He thought of the Archangel Michael, who had spoken to him and promised
him love. The
sweet little cherub who had appeared in his house. How beautiful was
the image of his
mother, and all that she had said to him! To have actually beheld his
wonderful father for
the first time. Truly, he had been in the company of angels!
Recalling those dreams, he felt tranquil and calm.
***********
He sat up in his bed and stretched his arms, and in doing so, saw that
he was not wearing
his usual night garments. Why was he was still fully dressed?
Then it all came flooding back to him; he remembered how he had fallen
into bed in a state
of complete mental exhaustion, too tired even to remove his clothes.
He was certain then that Dominie had not been a dream. She had really
been here in his
house, sent in answer to his prayers. He remembered how she had brought
the spirit of his
mother to him, and how they had been so happy to be together once more,
only this time in
their mutual love.
Then he remembered that Christine was here in his house upon the lake,
and that she
might waken and be fearful of her strange surroundings. Throwing back
the quilt, he was
about to jump up from the bed when he saw a tiny object, golden and
glistening, lying on the
bed. Picking it up, he saw that it was in the shape of a feather; a
feather which, perhaps,
had been shed from - a golden wing?
Erik felt a tremor of incredulous delight run through his body. Here
was absolute proof that
Dominie had not been a figment of his imagination or part of his dream.
Stroking the little
feather, he walked into the drawing-room and sat on the organ stool.
Looking up, he said softly, "Dominie, little angel-child, you are adorable and I love you."
There was a faint echo of the deliciously childish laughter as when
Erik had swung the
cherub high in the air.
"I love you too, my Erik."
***********
Smiling to himself, Erik went back into his bedroom and carefully put
the little golden
feather in a small box containing his most treasured possessions. A
handkerchief which had
belonged to his mother, the embroidered initials grown faint with age.
Some dried sprigs of
lavender which she had kept in her linen.
A small, faded water-colour painted and given to him by the Daroga of
Mazenderan, many
years ago, in Persia.
A note of appreciation for some work he had completed on the Opera House,
signed "your
friend, Charles Garnier".
An empty phial of Christine's eau de parfum, smelling still of freesias,
and one of her little
gloves.
He locked the box and put it back in the cabinet by his bed.
***********
Erik bathed and dressed; as always, he donned his wig and mask. The
wig seemed a little
tight as he pulled it over his skull, but he thought no more of it.
He went to his pantry and
busied himself preparing a breakfast to share with his Angel of Music,
all the while singing
softly to himself. His thoughts were of his beloved, and all that he
would say to her.
He did not hear the soft footstep behind him until it was too late.
A small, swift hand had
come up and lifted the mask from his face; the wig came away from his
head at the same
time.
***********
"No - oh no!"
His cry rent the air as Christine stepped back from him, the mask in
her shaking hand. He
swung round to face her, and she saw the terrible grief in his eyes.
His hands came up to
cover his face.
"Oh Christine. Oh, my child. Why have you done this?"
Christine implored him, "Angel of Music, it was in my dream. I had to
do it, to show you
that you must no longer fear to show me your face. You do not need
to wear this mask.
Your face is as beautiful as an angel's. Believe me, for my dream told
me so."
***********
Christine laid her two small hands over Erik's, and gently but firmly,
took his fingers away
from his face. He turned his head away... could not bear to see her
horrified reaction to his
corpse-like features. He started to weep quietly, the hot tears spilling
onto her fingers.
"Dearest Angel, why do you cry? Please look at me, please. There is
so much I want to tell
you."
"Oh Christine, my tears are for your reckless folly in unmasking me",
he wept. "Now that
you have seen my accursed ugliness, you will no more wish to be with
me, to be taught by
your Angel. Besides, I am a false angel, as you can see. I am but a
man. I beg your pardon
- a freak of nature."
"But my Angel," Christine said, bewildered, "how can you say this? You
are so handsome
- your face is like the angel in my dreams. He was beautiful; an Archangel,
whose name
was Michael."
**********
Erik stared. "Why--why, how is this?", he stammered. "Did we dream the
same dream?
