Page 68 of Angel's Mask

At last, she caught her own reflection in the vanity mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes dark. Did she look debauched? She didn’t know. But she felt more herself than she had all day.

“You’re beautiful,” her angel whispered from the walls, reading her thoughts. “They’re here.”

“Who?”

She jumped at the knock on her dressing room door.

“Mademoiselle Daaé?” a male voice asked from the other side, one she had heard for the first time only just recently. Sure enough, Armand Moncharmin was waiting on the other side of the door, with the directors behind him, as well as Robert Rameau, who was smiling broadly.

“Messieurs?” Christine asked.

“I know this is quite a thing to ask as we are just being introduced but,” Moncharmin began, with little confidence. “But tings have developed regarding Madame Zambelli and –”

“You’re on, my dear,” Rameau cut him off. “For rehearsal today andFausttomorrow night.”

“You haven’t even asked if I know the part,” Christine replied, satisfaction filling her. It was indeed just as he had promised. A miracle.

“We have been reliably informed that you do,” Gabriel said.

“Well then, we should start preparing, don’t you think?” Christine asked with her best smile.

Rameau grinned in response. “My dear, nothing will prepare you for what’s in store tomorrow night.”

Crescendo

Erik often consideredhis preparations for a performance akin to an artist’s. After all, he was putting on a costume, readying himself to play a role. Though if he was honest, he thought with a sigh as he fastened a gold cufflink, that applied to everyone in the audience. They all had parts to play, masks to wear, cues to attend to. His masks were just more obvious.

Tonight, however, he took extra care in his preparations. The last few days (or had it been weeks?) had run him ragged. So much so that he cast a sad look to his bed as he buttoned his crisp white shirt. When was the last time he’d slept there? When was the last time he’d simplysleptmore than an hour? He wasn’t sure. But the exhaustion and exertion would all be worth it tonight.

The letters, the money, the lies, and the threats; all of them assured that Carlotta would be far away tonight, dressed up for an engagement that didn’t exist. Erik wished he could see the viper’s face when she realized she’d been duped. But it was far more important tonight to see Christine’s.

He finished with the knot of his white tie and donned his finest silk vest and jacket. Both the audience and the performers had maids and valets to help them dress, something he always found so strange. He hated the thought of another person so close, brushing his shoulders or fastening his buttons;touchinghim. There was one person in all the world he would ever allow so near and even just that dream, an enticing one, made his heart quicken and his skin crawl.

He had been close to her yesterday. So insanely and tantalizingly close. It was the letter that had driven him to the act of madness. The very idea of that boy continuing to pursue Christine had made Erik wild with jealousy. And so, he’d reminded her; he’d brought her to the peak of ecstasy with only his voice and the barest graze of his fingertips. He could almost still feel the heat of her skin, like a brand. He wanted more, even though it was impossible to have it.

He combed his long hair, trying to remember the last time he’d bothered to cut it. His hat and cape were last, along with his black gloves. All told, nearly every inch of him, save his mouth, was covered, an elegant disguise for a monster if he did say so himself.

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