147RINGS
The odors of the tunnels ceased to bother Christine months ago – the musty mildew and the vague, but ever present stench of rat defecation combined with the damp, clean smell of the water in the lake were strangely welcoming to her. There were still living rats that would scamper over her feet, but Erik paid the rat catcher well to trap those and remove the dead ones, so at least the smell of their death was absent.
She felt comforted walking through the tunnels now, holding her torch high so that it wouldn't brush against Erik. He had taken the lead once they both climbed down the ladder to escape the music room. The threat that the throng might arrive on the level above them seemed imminent and they were moving quickly in the event the mob had discovered the escape route.
She was concerned about the bulk of the now torn and dirty silk wedding dress Erik had her don for their "wedding." He had torn off the train and bustle and stashed it into his vest that already held the veil. She had to smile at his look of dishevelment. He was always so particular about his appearance. Were he not so determined now to save them, he would be appalled at how he looked. "Sorry, my dear, that I am not dressed appropriately for this occasion." His mask was gone, as was his wig. He had removed his jacket and the veil and pieces of the gown stuffed unceremoniously in his vest gave him the look of a fat-bellied old man. She actually giggled at this description of the man who just moments ago seemed determined to kill both her and Raoul had she not chosen him as her mate.
"Something amuses you, my dear?"
"No, no, just clearing my throat."
"Ah, I thought you might be admiring my humble form. I recognize that at the moment I am not looking my best, shall we say."
She giggled again. He would always be able to read her mind.
That he thought she would choose otherwise was still a surprise to her. But then, she hadn't given him much encouragement of late. She had been playing at being engaged to Raoul, but of late, he had become too demanding and overbearing. She was confused about her feelings and Raoul kept pushing at her. She was so ashamed that she agreed to his stupid scheme. People might have been killed. That he actually wanted to kill Erik had never occurred to her. Raoul had told her that they just wanted to arrest him, to question him.
Could she ever make that up to Erik? He seemed to forgive her anything.
She was sorry that the gown had been ruined. It couldn't have been more beautiful – out of a fairy tale. She was a child born and raised to fairy tales and had the "wedding" been set for another place and time, she would have gladly worn the gifts that Erik had created just for her. This might have been the kind of dress she would have chosen for herself had she married Raoul. But she was never going to marry Raoul.
She had told him that when they first started meeting on the roof of the Opera House. He was so dear and loving and it was a lovely fantasy, but would never come to be. She had promised Erik that she would marry no one and wore his ring, an oval black diamond set in a simple platinum band. The ring was so very Erik – elegant, simple and black.
So long as she wore his ring, she and Raoul would be safe.
She trusted him. He had terrified her and loved her in the same breath on so many occasions. But an unusual love had developed during the time she spent with him. It was part the vocal training and learning how to use her voice and getting lost in the music they made together. But another, more significant part had been just getting to know one another – reading and listening to him play his creations. It was as if she was back with her father, but more. This was what she had envisioned marriage to be.
He had furnished a small bedroom and bath for her adjacent to the music room and had never presumed to enter. It would be at a later time when she saw that he had put bolts on the door. She had not seen them because there had been no thought that she would need them
A beautifully carved armoire held day dresses and shoes and under things – clothing he had purchased for her. More garments and of finer quality than she had ever had in her life of travelling with her father from town to town. The bathroom was stocked with toiletries and clean, white towels. There was a small tub with hot running water and an unusual chamber pot that wasn't a pot at all, but vessel with a seat on it. It was always clean and she blushed wondering who kept it so clean. She had never seen a bathroom like this and assumed it was yet another of Erik's many inventions.
There was a small kitchen in the apartment and, what she presumed was Erik's bedroom. She had managed to glance into it once when he was coming from the room and her eyes settled on what looked to be a coffin. He glared at her when he caught her looking inside the room and shut the door firmly. "You have no need to know of my private chamber."
