The Art of Manipulation || Phantom of the Opera & Loki the God of Mischief ||

16. Magician Revealed

Going down one of the stairways, I saw the two of them through a break in the wall. Erik abruptly halted, yanking Christine close to him using the arm he firmly held, "Why, you ask, was I bound and chained in this cold and dismal place? Not for any mortal sin but the wickedness of my abhorrent face!" Christine strained to keep her face turned away, as though she was afraid Erik's angry words would burn her if she got too close. Grunting, Erik continued to drag her down to the fifth cellar.

Voices from above caused me to stop, the sounds floating down to me like tempestuous moans of ghosts, "Track down this murder, he must be found! Track down this murderer he must be found!"

Their furious chanting and heavy footsteps caused me to speed up my own pace after the two humans the voices sought after. I ran perpendicular to the boat as Erik brought them to his lair. Once there, he picked Christine up like the child she was and roughly set her on the ground, all the while shouting his frustrations, "Hounded out by everyone! Met with hatred everywhere! No kind words from anyone! No compassion anywhere!" He held Christine's shoulders, a sob breaking into his harangue. He looked up into her eyes, his face and voice softening with sorrow, "Christine, why?" When she remained silent, no doubt too afraid to utter a syllable, Erik shook her and repeated, "Why?!" Both Christine and I flinched at his sharpness.

This time, instead of waiting for an answer, Erik dragged her to the other side of the layer, tearing down the curtain that concealed the duplicate bride of Christine, "Take it or leave it! A wedding march or a funeral march." He yanked the mannequin bride off its holder and dragged it and Christine into the bedroom. I teleported closer, hiding behind one of the draperies. Erik threw the doll onto the bed, "But I'm tired, very tired...I've had enough, do you hear? Enough of having a forest in my house, and a torture chamber! Enough of being lodged like a mountebank in a double-bottomed box! I've had enough, enough! I want to have a quiet apartment, with ordinary doors and windows, and a good wife in it, like everyone else!" As he went on he tore off the fastenings of the wedding dress, pulling Christine back whenever she tried to sneak out of the room. Bringing her close, Erik began with the fastenings of Christine's costume, her sobs being thrown at the force of Erik's hands. An unpleasant smile formed on Erik's lips as he continued speaking, attempting to act like nothing wrong was occurring, "A funeral march isn't exactly cheerful whereas a wedding march... It's magnificent! You must make up your mind and know what you want! As for me, I can't go on living like this, underground, in a hole, like a mole! Don Juan Triumphant is finished, and now I want to live like everyone else. I want a wife like everyone else! You ought to understand that, Christine, and I shouldn't have to keep repeating it to you! A wife like everyone else... I'd love her, and take her out for a walk on Sunday, and amuse her all through the week. Ah, you wouldn't be bored with me!" By now he had removed Christine's outer layers, replacing them with his wedding dress. With the veil in his hand he grabbed Christine's arm and brought her to the other room, walking past me as they went. He held both her arms, shaking her to make her look at him, "You'll be the happiest of women. And we'll sing for ourselves alone, we'll sing till we're ready to die from pleasure...." He stopped, his eyes scanning her face. His next words came out softer, hollower, "You're crying! You're afraid of me! But I'm not really a bad man. Love me and you'll see! To be good, all I ever needed was to be loved. If you love me, I'd be gentle as a lamb and you could do whatever you pleased with me." His eyes continued to search her drenched face while Christine weakly tried to push herself away from him.

Erik's face hardened, the look resembling that of a stubborn child about to cry. Shoving Christine to the ground, Erik turned away from her, grabbing the side of a chair for support while sobbing, "You don't love me! You don't love me! You don't love me!"