26: Final Lair Scene

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Christine

The foils seized each other up. Both had aggressive stances: Erik cocky and Raoul defensive. Raoul spotted me and took a step forward.

I dashed to Erik's side, and he put a protective arm across my front. Danger charged the air with apprehensive energy. How cruel that now, so close to freedom, our escape should be frustrated!

"Christine!" Raoul called. His shirtfront was open and hair was slicked back. Another version of me, at another time, might have found him attractive. But not here and now. "Free her!" Raoul cried to Erik. "Do what you like, only free her! Have you no pity?"

Erik merely tossed his head back and laughed—a sound that was terrible to hear. Raoul should have fled and never looked back.

"Please, Raoul," I said. "Go back! I'm here of my own free will."

"But," he faltered, the struggle evident on his face. It took an enormous effort to process the discrepancy between the fantasy in his head and the reality in front of him. I'd twisted the fairytale and torn Raoul's heroic status away from him. He should have been my Prince Charming, valiantly rescuing me from the monster's clutches; instead, the monster and I were running away together. "I love you," Raoul said. "Does that mean nothing? I love you!"

I tugged the ring out of my bodice and held it up for him to see. "I'm sorry, Raoul," I said. "I love him, not you." I hated breaking his heart, but bluntness was obviously the only way to deliver the message.

Erik listened to this exchange, his eyes fixed on Raoul. "Darling," he murmured to me out of the corner of his mouth, "there's a sword mounted on the wall in the parlor. Run and get it please."

I stepped back carefully, judging same as Erik that even if Raoul charged him now, it would take a while to wade the long distance through the water.

Erik started speaking, keeping Raoul distracted so I could fetch the sword. "You see?" he called. "She's happy here. You heard it from her mouth. Why don't you run along now and find another girl?"

I sprinted the last few feet into the house and frantically scoured the room for the sword. There it was, nearly hidden by a drape: an elegant, old-fashioned rapier. Thank every star in heaven that we hadn't decided to take the sword with us to our new house.

I snatched it and hurried back to Erik, keenly aware that his life could be in danger. I clasped the handle into his hand, and he mumbled his thanks.

Raoul had advanced considerably and was still wading at a decent speed. What did he think would happen when he got to us?

"Raoul," I pleaded, "just go back. Leave me. I'm not right for you."

He ignored me and continued his trek through the water, progressing faster as he entered the shallows.

"Christine," Erik said. "I will attempt to talk to him, but I need you to stand far away. If it comes to a fight, I cannot be distracted by trying not to hit you."

I hated abandoning him, but his argument made sense. I knew there was nothing I could do but get in the way. I did as he suggested and backed up about five yards to the edge of the lake, whispering "Be careful" to Erik as I went.

Erik held the sword at his side and reached a pacifying hand to Raoul. "Vicomte," he said, "you must understand the situation. I would rather not kill you, but if we cross swords, be sure that I will emerge from the encounter victorious. You are distressed—I sympathize—but fighting me won't solve your problem. Christine will not go with you."

Raoul glared at him. "She will when I am the only one of us left alive." He ran the last few steps to Erik, swinging his sword.

Erik parried the attack with ease and stepped back, guiding Raoul away from me.

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