Page 93 of Angel's Kiss
“I’m not...” Christine whispered, panic rising as her eyes darted to her reflection.
Julianne furrowed her brow. “But he’s your lover, isn’t he?”
“That’s different,” Christine replied. She did not want that. She had just died for love as Gilda in a father’s arms, remembering her own father’s warning that love was nothing but pain. Julianne still looked dubious.
“But you aren’t going home tonight, are you?” Julianne asked.
“I’m not going to Adèle’s,” Christine corrected as goose flesh rose on her skin.
“Do you need any help?”
“I’m fine,” Christine said too quickly. It was simple enough to get out of Gilda’s boyish disguise. Julianne said no more, casting a dark look at the mirror before retreating. Christine didn’t hide behind the screen to undress, simply throwing a robe over her underthings, followed by the dark cloak Erik had bestowed on her.
“Aren’t you going to dress?” Erik’s voice sounded from behind the mirror and Christine found herself grinning, her mask of propriety and decency falling away.
“What’s the point? I’ll just have them off again when we’re home, won’t I?” she said softly, her cheeks heating even as the words left her lips and the mirror slid open. Erik smiled back at her from the dark. He had the mask on again, as always when he was above, but she could see the pride and desire in his eyes. “Were you pleased by the performance?”
He answered by pulling her to him and kissing her. It was always like drowning, the first time he touched her after they had been apart. She was pulled down by the undertow in a savage sea. But it didn’t scare her. The mirror closed behind them, and the world on the other side ceased to exist.
14. A Trick of Moonlight
The Opera was closed, much to Shaya’s dismay. He had hoped he would be able to slip in on an uncrowded day to see if he could find Erik’s secret path once again, but alas, every door was locked. Therefore, he was sulking on theRue Scribein the pre-dawn light, wondering what else to do with himself. No one had ever told him, when he began to train for the Shah’s secret police, that being a spy would involve so much standing around and waiting. He’d been waiting all week for some sign that Christine Daaé was a prisoner or if she willingly served Erik. She had sung like an angel as Gilda the night before then disappeared entirely, and Shaya was sure he knew where to. Perhaps he might see her emerge...
“Would you like a croissant?” Shaya jumped at least a foot in the air at the sound of Erik’s voice. He spun to the alley where the fiend stood in shadow, smiling past the edge of his mask. He was indeed holding a package that smelled like fresh pastry. “They’re fresh. I’m sure you could use one on a cold morning like this.”
“Did you come out here just to accost me?” Shaya declared, righting his hat from where it had become askew.
“Well, you have been lingering about for a few days. But no, I came out to fetch breakfast for Christine. She had quite a performance last night and she’s rather tired,” Erik smirked.
Shaya rolled his eyes. “So you did take her again?”
“I nevertookher, Daroga, she comes and goes freely because she wants to. That is what I have been hoping you’d see, but it seems your skills have diminished over the years.” Erik looked pleased with himself, which was almost as disconcerting as seeing him outside of the Opera in all his sinister glory. It made Shaya think.
“On the contrary, I see a woman you’ve manipulated, lied to, and rewarded with a career,” Shaya said and watched Erik’s eyes harden. “If she knows everything as you say – which Idoubt– then she knows you are a killer, and she only returns to you out of fear.”
“Is it really so hard to believe that she wants me for myself?” Erik paused, and Shaya braced himself. “As others have.”
