Page 74 of Angel's Mask

“Please go, Monsieur,” Christine ordered. No one moved. “Now!” Christine yelled, shocking herself and finally breaking the spell.

Julianne pushed Raoul and the doctor from the room, even as they protested. Christine slammed the door behind them and leaned against the wood, gasping for air. The room was spinning again and the applause was still echoing in her ear. Or was that her heart?

“Christine...” The Angel’s voice was soft, concerned.

“I didn’t invite him. I didn’t know. I swear,” she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he said, drowning out the noise in her head and the fading voices outside. There was only him now. “You were a wonder tonight. A glimpse of heaven on earth.”

Now she did weep, letting out a sob of relief. “It was for you. All of it.”

“Such a tribute, such a gift...it deserves a reward,” his voice was strangely urgent but so enticing. It made her head spin in a different way. She could still barely stand, but she wanted to fly at the same time, filled with hope and joy.

“Please,” she whispered, voice shaking. Her whole body was quivering. “I need you.”

“Put out the light, my Christine,” he ordered.

She felt delirious. Maybe she was. She extinguished the gaslight without hesitation and turned to the mirror, her heart still beating hard and erratic. She braced herself to see her pale reflection, illuminated by the low-burning oil lamp...

But instead she sawhim. Her phantom. He stood within her mirror, next to her reflection, by some magic. And then her reflection was gone. His voice rose in a fragment of Faust’s song to Marguerite, soft and secret, as he held out a hand to her.

“Let your hand forget itself in mine...let me adore your beauty...”

It was like a wave crested, every dream and desire she had nourished for months in the depths of her heart was suddenly real and overwhelming. He was there before her, beckoning her to his kingdom, his fingertips an inch from her as she reached out to him. And the second they touched, the cool tips of his fingers solid and real against hers, the tide overtook her.

The room swam into darkness, spinning around her as she collapsed. But once again, she did not fall to the ground. Once again, strong arms caught her, and she was floating, safe and loved...with him.

“I will take you somewhere safe,” she heard him say from miles away. Then there was cold and dark. Movement. Then nothing.

Nothing but his voice.

He was singing to her softly, an old Romani tune. She was no longer in his arms. Somehow, she was on cold ground, solid as stone. But her head was cradled on something soft, and there was cool water against her brow. She could hear the sound of water too, as if they were near a fountain. How strange.

She was not shocked to see him above her when she opened her eyes. He was close, his white mask shining above her in the dark like the moon. His eyes met hers and she smiled as his voice faded. The dizziness and breathlessness were gone, though she was still weak. But at the same time, being close to him at last made her strong.

“Can you stand?” he asked softly. She nodded. She would climb a mountain if she asked her. He rose and helped her up with strong, steady hands. Although they were so cold. What she wouldn’t do to have him hold her again though. If only...

The thought disappeared as he began to sing again, in a language both familiar and strange. The song was like nothing she’d ever heard. It reminded her of the folk ballads of her childhood, the ones that seemed to have grown out of the earth itself. But it was more sophisticated than that, like the refined melodies of the Opera. It was strange and beautiful and perfect, like all of her angel’s songs. And she knew in her soul that this one was meant only for her. Her ghost held a dim lantern aloft, holding her hand as he guided her into echoing darkness.

Christine could barely see, but she didn’t care. The sound of her angel’s voice was more beautiful and enthralling than she had ever heard it. It was like a drug, she thought, if it could even be called a thought. She was flying, floating, and his hand was the only thing keeping her tethered to the ground. There was nothing but him: his hand, cold and calloused, but so real; and his shining eyes as they looked back at her, full of love and longing. Yet even those wonders were lost as she drowned in the sound of his voice.

They were descending, down countless darkened steps. Maybe she dreamed it, for she was not sure this wasn’t a dream, but she thought she saw distant fires with dark shadows dancing before them. Then they were gone and once again they were going down, into a still, dark world of stone and damp shadows. The meager light of his lantern revealed great arches and pillars as they moved, but she didn’t mark them. Not really. All she wanted to see was him. She didn’t care if she was being swallowed by the earth or taken to heaven; she was with her angel. Nothing else would ever matter.

They stopped moving, but his song grew more enchanting, banishing every question or fear. Christine gasped as he gently pulled her close to him, his hand letting go of hers and slipping around her waist. She closed her eyes as the sensation of his arms lifting her once again overcame her.

She gripped him tightly, her breath catching in her throat. She was flying, wrapped in his wings, then she was prone once more and he was gone. The world was rocking and moving all around her, and the sound of water mingled with his song. She opened her eyes again and saw him above her, his eyes glittering in the blackness as he pushed a long pole beside him. Was this a boat?

As suddenly as it had begun, the rocking stopped, and he was holding her again. This time she wouldn’t let him go; she swore it. Perhaps he sensed her determination because he kept her in his arms as they moved. Where they were, she could not say. Her eyes were half-closed, as he brought her somewhere warmer. It smelled like wax and paper and smoke and there was soft light. It only mattered to Christine because it meant she could truly see his eyes at last.

They were as sad and beautiful as she remembered, golden as the candlelight. But they were also full of love as he continued to sing to her. She gazed into the eyes of her angel and knew she had come home at last even as they moved somewhere darker.

He laid her down carefully onto a soft surface. A bed. It had to be. Her pulse quickened and she caught his hand as it came to her face, tracing her cheek and making her shiver as his song faded at last.

“I’m ready,” she whispered, her body igniting at the touch, even as he drew back from her into the shadows. “Please, my angel, show me how I am yours,” she begged him as she closed her eyes.

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