Unmasqued

She paced the room, the black and red strips of her skirt flying around her ankles, showing Christine a glimpse of well-shaped legs. And, she noticed faintly, a bodice that bared a healthy expanse of bosom.

'Why did he send you away? What happened that he sent you back to us?' Madame Giry demanded. 'I thought you would go off together and be happy.'

'I… I…' Christine's voice dried up. 'I removed his mask.'

Instead of the wrath, the spew of fury, that Christine expected, Madame Giry stopped. She looked down at her with an expression much more horrifying than what had been revealed under Erik's mask. 'You dared.'

The sobs came anew, wrenching from deep inside her. 'I meant only to show him that I loved him, regardless! I did not know… I did not know. I was startled… It was so frightening. His face. I didn't know what to expect, and it shocked me. I screamed, and he became so angry. He hated me. I could see it in his face. He didn't want me anymore.' It was such a relief to speak of it, of the horror and the pain she'd experienced.

'You no longer love him,' Madame said flatly. 'You cannot bear to be with a man so deformed, so you have found yourself a new, wealthy love.'

'No, madame. Noll-at first I was frightened. And he became so angry. And he brought me back here. He cannot love me any longer, it is clear. He hasn't come to me since then.' She couldn't tell even Madame how Erik had seen her and Raoul through the mirror. 'But I love him still, madame. I do. His face… it is only a small part of him. It is horrible, but… he is more than that.' Her voice trailed off as she remembered how bereft she'd felt when Erik left her, claiming that he, like Menelaus, would not fight for a lost cause.

He did not believe she could love him.

Perhaps Madame's countenance softened a bit… Perhaps it was just that she moved and the shadows over her face changed. 'He will not forgive such a betrayal. It is no wonder he sent you away. And then… and then you take up with the vicomte of all people. And his brother! How much more could you design to hurt him, Christine?'

She stalked away, red and black fluttering. 'Part if it must be my fault, for not telling you. And his too, for not… but Christine! How could you throw away the gift of such deep love, passion-a truth, so easily? So ignorantly? I thought you of all the girls here would understand the rarity of such a connection.'

Christine stopped crying. 'Madame, please, I do not know what you are talking about. What must he be kept safe from? How does he know the Chagny brothers? Please… tell me. I did not mean to hurt him. I truly did not.'

'Philippe de Chagny will do anything and everything to destroy Erik. They have known each other since they were boys, young men. Always garbed in his mask, Erik would join up in the dark of night with the comte, his brother, and others as they roamed the streets of Paris doing what young men do. It was an odd, unsteady alliance, the masked Erik with the titled, spoilt nobility… How they came to be friends, I do not know. Erik held his own, with his… athletic grace and sharp intelligence… They respected him and perhaps were a bit afraid of him…' Madame's voice trailed off, and Christine fancied for a moment that perhaps the ballet mistress might have a much more… intimate… knowledge of Erik than she'd realized.

The thought did not sit well in her churning belly.

As if reading her thoughts, Madame looked sharply at her. 'No, Erik and I were never lovers. His mother's name was Amelie, and I was her closest friend. We grew up in the south together near Bateguier, on the sea, where my mother had a ballet school. Amelie's father was a sailor and her mother a beautiful Persian woman he met during his travels and brought to live with him in the south of France. Amelie and I learned to dance together, and we came here to Paris when we were eighteen. She, with her exotic beauty, caught the attention of the old Comte de Chagny, and they had a liaison for a time. She died when Erik was twelve. Because of his relationship with Amelie, the old comte found work for Erik, and later, when it became necessary for Erik to go into hiding, he came to me.' She hesitated, then added, 'There is more to the story, much more. But Erik must tell you, for I have promised him never to reveal it. And, even for you, I cannot.'

'Erik came upon Philippe and me this evening,' Christine ventured to say.

'He did? So that is what precipitated this evening's events!' Madame's eyes narrowed. 'What happened?'

Christine told her, leaving out the fact that her body seemed to respond to the comte's assault, and the fact that Erik made love to her before leaving her in a whiff of anger. 'Why does Philippe hate Erik?'

'I am not certain how it began, only that it was long ago, and there is some rivalry between them related to events that happened in their youth. Philippe has threatened to destroy Erik for some secret he knows about him, so Erik remains hidden in the Opera House underground. This is why the legend of the ghost has been created. I do not believe Philippe realized that Erik had become the Opera Ghost until recent events.' Her stare pinpointed Christine, and she realized that Madame was speaking of her own interaction with the Angel of Music. 'Erik has become careless since he has fallen in love with you, and now that Philippe knows who and where he is… it will not be long before he seeks to destroy him.'

Madame looked at Christine, waiting until she looked back. 'Make no mistake… Philippe is the one who killed Regine tonight, and he did it to make certain the public outcry toward the Opera Ghost is raised. Erik will not be safe for long. And neither are you.'

Chapter Fourteen

'Think of it as having your cake and eating it too. There is no need to wed the girl in order to have her as your own,' Philippe told his brother over a glass of claret the next evening. He still burned with hatred and fury for the mangled-faced bastard who'd interrupted his pleasure with Christine, but he was pleased that he had confirmed that Erik was indeed the Opera Ghost.

Now it was only a matter of time before he had his vengeance… and that sweet little quim. He sipped and smiled and hardened.

'A wife and a plaything,' Raoul was musing, as though the thought had never occurred to him before. Perhaps it hadn't, the fool.

'Your marriage into the Le Rochet family will bring nothing but more power and money to our family, Raoul. And Celeste is most enamored with you… Certainly, she is not as beautiful as Miss Daae, but she is rich and she will stay out of your way. You will be able to keep Miss Daae in your bed, and Celeste in your parlor. In fact…' Philippe picked up the phallic-handled ivory whip he'd just acquired, and snapped it experimentally. 'I think we could find quite comfortable accommodations for Miss Daae here at Chateau de Chagny, don't you think? The estate is certainly large enough.'

He cracked the whip again languidly, delighting in the clean, crisp sound it made. From his chair, he shifted so that he faced the spread-eagled, ass-side-up lovely little upstairs maid who was arranged over a chaise. Just as Christine Daae had been last night. Or would have been, had Erik not interrupted them.

Anger tightened his mouth and he snapped the whip expertly, watching in delight as it scored a thin red mark down the maid's buttock. She jerked, shrieked, and jerked again when he laid another line across her other buttock. Not enough to break the skin… no, he had more finesse than that.

'My dear friend… Rose? Is that your name?' The whip cracked, and she shuddered, sobbing that he could call her Rose if that was what he wished. 'Rose and the others will make certain Christine is well cared for. And you could visit her whenever you wish.'

Raoul smiled, nodding slowly, as though he had just worked out the details in his mind. 'Perhaps that could work. I could be her protector. She needs a protector, and if it is I, then no one else will dare to touch her. If Christine stayed here, Celeste would have no knowledge of her existence. I could visit when I wish. And I know that Rose and the rest of the staff are discreet.'

'Indeed.' Philippe nodded. He paid the staff very, very well in order to ensure their discretion… and their participation in all of the duties he required of them. Rose was a bit new to his private chambers, although she'd been at the chateau for well over a year, and therefore was still being trained. But he was certain she too would soon fit in rather nicely. And if she didn't… well… he had several options at his