Page 106 of Angel's Fall
“Where is he? Where is the murderer?!” Raoul railed, vision blurred and swimming as stronger hands took him by the shoulder. “I will extinguish that demon’s eyes forever!”
“Raoul, it’s over. He let us go. You and I,” Christine said. But that was impossible, because Erik had killed and burned and lied and stolen to make Christine his and his alone. How could that thing have let them go?
“I need to find him! I’m going to kill him for this!” Raoul screamed. His brother was lost, and it was all that monster’s fault. He screamed, words lost as he struggled and flailed against the hands holding him down.
“I’m sorry for this, Monsieur, but it will help you rest,” a male voice said. There was something over his mouth, and Raoul recognized the smell of the drug he had used on Christine. He tried to struggle but he was weak and limp and lost and he could not scream anymore. He could not see.
––––––––
Despite stolen minuteson couches and in parlors, Christine still felt as if she had not slept for days. She’d be glad to be back in a familiar bed soon. The cold of early March was refreshing, keeping her awake for a few steps more. She breathed in the fresh air and savored the simple joy of walking free and alone, even for a few moments.
She hadn’t had such a pleasure since the journey to her father’s grave in Perros and she had not felt this free for... it felt like months. A season at least. Christine had spent all of winter tied to the Opera, sometimes by choice and sometimes by bond. Now, the branches of the trees were pregnant with buds ready to burst into bloom, and everything was different.
Christine braced herself when she came to the door on theRue Notre Dame Des Victoires. Once again, it looked so different in this new light. She knocked hesitantly, having lost her key who-knows-how-long ago. She hoped Adèle was not mad at her for making her get up, but it was not Adèle who answered the door. It was Julianne, dressed in the same clothes as the night before.
“Oh, thank God,” her friend gasped before embracing Christine. “I was so worried. Are you—”
“I’m fine,” Christine exhaled as she hugged Julianne back. “Are you alright? I’m glad you saved me the trip to find you.”
“I’m well. It all went to plan. I gave the gendarmes a merry chase and met my compatriot.”
“I wanted to stay and watch the chaos, but Julianne was adamant we get back home.” Christine looked up in relief to see Adèle standing inside by the fire. The bruises on her beautiful face were still there but fading. What was more, the defiant gleam had returned to her eyes. “Come here, my dear girl.”
Christine flew from Julianne’s arms to Adèle, earning a soft grunt of discomfort with the force of her embrace. “I’m sorry!”
“I forgive you,” Adèle whispered into her hair. “I’m just glad you’re safe. I didn’t expect to see you here so soon.”
“I need to stay here if you’ll let me. Just for a night or two.” Christine pulled away, avoiding Julianne’s gaze.
“Of course,” Adèle said.
“But why?” Julianne demanded, and Christine fought to hold in her tears. “I thought that he was taking you away or... well, he didn’t say. He wasn’t in a very talkative mood.”
“He needs – wants – me to be up here,” Christine said with great difficulty. Just the thought of telling the story – all the sins and mistakes and absolutions and promises – made Christine want to expire. “Don’t ask me yet. I can explain, but not yet.”
“Take all the time you need,” Adèle replied, and Christine caught her giving Julianne a look. “Though you must tell me one thing. I did my part in that disaster, and I was glad to wreak my havoc, but I didn’t do it for free. Antoine – is he dead, like your ghost promised he would be?”
Christine met the eyes of her friend, taking in the hint of fear in her gaze, as well as the righteous anger as she waited. “Yes,” Christine answered, the sound of gunshots and a body falling to the floor echoing in her mind. “But not by Erik’s hand.”
“As long as he’s gone,” Julianne spat. “Good riddance.”
“I...” Christine stopped herself. She had fought so hard to save lives, and still, two men were dead, men who would never have the chance to right any wrongs in the world or see the face of a brother. But to Adèle, Antoine had been beyond the pale, a man cruel enough to risk her life and soul and career to take vengeance against. “I won’t tell you how to feel.”
“Thank you,” Adèle said. “Let’s just all be glad it’s over.”
“Almost,” Christine sighed. “There are a few matters left to handle before—” Again the words caught in Christine’s throat, emotion overcoming her along with exhaustion. “I just need to rest.”
“Your bed awaits. Come on.” Adèle gestured to Christine’s room.
“I don’t want to put Julianne out if she’s staying there,” Christine protested.
“Oh, she’ll be fine.” Adèle gave her a surprisingly roguish smile. “Come along.”
Christine found herself ushered to her old room and deposited on the bed. It was heaven compared to the chaise in the Chagny parlor, but it didn’t feel like home. Home was far away, below the streets, and she could not go back.
“Where is Raoul in all this?” Adèle asked as Christine relaxed onto the pillow. Julianne was lurking at the door, Christine noted, before closing her eyes.
“I’ve been with him all morning. I needed to be there when he woke, but the doctor says he’ll sleep for a while. I was not welcome at his house. Understandably. I’ll—” Christine yawned, days’ worth of exhaustion overtaking her. “I’ll go back in the morning while the arrangements are made.”
