met her eyes immediately enchanted Jenny.
A small cove, the result of a
carved-out section of the river, hidden from view by the hanging vines and
leafy branches of several large weeping willow trees. Sleeping grass peeked up
from under the snow, declaring the youth of winter. Up in the sky, thousands of stars twinkled down on them and the
full moon was high, smiling in the sight of fresh, new love in the face of the
natural death of winter. An owl called quietly, it's soft voice echoing
slightly in the night air. All was
still and quiet, almost like the inside of the cathedral, reverent. It was
nature's beauty at its finest and Jenny was enthralled by the romance and
timelessness of the setting.
"Oh, Erik... " she
whispered as though afraid to interrupt the beauty with a human voice.
"It's gorgeous! How did you ever
find this place?"
"I seem to have a talent for
finding exceptional hiding places." Erik replied softly. "Although I do admit that this one is
more of a refuge than a hiding place. I
found it many years ago, before the Opera was even built. I was wandering about Paris not really
paying attention to my footing when I slipped on the wet grass and slid down
the embankment. When I finally stopped
sliding, I was in here."
"And you've kept this place a
secret ever since?" Jenny asked.
He nodded. "Yes... this cove has been my second sanctuary since I came
to Paris, a bit of natural beauty in this mad, bustling city. See this?" he indicated a large rose
bush that climbed up the trunk of one of the willows, it's leaves still
miraculously green thanks to the great tree's protection. "I planted this the first year that I
came here... it's about twenty years old now, twenty-one next August."
"Next August?" Jenny
repeated. "This August, I'll
be twenty-one."
"Indeed?" Erik turned to
look at her with amazed eyes, then laughed gently. "It's fate, I tell you."
"Must be." she smiled in
agreement. "But why have you
brought me here?"
"I wanted to show you natural
beauty." he replied softly, the light breeze causing his cloak to billow
around the two of them. "You claim
that you are ugly and over-weight according to society, yes?"
Jenny nodded, not sure that she
wanted to know where this conversation was going.
"Well," Erik
continued. "There is a significant
difference between society's beauty and nature's. Take the cathedral, for instance... it's a beautiful building, no
one would dare argue that fact. But
it's also man-made, built to the specifications of a human architect. This cove was not created with mankind in
mind, but it's nature's idea of beauty... much like yourself."
"Erik, I-" she began to
protest.
"Hush." he silenced her,
resting two fingers over her lips.
"The cathedral may be an awe-inspiring structure, but it can be
easily destroyed because so many people know of it, it can be sullied by
whatever takes place within its walls.
Hundreds of years ago, people were tortured in that very church, accused
of witchcraft and blasphemy... it has an ugly history. This cove has no deep, dark secrets, it's
pure... beautiful inside and out. Like
you."
"Like me?" she repeated,
like a small child desperately trying to grasp the concept of speech.
"Yes, you are beautiful inside
and out as well." Erik breathed, understanding her instinctive need for
reassurance. "You are not ugly or
fat... and even if you were, your spirit and soul would more than make up for
it. You are a lovely, kind, and
gentle-hearted woman with enough courage to encounter a man such as me and to
love him in spite of his faults. You
are a miracle, Jennifer, one of God's own angels sent to earth. I love you... and hope that you still love
me even though you know what I've done."
She was completely still in his arms
and Erik knew a moment of intense fear; perhaps he'd been wrong to tell her his
thoughts so candidly. Perhaps she was
frightened of him now that she knew his past.
His doubts were immediately erased
as she threw herself against him, kissing him with all of her strength. Praise God, she still loved him! He wasn't alone anymore! As long as Jenny lived, he'd never be alone
again!
It was what she'd always dreamed
of... just one man who truly loved her and wanted her! If this was a dream, she'd hoped she'd never
wake up. No, this was far too real to
be a dream. Her heart sang with happiness,
as she rested her head over Erik's heart, safe and secure in his embrace.
Everything beyond the natural
confines of the cove vanished in their minds... there was no haunted Opera
House, there were no frustrated managers at their wits' end, there was no
Christine or Raoul... there was only Erik and Jennifer.