The Archangel Michael came to me in a dream, and he told me that I
would gain my heart's
desire."
"You were in my dreams with the Archangel. He told me your name is Erik."
Christine
answered, her eyes wide. "You were wearing your cloak and hat, just
as you had appeared
to me in the mirror. And then Michael and Erik became as one man, and
it is you, my
dearest Angel of Music. Oh Erik, I have always known that one day,
I would find, and love
- you."
Erik had slowly let his hands be drawn away from his face by the beautiful
young girl
standing before him. She was so lovely, with her long dark hair a waterfall
of shining curls
down her back; her deep blue eyes looking up at him with such .......
love?
Christine smiled up at him, the radiance in her face making him catch his breath in wonder.
"How can this be?", he asked, dazed by her loving smile. "How can you
say you love me,
or even bear to look at me, when I am so grotesque, my face - such
as it is - a travesty of a
human face?"
She was puzzled. "Why do you keep saying you are ugly, my own darling?
You are a
fine-looking man. Indeed, you are very, very handsome, but even if
your face was like that
of the Phantom in my dreams - even if you were disfigured, I would
love you still."
She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes. "I love the Phantom also,
for his dear face was
not ugly to me. Believe me, for I have seen him."
"But --- but I don't understand. You are saying I am handsome? And yet
you have seen the
Phantom's repulsive features. But I am the Phantom, as ugly as sin.
I... I do not...", Erik's
voice tailed off miserably as he stared at Christine.
"Listen, my Erik, listen to what happened. When I woke up, a wonderful
little angel-child
was there, in my room! Her name was Dominie, and she was sent from
Heaven to help us."
**********
Erik made as if to speak, but Christine continued excitedly. "Dominie
took me into your
bedroom, and I looked down at you as you slept.
I saw your face. The face upon the pillow was that of the man in my
dream - the Phantom.
He was not ugly to me, and never could be. He looked so peaceful, so
appealing as he lay
asleep. I kissed him.... I kissed you, and you murmured my name. Oh
Erik, if you and the
Phantom are one and the same person, I do utterly adore you, however
your face may
look."
She was still holding the white mask in her hand; she brought it up
to her cheek, and said
softly, "You do not need this any more, but the Phantom's mask is something
I would like
to keep forever. I shall treasure it, as I will treasure always the
memory of that wonderful
moment when you first appeared in my mirror; when your face was hidden
from me by this
enchanted mask."
"Darling Erik, my Phantom of the Opera, my Angel of Music, I love you."
**********
Erik stood as if turned to stone; for a long moment, he did not, could
not, move. With
wonder dawning in his eyes, he looked down into her sweet face and
saw his love reflected
there. She looked so fresh and charming in one of the gowns he had
provided for her. It
was the colour of woodland violets, deepening her eyes to amethyst.
The falls of creamy
lace at the neck and elbows were reflected in her satin skin.
With almost timid hesitation, Erik pulled her gently towards him; he
took her in his arms
and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes; he kissed each lid. Drawing
her ever closer,
his lips traced the curve of her soft cheeks and delectable little
nose. She opened her eyes
and looked at him. Pulling his head down to hers, she met his lips
in a long, deep and tender
kiss.
The kiss seemed to go on forever, taking them up to the stars and beyond.
Christine's
heart was beating rapidly in time with Erik's. They melted into each
other; his fingers wove
into her long, thick hair as she held him tightly to her.
When finally they drew apart, they looked at each other with awe, stunned
by the depths of
their feelings. Erik held Christine's face between his hands and looked
down into her
beautiful eyes.
"Dominie came to me also, for I prayed to le bon Dieu. I prayed that
He would help me,
for I loved you so much, but I thought that you would hate me when
you saw my horrible
face. Oh my sweet, my darling love, is it possible that dreams can
come true? Tell me I am
not imagining this. Tell me it is real."
"Erik, my adored Phantom, dreams do come true, and our dreams together
will come true.
We have both been visited by the Archangel Michael, who was sent from
Heaven to tell us
so."
**********
Go to Part 7 of Dream of Angels
by Erika Shadow.