Chapter 16 #2
I sank to my knees, bringing myself to his level, joining him in the shadows. After a long, uneasy silence, I held out the mask.
He turned to look at it, to look at me. His face was no less shocking to see this time, but I forced myself to return his stare without expression.
“You do,” he whispered softly, as if to himself, and his swell of sorrow nearly broke me. “You fear me.” I started to deny it, to shake my head and swear my allegiance, but he went on, steamrolling my protest. “But…fear can turn to love, you know. You’ll see. You’ll learn.”
“Erik,” I began, and again he froze. “That is your name, isn’t it?”
“How did you know?”
I shrugged helplessly. “I just…did.”
He let out a shaky breath. “It is.”
“And…you are…you are an angel, aren’t you? Even though…even though you look so very much like a man?”
He pressed his crooked lips together, considering this. “I’m your angel.”
Somewhere, far away in the back recesses of my mind, a seed of unease cracked open and began to stretch. Its movements were small and tentative for now, only a seedling poking through the earth, but I knew it would grow to have thorns…
Without warning, he snatched the mask from my hands and covered his face with quick efficiency.
I sensed an immediate change in him the second the mask had settled over his features.
He’d regained control, mastering both his emotions and his grasp on the situation.
In a flash of movement too fast to properly see, he was on his feet, brushing off his pants and straightening his jacket.
After a pause, he reached to help pull me up.
I wanted to shy from his touch—his enraged words still rang in my mind, and the seedling had begun to sprout roots—but I accepted the assistance. His hands were dry and cool, giving no indication of the heated fury he’d just been caught in the thrall of.
“I’m sorry, Erik,” I reiterated, adding his name at the last second.
He peered down at me, and though the danger had dissipated, I could still sense his displeasure.
“What were you playing?” I asked. “Just now. Before…” I was unwilling to ever finish that sentence.
He glanced toward the organ with a wistful expression, as if he could summon back the moment just before I’d ruined everything.
“When it’s time, I’ll tell you.” His words were brusque, though his tone had warmed by infinitesimal degrees.
“I…I liked it,” I said, a poor offering for the pain I’d caused.
He tilted his head curiously, studying me from the shadow cast by the mask. “Did you?”
“Very much. It was so…different. So much more inventive and…alive…than anything I’ve heard before.”
He straightened, adjusting his cuff. “Perhaps when it’s ready, I’ll have you sing it.”
My smile was small but sincere. “I would like that. Very much.”
He strode back to the organ to jot things down on a leaf of paper at the keyboard. He took so long I began to wonder if he’d become lost in his work again, forgetting me in the process.
I glanced about the room, trying to decide how to best make myself useful. I wanted to erase every trace of my treachery so that when he finally looked up and remembered I was there, he wouldn’t be reminded. There was so much mess scattered about it was hard to know where to start.
I began with the music, picking up everything which had been on the stand and stacking it into a pile for him to sort through later on.
When I came to the last piece, I stuck it on top, then frowned as I realized it didn’t go with the song. It wasn’t sheet music.
It was a company list.
Printed in blocky black letters was the title for our next opera of the season—Il Muto, a tired Rococo period piece known for its bawdy jokes, its trilling coloratura, and its distinct use of harpsichords.
The column on the left-hand side listed the production’s roles, in descending order of importance. On the right, after a series of dots, were the singers who’d been assigned the parts.
At the top, starring as Don Attilio, was our principal bass, Marc Haché.
And just under his name, taking on the role of the faithless Countess, was Carlotta Giudicelli.
Minor roles of fops and hairdressers followed, including the part of Serafimo, a mute pants role.
I was both surprised and delighted to see that Meg had been cast in the supernumerary’s part. It would be her first named solo.
But, in dark-burgundy ink, several lines had been scratched through Carlotta’s name, and a flurry of indiscernible notes were written beside the list of roles.
Unsure of what this paper was or even what to do with it, I tucked it beneath the music and set the stack on the newly righted stand. When I looked up from my task, the Angel—Erik—was staring at me with unchecked curiosity.
“You’re bleeding,” he noted, suddenly at my side. He reached toward my cheek but kept his fingers from ever touching my skin, as if frozen with indecision.
I ran the back of my hand over the tiny cut and, when no fresh blood came away, waved off his worries.
“You must go,” he said abruptly.
Instantly, my throat seized. He was sending me away. He was still mad. A black banner of dread unfurled within me, squeezing my heart.
What if he meant to send me away for good? What if he couldn’t stand the sight of me? What if all this magic, this wonder, was gone forever? All because of me and my damned curiosity!
I clasped my hands, trying to look as every bit as remorseful and contrite as I was. “No, please.”
He frowned. “You want to stay?”
Wordlessly, I nodded.
“Here? With me?” he asked, carefully clarifying. Again, his hand strayed close to me, nearly touching my own but stopping just shy of contact.
“More than anything,” I beseeched. “Erik, please.”
His mouth parted, and his breath came out in a great shuddering rush. “I…No. I must return you.”
“But why?”
“There is so much work to be done, and…” He paused, his eyes wandering over the arched ceiling as if studying something I could not see, something I could not understand. “Those two fools…You’re certain to be missed. We left so abruptly…Next time…next time, I will—”
Hope kindled within me. “Next time? You’re not angry with me? You’re not…you’re not sending me away?”
Erik frowned, stricken. “Oh, Christine. Of course not. There is…We’ve so much work. So many things we need to accomplish. You and I.”
“Together?”
He nodded, then gestured toward a corridor I’d only just now noticed. “Come.”
Without hesitation, I took the Angel’s outstretched hand and let him lead me into the dark.