Adult-FanFiction.org : Books

Black Angels	By : Provocateur Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 12725 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Chapter 12: Old Feelings, New Beginnings

A/N: Thanks again for all of your reviews, you have no idea how much I appreciate them. You all deserve gold star stickers! These past two weeks have been filled with Phantomy goodness. I won a copy of “Phantom” by Susan Kay on ebay and I am almost finished it now, and I got the 2-Disc DVD on Friday. Yup, a full 4 days before the release date hehe! I think I might incorporate some minor Kay-verse into the fic eventually; it’s an excellent book. My only qualm is her half-assed writing of Christine; she’s far too submissive and mindless for my liking. Erik is a tyrant as well; I’m not feeling the love. Other then that, the rest of the book is phenomenal and I’ll try to include certain aspects of it in time.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Raoul loaded his modestly sized baggage into the back of the awaiting carriage. It was true; he was really leaving for a fortnight. At this moment Christine could still look upon him, and as long as he stood before her, she would not yet have to make the perilous journey to the darkest depths of her soul. When Raoul stood before her in his elegant navy blue waistcoat and silk trousers, looking the very pinnacle of civil humanity, she need not focus on the other man who lurked in the shadows of her mind. She did not have to think about herself and the weeks of reckoning that lay before her. Right now there was only she and Raoul, a common couple bidding one another adieu with moist eyes and whispered endearments.

How blissful it would be to be without secrets or lies, she thought to herself. If only she could be simply wishing her husband well on his journey and planning a much desired visit to old friends. How easy it would be to live a life such as that, one so unburdened by darkness and deceit. Fate had plans for her that were far different then those that she wished for.

She hugged Raoul close to her, taking in the smell of his hair and skin, letting the soapy and fresh scent comfort her. Smells always brought with them so many memories. Nothing brought one back in time like the smell of a parent’s old cologne, or the musty odor of a former home. When she was a child she would often smell the red silk scarf that Raoul dived into the sea to retrieve for her. The scarlet silk had lost its smoothness and flawless texture, but it absorbed memories of a different life that she need only lift to her nose to experience once more. The salty air, the cool wind, her father’s violin, the bread and cheese lunches in the musty attic.

Those days of innocence were over. She was no longer a child, and was quite glad of it. Children were impressionable and easily deceived. They were far too idealistic and imaginative; she could only wish that she abandoned childish fantasies long before they consumed her. Perhaps if she had let her mind grow along with her body she would not have believed in angels. Perhaps if she had been womanly enough to accept that death and loss came without reprieve or spiritual comforts she would not be standing here letting her thoughts become so morose.

“Take care, my love. I shall be back before you know it, and you will a wonderful time with Meg!” Raoul kissed her lips lightly, his comforting smile reaching his eyes.

“Yes, I shall try.” There would be no sin more deplorable then that of having a wonderful time in his absence. What lay ahead was a dutiful mission, not a pleasurable one.

Philippe walked over to the embracing couple and laid his hand upon his brothers shoulder.

“Come, we must be off. ‘Tis a long journey ahead, we don’t want to lose anytime reaching the harbor.” They were not at all pressed for time, but the melodramatic display was wearying him.

“You behave yourself.” Philippe gestured good-naturedly to Christine and smiled shallowly. His remark was meant in jest, but the seriousness in his eyes and the grim expression on his face that thinned his lips and furrowed his brow expressed the seriousness behind his seemingly harmless bantering. She most certainly did not appreciate his disguised scorn! She hoped that Raoul would not become so stern and stoic in his old age.

“Oh, Philippe, I always do.” She gave him the same false smile as he sauntered back to the carriage. Her embittered reply was not lost on him, but he was not concerned. She may have become angered over his condescension, but if she needed to be warned of consequence like a child he would do so, he did not trust her judgment. She was still a frivolous girl, not yet a lady of refinement. If he had to be the one to remind her of her place he would do so, obviously his brother had not the heart to do it himself.

After another tearful embrace Raoul climbed into the carriage and waved to his wife. He hated leaving her so soon, but he had no worries about her safety. The man who tried to take it from them was gone, and they were free to live their lives once more.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Christine had never wished to be able to control the setting of the sun as much as she did this night. She had longed to control entities beyond her understanding many times. How many nights had she lain awake wishing for the ability to bring the dead back to life and rid her life of unpleasantness? She wanted so badly to turn back time, to live once again under the protective eye of her father. She cried for him each and every night in the opera house. She wished for the angel that he had promised her, and when he finally came she let go of her logic and skepticism and believed him when he said that he would give her a life that rivaled that of a queen.

Oh, the promises he made to her, no small child could ever turn him away! He told her that she would be loved and protected always, that her father would live through him, that she would become a great singer and a star overnight. It was too bad that his gifts came at a price. A price she was still paying at this very moment.

Despite her silent prayers for more daylight the sun set as it always did, leaving the sky a deep blue and darkening the room in which she sat silently, awaiting her “friend.”

A friend indeed!

