I used every shortcut I knew of, skipping steps, glancing behind to see if Christine could keep track with me, and nodding in encouragement when she did. I was typically so focused on her singing ability, that I could sometimes forget how she had the swift instincts of a dancer, too.
"Over here," I led her through the small door and we emerged on the gallery that overlooked the grand foyer, where the voices were being heard speaking in Farsi.
"What are they saying?" Christine whispered, and I motioned her to keep quiet as I listened.
"They come bearing good news. The assassination plot was foiled and all the traitors dealt with," I smirked. "They send the shah's thanks and gratitude."
"Wonderful!" Christine exclaimed as soon as the Persian officials departed. Her voice drew Nadir's attention, and he lifted his head to examine the gallery. I stepped out of the shadows.
"You're welcome, Nadir!" I boomed, laughing. I missed playing tricks with men, and the entire Persian business delighted me now that I knew it all went well.
He shook his head in disapproval but also laughed. We went down to join him and to learn all the details.
"In case you missed anything, I have just received the Persian shah's eternal gratitude for saving his life, even if it had been done in a most convoluted way," Nadir said pointedly, and then held out a strange object he'd been cradling in his hands all along.
"Along with his gratitude, the shah has also sent me this, but I truly believe it belongs to you, Erik."
It was an exquisite jewelry box, made of gold and covered in monkey carvings. My eyes lit up when I saw it. I took it, examining the carved details with my thumbs.
"Won't you open it?"
"The box itself is sufficient," I murmured. There was something infinitely comforting about monkeys, reminding me of an old toy.
"May I?" Nadir said, opening the box carefully. It held a curious black necklace and a male ruby ring. Nadir studied the pieces and nodded as if approving of their value, but still he refused to take anything.
"Was it Darius who managed to dose Arash with Valerian?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Then give him this," I tossed the ruby ring to Nadir. "He earned it, and I daresay he will appreciate a gift from his shah."
"Indeed he will." Nadir looked pleasantly surprised by my decision. "Now, Erik, would you tell me how exactly did you manage to prove Arash's guilt? Miss Daae -- Christine -- I assume you are familiar with the whole situation?"
"Yes, I believe so. You sent a letter to the shah to warn him?"
"Yes, and Erik had hypnotized the traitor... To what effect?" Nadir asked.
I chuckled.
"When the shah asked about you, Arash was compelled to take out his flask, offer it to the shah, and ask him to cut it open and take out the note. It was such a bizarre request that I couldn't imagine the shah ignoring it."
"Indeed!"
"Then, the shah read the letter. Remember those a-b-c instructions I left him there?"
"Ah, I did wonder..."
"When the shah clapped his hands twice (or anyone, for that matter), Arash was hypnotized to say: all that's written in this letter is true. A phrase that's quite innocent out of its context, but in this case...
"Next, when the shah said a phrase Rosy Hours of Mazanderan, Arash was forced to react by saying the shah's life is in danger and then confessing to the assassination plot. His subconsciousness might have resisted the second part of the command, but it doesn't matter."
"And what about the c?"
"That command was to make Arash imitate any animal that the shah speaks of. Just for the shah's amusement, as I said... And also, it would have debilitated Arash had he tried to escape," I smirked.
"But why didn't the shah simply believe that we manipulated Arash with hypnosis?"
"He trusts you more than he does him, can't you tell? And we told him how to catch the other traitors. I assume they talked?"
"Yes indeed, according to the messengers."
Christine stood by, awfully quiet and with an increasing frown on her beautiful face.
"Everything went perfectly well, as I hoped it will," I said to reassure her.
"Yes, I can hear that... I am so happy for you, Nadir!"
"Thank you, Christine," Nadir replied kindly. "I will now gladly focus on your upcoming wedding. I am sure a few of my connections will be useful when it comes to arranging the paperwork needed for the civil ceremony. As for the priest, however..."
"I will find one," Christine smiled.
They switched to the talk of the boring minutiae of the ceremony, while I stood by, feeling ridiculously excluded from it all. I did not know of anything useful to offer them. I would play the piano (the organ was in the old chapel), but alas it would be difficult to do so while I am standing beside my bride.
"Excuse me. I have something to attend to," I said to them, just to remove myself from the conversation.
"Erik, wait. May I join you?" Christine asked.
"Of course." It was a pleasant surprise, warming my heart.
We said good night to Nadir and climbed to the third floor. The lights along the walls have already been lit, the night having crept upon us as subtly as the servants who took care of the lighting.
"I needed to ask you something," Christine said when we approached her suite.
"Feel free to."
"That was incredible, what you managed to do to Nadir's enemy. I have difficulty imagining it possible, because it sounds like magic, or something out of an old story."
"Thank you."
She laughed. "No, well -- yes, I suppose it is a compliment, but it is also a question... Have you ever done that to me?" she whispered, grabbing a hold of my arm in a pleading gesture. "Please tell me that you haven't done anything like that to me. My love is real, isn't it?"
Her question caught me off guard. I tried to quickly think of an answer, but my mind was getting clouded. More sleep and food would help. I needed more lunches with Christine.
"Erik? You're worrying me."
