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

18. The Angel In Hell

Heimdall's strong hand fell onto my shoulder as he knelt down beside me. His eyes swept over Erik's body before he gently said, "Alouette, the wound is too deep. He's barely breathing as it is."

Trying my magic again and again I shouted defiantly, "But he is breathing! As long as he is breathing and his heart is beating there's still a chance he can survive!" I tried again, another devastated sob attacking me when it failed yet again.

I quickly glanced around the lair, feeling my last ounces of hope drain when I realized I was the only Healer among us.

Looking down at Erik, I wiped away my tears that fell onto his face, "Erik. Erik, please. You can't do this. You simply can't. I love you so much, please, you can't die! Not again!"

Whipping around to look at the others I wept, "Can they take me? Can the gods in Valhalla take me instead?" My eyes darted to each and every one of them, willing them to answer with a 'yes'. "Please, there must be a way. Isn't there?" I continued to stare at their silent faces, my vision blurring and clearing with every tear that collected and fell.

Heimdall was the one who spoke up, "There is nothing we can do, Alouette."

I pleadingly looked to the others to contradict Heimdall's answer, but they did nothing but lower their gaze to the floor.

Behind the strong legs of the Asgardians, I saw Loki, huddled on the floor as he was before. He watched with wide eyes, afraid to move or speak.

I turned back to the dying mortal in my arms, subconsciously swaying back and forth like I was rocking a baby and trying to soothe it.

This is all my fault. He is so fragile in my arms, so helpless. It was my job to protect him, to take care of him. And now look.

I should have never followed him that night I heard him sing. I should have left him alone like he asked. If I had I he would have been free of me, and I of him. Because of my persistence and lack of self control I brought all of this Hell into his already difficult life. I only added fuel to that Lake of Fire. If I had never gotten involved in Erik's life he wouldn't be dying in my arms like he is now.

Oh, Erik. Oh, sweet and passionate Erik. What have I done?

I swept his thin hair back, repeatedly running my hand over his head, trying to give him a few acts of affection and warmth before he eventually passed. If he could even feel it. I traced the outline of his face, paying extra attention to his right side, the side where his hair line completely disappeared, showing all of the damaged and mangled flesh beneath where his hair should have been. I ran my finger over his eyebrow, bringing it down the bridge of his nose to where it dipped and fell away, leaving a hole for air to come through. I then went to the left side, the side untouched by Satan's cruel hand. I rounded the side of his eye, starting where his eyebrow ended and moving below to the bridge of his nose. I smiled slightly at the way his long, thick eyelashes tickled my finger. I tried to ignore the sound of his body shutting down, instead focusing on how peaceful he looked, like he was sleeping. Erik never slept much. Perhaps he was saving all that sleep for now.

A page of sheet music stuck to his chest, directly over his heart. I placed my hand on top of it, noticing the longer gaps in between beats. Between my hand and his chest grew a blue glow, my last attempt to keep his heart beating just a while longer; to keep him with me for just a while longer. Like him, I struggled to breath, the tears and clogged sinuses making it difficult for me to inhale.