Page 84 of Angel's Fall
It was strange to walk in the fresh air again, letting the rain kiss her cheeks. Christine breathed deeply, savoring the free air for what could be the last time.
“Soon it will be done.” Raoul tried to sound reassuring. Christine only nodded.
It would all be over soon, but even now, Christine didn’t know what that meant. She felt like a condemned woman on the road to execution, having given confession and now sent in the cart to the place of her final judgment. Could she sing for Erik one last time? Was he truly just going to let her go off to a life with his rival if she did? Or would he trick them? Would he take her one last time, even if it condemned them all?
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The gendarmes assignedto the Opera refused to listen to Shaya. He was not surprised, but it was still infuriating. They were getting close to when Christine would arrive, and the trap would be ready to spring. But it would not matter if Erik was not actually trapped in the Opera. Shaya rushed through the halls, hoping to remedy that oversight.
Near a flight of stairs towards the furnaces, Shaya saw his chance in the personage of Firmin Richard. The manager looked just as he had the night before when Raoul had outlined his plan. Shaya had not advised against the scheme, for the idea that Erik would come for his love and expose himself while doing so was sound, but only if the correct precautions were taken.
“Once the audience is inside, make sure you are posted,” Richard was telling a fireman.
“Monsieur Richard, a word!” Shaya called as he rushed to the man. “I once again entreat you to listen to me! Posting guards at doors is a waste!”
“And I once again entreat you to shut up and leave this business to those of us who know what we are doing,” the manager snapped as the fireman retreated.
“I was—”
“A sheriff in some backwater sultanate. I know,” Richard scoffed. “This is Paris and my opera.”
“So you must know that he can get in and out ofhisopera without ever using a goddamn door?”
Richard sneered. “Indeed I do, good Monsieur. My agent made sure that entrance was wide open for him today. Then barred it after it was used.”
“Your agent?” Shaya asked, mind racing.
“Did you think I was relying solely on the intelligence of the young Vicomte? I thought you were claiming to be wise in all things,” Richard went on, pleased with himself.
“The shade. He’s yours?”
Richard’s smirk was all the confirmation Shaya needed. “What sort of game are you playing?”
“One you have no business interfering in. Don’t you have to go lurk somewhere?”
“Something like that,” Shaya said softly before turning away.
Richard had given Shaya no reason to inform the manager that the shade was perhaps as dangerous as the Phantom. Just as Shaya had found himself yesterday with no reason to tell Raoul and his cohorts that Erik’s escape from Antoine’s clutches was all too convenient. Why should he warn those who would not listen?
Guilt moved Shaya to the corridors near the stage, towards the rooms where the petits rats of the corps de ballet were scurrying between preparations for tonight’s performance ofFaust. He waited only a few moments before he found what he was looking for: Jammes. This time, it was her chasing after Julianne.
“You can’t just accuse me of that and expect me to be fine!” Jammes called as the dresser headed towards Shaya. “I didn’t mean to—”
Both women stopped when they saw the Persian. “Really?” Julianne asked, eyes on Shaya, her countenance full of fury. “Why don’t we just ask him? Did you use what she told you – whatItold her in confidence aboutmy friend– to go to the Vicomte and his friends?”
“I did,” Shaya replied. “I didn’t know what they would do to confirm the information about Christine.”
“It’s still your fault. It’s still all our faults,” Julianne gritted out and rounded on Jammes.
“And so you’re punishing me by—” Jammes stopped, biting her lip and blushing deeply.
“You told me you were done with me. Well now I’m done with you,” Julianne said, sure and cold. Shaya had listened to many lovers’ quarrels before but never one that made him feel so out of place as an interloper. “I’m done with all of you,” Julianne added, pointedly looking at Shaya before she pushed past.
“Wait!” Jammes called as Julianne stalked off and turned a dark corner. Shaya followed out of habit, close enough to hear Jammes gasp. When he turned the corner to join her, he saw why: Julianne was gone. “Where did she go?”
“I am afraid to say,” Shaya breathed, and a chill went down his spine. He could feel the darkness looking back at him, laughing as it made its plans. “You should leave. Go home.”
“What?” Jammes asked in horror.
