Page 42 of Angel's Mask

Erik could hear the love in her voice: love for the memory of happier days, for things lost, for the warmth of the sun. It made something inside him ache.

“I was thirteen when I met him, the youngest son of that family,” Christine went on, voice still warm and soft. “My favorite red scarf had blown into the sea, and he rushed in to save it. From then on, we were best friends. We’d cavort all over the village together, collect stories, listen to father play. His family didn’t mind then. We were both young and they liked the music we brought to the house.”

“Go back; you said he was nobility?” Julianne interjected and Christine nodded. Listening from the shadows, Erik’s hate rose higher. Of course, she had been used like a plaything by one ofthem.

“His father was a count, of all things, but that didn’t matter then. He was my best friend each summer until I was seventeen, then suddenly he was more. I don’t know what changed but I knew that I loved him. And he loved me, I think. And that was too much for his family.”

Erik seethed at the words. He didn’t even know this boy’s name and he had never hated anyone more.

“Oh God, I can just imagine you two little fools,” Julianne groaned, “star-crossed lovers kept apart by cruel fate. Did you ever—”

“We kissed, a few times, but it was all quite chaste,” Christine cut her off. “We had plans though. The kind of grand, stupid plans you make when you’re young. We were going to get married and he’d leave his fortune to travel the world with me as I sang.” Christine laughed at the absurdity of it, which soothed Erik somewhat. “But our fathers would have none of that. At the end of that summer his father died, his brother inherited the title, and...well, he never came back to Perros.”

“How tragic,” Julianne remarked, and Christine gave her a glare.

“That was six years ago. He’s probably forgotten me, but...I’ll never forget him. And how all I wanted every second that summer was to be with him or see him again,” Christine sighed.

“I doubt he’s forgotten you, if he felt the same,” Julianne replied and took a sip of wine. “And so that’s love? Wanting to see someone all the time? Sounds too simple.”

“Maybe,” Christine shrugged. “But I think that’s what being in love is, at first, this...ache whenever you’re away from them. And when you’re with them, it doesn’t stop, you just want more. You can’t breathe without them.”

Erik closed his eyes, the air in his lungs turning to ice and his heart crying out. He knew that ache. He’d known it for weeks.

“Does it hurt not to be with her, right now?” Christine asked gently. She meant Jammes, but Erik’s own answer was undeniable.

He loved her. He knew it with a horrible certainty, and worse, he had loved her a very long time. The idea had been so fantastic and terrifying that it had never even occurred to him. How could a phantom – a monster – feel love after so long in the dark? Yet somehow, she had found her way past every mask and defense until each empty aching place in his heart had become filled entirely with her. He could never be with her, never even touch her without destroying everything she believed in, but he loved her, nonetheless. Foolishly and terribly, with every breath of life in him, he loved her.

“I should probably go look for her,” Julianne said quietly. Erik’s heart jumped. That meant Christine would finally be alone...and what would he say to her? How would a faceless angel compare to the memory of her first love? How could he even look at her knowing that she could never speak that way about him?

Footsteps in the hall startled Erik from his brooding and he withdrew into the shadows just in time to see Adèle Valerius of all people stride to the storeroom and fully open the door.

“Grelot said you’d be here, glad she was right,” Valerius declared. “Daaé, you’re coming to supper with me. I’ve decided I want to know you better.”

“I – what?” Christine sputtered. “I have to—”

“You sleep here, you don’t have to get anywhere!” Julianne burst out and Erik could only imagine the looks of fascination and annoyance she received from both singers. “Sorry.”

“I’m just waiting to find a place I can afford,” Christine grumbled.

“That’s perfect then because I also happen to have a room that’s begging for a lodger. Come along, my dove, I have all sorts of plans for you.”

“But...” Christine protested. Erik watched as Valerius tugged Christine into the hall with Julianne tailing behind, bottle still in hand. Christine froze, perhaps finally sensing him there, and looked over her shoulder. Just the sight of herhurtlike a vise on his heart. Erik suddenly wanted nothing more than to escape from her.

“Just go. You don’t need to bother with me when you haveso manyearthly delights to distract you,” Erik whispered, throwing his voice to her ear. He had not meant it to sound so cold, but it did. Christine’s face fell as Valerius pulled her close, interlocking their arms. Erik closed his eyes so he didn’t have to watch her leave.

The sound of footsteps faded, and Erik was left alone in the darkness once again. The pain, he considered, didn’t come immediately. It was very much like a knife wound: it took a few moments for the agony to break past the shock. But when it did it was like nothing he had ever expereinced. He sank to the ground, struggling to breathe, his mind swimming and his, stupid, useless heart breaking over and over.

He loved Christine, utterly and entirely. He loved her and he felt as if it would kill him. He loved her and he had sent her away. Just as it always would be, she was beyond his reach, and he was the one who had put her there.

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