Page 26 of Angel's Fall

“Stranger things have happened.” She tried to smile. “And this opera, it won’t be a tragedy like all the others. The lovers will end up together, happy and alive?”

“I will try,” Erik replied before Christine kissed him with every ounce of love and tenderness she could muster.

“You will,” she breathed as their lips parted. “You will write me music like nothing before, and you’ll be safe here. And then tonight, I’ll come back to you. Take me up now, so I can come back home soon.”

“Not soon enough,” Erik sighed, but let her go.

“It won’t be long, I swear.”

Christine thought on that promise as they ascended from the cellars, her hand in Erik’s as always as he led them through the labyrinth of corridors, sets, and stairs that protected his home. All too soon they were in the passage behind the mirror of her dressing room, reality waiting for her on the other side of the glass.

“I always hate this part,” Erik vocalized for them both as he hung the lantern. “I hate it more now.”

“I won’t be far,” Christine tried to reassure him, heart smarting at the sight of his furrowed brow and desolate expression. She’d never seen him look so vulnerable up here. Because he had never come up with her unmasked. That was how much he trusted her. “I’ll be with you like you’re with me,” she tried again, taking his hand. “I love you.”

Such simple words, but they meant everything. It was just as simple to surrender to the embrace when he kissed her, fiercely asserting his claim on her mouth along with her body and soul. “I wish I could show, right now, how I love you in return,” Erik purred against her cheek.

“I’d be late—” Christine protested, catching her breath and fighting to keep her own need in check. Erik groaned in frustration. “You can have me tonight. Before or after our lesson. I want to give you my voice too. I haven’t sung with you for days.”

“I will leave that up to you, my mistress, my ruler,” Erik sighed, hands sweeping over her. “Whatever you want is yours.”

“I will be at the door from the stable at seven sharp and you can have all of this off me by a quarter past.”

Erik triggered the mirror as he let her slip from his arms and into her darkened dressing room. In a blink, the glass slid back into place, but the light from the lantern meant she could still see him there, unmasked and yet perfect. Christine placed her palm against the cold, cruel barrier between them and Erik did the same.

“I love you, my angel,” Erik spoke, those words in his unearthly voice sending new tremors through Christine’s soul. There was nothing she could do but nod before rushing from the room, lust aching between her thighs.

Christine wondered how flushed she looked as she arrived on the stage, one of the first principals to do so, and tried to straighten her hair and dress as best she could. Today would be a simple, un-costumed run ofFaustto refamiliarize the company with the production before they returned to it in a few days.

A few members of the chorus were already on the stage, and some of the musicians were tuning in the pit. Christine’s chest tightened anytime one of them looked up at her. She didn’t even want to look to the audience to see if Raoul had arrived. She settled for smiling to herself as she surveyed the table at center stage where she’d given herself last night.

“Ah, I see you’ve recovered from Mardi Gras as well.” Christine turned to see Robert Rameau smiling at her. The caddish bass who pretended to be her lover (or one of them) was always a comforting presence.

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Christine sighed. Robert chuckled as he looked her over and his eyes fell on the ring on her finger.

“Did I give you that?” the basso asked without a speck of judgment or suspicion. “Just so I know if we’re engaged.”

“That’s the other hand,” Christine muttered. “But yes, it’s from my not-so-secret lover. The speech along with it was very romantic.”

“Well, good job to me then.” Robert looked out into the audience, and Christine’s gaze followed his. To her shock, there was absolutely no one in the seats. “Were you expecting someone to be here?”

“Raoul de Chagny will be here periodically to see me in the next few weeks,” Christine explained. “As a dear friend who wishes to spend time with me before he embarks on a long sea voyage, of course.”

“No threat to the man who gave you that ring,” Robert followed. “Or I hope not, for my own sake. Yours too.”

“None at all.” Christine squinted at the sea of red velvet – the bathtub, as it was called – and wondering if she was missing something with her nearsightedness. “I thought he’d be here today.”

“Maybe he’s busy doing something noble or naval, or whatever a young man like him does.” Robert shrugged and Christine gave a distracted nod in return.

“Maybe.”

Where on earth could he be, and why did it make the pit in her stomach grow to consider it?

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Shaya was not surewhat to think of the young Vicomte de Chagny, even after hearing the young man’s narrative of what he knew (or thought he knew) of Erik. The boy was brave, certainly, but the stupid kind of brave that only a young person could fully embody.

“So your plan was to just... wander into the cellars and find the way into Erik’s house?” Shaya said. “When you know better than most that he’s a killer?”

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