Page 80 of Angel's Fall
“Christine, please. You can save us all – our souls and our lives.” Raoul placed a tender hand on her cheek.
Christine did not bat it away. What was the point? “Will I be able to see him? To say goodbye?”
“After. If we can arrange for certain assurances to be made,” Raoul replied, hesitant. Christine took a deep breath, choosing once again as Erik had taught her, to cling to the next moment and live and hope.
“Yes. I’ll... Yes,” she heard herself say and watched from miles away as Raoul embraced her. She was outside of her body when he kissed her, so distant that she did not even feel it. Her mind was with Erik, wherever he was. She would take this deal, this new prison of promises and hope that, somehow, her angel would be able to save her. If she could just save him first.
11. Gravity
Raoul had never beenhappier to see dawn break. He sank onto a chaise in relief, glancing to where Philippe had been asleep on a couch for hours. Raoul had kept watch all night, walking the halls, pistol at the ready. He had not slept, fueled by all the coffee the kitchen could brew him and elixirs from Antoine’s valise of medicines. Those... and the fear that Erik could be around any corner.
Sometime near three o’clock, Raoul had seen eyes in the window and dashed out into the garden, only to catch an extremely angry cat before he returned to his patrol. It was at that point that Philippe had given up and decided to rest, claiming that Erik was too smart to try an assault on their home. Raoul hoped he was right, but he would not take any chances.
He couldn’t let that thing near Christine again. That was why they had to keep her in his room with the windows barred and door locked. She had complained of the safety measures, protesting that if Erik was contained, there was no need for her to be shut away. Raoul had assured her it was just a precaution, surely, she knew better than anyone how dangerous and devious Erik could be. He couldn’t tell her that the monster had already proven himself to be thus.
Raoul’s patrol had taken him by his own door so many times he had lost count. He’d listened from the other side just as he had listened outside Christine’s dressing room door months ago, and every time he had expected to hear that voice calling out to her, seeping in through the walls. He had only heard the sound of her breathing and weeping.
Raoul gazed out to the empty street, practically shaking with anticipation and readiness. (It could also be the substances he had used to stay awake.) They had made it through the night, and he had kept Christine safe. Soon, she would be done with her tears. Soon, Raoul would know her as his wife, and the memory of that thing would be erased from her mind and body...
“I need to call the priest,” Raoul exclaimed.
Philippe startled awake from the couch. “You need to... What bloody time is it?”
“Seven o’clock in the morning. I need to get the priest and arrange for the marriage and our confessions.” Raoul had no idea why Philippe was looking at him like he had gone mad. He was being perfectly reasonable.
“Not even God is awake this early,” Philippe groaned. “It can wait.”
“I’m tired of waiting.” Raoul’s leg bounced nervously as he tapped it.
“You always were impatient.” Raoul turned to see his brother looking uncharacteristically affectionate. “You’d wake before dawn and run into my room when you were a wee thing and demand we play. Drove the nannies insane. Me too.”
“But you always played with me, even when you were tired.” Raoul smiled at the memory. “You were the best at all the games.”
“To think that impatient little boy has grown into such a bold, impatient man,” Philippe sighed. He stumbled from the couch and rang the bell to summon a servant. “Any word from... anyone?”
“Nothing. If Antoine is coming back, he hasn’t decided to let us know.”
