But only her angel could make her feel… truly feel. Only with him was she able to leave the grief and emptiness behind her.
It was for him that she sang.
Perhaps… perhaps tonight, she would be able to see and feel him at last. "If I've pleased him," she whispered to herself as Raoul took her arm with a proprietary air, following Madame Giry down the busy passageway.
"Pleased who?" he asked, slipping a finger down beneath the edge of her now-in-place bodice to smooth over her areola.
"My tutor," she replied, pulling gently away.
"Tutor? You did mention a tutor. Who is it?" asked Raoul, his brows drawing together in an annoyed fashion.
"Do you remember when my father used to tell us about the Angel of Music? He promised to send him to me… and he has. My tutor is the Angel of Music! He will be waiting for me. And if I have pleased him…" Her heart raced in anticipation.
"What is it you are talking about, Christine? Waiting for you? Who is this man?"
She stopped in the hallway, pulling Raoul to the side so that the bustle of stagehands, dancers, and musicians could continue unfettered. "He is the Angel of Music, Raoul. He… he lives here at the Opera House, and of course he will be waiting for me in my dressing room. It is because of him that I am able to sing as I do."
"He lives here? He's not… he isn't this—this thing that they call the Opera Ghost?" Raoul looked horrified. "The creature who ran Carlotta off the stage tonight? Did he put some sort of spell upon her?"
Christine reached for his cheek. "Raoul, he is not a ghost. And he is a friend to me… and a teacher." A lover. "He's been my tutor for more than three months, and since he has come to me, I have been so happy. You should be happy for me too. Since I lost Father, I have not been able to find peace… until my ange."
"But Christine… a man? In your dressing room? Why, that's improper!"
Christine smiled fondly up at him. "Improper? I am an actor, a singer… I live in the world of the theater. And you were in my dressing room as well."
"Christine, you cannot see him anymore." Raoul was greatly agitated. "You must tell him that he cannot visit you."
Now she dropped her hand from his face, her heart beating faster. She could never agree to that. "But why? Raoul, I would never do that."
"Because… because my future wife cannot be meeting with strange men in her dressing room."
Christine stared up at him in shock, but before she could respond, a strong hand gripped her arm. It was Madame Giry, and she had a most urgent, annoyed look on her austere face. "Christine, you will anger him if you tarry further."
"Yes, of course," she said, and started off down the hallway, bringing Raoul along with her.
"But, Christine…you…"
"I must go, Raoul. The angel is very strict and I do not want to anger him. It is because of him that I have had the success that I have. You saw what happened to Carlotta tonight when she failed to follow his instructions."
"But… you will dine with us tonight, will you not?" Raoul looked at her so pleadingly, his blue eyes as desperate as the grip on her wrist. His hold caused her to stop just outside her dressing room door, and he spun her from her path to look at him.
She couldn't turn him down. "I will. I must speak with the angel first… and then, yes, I will be pleased to have dinner with you, if he permits."
"If he permits? Christine, what are you saying? That he is in control of you?"
"Raoul, no, not really… but he is a strict taskmaster. I will never reach my greatest potential if I do not follow his instructions. And… if I do not follow his instructions, he will cease to visit me. I could not bear that."
"But, Christine, I do not understand. How can you allow this—this creature to control your life?"
"It is simple, Raoul. Without him, I would not be singing as I am today. I would still be simple, shy, lonely Christine Daaé. Under his tutelage, I have blossomed at last. Do not lie and say that you do not find my voice and my talent part of your attraction to me. I have seen it in your eyes."
"Christine, I do not deny that my love for you is even greater with your success. But if you stopped singing tomorrow, I would still love you."
"But I would not love myself. I find the greatest joy in my music, and he has helped me to find this joy. Please understand, Raoul… It is a joy, a freedom… a special beauty that I have not experienced since Papa died. I do not wish to talk on it further, Raoul. You cannot change my mind, and it really will not make for a friendly dinner if we are arguing." She smiled at him, and saw his acquiescence. "So, yes, I will join you for dinner if he does not mind… but perhaps just the two of us?" she added, thinking of the uncomfortable way Philippe had looked at her the night before.
"I will call the carriage and be back for you right away," Raoul told her, a bit reluctantly. "And I will make arrangements for just the two of us to dine."
When he released her and strode away, Christine turned and found herself face-to-face with Madame Giry. "You are playing very dangerously, Christine," she told her.
"No… no, I do not know what you mean."
"He will not be pleased with your delay tonight, and he will be most especially displeased that you have been flirting with the vicomte, of all people. If he should find out it is Raoul de Chagny who has caught your attention…" She pressed her lips together. "I have warned you… Take care that you do not anger him or you may very well lose him. You saw Carlotta's disgrace tonight. Make no mistake: Though she brought her own destruction upon herself, he helped to manifest it. And listen to me carefully: You must not tell the vicomte or his brother anything of him, do you understand?"
But she already had. Christine's saliva dried in her throat. "I will heed your advice, Madame Giry. I do not wish to do anything to lose mon ange."
"Very good. Now, into your dressing room. He will come to you soon."
But even after Christine had entered the room and changed from her costume into a lace-trimmed dressing gown, Erik did not made his presence known. She sat on a quilted seat in the center of the room, watching herself in the mirror as her face grew graver and more worried while the moments ticked on.
A pounding on her door distracted her momentarily; she cracked it open to find an impatient Raoul waiting for her. "Come, Christine, the horses are becoming restless, and so am I."
Christine cast a glance behind her. The room felt empty; perhaps Erik was angry and was not going to come to her tonight.
"All right… give me one more moment to change into street clothes and to get my cloak." She closed the door and started toward the small wardrobe that held her meager collection of street clothes.
But before she had even pulled the doors wide, she felt the air in the room move.
"Erik!" she cried, relief sweeping through her.
She knew his presence; though he had yet to announce himself any other way, she sensed him. The five lamps sputtered, then were doused, leaving only one burning low.
But then, there was nothing. Silence… harsh and empty.
"Erik? Angel?" Christine called.
The shadows grew tall, crisscrossing the room, as the half-moon of light left by the single lamp sputtered. The air chilled, moved, and shifted, sending the hair at the back of her neck on edge and her nipples tightening.
"Where are you?"
"Christine? What is it?" Raoul's voice came through the dressing room door, accompanied by his pounding fists. The doorknob jiggled in vain. "Unlock the door, Christine!"
But she had not locked it.
"Erik? Are you there?" she called again, her voice rising. "Angel?"
"Christine!" Raoul shouted, pounding harder, shoving at the door.
"Christinnnnne…" her name came at last, on a breath that swept through her.
"Erik. You are there! Where are you?"