"I am merely tired. Forgive me," I said, leaning against the wall and looking at her. "Once."
"Once?"
"I did it once, but very mildly, nothing even close to what I've done to Arash. Just a touch of mesmerizing illusion, to better lure you, to keep you entranced and docile as you followed to my lair, that very first time we had met in person. Only then."
"I see," she replied, standing still, hugging herself as if she was cold -- which perhaps she was, given that the temperature had dropped and she was still wearing a summer day dress.
"Christine, are you mad at me now?"
"No... I don't think so. I was just remembering."
"Come to me, Angel of Music..." I sang before I thought better of it, but luckily she just huffed a small laugh and obeyed.
I hugged her, kissed her forehead and rubbed her back to warm her up.
"Whatever you feel is genuine and your own. I will admit to having moments of weakness when I had felt tempted to play with your mind, before, but not for a long time. I needed this to be real, and to last. Illusions and delusions -- they helped me survive for a long time, but I learned that ultimately they dissolve into darkness. They are not enough. This is."
A content sigh was her only answer, and it made me relax. Everything would have to be fine now.
"We should go to our rooms," I said.
"Why? We could find a music room -- this place must have one. Or a library, or--"
"The grand library is in the south wing. There's a small temporary one on the second floor, we could go down there."
I pushed myself of the wall and made a step forward, but I lost my balance for a second.
"Erik! Are you all right?" Christine was holding me before I could make another step.
"Yes. Just a pesky moment of weakness," I said irritably. "Nothing serious. It's getting better and will disappear entirely. I just need time."
"And a lot of red meat," she added, still holding me as if I needed her help to walk. I let her help me to indulge her, and we walked to my suite.
"Red meat?"
"That's what one of the women in the theater ate to better regain strength after a particularly difficult childbirth. It replenishes your blood faster."
I was pleasantly surprised by this insight into Christine's mind, as I've always regretted her lack of higher education.
We reached my suite but I was reluctant to part from her. On the other hand, after the last night it seemed unwise to invite her in, too. She saved me the dilemma.
"Being all alone in this huge, empty place makes it difficult for me to sleep. May I join you for a while? At least until I make sure that you are truly well?"
I pulled her inside without a reply, and she smiled. She was so innocently unaware of how dangerous this was, how difficult to control myself... Or maybe not. Tonight, I lacked my usual stamina.
"Why are you laughing?" she asked me.
"Dizzy men make harmless bedfellows. You're welcome to stay if you wish, but wait here while I make myself comfortable."
In truth, I needed a bath, and luckily this bedroom suite had new pipes and running water in the bathroom, a luxury that was still uncommon in the smaller suites.
"Oh. I will go to my room to do the same!"
And so half an hour later, I returned to my bedroom to find her sitting on the edge of my bed, her hair tied in a loose braid, her legs drawn up and her bare feet peeking out of the hem of her long nightdress. She looked up and blushed at me, while I tried to remain impassive. We had spent the night by each other's side in Montreux, but this was deliberate and thus infinitely different. More intimate, somehow.
Soon, this would be our daily ritual. My heart sped up. I tried not to think about the fact that I took off my mask and the wig, but it still made me hunch a little. Inexplicably, she stared at me with such happiness, that you'd think she was seeing something beautiful. I frowned and sat next to her, and she answered my unspoken question.
"Whenever I see you like this, it shows me that you love me and trust me. I know you'd never take your mask off otherwise," she said, caressing my bad cheek.
I closed my eyes, drew myself up to lie on my back, and she settled next to me, close, but not quite touching. Decent. Torturous.
"You were the most precious girl, and you are a stunning woman. Patient, forgiving, and perceptive. I am ridiculously proud that you chose me... This time."
"Perhaps it took a woman, and not a girl," she whispered shyly.
We were both getting sleepy. She pulled the sheet up, and her hand found mine.
"Good night, my Angel of Music," she whispered.
"Good night, my love."
* * *
We were woken up by the loud knocking on the door.
I jumped up and began untying my robe, hoping that Christine won't shriek if she opens her eyes and sees me in my undergarments. The knocks continued while I ran to my dressing room and back, leaving drowsy, confused and barely awake Christine to watch as I marched toward the main door barefoot, with my shirt barely tucked into my breeches. I checked that my mask and the wig were firmly in place, and that the bed wasn't visible from the suite entrance, and scowled. Intensely.
"Damn it, Darius, what is it?" I boomed as soon I set my eyes on him.
"The master waits in the blue salon," he said simply. "Miss Daae must come, too," he looked at me shrewdly. So they knew her room was empty. Of course.
"I see. Tell him to wait a little longer," I growled and shut the door.
"What did he want?" Christine asked as soon as we were alone.
"I don't know. You'd better go change. I will come for you in half an hour."
"Twenty minutes will be enough. I know you must be curious, and so am I," she said, gave me a quick kiss and went away.
Half an hour later, we were drinking tea -- an unusually bitter blend, which Nadir said could wake up the dead.
"Did you serve this to your guests yesterday? That would explain why they all left so quickly."
"I told you, those were my acquaintances, not friends. Unlike you, they don't have the liberty to pester me," Nadir quipped.
