Page 37 of Angel's Mask

“You! Persian!” Erik heard Mercier cry. “You’re not supposed to be here! We’re calling the police!”

Shaya didn’t bother to protest, at least not that Erik heard. His attention was on Gabriel anyway. If he was going to solve everyone’s problems, (most of which he had caused) he would need a word with the chorus master.

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Christine shiveredas she entered their practice room. Just as the slate clouds had overtaken the bright morning sun, fear and confusion had blotted out each bit of joy she’d awoken with. All day the stories and rumors had swirled around her, and each time she remembered her wanton display for her teacher, her shame grew. What if he didn’t even come for their lesson...and what if that was a blessing?

“You look upset,” his voice came from all around her, warm and kind, and her relief was instant.

“I’ve been so worried. They’ve been saying such things about you.”

“Joseph Buquet has always been a liar and teller of tales,” the Angel replied, reading her mind, as he often did. Another wave of relief washed over Christine. So, it was all lies from a terrible man. Good. “What else troubles you, my dear?” It made her giddy each time he called her that. And it made her brave.

“Last night, was...astonishing. I’ve never done anything...” She found herself blushing, which was honestly absurd at this point. “I’ve never felt anything like what you made me feel.”

“And never have I been given such an exquisite gift of trust,” he replied, and Christine’s heart soared.

“I would give you anything you asked,” she replied. She did not even know what more he could ask of her, but, God, to feel that way again, she would give it.

“Right now, I want you to give me your voice,” he said, firm yet warm. “Sing for me.”

And sing she did. It was as if the night before had unlocked an even deeper well of music than the one he had already found within her. Every bit of hesitation was gone as he ran her through their scales and exercises. She trusted him completely, letting her voice flow free and yet entirely at his command. It was ecstatic and remarkable, and only grew more so when he allowed her to sing her arias.

First was Cherubino again, as giddy with lust as Christine, then Juliette’s Waltz. Christine was a comet in the firmament as she sang of wanting to live forever in a blissful dream. She reached the final high C and felt just as she had spread out for him on that bed, soaring to an ecstatic climax at her angel’s command. She was flushed and breathless as she finished, dizzy with joy.

“That’s enough for now,” the Angel told her unexpectedly, his voice softer than usual. “Get some food and rest.”

“But...” Christine protested.

“I have my own gifts to give you, don’t question me,” he replied, and something in the authoritative tone in his voice made her smile and shiver.

“Yes, Maestro,” she replied with a nod. The thought of any sort of gift from him made her heart race.

“Who on earth are you?” a voice asked the second Christine stepped into the hall and she leapt in shock. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” the man who had spoken added, apologetically. He was a slightly short, with caramel hair and moustache, and looked vaguely familiar.

“No, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb anyone,” Christine said, panic vibrating through her.

“Oh, you mistake me, Mademoiselle,” the man said. “I want to know who you are because if that was you singing in there...it was remarkable. More than.”

Christine blinked. “It was me, yes.”

“But you’re not in the company! You don’t look like a student either. What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

Christine swallowed a wave of embarrassment. “I’m not trespassing, I promise! I come here to practice, but I do work here. You see I came from the conservatoire in Rouen to sing here, but there were no auditions, but I still wanted to be at the Opera, so I took the first job here I could, it just happened to be in...the costumers.”

“The costumers?!” The man echoed in disbelief. “A voice like that and you spend your days sewing and laundering?”

Christine gaped at the man. “I...”

“Well, not anymore you don’t.”

“Please, don’t fire me, sir!” Christine’s panic returned full force, but the man smiled at her with a warm laugh.

“I’m not firing you, young lady,” the man said. “I’m hiring you. To the chorus.”

“What?” Christine was surely dreaming.

“Do you know who I am, girl?” The man appeared insulted as she shook her head. “My name is Gerard Gabriel. I am the director of the chorus. That’s why I know everyone’s voice and didn’t know yours. Now tell me, you were singing mezzo and soprano in there, can you manage either?”

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