Chapter 33: No One But No One

I lay in bed
but not asleep
i lay trapped deep within this torturous dread
my body full of poison
my mind full of demons
i lay awake and yet i was dreaming

a book of poetry
lay next to me
a wondrous enchantment of shadows and themes
my soul full of sorrow
my heart full of song
a world created here
all tattered and wrong

your eyes are windows
but not to your soul
gazing through them
but never taking them whole
and all the while
no one but no one
ever finishes this

their song

"no one but no one" By Nyasia A. Maire © 2007

"Erik Destler! You are positively evil! I swear I shall die of mortification. Just you look at this; you have given me a love bite! How could you? You knew we were going to visit Madame today."

Christine's words became incomprehensible mutters as she leaned into the mirror and watched as she carefully applied the heavy pancake stage make-up to her neck with a small sponge. Erik chuckled very pleased he had placed his mark upon her.

"Well, ma chère. You know what they say, do you not? Once branded, twice shy..."

"No, Erik. That is most definitely not what they say. The saying is ... once burned, twice shy. And, mon amour, thou best not tempt me or thou shall knowest the pain of true love's burn."

Her eye narrowed in mock haughtiness and she arched an eyebrow at him as she gazed at his reflection in the mirror.

"He seems so devilish, so cocky. Erik is normally so reserved, so proper. I wonder just what has gotten into him this morning."

"That sounds most Shakespearean, ma chère, and positively piques my curiosity as to the method of your madness. Ah well, perhaps later. Are you ready to leave?"

Sighing and shaking her head, she answered.

"I am dressed, but if I were to speak plainly, I am not ready to go to the opera house."

The mischievous twinkle in his eyes immediately extinguished. He stepped close to her side and placed his hand atop her shoulder.

"What is it, chère?"

She looked up into his reflected eyes and studied him for a moment.

"He really does not remember anything that happened last night. I do not know if that is a good thing or bad. Oh, Papa, I need your guidance now more than any other time in my life. If I could have one wish, it would be to speak with you and not the Angel of Music. I miss you, Papa. This is such a strange feeling for me. I am so unused to being unsure of what to do. When I was alone, it was easy. I was lonely, but I always knew what to do. I guess that the price of love is the uncertainty that comes with opening your heart to the whims of another. I need to learn more about the seven deadly sins. I know what they are, but how does one commit each sin. More importantly, how did my husband fall under their shadow? Well, I guess I have to visit the opera house's library if I am to find answers to my questions about the sins. As to Erik's commission of them, perhaps, Raoul can help me. After all, they have been friends for a long time."

She started as Erik gave her shoulder a slight shake.

"Chère, where did you go? Your mind was a thousand leagues away from here. Are you certain everything is well with you?"

Christine placed her most sincere smile on her face and reassured her husband that all was well. He returned her smile after a moment and then held out his arm to her. She wrapped her hand about the crook of his elbow. Christine allowed him to lead her out of the house and into the awaiting carriage.

"Honestly, Erik. I just need a moment to collect some books from the library and then I will return to my room. Perhaps, you could ask Madame to help you find Joseph. He should be able to loan us a couple burlap sacks for my things. I will meet you back here in no more than ten minutes. I promise!"

"It just seems so unnecessary. You need not trouble yourself, I need simply make arrangements with Elaine and she shall send someone to pack and transport your things to our home."

His words ceased when he met her eyes and her smile burned away any reservations the man felt, so he simply nodded his acceptance.

He watched her as she turned and hurried from the room. Unconsciously, he began to hum as his unseeing eyes stared into a private and pleasant memory. He shook himself out of his reverie and called, "Madame? Madame Giry?"

Christine pushed open the heavy oak door, the rusty hinges groaning their protest. She stepped into the dusty, seemingly disorganized library and closed the recalcitrant door behind her. Most people would feel completely overwhelmed at the unsteady stacks of books piled in an apparently haphazard manner about the room, but not Christine. The girl had spent most of her free time in the library, organizing it and making lists of the books she found there. The mere fact the room had any bookcases at all was mainly due to Christine's pestering Raoul for them. The young Vicomte, realizing the library was the only place where the girl's melancholy was not as deep, happily acquiesced to her request and provided enough cases to fill the room. Unfortunately, the number of books owned by the opera house was greater than the room allocated to store them, but the girl made do with what she had. Acting as the unofficial librarian of the opera house, Christine was the one responsible for the rows of books that lined the room's bookcases, as she had been the one to place them there. The remaining books simply had nowhere to go except on the floor, so that is exactly where Christine left them, organized, but without a shelf to call their own.

She had spent many an hour in this room studying geography, art, writing, mathematics, music, philosophy, science and history. If it had not been for her sorrow over her absent angel, the library would have made the girl happy in her life at the opera house. However, her missing angel drew her ever deeper and deeper into the pit of her private despair. Christine shook her head to clear her mind of the past. She knew exactly where the books she sought were and walked directly to the shelf containing them. She grabbed three books from an upper shelf and blew the dust from them. She ran her fingers over the gold-embossed three-word title and then the single word subtitle. Her eyes took on a faraway look as she tilted her head in thought. She nodded once and then walking to the other side of the room, she bent and removed a single volume from the bottom shelf. This volume was thicker and heavier. Christine gasped as she almost lost her hold on the book, but with reflexes as quick as a cat, she adjusted her handhold and brought the book safely to join the first three books she chose. The gold-gilded edges of the book's pages glinted in the light of the room. Then, grasping the books close to her chest, she made her way back to the rooms, which she, until recently, shared with Meg and Madame.