"But no, he has not done this! He would not!" Maude was crying, her face soot-streaked, a scratch of red along one cheek. "He would not!"
"But he has, madame, and we will not rest until he has paid for this. It is long past time the Opera Ghost should be stopped." The Comte de Chagny looked at her with dark, glittering eyes, then turned and rushed away after his brother.
Chapter Sixteen
The lovers walked hand in hand through the darkness.
"Where will we go?" Christine asked, noticing that the corridor had become lighter.
They rounded a corner and found Cesar, the white horse, and a torch. This was not the same place she had been taken before; at least, she did not think it was. The stone hallways looked so much alike.
"I have made plans for our safe trip and refuge," Erik told her. He had retrieved his mask but, in a show of trust, had not donned it. His twisted, angry skin shone tight and brittle, horrible in the low light next to the dark, handsome half she had come to know. "We will leave here tonight and be far away from here… and from the Chagnys. They will not be pleased you have slipped away."
It was only a short ride on Cesar before they reached Erik's cottage by the underground lake. Erik pulled her off, and she landed lightly on the ground, following him inside.
The house was just the same as she had remembered.
Except that the moment he closed the door behind them, they were face-to-face with the Chagny brothers.
"You must have taken the longer route," Philippe said pleasantly. He was holding a gun, and before Christine or Erik could react, something whipped through the air and settled around Erik's neck. "The Punjab lasso. Isn't the Opera Ghost famous for his technique with the lasso? Or, at least, that is what the legend says."
He tightened the rope and Erik coughed, jerking off-balance as he tried to pull it away.
"Don't touch it," snapped Philippe, jabbing the pistol at Christine's temple in an obvious threat. "Raoul," he snapped with a flick of his wrist.
"Raoul!" Christine cried, ignoring the push of metal into her skin. "What are you doing?"
He yanked Erik to his feet and muscled his arms behind his back, tying his hands there as Erik stood stoic, coughing faintly, face dark and twisted on both halves now.
"What do you want?" Erik choked from behind the rope cutting into his throat.
"Christine, for one," Philippe said, twisting her arms behind her back and dragging her toward him. He replaced the pistol in his pocket and reached around to squeeze her half-bare breast. She stiffened and tried to pull away, but he yanked her arms back harder, and she cried out. "Your final destruction, for the other."
Raoul finished his job and walked over to stand next to Christine. Philippe thrust her toward him, and she stumbled before Raoul caught her arm. "Let me go," she demanded, watching as Philippe coiled Erik's rope onto the small lamp that hung from the ceiling. His neck strained upward, and his face was darkening red.
"Let you go back to the horrific Opera Ghost? Never," Raoul told her. "We have come to rescue you."
"Rescue me?" Christine's fear eased out of her. It was a misunderstanding. "No, Raoul, I don't need to be rescued. Let him go; he means no harm—"
"No harm?" Philippe stepped toward her, a little smile on his patrician face, the other end of the rope taut in his hand. "I beg to differ, Miss Daaé. In fact, at this very moment, the Opera House is engulfed in flames. Explosions have been heard from every corner of the stage, and the chandelier was rigged to crash down upon the stage. It has killed, I'm certain, at least one woman, and injured many others. Just as you threatened, dear Opera Ghost. I thank you for not only putting the idea into my head, but also for setting yourself up as the scapegoat by your own words to those stupid managers.
"It was only because of luck, and our fast thinking, that Raoul and I were able to escape from the turmoil… and chase down the perpetrator of this disaster." He jerked the rope and Erik's head snapped helplessly as he struggled to breathe. "At least, that is how we shall explain it to the authorities… who will be only too pleased to listen to the Chagny brothers."
Christine's heart stopped—surely it did—for a long moment, as black flashes colored the edges of her vision. And then it began racing again, madly, as nausea pooled in her belly.
"He kidnapped you once, Christine," Raoul said. "He's done it again, but this time, he won't get away with it. The mob is already forming… We sent them in the wrong direction, but they will be here soon enough. They are coming after him. And you. If you take his side, you will be torn apart… or worse. We are here to take you away to safety."