No, she didn't, and she actually felt safer after his comment. He would not be inviting her into his room and that suited her just fine. Or did it – there were those mixed emotions again. Her body felt warm just thinking about the possibility. She felt incredibly drawn to him physically. Although tall and thin, she could see his muscles stretch and retract when he was playing the organ. His hand were extremely long and thin – too long and thin perhaps, but the fingers were so beautiful, possibly the most beautiful element of his body, and he always seemed to be playing music even when there was no instrument around.
Eyeing the ring, Raoul queried, "Are you going to marry him, then?" His eyes begged her to say no.
She bowed her head and shook it slightly. A very small smile curved her pink lips as she looked back up at him, "I doubt I'll marry anyone. But we can pretend that we are engaged."
"I don't believe that for a minute," he scoffed. "You are going to marry me, you'll see."
After the chandelier fell and the Opera House closed for reparations, she told Raoul that they could be secretly engaged.
The next time they met, he gave her a ring – so different from Erik's. It was so Raoul, a platinum band, just as Erik had chosen, but wider due to the presence of a very large emerald cut white diamond with a diamond baguette on either side. It was beautiful and, no doubt very expensive – she had no knowledge of these things, but thought that Erik's smaller black diamond might be of equal or greater worth. Although the ring Raoul presented to her was larger in scale, it was so…ordinary. She had seen rings like these every day on the hands of the ladies who came to the opera. The sparkle that dotted the lobby was almost blinding at times with the society women flashing their gems. Oh, my, she scolded herself for such condescending thoughts. The ring had have to cost a fortune and Raoul was so sincere, still the ring was ordinary and gaudy. Except for the size, there was nothing unique or special about it.
"I will wear this ring on the chain with the crucifix my father gave me at my First Communion."
"At least try it on, just to check the fit for the time when you will wear it," Raoul pleaded. "It cannot match your beauty, but I only hoped to complement it."
Christine blushed and nodded. She removed Erik's ring and placed it carefully in her pocket. Then she placed the diamond on her finger and held it up. Sunlight bounced off the facets and the diamond sparkled, proud of its beauty, happy to be in the light – in its rightful place on the finger of a beloved person.
"Oh, Raoul, it is truly a wonderful ring, but much too grand for me."
"If I could give you the world I would – this ring is a mere token."
Christine giggled and got to her feet. The ring did make her feel a little giddy and special. "It's getting late and I must go. Mama Valerius will be wondering where I've got to." She took off the long silver chain that held the crucifix and after removing the diamond from her finger, placed it on the chain and returned the chain to her neck. She tucked the ring into her bodice out of sight.
"This will be our secret." He pulled her to him and pressed his mouth against hers. She allowed him the kiss. It didn't change anything. When he released her, she touched his cheek and smiled sadly.
She reached into her pocket to retrieve Erik's ring and it was gone. Her heart was racing, she patted her dress and her cloak – searched every pocket and bit of lining. "Oh, no," she cried. She turned around and her eyes were searching for the small ring.
"What?" Raoul saw the panic in her face and actions. "What's wrong?"
"Erik's ring is gone. I put it in my pocket and now it's gone." Her pale green eyes were full of tears that threatened to overflow. "We must find it. We must."
The both fell to their knees and began searching the floor of the roof. The sun was going down and any light that might have given them assistance in their search was swiftly fading.
"Oh, God," she cried. "We are done. We are done."
"Don't be silly, Christine." Raoul grasped her shoulders and gave her a shake. "Stop it, you are becoming hysterical."
"You don't understand, he will kill us both." Her eyes were pleading. "He told me that if I wasn't wearing the ring when next he saw me, he didn't know what he might do. He won't understand. He will think I have betrayed him."
Erik was deeply jealous of Raoul and she couldn't bear his questioning looks whenever he saw them together, so she started avoiding the boy. She had no desire to take up with him again. Their relationship was in the past. It had been a happy memory of her times with Papa, but nothing more.
If Raoul felt something for her, that wasn't her fault. In her heart she was committed to Erik.
After one chance encounter with Raoul in the passageway to her dressing room, Erik had confronted her.
"Why do you not speak to him anymore?"
"He's just an old friend. He - he means nothing to me," she stammered.