"Ah, the perks of saving your life are indeed sweet. They might actually make this swill palatable."
Christine seemed to be surprised by our exchange and the overall familiarity, but I could tell that she liked it.
"So, Mr.-- Nadir, what was the urgency about?" she asked.
Nadir's face immediately darkened, and he pulled out the newspapers from a drawer. I grabbed them and moved my chair closer to Christine so we can take a look together. Her scent distracted me for a moment, but then I saw the article and everything else faded away.
These were yesterday's newspapers, featuring a long article about Christine's concert at Rosier. There was a nice introduction about Nadir and the way he was to modernize the castle and restore its former beauty. There was a wonderful review of the concert, praising Christine's unearthly voice and heartwarming, emotional performance. And there was that final, sneaky paragraph.
The astonishing soprano was accompanied by an equally talented pianist, who mysteriously eluded the audience, performing from behind the screen and seen as nothing but the shadow. Or perhaps a ghost? Alas, we must curb our imagination, as the pianist turned to be none other than Miss Daae's fiancé, Mr. Dessler, a composer recently brought to light by the renowned Venetian theater manager Cesare Manelli. Mr. Dessler's reported penchant for wearing masks must thus surely be a harmless Venetian quirk, and I feel compelled to reject any suggestions that the rumored Paris opera ghost has followed Miss Daae and now haunts our beloved Rosier Castle!
"That sneaky, vile journalist!"
I nearly jumped in my seat from shock, because this furious exclamation came from none other than Christine. I blinked and then seriously nodded.
"So you see what he's done. By denying his belief in the idea, he purposefully laid it out and planted it into the readers' minds. As much as this irritates me, we should simply proceed as intended. Right, Nadir?"
"Not exactly," he frowned, his hand rubbing his short beard again.
"Your meaning?"
"Is Erik in danger?"
Christine and I shot our questions simultaneously, and I was once again surprised by the fierceness of her worry. I took her hand and squeezed it in gratitude.
"This came out yesterday, and within a day I have already received five invitations to the evening salons, addressed to the three of us. There are also a few letters sent by people trying to get themselves invited to the castle. And this morning, my footmen had to send away three reporters who tried to gain access to Rosier. The situation is not dangerous at the moment -- this crowd here is merely curious, not angry -- but the whole matter complicates things. We must handle it," Nadir said.
"I will reject all invitations in my name. You two can go, if you wish."
"I can't. They will pester me about you," Christine said. "It doesn't matter either way, since I've no particular wish to go."
"Good. We will have the wedding on the solstice, as planned," I said firmly. "I will do my best not to squash Garten when he appears, as he will, since you invited him," I raised my eyebrows at Christine, and she blushed.
"We could invite more press," Nadir suggested.
"Yes. That will make the news varied and hopefully more objective," I agreed.
"You are forgetting one thing," Nadir said. "How are you going to dispel the rumors of you being the Phantom of the Opera? The mask will raise questions."
"And if I invite Meg and madame it will only cause more trouble, so I won't invite them after all," Christine added.
"No. You will invite whoever you please," I said, raising my voice just a notch to shut them up, and then lowering it to a whisper. "Nadir, you have seen my face. You know what it's like. This will sound insane, but on the solstice, I will look whole, just like anyone else. It's an illusion, a gift I've received. No harm will come from it. I know it is difficult to believe, but you must--"
"Stop. If you say so, and put so much faith into it, then I'll believe it. If I know one thing by now, it's that you are not a stupid man. Just promise you won't achieve this illusion by hypnotizing all the guests," he finished dryly.
"No. Can't promise the same about the host, though."
He laughed and shook his head. "Erik, you are horrible."
"He never joked as much as he does with you," Christine said, beaming at us. The tense atmosphere began to dissolve.
"Probably because he never had anyone to tease before, given his past," Nadir added lightly.
My head swung from Christine to him.
"And how would you know? You know nothing about my past," I said softly, too softly, and I could see Christine squirming, reading the threat in my voice.
Nadir said nothing, but his hands were below the table. Was he reaching for a gun? I tensed and slowly stood up, and Christine did the same, grabbing my arm.
Did Nadir guess at my true identity? Did Garten's article open his eyes? Should I tell him who I am?
The Daroga. Chief of police, not someone who'd let a murderer sleep under his roof. I stared into his eyes and for the first time since my initial waking up in Venice, I saw the hostility in them.
"Erik... Calm down," Christine whispered. "Nadir, Erik and I need to talk--"
"Leave us, my love," I ordered.
"No."
"Christine, he knows," I squeezed out, my eyes glued to Daroga. Neither of us moved a muscle.
"And will you try to kill me because I know?" Daroga asked.
"Only in self-defense."
He slowly placed his empty hands back on the table.
"Then sit down, both of you. You saved my life yesterday, Erik. I would hardly try to harm you today. Or ever, as long as you don't do anything stupid."
I laughed in disbelief.
"So you will just calmly accept the fact that I am the Phantom of the Opera? I find that unlikely."
"Calmly? Nor at all. But Erik, I had plenty of time to think about it. I have known that you are the Phantom of the Opera since I first saw your face in that Venetian alley."