Page 48 of Angel's Fall
Why did he feel that way now? Raoul wondered as another shiver rippled down his spine. Why could he suddenly not shake the sense that if he turned quickly enough, he would see shining eyes watching him from the dark outside his window?
Raoul was perfectly still, closing his eyes and letting himself feel the weight of a gaze upon him. What would he do if he turned to see Erik right there? Where was his pistol? He opened his eyes and spun.
There they were! Gold eyes in the dark! He rushed to his bedside where his revolver was hidden. By the time it was in his hand, the lights – those two stars watching him – were gone. He was about to run out onto the balcony, screaming into the night when his door burst open.
“What on earth are you doing with that?” Antoine demanded when he saw the gun in Raoul’s hand.
“I thought I saw—” Raoul realized how insane it sounded. “I saw something outside. Maybe. There were glowing eyes!”
“Did you nearly just shoot a cat thinking it was a ghost?” Antoine snatched the revolver from Raoul’s hands. “Put that down, you idiot, and come downstairs. Your whore is here.”
“What?”
Antoine rolled his eyes. “Do you have to thinkwhich one? Daaé, you fool. She’s claiming you invited her as a guest, and Sabine is worried she’ll be offended by the entertainment we did manage to snag. Come and sort it out.”
“Christine is here?” Raoul’s heart leapt and he raced from the room, leaving the darkness outside his window and whatever creature was hiding there far behind.
––––––––
Christine had neverbeen to the de Chagny manor in theFaubourg Saint Germain. She had expected it to be grand and ostentatious like the foyers and salons of the Opera, but it was surprisingly old-fashioned and conservative. This was the home of old money, everything about the place declared, from the dour portraits of dead counts and countesses on the walls by the main stair to the dark wood and heavy stone the place was built from. Christine felt like there was no fresh air in the place, perhaps due to the nervousness eating up her insides.
“You’re really here!” Raoul’s voice cut through Christine’s thoughts. She forced herself to smile as he bounded down the stairs to her and grasped her hands. She was glad of her long gloves. “I’m so glad! Don’t tell me – you knew how much I was worried after last night.”
“What?” Christine asked before she could stop herself.
“You disappeared again,” Raoul whined.
“I just went home. I was so tired. I’ve been in bed most of the day.” Like so many things she told Raoul, it wasn’t entirely a lie. She had been home and spent most of the day in bed – albeit not alone.
“You poor thing. No matter. I can’t tell you how happy it makes me to see you in the real world.” Raoul grinned, boyish and bright.
“I hope you don’t mind that I changed my mind at the last minute. I am still invited, aren’t I?” It was Raoul’s turn to look rather sick, and Christine sighed. “There was no amended invitation, was there? You told me to come knowing I wouldn’t.”
“I didn’t thinkhewould allow it!” Raoul protested.
Christine could hardly tell Raoul thatheand his ridiculous need to see the brother he had not known existed was the reason she was there.
I just need to see him, Erik had begged. Christine would be the distraction, the spy, sent to learn anything she could, while Erik confirmed his worst fears from the shadows. What was the point, she had demanded, and there had been no answer.Please, he had said, so small and soft, and she had crumbled.
“He commanded it,” Christine repeated the lie she had rehearsed in their carriage ride across the Seine. “He said that I had brought him so much joy, it was only fair that I could do the same for you before you left.”
“How compassionate.” Raoul made it sound like an insult.
“I did want to try again with your family, even if it’s in vain,” Christine added. “May I enter?” She glanced through the double doors towards the grand dining room and parlor to where dozens of people with more money than she could ever conceive of were chatting demurely.
“Yes, of course.” Raoul looked terribly apprehensive, and Christine noted that he didn’t offer his arm as he showed her to the party. She felt more exposed than she ever had on stage as the guests turned to look at her and whisper behind their fans. What was this bagatelle from the Opera doing here?
Raoul led her to a discrete spot by a gilded fireplace. Christine glanced to the windows out into the garden and was happy to not see any shadows watching.
“I’ll go find Sabine,” Raoul offered, and before Christine could protest or grab his arm to keep him close, he was gone.
Christine surveyed the room. She had glimpsed Antoine de Martiniac when she had been shown in, conversing with the butler who had admitted her, but she couldn’t see him anywhere now. Nor could she spot Philippe. Some of the faces were familiar, perhaps from the Opera, but no one spoke to her or held eye contact with her for more than a heartbeat.
“This is quite a surprise.” Of all the people Christine had expected to turn and see in the Chagny home, Firmin Richard was not one of them. “Did they change their mind about Madame Cruvelli?”
“Excuse me?” Christine asked, stomach twisting. She had never liked Firmin Richard, not since he had unceremoniously fired her at Carlotta’s behest. Now, every time she saw him, the shame and fear of that awful day echoed through her so powerfully that her whole body shook.
“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Richard asked with a cruel smirk. “We’ve made an offer to Sophie Cruvelli to sing Elsa if we end up going through with thisLohengrinnonsense. She’s sung the role elsewhere and has the maturity for it. I hope you didn’t think youwould be cast – you’re still so young and we wouldn’t want to destroy such an instrument before it’s flowered.”