A friend with no name…

She looked outside as rain began to pour from the ominous black clouds hovering above the house. They left uneven streaks down the window, casting silvery silhouettes upon the walls, moving and descending downwards like a river. She watched the reflection of the rain dance across her pale hands; nature could create the most beautiful illusions at even the worst of times.

Stepping away from the glass she gathered her belongings. She was not sure whether or not she would be returning home during the next fortnight so she thought it was best to pack as much as she could to sustain herself. The clothing alone took up two large bags. Another was for her toiletries, she found nothing more luxurious and relaxing than rose scented soaps and oils. To indulge in them may have been vain, but the lovely bottles were both pleasing to the eye and the touch. They were both useful and decorative.

She considered bringing books and some stationary, but she could not think of anyone to whom she would writer a letter. She could write to Madame Giry, but the chance of her receiving the letter during her stay with her…nameless acquaintance, was slight. Besides, should she need to pen a missive he would surely have the materials necessary to do so.

He would have books and such; she knew that they could not possibly spend every moment together talking. They had rarely had a conversation before. All of their face-to-face encounters involved intense dramatics and heartbreak, sometimes lustful caresses.

The rain continued to pour down and the sound of the drops hitting the roof brought nothing but annoyance. It had rained on her wedding day as well. Must the heavens always turn memorable experiences into ugly events by painting the skies gray?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He stepped up to the mansion and let out a sigh. The beauty of the home was breathtaking. If he ever had the means to build his own house above ground, he would want it to look somewhat like this. The balcony in the front was the only unsightly part of the home. The stark white of the flawless wood drew the eye away from the soft earth tones of the stone. It made an authentic and historical home look too modern. If anything, balconies belonged in the back of a house.

Tonight she would come to him once more. Whether it be out of want or duty he did not care. He was once again going to share his home with her. This time he would not sit about idly awaiting for her to awaken, looking at her longingly as she slept. No. This time, she would learn to see and feel his passion, to desire it.

Yes. He would make her weak with desire. If he could express his passion for her in words, if he could control his raging emotions and curb his obsessive need for her heart, he would show her all of the love in the world with his body. She would soon come to love his soul as he loved hers.

She saw him walking towards her once more as she stood at the window. He seemed to be running, not out of urgency but rather out of a desire to get out of the rain. She never figured one as mystical as he could ever be bothered by something as simple as water, but the way he huddled beneath his cloak with his face twisted into a grimace of discomfort nearly made her giggle. If she had not felt such trepidation in her heart she would have at least smiled at the sight before her.

Without any gentlemanly restraint he pounded fiercely on the French door, nearly shattering the glass in his frantic need to get out of the rain. Shaking her head in disbelief at the sight before her, Christine unlocked the door and was nearly flattened against the far wall when he flung it open with astonishing might.

“It would seem that these clothes are now ruined!” Always a great lover of beauty, he retained expensive taste in clothes in spite of the fact that he never wanted to be seen. If one could not be beautiful, they at least deserved beautiful things.

“Is there no end to your temperamental musings?” There was nothing good-natured about this man. His dark and stern demeanor had been both a savior and tormentor to her during her singing lessons, it would seem that certain things could never change. Perhaps she had expected his releasing her all those months ago to have softened him. She had shown him compassion, he had shown her humility, and in a moment everything in both their lives had changed. Was it too much to hope that the dark man had even a trace of the remorse and good conscience that she thought she gifted him with after their kiss?

“You saw me approaching and still you made no move to open the door! I was not about to bow and curtsy in the blistering cold and drown in the deluge while you looked on from the comfort of your heated home!” He had not meant to sound so harsh, but he could not help himself. She was attempting to punish him still for putting her in this position, and he would not stand for such ill treatment.

“Let us go.” She turned away and began to carry forth her bags. There were three of them, all quite large.

“Are we traveling to Africa?” How could one woman with such a small body require so much clothing and grooming materials?

“I was not sure I would be able to come back should I forget something.”

“Well, it would not be wise, no. The servants might become suspicious.”

“I agree, hence I need to bring all of this tonight.” She did not meet his eyes when she spoke. She felt deeply uncomfortable, so much so that it was as though she was not in possession of her body. It moved mechanically and without the consent of her mind. When they arrived at his home what would occur? Would he turn into that lecherous monster that once tried to imprison her forever in his opulent tomb? Would he come that seductive man with music and beauty running through his veins and drawing her into his world of soul searing splendor? Would they live with one another in silence, him simply basking in his triumph of being able to make her his with a snap of his leather clad fingers?

Did he want her with him to rectify the damage done to their lives at the hands of one another? Perhaps since he loved her so deeply he needed to know that she had truly forgiven him. Yet a part of her knew that his spirit was unconquerable and relentless, he must have wanted to take her and possess her once more. She had asked him if that was his intention before, he simply said that he would do only what she asked of him.

Did she believe him? Lies can never be known to one who wishes to believe them to be the truth…

He carried her bags outside and with a grunt of annoyance, trudged through the muddy grass and hauled the bags into the awaiting cab. She came out behind him, wrapping her cloak tightly around her body and pressing her chin into her chest to avoid the freezing cold droplets that splashed her face. The howling wind made it nearly impossible.

