Page 85 of Angel's Mask

Adèle shrugged. “Because no one could sing like you did without a maestro’s guidance, and every studio in Paris wants to know who yours is, even my teacher. And any time I saw you after what you called practice you looked like you’d been doing more than singing.”

Christine buried her face in her hands in shame, recalling every wanton display for her angel, now knowing he was just a man. “I...He...” Christine didn’t think she had any tears left, but they still sprang to her eyes as she looked back to Adèle, whose face grew grim.

“Christine, did he force you?” Adèle asked, uncharacteristically serious.

“No,” Christine declared, shocking herself with her own vehemence. She knew with a burning shame that everything he had done to her she had wanted, begged for even. “We never even...I mean, I’m still a virgin. I think?”

Adèle let out a dark laugh. “Virgin is a word men invented thousands of years ago to get better prices when they sold us. So, he never fucked you?” Christine shook her head slowly. “Hmm. What did he do?”

“He...” Christine didn’t know why she was talking, but her tongue was loose, and the past had started to feel strangely distant. “He used his hands on me. And his mouth.”

“My my,” Adèle cooed. “And what did you give him back?”

Christine blinked slowly. “Nothing. He didn’t ever ask for anything...back.” Even when she had begged for him the night before, he hadn’t taken her, Christine thought foggily. Why hadn’t he? Did he not want her? He said he loved her...but all he had ever wanted from her was her voice. What did he want from her now?

“Well, how was it?” Adèle’s eyes sparkled, ever the gossip. Christine looked away, slowly. She didn’t want to think about it, but how could she not? How could she ever forget the heights he’d taken her to.

“It was the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known.” Her head swam to remember it. She had never experienced a peak so intense or prolonged. Did that pleasure await her again if she returned to him? What would it be like to experience his music and the way it entranced and consumed her, knowing it came from a man? Did he expect her to return to his bed if she came back? Did she want that? “But now I know he’s...” she argued with herself out loud.

Now she knew he was hideous and dangerous. That should matter, but her horror didn’t rise again at the thought. Why was she not afraid now, as she tried to remember?

“So, on the one hand, he lied,” Adèle said, pushing the cup in Christine’s hands to her lips and guiding her to another sip. “And on the other, he’s a brilliant teacher that does things between your legs most men think themselves above and makes you come. Then there’s your career to think about.”

“My career?” Christine echoed.

“If you truly end it with him, you won’t have anyone to help you make your way. That’s what I mean by unwise. I can’t do much for you, and with what I’m worried Carlotta has in store, you’ll need support.”

“I wouldn’t have a career without him,” Christine said slowly, the gravity of it settling in her stomach like a stone. Did her career even matter?

She couldn’t even dream of singing again now, not without her angel and teacher. Erik had offered to keep teaching her, he was all there was left of the angel that had inspired her, but how could they go on? And yet, how could she even expect him to tolerate her in his opera if she rejected him? The choice was between her life as she knew it and nothing. The thought did not fill her with anger or terror, it only made her tired.

“So, the question becomes: Are you going to accept this scoundrel with all his lies? Or are you holding out for Raoul de Chagny?”

Christine shook her head sadly at the suggestion, again feeling sweetly numb at the thought.

“Does he love you?”

“He says he does,” Christine whispered, recalling his eyes and his protestations and the way he looked at her.

“Do you love him?”

“I can’t,” Christine protested instantly, recalling his lies and his face. How could she ever even consider it? “Not now. Not anymore.”

“Good. It’s better if they love you more than you love them, easier to keep them in check.”

“I can’t control him. I...” Christine couldn’t find the words. She didn’t even know where to look for them.

“Shh, no more worries tonight.” Adèle stroked a lock of hair away from Christine’s face, brushing her cheek just the way he had. The memory made her shiver and close her eyes. She found that it was incredibly hard to open them again.

“What else was in that wine?” Christine asked dreamily, glancing at the empty cup in her hand and feeling another wave of exhaustion wash over her.

“Laudanum.”

Christine gave a small, tragic laugh as she lay back on the bed. Once again, she’d been led astray.

“You need rest,” Adèle commanded. Christine shook her head weakly, pushing away thoughts of his voice in the shadows and falling asleep feeling safe in his arms.

“I can’t...It reminds me of him...” Christine protested, suddenly terrified of the dreams that awaited and overcome by the feeling of the warm, dark fabric of his cloak being wrapped around her. It still carried the faint scent of him; of smoke and shadow.

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