Page 89 of Angel's Fall

In reply, the heavens thundered.

Christine’s eyes turned, along with all those in the audience, to the source of the noise – what had sounded so ominously like an explosion from above. They held their breath as the orchestra’s notes faltered and jumped when the noise came again. It was coming from above the great dome of the theater, shaking the blazing chandelier so hard it began to swing.

“Get out!” Christine turned to see Armand Moncharmin standing in his box, waving and screaming at the stunned audience below. “Get out now!” he bellowed as another boom echoed from above. Pandemonium broke out in the stalls as the great contraption of crystal and brass shuddered and swayed. It was coming down.

“Listen to him! Go now!” Christine screamed as a fourth terrible blast sounded from above while the audience pushed and panicked to get away from the center of the auditorium. It was chaos all around her too, as the chorus and actors scrambled and yelled. Out of the corner of her eye, Christine saw Raoul striving through the crowd to reach her. She turned to the chandelier again, but she did not scream. She sang a prayer as a final blast sounded.

“Pure and radiant angels, carry my soul to heaven!” she sang as the icon of the Opera’s power and grandeur plummeted from the heavens, blazing for one brilliant second before its light was extinguished. It hit the seats with a deafening roar of twisting metal and shattering crystal, and the entire theater was plunged into darkness.

Everyone screamed except Christine. She had no time to even consider it before a hand covered her mouth and another gripped her waist. Away from the blazing world into darkness, they fell. Her angel had come for her.

12. Drowning

Erik braced himselffor the pain as they crashed through the trap door, and he was not disappointed. His knees cracked against the boards, and Christine’s weight pushed the air from his lungs as she landed atop him, locked in his arms. It set off his wounds and made his head ring. If there had been any light, his vision would have blurred. He hauled Christine up with him as she groaned.

Was she hurt? Was she confused? Did she not know her prayers had been answered? Such beautiful prayers offered up in radiant song in defiance of that vile boy. Christine had pushed him away, and Erik had known and he had heard, and now, she was back in his arms.

Above them was screaming and thundering feet that made the stage above them tremble, and none of it mattered because Erik had her back and he would never let go. Even when she struggled to turn to him, he did not let go. He pulled her into their embrace again and muffled the cry he knew would come as he triggered the second trap door.

They landed on their feet this time, just as a cry came from above. Had they been seen? The stagehands, they had lights of their own to use down here, lights that weren’t connected to the gas lines. Erik could see them distantly in the dark, like fireflies. He did not want to kill them if they came close. Fireflies were so beautiful in the summer, but it was spring and he had a task at hand, didn’t he?

“Who is there?” a voice called, angry and dangerous. “Stop!”

Erik seized his love, dragging her away from the voice and towards their dark road. They had to run, so he made them run, dodging between the ropes and sets and great gears below the stage. It was too busy here, even with the distraction above. It was still loud. He could still hear the screams and chaos above. He could not stop and savor the fruits of his work, alas.

Another sound and they veered again, Christine stumbling behind him. They came to a door into a narrow stair and Christine stopped, forcing Erik to finally face her.

Fear clutching his heart, Erik let Christine go, and she rounded on him. Immediately she pushed off the hood that hid his face, exposing that he wore no mask. He stood before her, exposed as the chaos he had caused echoed above them and the woman who had either betrayed him or been stolen from him looked into his face once more. How different it was now from the sunset by the seaside...

“I did what I had to do,” Erik said before she could berate him, bracing for her fury as he had braced for the fall.

“So did I.” There was no anger in Christine’s voice, only contrition. The thorn of doubt that had wedged itself between Erik’s ribs since Perros was suddenly so much smaller. “I’m so sorry—”

He kissed her before she could say more. Kissed her living, eager lips with more hunger and desperation than ever before. Christine was there in his arms again, and that was all that mattered. The chaos above was silent, the wreckage was far away, as their breath became one in the warren of illusions below the stage. She pulled back, touching his cheek so tenderly.

“I thought you were—” she began just as a cry sounded nearby. Erik recoiled from her hand, the hate that had burned like a furnace in him all day reigniting.

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