He pronounces my name with his usual crisp, reverent diction, as if it’s the loveliest word in the world. But there’s an edge to his tone, a hint of betrayal.
He knows what I am. Of course he does, because I bit him. That miraculous, delicious, impossibly satisfying blood washis.
That thick, hard cock was his.
Speechless with panic, I stare at my own face in the mirror.
“You tore me open,” he says softly. “It was my pleasure to bleed for you, to give you everything you needed. I accept you as you are.”
A shudder courses through me. I want to cry over those words. I’ve waited so long for someone to say them and mean it.
“You have done well tonight,” the Angel continues in the same gentle tone, tinged with bitterness. “But you are not singing to the best of your ability. If you continue like this, your precious Raoul will have only tepid interest in his musical, and none of these critics willunderstand how brilliant you truly are. Or you can open your mind, unleash your soul, and sing for me, your Angel, with all the force and beauty you possess. If you do that…if you give yourself wholly to me, I will answer all your questions afterward.”
“I want to know how you cast your voice in so many places,” I say. “Are you a ventriloquist? Were you watching me in my room? How did you hear what I said to Raoul when I got out of his truck? Why have you stayed in the shadows instead of introducing yourself like a normal person?”
“I will tell you everything, I promise. But first you must yield, Christine.” His voice shakes ever so slightly this time, a betrayal of the intense emotion he’s trying to conceal. “You mustwantthis. Complete honesty between us. No masks or walls or trickery. I want to know you in every possible way. You have to want me just as fiercely.”
“And if I do this…after it’s over…where should I go to meet you?”
“Return to your room. I’ll come to you there.”
Someone hammers on the bathroom door. “Christine? Are you in there?” Raoul’s voice.
The Angel makes a disgruntled sound. “He follows you everywhere like a lovesick puppy.”
“He’s worried about me,” I answer.
“Christine?” Raoul’s voice goes up an octave. “Who’s in there with you? I’m coming in!” He bursts through the door, flushed and frantic, with his tie askew. “I’ve been looking for you. I wanted to congratulate you on the first two acts. Christine, was he in here?”
“No one is here, Raoul.” I push past him. “I need my nose powdered again before I go on. You should get back to your box.”
He catches my wrist like he did on the day of auditions, when he persuaded me to stay. “Christine. Please don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.” I pull my arm free. “I can’t talk now, but…later.”
He nods, but there’s tragedy in his green eyes. I can’t bear it—I can’t.
I seize him by the lapels of his suit coat, rise up on my toes, and kiss him.
His mouth is soft, his breath sweet. A heady, tingling sensation suffuses my body as I lean in, forgetting that I intended this to be a quick, comforting kiss. It’s so much more than that. Raoul’s taste fills my mouth, his tongue sliding over mine. With all my soul, I want to crush him closer, kiss him deeply, recklessly, drink up his air and swallow his blood. His mouth tastes so fucking good…
“Miss Daaé!” Marjorie’s clipped tone cuts through my daze. “Makeup!” she calls sharply. “We need makeup over here! Raoul, go back to your box, for god’s sake.”
Sheepishly, Raoul obeys, with a final glance at me. He looks much less tragic now, and I smile as the stylist tries to correct my lipstick.
I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t understand why I crave both of these men so violently. I don’t know what I’m doing.
All I know is that my parents would be both very proud of me and very displeased with me tonight. And for once, I truly don’t give a damn either way.
When I walk out onstage again, I am something altogether new.
15The Phantom
Christine sings for me like a woman possessed.
I lean forward in my seat, deep in the curtained shadows of Box Five. My heart is pounding, my eyes streaming tears of the loveliest pain.
This is the Christine I heard in the stairwell—the Christine I knew she could be. She has done exactly what I begged her to do—dragged her soul out through her throat and sacrificed it to me.
