Page 57 of Angel's Fall

“That bastard de Martiniac, if I were to hazard a guess,” Robert muttered, and Gabriel looked away.

“I think he did more than beat her,” Gabriel said, sad and low. “I should have been there.”

“I’ll kill him,” Christine breathed. “I need to see her.”

She rushed from the rehearsal room toward the stage door, heart pounding with the fear that, somehow, this was her fault. The sound of yelling stopped her in her tracks before she came to the exit, for one voice was familiar.

“For God’s sake, let me in! You know me!” Raoul’s voice boomed from the door, and Christine’s panic grew.

“He’s my guest, let him in,” Christine heard herself say, rushing to the door then nearly tripping at the absolute devastation in Raoul’s face when he looked at her. She had never seen the man look so dire. “Raoul, what’s—”

“Let me by, you oaf!” Raoul shoved past the doorman only to grab Christine by the arm and pull her towards the hall she had just come from.

“Raoul, what’s going on? I need to get to Adèle!”

“That whore can wait. I want you to tell me the truth,” Raoul entreated as they came to a standstill, holding Christine so she was forced to look into his red-rimmed eyes. He was unshaven and disheveled, and he looked as if he had not changed since Christine had left him last night. “I need to know where you spend your nights.”

Christine’s heart was going to shatter her chest, fear and shame and panic all surging through her at once. She saw the doorman watching out of the corner of her eye and looked frantically towards the shadows she knew had ears.

“Not here, please. My dressing room—”

Raoul shook his head, gripping her tighter, eyes wild. “No. Somewhere he cannot follow or hear. I don’t trust anything you say if he’s listening.”

Christine swallowed, glancing towards the street through a dingy window, where faint daylight still remained. She couldn’t go out there, but she could go up. “Follow me,” she ordered and set off on a path she’d only taken once before.

Up to the flies where she had watched Buquet die and up higher still she rushed, confident Raoul was behind her, but never looking back. Her mind was not on her feet as they carried her skyward on narrow metal steps in close spirals, trying to guess what Raoul knew and plan what she might say. The daylight was the one place Erik would not go, or so she hoped Raoul believed. She didn’t know if she was afraid to face Raoul’s condemnations alone or if she needed the shelter of her angel’s wings.

The air was warmer than she had expected when they stepped onto the roof, the copper dome above the auditorium warmed by the glancing rays of the late afternoon sun. She didn’t stray near the edge, but rather towards the place behind the dome, to the very feet of Apollo thrusting his golden lyre to the sky.

Christine looked up to the cold, handsome face of the god of musicians. He who had raped and chased in the name of love, who had cursed and destroyed artists and oracles, and who now looked over Paris with placid calm.

“No further,” Raoul commanded, and Christine dared to turn to him again. “Confess your lies. Tell me that you’ve been spending the nights with him. I know you haven’t been at home.”

“How—”

“Your friend told Antoine. She told him everything,” Raoul confessed as if it caused him terrible pain to say it. It hurt Christine too, as the pieces came together at last.

“Adèle,” she whispered in horror. “Did Antoine—”

“He got answers,” Raoul spat, looking sickened before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter how. I know you’ve lied! I want to know why! I want to know what elsehehas done to you and made you hide! That woman said such awful things! That she saw you and your lover! That you told her how he...” Raoul looked like he was about to wretch. “She deserved what he did to her.”

Christine braced herself against the cold stone of the Opera, staring in horror at the man before her. Gone was the sweet, bumbling boy she had loved years ago. Gone too was the bashful sailor that had pined for her hand. In his place was a thing made of rage and judgment animated by pitiful despair. A man who had allowed her friend to be beaten and worse, just so he could call Christine to account.

“Were you there?” Christine asked softly. “When that bastard beat this all out of her?Were you there?”

“I am not the one answering questions right now!” Raoul spat, grabbing Christine and shaking her with force that only strengthened her resolve. “I want you to tell me that trollop lied! I refuse to believe that you have shared the bed of that monster – that corpse!”

“I thought you wanted the truth,” Christine hissed back and watched Raoul’s face darken further. “Adèle didn’t lie – how could she? I’m the one who has lied, just like you said, and I am exhausted by it. Don’t you want to hear how every horrible thing you’ve ever suspected of me is true?”

“Tell me he forced you,” Raoul gritted out. Christine shook her head, defiant. “No. I won’t believe that. You’re lying for him again!”

“Is it so hard to comprehend?” she nearly laughed. “You said it yourself! He inspired ecstasy in me with merely his voice. He always has. I have alwayswantedhim. Why are you arguing now? That’s what you and your friend beat Adèle to learn, and it’s all true!”

“No!” Raoul cried and pushed her away.

“Do you want to know all the details?” Christine went on, rage rising. “Shall I tell you all the ways he fucks me? All the places he’s had me? How hard he makes me come?”

Raoul spun to look at her, utter disgust on his handsome face. “Stop!”

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