Page 95 of Angel's Kiss
“I think you are quite aware that I have other vices,” she muttered when Erik finally handed her a cup and they sat on the floor by the fire. “Here, you don’t need this.” Before Erik could protest, she lifted the mask from his face. The heat of the fire on his bare skin was shocking, as was the way she smiled at him when he was revealed.
“You are too good to me,” Erik whispered.
“Well, I’m not the one who went out for breakfast, I would say you are too good to me,” Christine countered. “Though I wish you would have told me. I don’t like—”
“Being here alone, I know.”
Christine frowned at him. “I don’t like the idea of you risking your safety to indulge me.”
It always made his heart flutter when she revealed that she worried for him, even though he did not understand how it was possible. “I was hardly in danger,” he said gently. “I know how to defend myself and avoid being seen.”
“Did you have it with you? Your lasso?” Christine’s voice trembled as she asked it, and Erik no longer felt the heat of the fire.
“I did.” It was not accusation in her eyes when she looked at him, but a sort of sad resignation. She had grown accustomed to the horrors of his face, it was true, but he had gone out of his way since his confessions to help her forget the true ugliness. The evil that Shaya saw so clearly and believed Christine would never truly see past. “It’s a habit. I—”
“Can I see it?” She was calm when she asked, holding Erik’s gaze. His guts twisted. “Show it to me, Erik,” she commanded in the face of his hesitation, and he rose immediately to obey.
It was like offering a sacrifice, when he returned to her, kneeling before the fire and presenting her with the simple line of catgut. Christine took it without hesitation, her face unreadable as she examined the weapon that had taken so many lives. She took a deep breath as she grasped it, then looked Erik in the eye as she threw it into the fire.
“That part of your life is over,” Christine declared as the Punjab lasso burned. And as it did, Erik breathed easier than he had in years. He didn’t need the lasso to kill a man. He had the means buried beneath this house and hidden in his walls to kill more people than Christine could even comprehend... But he didn’t need to. Or want to. He hadn’t wanted to for a very long time. He wished he could tell her, but all of that was in the past anyway. Just like she said. There was no reason to disturb the delicate peace they had found.
“Thank you,” Erik whispered, and Christine gave a nod, relief on her face.
“What other plans do you have for us today, if we aren’t going to sing for a while? Shall I beat you at chess again? Or shall we finish those dreadful Poe stories you were reading me?” Christine asked, lightness in her voice as she took up one of the croissants Erik had brought her.
“I thought you liked them,” Erik chuckled. “Though perhaps you have had enough of the macabre in your waking life. I was hoping to finally take you to the Bois tonight,” Erik heard himself say and watched Christine smile. “It will be clear. I hope you will like it.”
––––––––
Raoul was not a scholar, and he had no shame in that. He’d done well enough in his studies with tutors and at school, of course, as was expected of him. But he much preferreddoing thingsto reading about them in books or pouring over sums and histories. For that reason, he was developing quite a headache today in his attempt to become a scholar of Christine’s story and how it was mixed up with this so-called Phantom. He had written down snippets and notes and set them out on the floor of his room. It looked utterly insane. Raoul assumed that whoever was knocking on his door would find him equally as mad.
“Go away!” Raoul shouted.
“Not a chance in hell, little brother,” Philippe declared as he sauntered in. “My God, this is worse than Jérémy said.”
“Who?”
“Your valet? Who you ran out this morning when he found you up to...whatever this is.” Philippe stepped on a piece of paper detailing Raoul’s first encounter with Christine at the New Year’s gala. “What is going on?”
“I’m trying to get to the bottom of what has happened to Christine,” Raoul protested, and Philippe heaved the most put-upon of sighs.
“I thought you were done with the little slut after she humiliated you. Or have you decided not to abandon your family and duties to traipse off to the North Pole?”
Raoul scowled. “I believe that she hasn’t actually rejected me. She’s being forced away from me against her will.”
“Not that I don’t believe it would take threats and extortion to make a woman turn down a Chagny.” Philippe picked up another scrap and squinted at it. “But what’s that got to do with – what have you written here –Carlotta poisoned?”
“What happened to the woman was unnatural. Everything that’s happened around Christine to make her career possible is unnatural!” Raoul exploded. “Christine said to me she thought she had found the angel her father promised her! But he wasn’t! He lied and it broke her heart!”
“What are you on about?”
“And I thought it was just a man – her good genius teacher that refuses to be seen – but what if he’s more? What if heisthis ghost?” Raoul was breathless to finally say it aloud.
“So your lady love is having trysts with a dead man?” Philippe laughed as he asked it. And why wouldn’t he? It all sounded insane. “Shall we have a séance with that medium that Madame Soleil keeps on her staff now? You can tell him what for!”
“No, I’m saying—” Raoul caught his tongue. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”
“Yes, indeed,” Philippe chuckled. “You know, Antoine told me that his Adèle told him Christine hasn’t been seen at her flat more than one night in the past month. I don’t think a ghost would keep her sooccupied.”