"Those two phrases contradict one another, my dear," he smirked. "Either he means nothing, which is fine and good. Or he is a friend, in which case, it would seem you would wish to spend time with him as a friend." He grabbed her wrist, not tightly, but the intent was clear – she must tell the truth.
"He is a friend," she sighed. "I knew him when I was a child. Papa would play violin for his family and we often played together and read stories with him."
Erik released his grip and smiled with the edge of his mouth that she could see, but it didn't reach the amber eyes – they were cold and hard. "Well, then, you must treat him as such. As someone who is not known for having many friends, if any, I do believe that you are supposed to at least speak to them when they are in your presence. No?"
Christine nodded.
"Good," Erik said. "So long as you wear my ring, I will know that you and he are 'just' friends. Should that change and I see the ring is gone, then that will be another story."
His eyes pierced her heart – it skipped a beat as if he had squeezed it with his hand.
She knew of his past cruel life, both being the abused and the abuser, murderer, assassin.
One day, shortly after he had brought her to the music room, he was composing and completely in the thrall of his music. She had removed his mask. It was meant to be a playful act. It became a horror.
"Damn you." It was the scream of a madman.
Epithet after epithet spat from his mouth like a dissected abscess spewing noxious, green pus.
His words assaulted her like heat from a blast furnace. The priests had spoken of damnation and hell fire in sermons at church and, like most children it had the intended effect on her, she was afraid, but shrugged off the description when church was over. Once she and Papa were outside in the sun and flower-scented air, fire and brimstone were brief memories. She was a good girl and she knew it. Papa never had reason to be angry with her, so hell was just some sort of distant make believe place that she would never have to be concerned about – now or ever. The devil was just as mythical as the fairies her father had told her existed in the woods.
Nothing could have prepared her for this… this anger – the word didn't begin to describe what was erupting from his body and directed at her. His entire being appeared to glow with red flames, perhaps it was the color of the embroidered jacket he wore, such a different choice for him, but the effect was terrifying. He grabbed her by the throat and she was certain that she was going to die.
So this was hell.
Such an innocent act she believed it to be. She had no intention of hurting him – she just wanted to see him. She wanted to touch him. He had been so good to her, despite some of his outbursts. He was her angel, but he had turned into a violent, dangerous man in a matter of seconds.
She was going to die.
Her voice was cut off, she couldn't tell him her intentions – only her eyes could plead with him. He loved her eyes. He spoke of her eyes as mountain pools of clear water changing from light to dark as her moods and the light changed. Now she suspected they were dark with fear. Please, oh, please, look into my eyes. I'm so sorry.
Miraculously, he did. He had heard her. He could always hear her. He released his grip and she fell to her knees. She picked up the porcelain mask that lay on the floor next to her and turned her head away as she handed it to him.
He took the mask from her and put it on. He smoothed his hair and with a deep breath, regained his composure. The monster was gone. Her angel had returned.
She saw that he had been frightened, too. This was not a new experience for him. Something in his manner advised that. Despite the return of his composure, he was shaken.
There was no apology, but he did take her hand gently. "My dear, allow me to assist you." He walked her over to a burgundy-colored velvet settee and indicated that she sit down.
"May I?" he asked, indicating that he wished to sit next to her.
She nodded acquiescence. She was still in shock and prayed silently that the episode was truly over. Her hands were shaking and she put them under her skirt to hide the tremors.
"Would you like some tea… water?"
She shook her head. "No, no." All she wanted was for her heart to stop racing, to be able to draw a calm breath.
Erik was watching her struggle. He shook his head and put it in his hands. His fingers dug into his scalp and he began to speak.
"Never would I willfully harm you. I do love you, more than you know. More than I should.
"There are parts of me that I desperately want to control, but at times it becomes impossible. I can make no excuses – there are none. I cannot apologize because that would imply the behavior would never happen again. I cannot promise that, only that I wish it to be so.
"What I can do is tell you a bit about my life and let you decide whether I am still worthy of your company."
He then proceeded to tell her about his life from being exploited and raped by the gypsy king, to his service with the Persian Shah. She suspect he left out much, but she understood that he had killed in the past – often willingly and often for pay. He had become numb to it. In some instances it was his automatic response, done without any thought at all.
