Page 85 of Angel's Kiss
“Raoul asked me to marry him,” she said before she could think better of it. Erik winced and nodded.
“I know.” Of course, he knew. The Angel was always watching. And yet she still needed to confess.
“I’ve seen him twice outside of the Opera. We had supper the night I went to see Carlotta atLa Grenouille. Then after Monday’s rehearsal, Adèle tricked me and I saw him again, briefly. But he kissed me. I should have told you.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Erik replied, placing his hand against her cheek, echoing her position. “I knew you would come back. I knew you’d come home.”
“I have to, don’t I?” Christine breathed, closing her eyes and noting that now, his hand was so warm and alive against her skin. Such a strange thing, here in the underworld. “I’m bound here. To this. To you. Like Persephone. For I have tasted the food of the dead.”
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The church was cold. Just another reason to hate this place, Raoul thought, as the chill seeped into his bones as he waited in the stiff pew. The cold did not dull his shame or his heartbreak. He glared at the altar, his disgrace turning to anger as he looked at the statue of Mary Magdalene. He’d always hated this place for how pagan it looked, and because he did not think it was right to so venerate a whore. Though it was a fitting place for a woman like Christine to worship, if she even prayed.
“Let’s go, little brother.”
It did not surprise him to hear Philippe’s voice. He looked up at his brother with a frown and followed him down the empty aisle, casting one last scowl to the altar over his shoulder.
“Let’s get you a drink,” Philippe sighed as he led Raoul to their carriage. There was pity in his brother’s voice and face as they rattled through the streets, and Raoul hated it. What a fool Philippe must think him. What an idiot he was, to sit in the pew in the sight of God for hours, waiting for a woman he should have known would never come. He’d done it all right too. He’d made his confession beforehand and said his Hail Marys and Our Fathers so that he could enter his new life with an unburdened soul. And then he’d waited and waited, his parents’ wedding bands in his breast pocket, like a lead weight.
“Well, say it,” Raoul grumbled as the carriage turned. “Tell me how you warned me.”
“It wouldn’t be sportsmanlike,” Philippe replied but he couldn’t hold back his smirk. “Even though I did.”
“Maybe he kept her away,” Raoul lamented. “It’s possible.”
“And it’s possible she was offended by a rushed proposal and elopement,” Philippe said. Raoul could tell he was actually trying to be kind. “But you must consider the possibility that she was never yours to win or save.”
“No,” Raoul lamented as he glowered out the dark window. “Her soul belongs to an angel.” Raoul laughed softly to himself, bitter and cold.
“What’s so funny?”
“That an angel has damned her,” Raoul replied.
13. Entwined
Erik didn’t want toleave her. There was so much music in his mind, ideas itching on the tips of his fingers ready to burst forth from his piano or scrawled on the page, but Christine Daaé’s head was on his arm and she was warm and real against him. He could not leave her. He never wanted to be parted from this, from this moment in the quiet of the morning (at least, he thought it was morning, it was always hard to tell down here and he could not move to see his clock without disturbing her). Even when she stirred against him and opened her eyes, there was a pang of regret in his heart for the end of the peace and safety of having her asleep against him.