Once inside the cap she took of her soaked cloak and sank back into the seat, sighing heavily. She watched as her house sank further and further in the distance, the safe haven no longer within her grasp. It was the home made by her and Raoul, a home that contained their innocent and pure love. It proudly displayed the unity of its owners; it hid no secrets or treacherous lies. All of her life had been consumed by deceit and heartbreak; it was a vicious cycle that she was powerless to escape.

“You shouldn’t keep your cloak on, you will get sick.” Her voice was softer now, dreamy almost.

“I cannot risk being seen. I am used to chill.”

“But obviously not water, you nearly broke down my door trying to escape it.”

It would seem that the harshness of reality had given his angel a backbone and some wit to boot. He mourned for the purity of her once child-like soul, but he admired the new strength in her reserve. He knew he was the reason why she was forced to harden herself, and for that he was deeply ashamed.

Every time she snapped at him he felt himself shudder with sadness, he was not used to such staunch disobedience. Yet, a part of him was relieved that their new relationship would be built on foundations of equality rather then threats, lies, and coercion. With no deception between them they could rebuild what he had sabotaged and torn apart in his jealous rage. He would see if he could win her heart without manipulation, but he was not opposed to using force should he feel the need to. He was changed in certain ways, but no one ever truly becomes a different person, and he would not allow another betrayal such as the one he experienced on stage that night.

The rest of the ride continued on in thick silence. It was not uncomfortable though; it was simply the only option available. Words meant nothing this night, her agreement to this arrangement was all he needed to sooth his tortured mind for now.

He had asked Sofia to deliver some bread, cheese, fruit, and wine to his house earlier in the day. He told her he was expecting a guest, and he needed not explain any further. She had insisted that a hot meal be brought over and praised the skills of her longtime cook, but he declined. She probably thought that he and his “guest” would be too busy to sit down for a meal, but he knew that neither of them would be hungry. Anticipation and worry often keep the need for food at bay, sometimes they make even the thought of it unbearable.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Once inside the modestly sized house, Christine began to wander. It was so dark and forbidding, yet so glaringly beautiful. It was so very him. The woodwork was impeccable, the furniture elegant, the colors dark yet tasteful. The deep red hue of the sitting room made the room warm and sensual, much like her and Raoul’s bedroom. Oh, how Raoul had detested that colour before relenting!

The house was also quite advanced and modern. He had fashioned a bathroom similar to the one in his lair with a functioning toilet and heated water. She would not need to heat buckets over the stove when she wished to bathe. The blue marble was lovely as well. What shocked her most was the fact that he prominently displayed the toilet tissue on the countertop! No civilized household would keep something so vulgar in such plain view. In mute disgust she quickly placed it behind the toilet bowl, away from sight. Some things were best kept hidden.

She walked over the room that was to be her boudoir for the next two weeks. It was plain, but welcoming. It was easily the warmest room in the house. The white walls and soft blue carpet complimented the large four-poster bed with the blue silk sheets. The walls were almost completely bare, but still the room did not appear barren. The lovely oak furniture was also wonderful to behold. How did he obtain these things?

She could hear him walking, his footsteps curiously light for a man of his size. She moved to shut the door and lock it to change, but was most horrified to notice that there was no lock at all.

Her heart began pounding wildly in her chest. If he would walk in at any time surely anything could happen! She did not fear an assault, but she knew he was a deeply lustful man, he may not be able to keep his promise if he knew that she slept in his home without any metal contraption to keep him from entering her chambers.

She stormed towards the sound of the footsteps and found him standing before a window, staring out at the rain as it cascaded down the sparkling clean glass.

“There is no lock on my door!” He turned lazily to look at her.

“Is that a problem? I did not put a lock on it because that room usually goes unused, it would have been wasteful.”

“I need my privacy!” His eyes darkened with an emotion that she could not identify. It was something between anger and hurt.

“Do you not trust me? Do you not think me a man of my word?” He turned and stalked towards her, his eyes glaring with indignation at her perceived insult.

“I…I…just need privacy, is all. A lady is entitled to that, especially when she is living alone with a man not her husband.” Despite her attempts to remain calm, his wrath frightened her. She hated how she let him frighten her.

“You think I will charge into your room in the night and attack you like a common rapist!” He nearly spat the word at her feet.

“No! I do not think that!” In a way, she somewhat did. She had seen him lose control far too many times.

“Yes you do! After all of this time, after all that we have been though, after the selfless mercy I showed you and that boy, you still see me as a monster.” He lifted one hand and ghosted it along her shoulder, barely touching her hair.

She did not answer.

“I’m sorry.” He said no more, but simply walked away from her once again. She still could not abandon her fear of him; he had nearly taken her in her own yard mere days ago! A part of her felt the sting that she inflicted in his heart, but it was nothing compared to the crushing remorse he felt thinking about why she felt the need to keep him from her with a steel bolt in the first place.
- 11
- 12
- 13
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Black Angels