Fallen Angels - Chapter Three

Christine would try and quicken her pace with each passing step. She did not like the thought of wandering around in the dark corners of the opera house with creatures like Joseph Buquet running about. But every time she would speed up the light of the candle would wither and she couldn't decide if she would rather have no light at all, or pace herself, however scared she was.

After these thoughts, she decided to take her time, so that she might be able to think. She thought of everything and nothing, and why, after all this time, did she grieve for her father's death. And as she entered the chapel, already lit by candlelight, she thought of the promise that her father had made on his deathbed, and that thought is what brought her to her knees as she glided into the room.

She looked at her surroundings; in front of her was a life-size wall painting of an angel. On both the left and right sides of the mural were small tables with pictures of people's faces, candles stood beside them lit in honor of the dead. She placed her father's picture among the deceased, took her candle and lit the last one left among those that were already burning.

She gazed into her father's face, feeling silly that she could ever believe in his promises. She then bowed her head in pity and clasped her hands together on her lap. Tears stained her face as she began her prayer, "Father, I need to know, why did you not keep your promise?" She let another tear escape from her eyes as she looked up towards the ceiling. "What did I do wrong? You PROMISED me you would send an angel," she then bowed her head ashamed, "but instead, you sent a string of horrible nightmares."

She placed her face into her hands and sobbed. Her tears echoed in the room as they hit the ground, making her realize how alone she really was. But through the teardrops she managed to whisper, "I'm sorry..... Please forgive me! Help me to understand....." she broke out into another chain of whimpers and fell to the ground. However cold the concrete felt, she didn't care.

Suddenly, she heard a rumble; it started to grow and echoed all around the walls. She straightened herself up, not really frightened, but hoping. The sound began to build, reaching a climax, and then suddenly it stopped, leaving everything as silent as before.

Christine quickly brushed her tears away and listened, but heard nothing except her heavy breathing. Then out of the silence, came a deadly moan singing, but it wasn't just groaning as it had done before, it was saying something. Christine could hardly make it out, but recognized it as it grew louder. "CHRISTINE........" the voice echoed.

Christine clutched her chest, feeling her heart pounding, "Who are you? What are you?"

"CHRISTINE......." the voice called again.

"What do you want?" she didn't say it so much as a demand, but as a plea. She wanted the voice to want something of her. She wanted to feel it inside her mind. It affected her that much.

"I AM YOUR ANGEL......." the moan changed into an actual voice singing, as if something you would recognize. And as it did this it ever so much controlled Christine, seducing her into its grasp. She felt her body give way, her mind too, but she had heard what the voice had said, and immediately reacted to it.

"What?" She let out, not a scream, but a gasp of surprise. Could it be?

"I AM YOUR ANGEL........" it moaned on.

Now shivering with hope and attraction Christine answered back as a question, "My angel...." her voice was wavering.

"YOUR ANGEL OF MUSIC......." the voice sung to her so beautifully it kept her in a trance, but she still had her own thoughts, no matter how bad she wanted to give in.

"Father?" Christine whispered, smiling with hope. She then grew worried; even though the voice continued its chant she could hear that it was growing distant. She had to follow it, if she was thinking right; it was the answer to her prayers.

"I AM YOUR ANGEL OF MUSIC....." the sound grew distant, but seemed to drown out up the stairs.

"Wait, come back!" Christine yelled. She grabbed the candle and took off after the sound of the voice. It continued singing, as if willing her to follow, and she did. Without even thinking, she did. She did not pay attention to where she was going, she just felt for the voice to be there. That is when it came to her that she didn’t want to find out if it was her father; she just wanted to feel the affect of the voice in her soul again.

Christine shook her head of thinking such things, but as the voice grew louder she realized she was back in her room, standing in front of the mirror. She looked around, her friend was asleep, but everything else lay in darkness. The only candle lit was the one that she clutched in her hand, but then so quickly was it blown out too.

She jumped in fear and the candle fell to the ground. She put her arms around her shoulders and hugged herself. Her breathe turned into a mist in front of her face, never in her life had she felt so cold. But she missed the voice, and she was yearning for it to call out again. Slowly, the candles in front of the mirror flickered into light.

Christine stood, amazed at what she was seeing, but when she looked at her reflection in the mirror, she saw nothing but black smoke swirling and twisting into curls. She leaned into look, but could see nothing past it.

"LISTEN TO YOUR ANGEL OF MUSIC........" the voice begun again. Christine could not say anything, she didn't want to. She let the voice echo on, she wanted it in her mind, and she wasn't about to block it out. She began to smile in a strange way, closing her eyes, once again letting the voice course through her body.

Slowly an icy hand, cold as death clutched her left shoulder. She screamed. Christine sat up in bed still screaming, looked around and saw that Meg was already gone. Had she been dreaming again? Scared of even herself now, she felt along her body making sure that she was alright. When she grazed her left shoulder she wretched back, groaning with pain.

There was a bruise, the shape of a handprint, staining her skin. She gasped, her eyes widening. Christine then began to feel along her neck and found a chain. She looked down and saw a locket. She unhooked the chain from her neck and brought the locket around to inspect it, because it was not of her own jewelry.

It was oval shaped, on the front was a long-stemmed rose with a black ribbon tied in a bow around it. On the petals of the rose was in crested a ruby, and in the ribbon, black onyx. Engraved just beneath it was: Angel of Music. Christine widened her eyes in surprise. She opened the locket and found on the left opening a sketched picture of her face, every detail marked, nothing left unnoticed. But on the right was nothing but a solid jet black piece of paper.

Christine let the locket fall to the bedspread and stared into nothing. She had not been dreaming, something had happened the night before. But for some reason Christine was not worried, she smiled. For the first time in many years she felt happy about the thought of her father. He had kept his promise. She picked up the locket, put the chain back around her neck, grasped it in her hand, and laid her head down on her pillow, thinking of nothing but good thoughts of her Angel of Music.