"Is that where you got this jacket?"
He looked down at the embroidered garment, surprise filled his eyes. For a moment he was taken aback, he had forgotten that he had put it on. Putting on sensuous clothing when he was here working alone was one of his few indulgences. The majority of his existence was almost monk-like. He had given Christine a small dose of laudanum so that he could work on a section of Don Juan Triumphant that was troubling him. Perhaps the decadence of the jacket would inspire him to complete the banquet scene. He was impatient to finish it and didn't want to disturb her or have her disturb him.
"Yes, there were many things to discover in Persia. Incredible beauty and incredible pain, but even that had a beauty to it." He had drifted away from her for a moment, then roused himself and returned to the present. He smoothed the scarlet lapels of the garment. Segments of heavy brocade of various patterns in red and gold were stitched together with utmost care to form the garment that fit him perfectly. It was one of the few articles of clothing that wasn't black or gray or white. "I purchased it on a lark. It was so beautiful. I desperately wanted beauty in my life and this was the most I could achieve in the moment."
He then told her of his friend – although he didn't use that word – simply called him the daroga. Nadir was the Persian sheriff who helped him escape from his imprisonment there that would have meant certain death for him. He had designed and built a palace for the Shah and had to be destroyed because he knew it secrets. He had ended his revelation with the words, "I promised Nadir that I would never kill again. I deeply desire to keep that promise."
Then he took her hand. "I think it's time to take you home. But first I would like to give you a gift. An amulet, if you will."
She shook her head. "I don't need a gift or amulet, as you call it. I trust you."
"You shouldn't." His cat's eyes held hers in a fierce look that she couldn't read. Her stomach turned – out of fear or excitement, she wasn't certain, perhaps they were the same thing.
He rose and walked to the sideboard against the wall next to the entrance of the small kitchen. He opened the center drawer and removed a small velvet bag from a carved wooden box. He brought the bag back to the settee and sat down. He opened the bag and removed a small ring. Taking her hand, he placed the ring on her finger.
It was breathtaking. It was a simple ring consisting of a thin platinum band and setting that would not distract from the beauty of the multi-faceted oval black diamond that was its centerpiece.
"The diamond isn't large by many standards, a bit over 3 carats, but the stone itself is perfect. There are no flaws and the color, of course, is rare. The art is in the carving, of course, examining the stone and having it advise the cutter where the facets should be placed to reveal the soul of the stone."
"I can't."
"You must. So long as you wear this ring, I will be your protector from both myself and others. Thus, it is more than a ring, but a magic charm." He smiled, but it was a grim smile. After that, she would visit him at his home on a regular basis to train. With his help as the Opera Ghost, she was becoming a star at the opera. Then the chandelier fell and he disappeared. Gone without a word either in person or by note.
Nevertheless, she continued to wear the ring. Until this night, when she took it off to try on on the ring that Raoul had offered to her.
Her body had turned to ice. She should never have taken it off. Oh, God, what was she thinking? She shivered and tightened her cloak around her. She was going to die, she knew it. He would kill her and Raoul. He said he wouldn't kill anymore, but that was before, before her presence in his life.
Why she had such power, she didn't know. She wished she knew because then maybe she could do something to change it.
But he loved her. He told her that all the time. Sometimes with tears, sometimes with anger. It was as if all the love he'd never experienced in his life had concentrated on her and she felt so unable to carry the weight of it. He would know and he would believe that she had betrayed him. She hadn't, but that's what he would think. She knew him too well.
She loved him, too. That was the strangest part. Perhaps as deeply as he loved her, but it was too much. Their love was not of this earth, but she was.
Raoul was, too. Loving him didn't stir feelings in her that she couldn't handle. He was sweet and simple and easy. Loving him was easy.
"Dear God, where is that ring?" she screamed into the ever darkening night.
"Let's go," Raoul said gently, leading her away from the roof and back to the world. "We'll come back and look for it in the morning. "He's gone anyway. He won't know. We'll find it and all will be well."
