Page 60 of Angel's Fall
“And the reasonable ones told her she was being an idiot! They said the ghost has nothing against Valerius. She’s friends with that witch Daaé.”
“Well, as long as they keep the lights on, I honestly don’t care who’s singing up above. Though I don’t know about this Wagner rumor...”
Shaya found himself walking to the door. He did not like what he had just heard. Had Raoul and his friend done something to Valerius? More likely, Erik had found out that Adèle had shared some secret with Raoul. The fiend had already broken into her home once, what was to stop him from doing it again?
That could mean de Chagny knew the truth, and perhaps, had confronted Christine. Shaya had to know. He had to be ready, he told himself as he rushed towards the Opera, only to see the subject of his musings speeding away from the building on foot. Christine Daaé looked devastated, running down theRue Auberwith no sense of propriety or discretion. That could only mean triumph for Shaya. He had no choice but to follow.
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Raoul stormed intothe house, his brain afire with rage with no place to direct it. He had never felt hate like this. Knowing the man who had ruined his life and Christine’s was walking the world alive and free made his body tremble with helpless fury. Christine was fallen! And she refused to let him save her because that monster had corrupted her mind!
“Where have you been?” Philippe called, rushing down the stairs.
“Learning the truth,” Raoul seethed back.
“Oh for God’s sake, don’t be dramatic now. One minute, we’re enjoying cigars and brandy, the next, I hear you and Antoine have run off after that Persian fellow broke into the party!”
“ThatPersian fellowwas doing us a great service. He told me the truth about Christine. Or tried to,” Raoul spat, not resisting as Philippe pulled him into the drawing room. “And so Antoine and I...”
Raoul choked back a wave of sickness at the memory, not just of Adèle Valerius’s cries for help, but his useless impotence on the wrong side of the door. He’d thought of running to the great church ofNotre Dame des Victoiresand confessing his sins, but he had been glued to the spot, listening to Antoine’s brutality.
“Raoul!” The sound of his brother’s voice shocked him from the memory. “What did youdo?”
“What needed to be done,” Raoul said. Philippe looked at him in bewildered horror. “I know the truth now.”
“That Christine is a whore? I could have told you that! You didn’t need to go off and do who knows what to—”
“She asked for it,” Raoul snarled back, his blood boiling again at the memory of Adèle’s insults. “Valerius has had half of Paris in her bed. It was just another night for her.”
“Raoul, I say this as a brother who loves you: this has all gone too far.” He sounded so sure and sincere, but Raoul shook his head. “Please, listen to me. You cannot fight an evil man by doing evil yourself! This has to stop. We are going to the police.”
“What will the police do?” Raoul scoffed. “Erik lives across a lake of the dead, his house can’t be found! We have to do it this way! Don’t you want to avenge our father?” Raoul asked back, shaking his head.
“Vengeance won’t resurrect him! It will only damn us and destroy the family we have left!” Philippe protested, grabbing Raoul and shaking him. “For God’s sake, you’ve done enough! You can’t think this is right!”
“Yesterday, I was unsure,” Raoul replied, fire in his heart at the memory of his hesitation.
“I was afraid to do what was necessary. I was worried for my immortal soul, but no longer. Now I know the depths of Erik’s evil. I know we are just. Killing him will be no worse than killing any loathsome animal.”
“Glad to hear you’ve finally found your balls after Daaé stole them.” Raoul looked up to see Antoine himself entering the parlor, looking as pristine as polished ivory. There was no mark on him of any sort of struggle or sleepless night, and his cool smile was so easy.
“No! You stop encouraging him! We need to be reasonable!” Philippe cried as Raoul’s words dried up. “You two have gone mad.”
“We’re the only sane men in Paris,” Antoine drawled. “Well, I am. Your little brother looks rather worse for wear. Where did you get off to?”
“I needed a drink,” Raoul muttered. He’d actually needed several dozen, and then had spent hours praying and sobering up before his assault on the Opera. “I talked to Christine. She confirmed everything.”
“Youwhat?” Philippe gasped.
“She confessed it all: that he’s defiled her for months. The monster has her head turned all around, but I’m going to—” Raoul choked on the words. “I’m going to save her.”
“Raoul, she’s already lost. Let her go and let this be over!” Philippe tried again.
“No! I will not let it go!” Raoul screamed so load the windows shook, and even Antoine looked shocked. “If I give up, he wins! I will not let him win! I will have her and I will destroy him! And I’m going to make ithurt.”
“Exactly,” Antoine said quietly, and the brothers turned to him. “That’s how we destroy him. We take her and he’ll come. It’s simple.”
Raoul looked out into the darkening night, where somewhere, Christine was still in danger, her soul falling deeper into sin with every passing hour that Erik lived. “We have to do it carefully. We’ll need to draw her out of the Opera. Then there’s the matter of what to do when we have him.” Raoul smiled at the thought. He was not a torturer, not like the monster, but he still had imagination.
