Page 94 of Angel's Kiss
“Will you lead her to her death as well?” Shaya snapped back. It was gratifying to see Erik flinch. “You condemn her to suffering and damnation just by being near her, you fiend. Don’t you know that?”
“Since I know you refuse to actually ask her, how can I prove to you that she is no prisoner?” If there was pain in Erik’s entrancing voice, Shaya refused to acknowledge it.
“Do you think convincing me that Christine is willingly yours in some way will make me believe you didn’t corrupt and trickhim?” Shaya demanded with a hollow scoff. He could see, even with the mask, that Erik was agitated. Good. This girl made him a fool. Maybe now he would make another mistake.
“What if you were to see her alive and well and with me? Perhaps at the Masquerade in a few days—”
“Any place in the Opera is still under your control,” Shaya replied. He had to be careful with his next move. “Let me see her away from your kingdom and then maybe I’ll be convinced that she doesn’t need to be saved.”
“What about the Bois?” Erik offered and Shaya blinked. “It’s a park on the west of the city? People who actually enjoy life go there so I’m not surprised it’s escaped your attention. But I’ve been meaning to take her there for some air.”
“When?” Shaya asked, trying to keep his composure. Let Erik think this was some sort of triumph.
“Tonight, if it stays clear,” Erik said and it was so close to cheerful it made Shaya sick. “And no, I shan’t be telling you when. I like the idea of you waiting in the stands at the racetrack, freezing and frustrated. I’ll need to rent a cab for Christine and myself. I can’t have my student catching cold. Though I do enjoy keeping her warm...”
Shaya let out a guffaw at Erik’s implication. “Pick a lie, Erik. Either she knows your secrets, or she’s your whore. No woman could be the latter if she learned the former.”
“She’ll show you otherwise, Daroga. Just wait,” Erik said, all illusion of good humor gone. “But do not insult her in my hearing if you wish to continue breathing.”
Erik retreated into the alley and before Shaya could follow, he was gone. It didn’t matter. In his arrogance, blinded by his infatuation, Erik had once again made a deadly mistake. Now Shaya not only knew the secret path to the demon’s lair, he knew where he would be vulnerable and when Christine might be saved. And Shaya knew who to enlist.
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Erik took particularcare to be quiet as he reentered the house on the lake. He didn’t like leaving Christine there alone, even for a brief time. She didn’t like it either, he knew that, but he hoped she would have either slept through it or would forgive him for the sake of breakfast. Luckily, he received no remonstration when he entered his bedchamber. She was still asleep among the dark sheets, her naked back like a slice of alabaster in the candlelight. How had a monster like him found his way into the light of one so beautiful? Shaya didn’t believe it and, in all honesty, neither did Erik, half the time. Perhaps that’s why it was so important to convince the Daroga of her safety.
He set to work, quietly doffing his cape and hat back in the parlor, thinking of the rashness of going out alone and the boldness of talking to Shaya. Maybe he was getting sloppy, as the Daroga said. Or maybe he was changing.
He set the kettle to boil. Coffee was on the menu this morning as well. He wanted to indulge her, as he had done for the whole week since she had fully given herself to him. She deserved it.
She deserves more than what you could ever give her.
Erik’s shivered, feeling as if something had just walked into the parlor behind him. He was alone with his ghosts, their eyes and judgment upon him. He could boast and posture for the Daroga, but not them.
You’ve trapped her here in your prison, a fly in a spider’s web as you drain the life from her. She’s miserable. She’s fading every day, losing her light bit by bit.
“That’s not true,” Erik said aloud as he turned to the empty room. “She’s happy here. She wants to be with me,” he whispered, even as doubt gnawed at his mind. How could she though? Was it dependence that kept her with him? Music? Lust?
It’s certainly not love.
Erik grabbed the closest object and threw it. It was not until it hit the wall with a dull thud that he even knew it was a book. He was panting, he realized, and his skin was moist with a cold sweat as his heart raced. Why wouldn’t it? He was trapped under the ground in a windowless house fit only for a monster and he had trapped the woman he loved here too. He didn’t want to be like this or live like this; why would she?
“Erik?”
Christine’s soft voice from his bedroom door brought him back from the brink of panic. She was a vision when he turned to her, with her dark hair cascading over her shoulders, her pale skin set off by the red velvet of her robe.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you before—” Erik gulped, looking at the half-filled tray by the kettle. “I got you breakfast.”
“Are those croissants? Where did you get them?” Christine asked with a smile full of curiosity and kindness Erik knew he did not deserve.
“I went up to the bakery down the avenue. Or the back of it.” He answered. It was the truth. She didn’t need to know about his detour to pester Shaya.
“Did you pay?” Her expression was so dubious he had to chuckle.
“I left a few sous.”
“And coffee?” Her suspicion changed to amazement.
“You don’t need to sing this morning, I thought I might indulge your only vice,” Erik answered. Christine shook her head as she moved to the fire to stoke it while Erik finished his preparations.