She stared at him in horror. "How could you do this, Raoul? I thought you loved me!"
"I do love you, Christine. Beyond anything, I love you. I am doing this for you. I've done it all for you. I can't allow you to spend the rest of your days with this… this monster."
"The only monster in this room is him," Christine spit, pointing at Philippe. "And you, Raoul. You both did this. All of this. And for what? What?"
Philippe stepped toward her, and she shrank back into Raoul, for angry and frightened as she was, he was still the better choice in this madness.
"For this." Philippe squeezed her breast. "And this." He reached for her other, pinching the nipple. "And for this." Holding her by the nipple, he reached down and crudely cupped her sex. "And to watch that." He turned, pointing at Erik, whose bound arms were struggling tightly as he tried to twist his neck loose. His breaths were gasps of air, desperate… but not as desperate as the burning, horrified eyes he turned toward her.
Christine tried to break free of Raoul's grip, but it was too strong. "No! You cannot. I won't go with you. Leave me here. With Erik!"
To her surprise, Philippe loosened the rope enough that Erik was able to breathe easier. "Leave you here? Why, we could not do that to you, Miss Daaé. That would be most unchivalrous. You will want to be coming with us… although I must tell you that your arrangement has been altered. You see, my brother, the vicomte, cannot be marrying someone of your station… He simply cannot disappoint the Chagny family in that regard. So he will be wedding Celeste Le Rochet, a young woman who, although she does not have your considerable charms, does come from a great family and brings a fortune to ours. You will simply be… our guest… at Chateau de Chagny."
"Never! I will not," Christine shouted, struggling anew. "Raoul, you deceived me!"
"Christine, it will be for the best," he told her gently. "You will be very comfortable at Chateau de Chagny, and I will visit you often. Every day, at least." He smiled, but there was a glint in his eyes that belied his tenderness. "I will be your protector."
"You cannot return to the Opera House," Philippe told her. "For there is no Opera House… or there will be none by the morning. And you have already been identified as an accomplice of the Opera Ghost—all of your talk about the Angel of Music has done it for you. You are trapped, Christine. Trapped unless you accept our offer of succor."
"I will not! I will stay here with Erik!" Tears streamed down her face.
"Let her go." Erik's voice, rough and raw, drew their attention. "It is me you want, Chagny. She has nothing to do with this."
"Au contraire, mon ami, "Philippe told him smugly. "She is in the very center of this, for she is everything to you. And the best, most painful way to destroy you is to destroy that which you love… for you have never loved anything before… and have never been loved in return. Most especially by our father."
"Father?" Christine gasped, and her attention flew among the three men.
"Ah, yes… that is the one secret I am most determined to keep, Miss Daaé. The identity of my bastard half brother… the deformed monster that he is, we Chagnys cannot allow him to claim his position with the family. Never have. Never will."
He paused… looked consideringly at Christine. "Although, I might… might perhaps be convinced toward leniency… for a price."
She knew immediately what he meant. His lewd gaze, his lascivious smile, the bulge in his trousers.
"Raoul has had the opportunity to test the wares, of course, but I have not… because of your interference. Perhaps we might come to an arrangement of our own, Miss Daaé?"
"No," Erik snarled, fighting anew. "Christine, no!"
"You won't find it so very difficult, will you, Miss Daaé? After all, from our brief interlude at the masquerade ball, you seemed to find me… not so very distasteful. Not so distasteful as you might have pretended. It must be the Chagny blood. We all have it. All three of us." He laughed softly, his eyes fastened on hers.
Christine's heart thudded in her chest. "Would… would you leave, and let us go free?"
"If I found your performance convincing enough… I'm sure we could come to a satisfactory arrangement." His mouth curled and he watched her, waiting. Waiting.
"Christine, nooo…"Erik was sobbing now, twisting and turning, trying to break free.
"Tell him to shut up, or I will shut him up," Philippe told her quietly, never moving his attention from her.
"Erik… please. You will make it worse." Her words came out rusty, but they seemed to have an effect, for he stopped calling… subsiding into heavy, rough breathing behind them.