Page 85 of Angel's Fall
“Leave now. The Opera is not safe tonight.”
––––––––
The dark corridorsbackstage had never been so threatening. Raoul walked with one hand on Christine’s arm and another in the pocket of his coat, ready to draw his pistol. He did not think that the fiend would attempt to take her now, but he could never hope to understand the madness that drove Erik. The denizens of the Opera whispered as they passed, which only made Christine look more sullen, but soon, he would free her. Soon.
“Don’t you have things to see to?” Raoul turned at the sound of Christine’s voice, realizing they had stopped in front of her dressing room. “Wherever you have him – don’t you need to...” Christine swallowed her words, looking as if she might weep again.
“Philippe is attending tohim,” Raoul lied.
“And where will he be? When will I see him?”
“After. Don’t upset yourself more thinking about it,” Raoul replied, even as a single tear escaped down Christine’s cheek. “This is all for the best. It’s the start of a new life. A better life for all of us.”
“It doesn’t feel like a new start. It feels like the end of everything I love.”
“I’ll be here the whole time, right beside you as much as I can be. You won’t be alone,” Raoul offered, caressing her arms.
Christine shrugged him off. “Do you think I’m going to run off if you take your eyes off me? You know I won’t. I’m not giving you any excuse to hurt him again. You can go.”
“Let me at least stay until the curtain goes up. I promise not to get in your way,” Raoul said with a smile. “I’m here to help.”
Christine turned to her dressing room door. Both of them jumped as it opened, but it was only a dresser inside. An older woman with a ruddy complexion who looked relieved to see Christine.
“Louise? What are you doing here?” Christine asked, stepping into the room. “Where is Julianne?”
“I haven’t seen her,” Louise sighed. Raoul followed them into the dressing room, casting a glare at the great mirror. It did not move and nothing leapt out. Either Erik was waiting, or he was not there. “I thought I’d come to dress you and talk about this ridiculous rumor that tonight will be your last performance.”
Raoul watched as Christine gave a tearful nod. Louise gasped before looking at him. “She wishes to be fully devoted to our marriage,” Raoul explained, just as he had to the man atL’Époque.
“What about... Robert?” Louise asked, looking unconvinced.
“He can’t give me the life I deserve. My heart isn’t in the Opera anymore.”
“How can that be? You sing like no one I’ve ever heard! You came here begging for any job you could find here, a little bedraggled thing come in out of the rain to my workshop. Now you’re leaving?”
“There are things I love more than the Opera now,” Christine whispered.
Raoul looked away at those words. She meant Erik – or thought she did. Why wouldn’t she, when she was surrounded by all the evidence of his influence? Still, it filled Raoul with fresh resolve to end it all and claim what should have been his at the age of seventeen.
“Monsieur, are you going to remain here while a lady changes?”
Raoul looked up at Louise in surprise. “I am her fiancé.”
“It’s fine, Louise. We’ll use the screen.” The women did just that.
Raoul, to prove he was a gentleman, turned his back and went to examine Christine’s vanity. It was a charming little collection of things she had. A vase of dried flowers. A brush.
A folded note.
Raoul glanced behind him, making sure the women were distracted before he opened the card and read the jagged letters scrawled in red ink.
Do not sing for him.
Raoul suppressed a grin as he pocketed the missive. So, Erik was here. And just as Raoul had hoped, he was livid that Christine was making a final performance dedicated to the man who had finally won her hand. It made Raoul want to laugh, to think of that monster stewing in impotent rage, excluded and denied as Raoul had been so many times.
Now it was Erik’s turn for humiliation. When Christine sang, he would come for her. From somewhere in the shadows, he would come for her, and Raoul would be ready to end him for good.
Raoul stood back as Louise led Christine to the vanity, clucking over her as she finished her costume and started on styling her hair. Christine looked very much like a doll being painted and primped, but it brightened Raoul’s heart to see even the illusion of a blush return to his beloved’s cheeks.
