The Perfect Solution
Chapter 35: The Ghost from the Tomb

Author does not hold the rights to the original characters from "The Phantom of the Opera," written by Gaston Leroux.

Fan Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 35: The Ghost from the Tomb - "A Phantom of the Opera" FanFiction. What if Erik didn't run away from home, but stayed with his mother because she had a change of heart and was able to love him. He did not become the Devil's Child or a murderer, nor did he take refuge below the Paris Opera House. This story offers a look at what might have happened to Erik if he grew up knowing his mother's love. And, what might happen to Christine Daae if she grew up without her "Angel of Music" to comfort and guide her?

Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Magic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Fan Fiction   Historical   Paranormal   First  

The hag is astride
This night for to ride,
The devil and she together;
Through thick and through thin,
Now out and then in,
Though ne'er so foul be the weather.

A thorn or a burr
She takes for a spur,
With a lash of a bramble she rides now;
Through brakes and through briars,
O'er ditches and mires,
She follows the spirit that guides now.

No beast for his food
Dare now range the wood,
But hush'd in his lair he lies lurking;
While mischiefs, by these,
On land and on seas,
At noon of night are a-working.

The storm will arise
And trouble the skies;
This night, and more for the wonder,
The ghost from the tomb
Affrighted shall come,
Call'd out by the clap of the thunder.

"The Hag" By Robert Herrick (1591-1674)


The voice seemed to fill the air about Christine's head, yet she now knew the source of the voice that stood before her. Raising her chin and stiffening her shoulders, Christine gathered her wits and resolved not to go gentle against the hag. She had too much to lose this time. With a sense of bravery she never before experienced when dealing with this intruder, she continued.

"It would be best if you left before my husband returns." She peered haughtily down her nose at the creature and allowed her voice to carry a note of authority.

A husky chuckle sounded before she heard the reply.

"And, what makes you think he will return to you? Think, Madame. Do you honestly believe he will return after you dealt him so deep a wound?"

Christine shook her head.

"I ... I did nothing of the sort. I only kept my promise to him. I did not lie to him. I told him the truth."

A rather inelegant snort was the reply.

"The truth? And, just what is this truth of which you speak so passionately? Is it really the truth? Or, is it your truth? Is it his? There are three sides to every tale, Madame. Yours, his and the actual truth, which truth did you tell him?" The voice taunted.

"But, the angel told me..."

A howl of laughter silenced the woman's words as it surrounded her. She covered her ears, but even that action did nothing to lessen the noise.

"Madame, surely by now you must know that I cannot be made quiet that easily."

Christine dropped her hands to the bed, where they lay limply next to her thighs. Slowly, her hands clenched into fists of impotent rage.

"What is it that you want of me?"

Her clipped words escaped her mouth in staccato beats from jaws as tight as her fists. A long pause ensued while Christine watched in horror as the creature slowly walked towards her. She sat frozen on the edge of the bed she shared with her husband and watched as her nightmare approached her. The shadow stepped into the light.

"Mon Dieu! No!"

Christine screamed and her eyes rolled back into her head. Her stiff body relaxed and slipped from the bed unconscious onto the floor.

"Oh no, my sweet, God shall not be of any assistance to you this night. You called me forth from the mirror and made me, whether you did it knowingly or not, it matters not one whit. You cannot rid yourself of me simply by willing it to be so. I protected you all those years at the opera house and now, you think you can reject me? If it were not so pathetic, it would be amusing. Oh no, now, it is my turn. I want to live and, believe me, I shall."


A scream pierced Erik's slumber and his head shot up from the keyboard.

"Christine!"

Her scream echoed throughout his house. In his haste to rise to his feet, the piano bench flew back and crashed unnoticed to the floor.

"She needs me! Merde! Why did I ever leave her? If I had stayed with her she would not be in danger now."

How he was certain of her peril, he did not know. He just knew it as surely as he knew his own name. Racing from the room, he took the stairs two at a time, flew down the hall and into his bedroom. He found Christine alone in their room, unconscious on the floor next to their bed. He raced to her side and scooped her up into his strong arms. Looking down onto the face of his beloved wife, he gasped in horror.

"Mon Dieu!"

Her eyes were open, but unseeing, revealing only the whites of her eyes. Gently and carefully, he lay her limp body down on the bed. He brushed her curls from her face and ran to fetch a cloth from the bathroom, which he wetted. Dabbing the cool cloth to her forehead, his eyes ran along her form looking for evidence of any injuries. Finding none, he laid the cloth on her forehead then taking hold of her shoulders, he tenderly shook her.

"Christine? Ma chère? Christine? Please wake!"

He lifted her hands into his and lovingly placed kisses on the inside of her wrists. Her pulse beat strong beneath his lips. He raised his eyes to look upon her face. Releasing one of her hands, he raised his free hand to caress her cheek.

She blinked, sighed, closed her eyes and turned her head to the side effectively pinning Erik's hand between her cheek and the pillow. The man stared at her, worry furrowing his one perfect brow.

"Whatever is wrong, I will not abandon you. I refuse to allow my fears to drive me away from you. Christine, tu êtes la lumière précieuse de ma vie. Je ne permettrai pas à l'obscurité de tu emmener. ¹"

He whispered. Placing his free hand on her shoulder, he lifted the limp body to him and cradled her to his chest. He stroked her hair and kissed her cheek.

"Very well, time to do something as it seems this is not helping her. Time to ask for help."

Carefully, laying Christine back down on their bed, Erik examined her for a moment. Images of her in the throes of passion ran through his mind and he had to shake his head to clear them away.

"That is most definitely not going to help matters. Think, Destler!"

He distractedly ran his hand through his hair and his eyes happened upon the empty valises sitting near their wardrobe. A thought began to form and slowly took shape in his mind. He nodded.

"Of course!"

He gave the still form one more glance then turned and strode quickly from the room. He ran to the servants' wing and rapped firmly on the only set of double doors. He waited impatiently, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and then back again. He raised his hand to knock again, when the door opened a few inches.

 
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