Christine's POV:
"Loretta! Listen to me. This isn't you! I swear, and you know it. Deep down, you really do."
Raoul had pursued me all the way to Papa's grave, and he showed so signs of slowing down. But his words were the worst part. Would he ever understand? His perplexing chatter bewildered me and shook my foundation of trust for him.
When he continued talking past the cemetery's iron gates, I finally had enough. Whirling on him, I forced myself to speak in a nicer tone than what I actually felt.
"Raoul, this is a holy place, and I would rather it be treated as such. Could you lower your voice and speak of only relevant matters until we leave?"
The fervor in his eyes dimmed. Had I finally gotten through to him?
"I really can't reach you, can I?" His tone was quiet, resigned.
The sound of it alone depressed me, so I pasted on a smile that didn't reach my eyes. Only a hollow imitation.
"Don't be so dramatic. I'm right here, and even if I can't understand you clearly, I am listening."
His whole face settled into a frown, and he turned partially away from me. His next words were even more let-down, more sorrowful, than the last.
"I'll wait for you over there, Christine."
Never before had my name sounded more like a death knell from his mouth. He retreated to the edge of the cemetery, where the wire archway stretched over the entrance.
In the solitude grief commanded, I visited my father.
On my way out, headed back to Raoul, a voice called to me.
"Lost, wandering child, yearning for my guidance."
The voice was soft and enticing, almost reminiscent of Papa in its shades of gentleness. Perhaps it was Papa himself. The voice certainly seemed like it. Hoping against hope that this was some heavenly message, I listened.
"Papa? Or..." Fear stole over me, a new thought striking. "Or the... the Phantom?"
His dreaded name would barely form in my throat. But it came out as a squeak.
Maybe this was a real angel, unlike the lies the Phantom had flung at me for so long now. Deep down, I held my breath, praying this was a real friend. More than anything, that's what I needed in this horrible time.
"My dearest Christine, have you forgotten your angel?" The voice asked, its tone increasingly hypnotic.
The exhilarating rush, which burst through me at those words, was addictive. It sent a thrill up my spine, and I shivered into its pull, rendering myself helpless.
"Angel! Oh, speak to me! I've waited on you all these years!"
My real Angel of Music had come at last, the one Papa had promised. Right on time, my angel would swoop in to save the day, to free me from the Phantom's wrath.
"Do you trust me, my dear?"
"I—" I do! That's what I wished to shout, but after the Phantom's deception, I could never trust anyone that simply. "I want to trust you, angel, really."
"You resist now, yet your soul obeys. Why else would you continue to speak to me? You'll learn to trust me soon. You'll know to have faith in me when this pain in your heart is healed!" This captivating spirit called, voice rising to a shout.
His voice poured over me like molten gold. And, when the gold cooled over me, I was frozen in place, ensnared by that clever ghost's voice.
The shout was all too familiar, transporting me to the opera's subterranean world. Those tones were inseparable from him screaming after one removed mask, after one stray curiosity turned rancid.
YOU ARE READING
To Outwit an Angel
Fanfiction[COMPLETE] Sure, best friends Loretta and Sharlene always dreamed of escaping their mundane Southern hometown, but they found it coming much sooner than expected... in the form of Victorian Paris. The catch? They landed in the bodies of rival opera...
