Page 28 of Angel's Kiss
“I only want to sing here, that’s all,” Christine countered pathetically.
“I understand that too. Perhaps this has been an overreaction. If you will meet me after rehearsal, we can discuss it.”
Erik’s spine stiffened in alarm and suspicion. Why would Carlotta help Christine now, after all of this?
“There’s a little café over on theBoulevard Haussmann,La Grenouille,” Carlotta went on. “Meet me there and I will see if there is anything I can do for you.”
“Truly?” Christine asked, sniffling. “Why would you do that?”
“I’m not a monster. We women should help one another, not tear each other down. Until then, Christine.” With a sweep of her golden furs, Carlotta strode away, leaving Christine staring down at the floor with her eyes closed.
“You can come out now,” Christine whispered and a fraction of the rage in Erik’s gut abated.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what they were planning,” Erik protested as he unfurled himself from the shadows, rendering himself dangerously exposed. “We shouldn’t talk here. Someone could see us.”
“And confirm the rumors that Christine Daaé can summon and control the great and terrifying Opera Ghost?” Christine said, finally looking at Erik with accusing, teary eyes. “What of it? It’s not as if that matters now.”
“Christine...”
“You said you’d protect me,” Christine snarled. “I guess that was another lie.”
Erik staggered back, guilt mingling with his ire. “I swear, they’ll pay for this. The managers and Carlotta. I’ve warned them and—”
“They don’t listen to you!” Christine exclaimed. “They don’t care about you or me! God in heaven, my only chance now is making peace with that awful woman.”
“You cannot meet her. It’s a trick!”
“What more could she possibly do to me?” Christine scoffed. “Maybe if I can appeal to her better nature,Ican salvage this.” She glared at him, the unspoken accusation – that she would have to grovel to save herself because Erik had failed – cutting him to the bone.
“Christine, your willingness to see the best in people is one of the parts of you I love the most, but there is no good to be found in that woman.” Erik was not prepared for the aghast laugh that Christine gave in reply.
“Love? You speak of lovenow?” Christine asked as Erik cocked his head in bewilderment. “You claim you love me, but you don’t show it.”
“What?” The fury in Erik’s heart was gone, replaced by utter confusion and fresh agony. “How can you—”
“You won’t talk to me. You won’t answer any question that’s too intimate. You won’t tell me anything about you, not really,” Christine accused, eyes bright now. “All your talk of trust and you still spend every day and night hiding from me. For God’s sake, you won’t even touch me!”
“Why would you want me to?” Erik demanded back, confounded. “You don’t want me to touch you. You can’t. I have only tried to treat you as a gentleman would.”
“But you’re not a gentleman! And I’m not a fine lady and – and I have no idea what I am to you! Or what you even want from me!” Christine snapped her mouth closed at the volume of her voice as Erik stood staring in shock. “Are you my suitor, Erik? Or am I just some other curiosity for you to lock away?”
“I have hoped to be your friend and—"
“And protector? Well, you’ve botched that job. And I don’t need a teacher anymore, thanks to yourfriendship.” He was used to cruelty, but it stung more, coming from her.
“Please, give me a chance to fix things,” he begged.
“How will you fix things? You won’t even go out above ground! So, I’ll fix it myself, thank you very much.” With that she turned and stalked away, leaving Erik, once again, alone in the dark.
––––––––
The fur at the collarof Raoul’s coat would not stop itching him in the winter wind. It was one of those bitterly cold days where the sun was incongruously bright but the air was frigid, turning the whole barren world into a shard of ice. Even though he was wearing gloves, Raoul had to rub his hands together to keep the feeling in them. He was seriously beginning to regret his decision to wait for Christine by the stage door. Being caught in the Opera again was better than freezing to death for the barest chance he might see...
Raoul blinked, then grinned, as a familiar shape emerged at last from the artist’s entrance to thePalais Garnier. It was her. Finally, after days of waiting and wondering, it was Christine. And she looked utterly miserable. Her cheeks and eyes were red as if she had been crying and her head hung dejectedly low.
“Christine!” Raoul called, rushing to his old friend. She looked up at him in shock as he bounded towards her. “Christine, are you alright?”
“Raoul? What are you doing here?”