Christine nodded and dried her tears. "I hope you're right."
They left the rooftop, scurrying like two children afraid of a coming storm.
Erik came out from behind the statue where he had been observing them. He had been somewhat surprised to find Christine there with Raoul, but had told her to see him. Invited the betrayal, but he was surprised nonetheless.
Odd, he had just wanted to see the city from the top of the building he had helped create and found them talking. Perhaps his desire for a look at the view was tied to his feeling that she might be there. Even when he wasn't seeking her out, he knew where she was.
They were too involved in their conversation and had no consciousness of his arrival. He saw the large diamond and how Christine had hidden it. He almost choked when the boy kissed her and she allowed it.
Although she hadn't been aware of it, he had seen his ring drop from her cloak – the ring he had stolen from the treasury of the Shah – and he saw her panic. "Yes, my dear, you panic with good reason. You betrayed me with that idiot child. You scorned me by disgracing the ring I had gifted you with. I had started to believe in mercy, that there really was such a thing, but no more. No More."
He walked over to the ring that was stuck in a small crack in the tar. It had fallen next to her foot, but she didn't see it. More's the pity. He wasn't certain that his feelings of disappointment would have been any less had she found it and put it back on. Were he not there, he might have never known of her betrayal. He had promised that no harm would come to her so long as she wore it. Well, it was of no mind, he was here and she had failed to hold up her end of the bargain.
"One should never bargain with the devil, my dear, or the devil's acolyte." He picked up the ring and admired the sparkling stone as it reflected the light of the moon. He put it on his left pinky finger. With a flair of his cape he turned and climbed over the edge of the roof and disappeared.
She had always known that she loved him. Angel or man. What she hadn't known was how it was to kiss him, to love him physically. So much could have been avoided, but things were what they were. Once she kissed him and he returned the kiss, there was no question as to who she would spend her life with.
Erik demanded they leave – both of them. He hadn't even considered that she would stay. He had decided that she would go.
She had to get Raoul out of there. Erik was on the verge of another breakdown and she was afraid for Raoul's life despite the fact that Erik had freed him.
She dragged Raoul from the room and walked him back to the boat.
"Good-bye, my old friend," she whispered. "My life is here."
He looked at her in shock. "Despite all that has happened here tonight?"
"Because of what has happened here tonight," she replied. "At first I thought I kissed him because I didn't want you to die. That was true in a sense, I didn't want you to die." She gave him a sad smile. "But, I also knew that I kissed him because I wanted to live."
Raoul shook his head and grabbed her shoulders and tried to kiss her.
"No. Don't. Please." She shook him off. "Please just go. Thanks to you the mob is looking for him – for us."
"That's not true."
"It is, and you know it." The anger in her voice shocked him. "I had to stop them from killing him by humiliating him, I had to shock him enough to act, to get us out of there before they shot him. You call him a murdered, but you are the one who wanted to kill tonight. You are the murderer in your heart. You had best thank God you didn't get your wish."
Raoul could only stare at her.
"All he wanted was to sing his opera with me and give me back the ring I had so carelessly lost. You forced me to shame him. I hope he will forgive me."
He dropped his head in defeat. "I'm sorry, I just wanted to save you."
She waved him away, as if he were a pesky fly. "Tell yourself what you will." She turned and ran back to the door to the house. "Tell them what you will. Just go away."
"Christine," he cried, but she didn't hear him.
What she heard was her angel of music crying and she had to comfort him – tell him that it was he that she loved and would love always.
The entire evening didn't seem real. This doesn't seem real. Once again she finds herself following Erik through the darkness to where? Someplace safe – that she knows.
"Christine, stay close," Erik whispers. "This area is tricky, I never quite got around to completing it to my satisfaction. When all you have is time, twenty years seems like nothing when you think there will always be the next day or week or year."
She laughs lightly. "Not to worry, I am here, my love." She places her hand on his shoulder and lets it rest there for a moment. He quivers at her touch and releases a soft sigh. She doesn't see his shy smile or the tears in his eyes, but senses them. "I am here – tomorrow, next week, next year and beyond."