Page 11 of Angel's Kiss
––––––––
Christine pulled hercovers tight around her shoulders and burrowed deeper into the pillow. She hated sleepless nights. Would she ever be able to sleep here, in the unearthly silence that left her mind filled with a strange angel’s voice?
By all rights she should be exhausted. After Erik had coaxed her voice back to life like Christ calling to Lazarus, their lesson had been one of the most demanding and exciting in her entire tutelage with him. It was so different to have her teacher there, right before her eyes, his long hands playing expertly, barely a shade different from the ivory piano keys, and his golden eyes ever watchful.
Erik had run her through the entirety ofRigolettobackwards, challenging her to summon the right emotion and power without the aid of what came before. It had been hard; even more so given the fact that Erik had only played the other parts on the piano and left her to sing alone, wondering if she would ever hear his angelic voice lifted in song again. Perhaps it was best, given what she knew that voice could do to her. It was amazingly easy, alone in her pretty bed, to remember the ways he had rewarded her after their lessons in the past. How he had sung to her as she’d touched herself and...
Christine sprang from the bed, praying the distance from the soft pillows and mattress would halt the memories of what she and her angel had once been. She simply wanted to sleep without dreams, or at least escape from the confusion of her waking life for a few hours. And she knew just the library to help her.
She found a robe – an incredible garment of red velvet with sleeves down to the floor, lined in silk – and wondered where on earth Erik had found such a dramatic piece of clothing. Perhaps some unfortunate performer in the Opera above was missing it right now. She tightened it over her chemise and opened her door carefully, letting the warmth of the parlor embrace her for a split second before she saw the room was not empty.
“Oh!” Christine exclaimed. Erik sprang up from the chair he occupied by the fire, looking as shocked as she was. She gripped the edge of a shelf by the door with one hand and clasped the collar of her robe closed with the other as Erik stared at her, his eyes wide and his body tense. “I’m sorry! You scared me.”
“It’s alright. I’m used to it,” Erik breathed back, swallowing as he looked at her. Christine cheeks heated. This was certainly not the sort of ensemble a decent woman wore in the presence of a strange man. But then again, she was not sure if she was decent at all, thanks to said man. Erik lookedindecentas well. His jacket, waistcoat, and cravat were gone, and a few buttons of his black shirt were undone. His dark hair was unruly and several locks hung in his face.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Christine declared, telling herself to stop staring at the pale, strangely textured skin and his angular collar bone, but unable to look away.
“That’s understandable. Neither could I.”
Christine carefully took a seat on the couch, forcing herself to loosen her grip on the collar of her robe. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already seen every inch of her. Swallowing, she retrieved Erik’s book from where he had dropped it on the floor.
“What are you reading?” she asked as she opened the cover.
“The Iliad,” Erik replied as Christine sighed when she saw the words. “What?”
“This is in Greek,” Christine admonished as she handed the book back to him.
“How else would I read a Greek classic?” Erik asked with a slight spark in his eyes.
Christine shook her head. “How many languages do you know?”
Erik, unsurprisingly, had to think about it. “It depends on how you define ‘know.’ There are a few that I can speak better than I can read. Cantonese was rather frustrating. Twenty or so, if I were to guess.” He stopped as he noticed she was chuckling. “What?”
“You speak more tongues and play more instruments than you can count,” Christine began, watching him watch her as she spoke. “You’re a builder and a tinkerer and a composer and a magician and probably a dozen other things you haven’t told me. Erik, you may be the most accomplished ghost I’ve ever met.”
He laughed quietly and looked down at his book. Christine had always treasured the sound of her angel’s laughter, for it was so rare.Eriklaughed easier and joked more than her strict angelic teacher had, and she was beginning to enjoy that as well. Just as she was growing to like the sound of his name in her mouth.
“I find ways to pass the time,” Erik said with one of his elegant shrugs. Christine felt strangely compelled to honesty, to see him so relaxed.
“I can’t understand what someone so...extraordinary would see in someone like me,” she whispered, glancing at the magnificent organ he had rescued that sat watching them from the shadows like a great kraken in the deep. “Was I like her? Another broken instrument for you to rescue and repair?”
When she dared to look at him, his eyes were nearly glowing with emotion. “Christine, no. I may seem extraordinary to you, but despite all my learning and skill, I have also always been alone. This face has cost me a great deal.”
“I’m sorry,” Christine whispered automatically. “I didn’t mean—”
“It was music that saved me. And when I saw you,” Erik continued, stopping her pity. “That day fate placed you in my path, I knew you were like me, clinging to music for hope when all else was lost. I wanted to help. Then, that night, I saw you again.”
“I knew you were there,” Christine breathed, thinking back to her first night in the Opera.
“I came to frighten you,” Erik confessed. “But then I saw you sharing your dinner with a rat. And having a lovely conversation.”
Christine hid her blush. “You must have thought me quite the fool.”
“No,” Erik replied instantly. “I saw a girl who, despite everything, was kind, willing to share her meal with a creature others might run from. I saw your pain and I didn’t want to cause you more. I saw you. Then, the next day, you demanded that I make you believe. And I could not refuse you.”
The words made gooseflesh rise on Christine’s skin as she found herself caught in Erik’s eyes, remembering the miracle of the first time she had seen them.
“And after that?” she asked in a whisper.
