Her Angel

Part title

Why can't I hate him?

That's all Christine could think as her Angel, no, her tormentor, disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Raoul was safe. He was polite, well-bred. He took care of her. He would never hurt her. Christine could spend a lifetime with him.

But she was drawn to her Angel. That monster who had taken hold of her emotions. She wanted to be free from him, but he was burned into her mind. Something felt wrong when she was with him. He had stolen her away, astonished her with things she had never experienced. But after Christine was freed, she felt disgusted. She shivered at the memory of his arm draping across her collarbone. She was haunted by the image of his mangled face, blazing with anger as it struck her to the ground. She felt . . . guilt. Guilt for having let him into her mind, for having let him take her away, for trusting him.

But seeing him again, she froze. All the power he had over her was still in his control, and she felt it. His skeletal mask couldn't abate her fear and knowledge of what lay beneath. She felt powerless. She wanted to run but when he beckoned to her, she could do nothing but obey. She stared into the sunken eyes of the Red Death, searching for her Angel beneath them. She saw a glitter of his green irises, which seemed to soften upon seeing her. He raised an arm, reaching out his hand. All Christine was conscious of was him, so close to her, reaching out to touch . . .

And then in an instant, his eyes narrowed and Christine felt a sharp sting around her neck.

Your chains are still mine, you will sing for me!

And her Angel was gone, the trance was broken, and Christine stood alone in the smoke, reaching for the ring that had hung around her neck just moments before.