Page 107 of Angel's Flight

Erik didn’t wait for more questions, leaving the pub as fast as he could with poor Christine muttering apologies.She rushed to keep up with him as he slaked back to the carriage and wrenched open the door.Pauline was positioned on the floor with her feet bound and a gag in her mouth.

“It takes a rare sort of wickedness to trick a whole town.Did you really think someone as inept as you could make such an insane plan work?”Erik demanded of their hostage, taking care to speak in French in case anyone was walking by.“Did you really think I’d care?”

Pauline, still gagged, scrunched her face rudely, managing to look smug, even in this state.

“Leave her be.Let’s get to our accommodations,” Christine muttered, pulling Erik back before shaking her head at Pauline and closing the door.

This time, she joined Erik on the driver’s seat of the carriage, her closeness both a comfort and a torture.He was delusional to think he could ever give it up, and yet, just as delusional to think he deserved this or that she couldn’t do better.

“I still think you should go back to London.This can’t be all they’re planning,” Erik finally said.It didn’t feel any better to have it out in the open.

“I know you think that, but you’ve been overruled,” Christine replied, firm and foolish.“You were overruled in that respect the moment you asked me to marry you.”

Erik remembered that.The vivid knowledge in the dark under the Opéra that, if Christine Daaé agreed to not just be with him, but to be his wife, that he would be brave enough to walk in the world of light with her.They had wed among friends, he had shown his face in the presence of the divine, and sworn to her, and that should have changed him.

Now here he was, willing to run back to the dark again to save her, and she wouldn’t let him, because he had shackled her with those vows.She was doomed if she didn’t let go, like the poor people of this village tied to this dying land ruled by a distant queen.Would his poor Christine end up like the manor they headed towards – empty and crumbling and forgotten?

Paris

Meg was sick of waitingto make her escape after rehearsal.There were simply too many people going back and forth, especially new and potential patrons who seemed to be everywhere.Meg resented them more than before, and that was saying something.

“Why are you in such a tizzy?”Marie demanded after Meg craned her neck to see if the hall was empty for the fifth time.

“I need to find someone,” Meg muttered.

“Everyone you know is here except your mother,” Marie replied, blunt as always.

“Where is your sister?Shouldn’t you be fetching her?”

“No, she’s sick today,” Marie pouted.“Leaving me to deal with all the attention.I honestly don’t know if this fame is worth what Monsieur Degas paid me.”

“At least he paid you,” Meg sighed.“Where’s Blanche and Rochelle then?”

“Blanche was whisked off by some patron!Taking her to dinner with someone very special!”Marie giggled.“Didn’t you hear her bragging about it earlier?”

“No, I was distracted.”Meg’s stomach was uneasy at the prospect.Blanche was older than her by a few years, but that didn’t mean much in terms of her resilience and wisdom when it came to all of this.What if she was getting herself in trouble and the ghost was needed?The ghost who might very well be a thief endangering everything Meg held dear?

“I’m going,” Meg declared, unable to stand it any longer.She left Marie without another word and headed down.Down, down, down, as far as she could go, into the dark where no one would hear her but the dead.Or someone close to them.

She came to a corridor of stone, dark and ominous, brimming with thick darkness.She couldn’t see beyond, but she could feel it; how the air was colder.Stiller.It carried a sense of mourning and emptiness that made Meg shiver and question the choices that had brought her here.The darkness was watching in a way she had not felt before.

“Are you there?!”Meg cried.

No response.No words, at least.Meg swore she heard something like movement in the dark, and a groan of pain.Was it her eyes playing tricks on her or was the shadow moving?

Meg screamed when a firm hand locked around her wrist, yanking her away from the abyss.She tumbled to the ground, cries stifled, thrown by her captor.Her rescuer, a looming figure in black glowering at her from behind a mask.

“Stay away from there.It’s dangerous,” the ghost whispered.

“I need to talk to you!”Meg blurted out.

The ghost looked surprised, as much as a phantom in a black hat, cloak and mask covering the entire face could look surprised.

“I told you to be patient.”

“I can’t be patient when everything is at stake!”The intensity of Meg’s voice was a shock to both of them.“You have to give it all back!”

The ghost stared at Meg and fear rose in the young dancer.She had gone too far.She had been mistaken.She had...

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