Chapter Text
“Christine, wait for me!”
Christine, please!
She ran like a madwoman, stomping loudly on a metal staircase. She needed air. She needed to be up where the stars shone brightly. She needed to see the sky that would make her forget the damp, dark, hellish cellar.
With every step up the stairs, the dull pain in her muscles reminded her that the last time she ran somewhere was more than a few years ago, and that she had neither the stamina nor was really suited for exercising. That is why, when she finally opened the heavy door leading outside, onto the terrace on the rooftop, she fell to the ground. She started coughing and desperately gasping for air.
It stank. The air smelled like rotten flesh. She coughed, knowing full well that she couldn’t escape the suffocating, disgusting fumes. Just as she couldn’t escape the constant sound of footsteps and hands banging and scratching boarded-up windows. It still, after all those years, made her sweat run cold.
Raoul was by her side in no time.
“Are you alright?” He touched her back gently. The only sign that he had run up after her was his slightly quickened breath and a bit of red on his cheeks. “By God, what happened? Christine, please, tell me!”
Raoul looked lost. He glanced at the empty space behind them as if expecting something to jump out any second.
“Close the door. Speak quietly,” she rasped and gave him a key to the door. She felt like she was going to spit her lungs out any minute now. He looked at her quizzically, but he did not object. He got up slowly and followed her request.
She looked up at the sky as she tried to compose herself. The weather was pleasant. It was a warm summer night, not even one cloud in the sky. The moon was big and bright, allowing her to see her surroundings as she checked them for any sign of a dark, looming figure.
She shouldn’t be doing this. She was stupid and naïve and ungrateful.
I know everything that happens in my opera house, Christine. I see everything. I hear everything. I am everywhere. So be good, child.
She shivered. They were technically above the opera house. There were no holes in the walls, no mirrors. She should be safe, right?
The only things she could see were rows of boxes, some makeshift garden tools, flowerpots with damp soil full of tall plants—tomatoes, lettuce, and other vegetables that the remaining survivors were able to grow—and multiple buckets placed there to collect the rain. And of course, those few grand, empty-eyed angel sculptures, now dirty and unkempt. A sad reminder of the golden times when the opera house was still running.
Her stomach tightened unpleasantly at the sight of red fruits, almost ready to harvest, almost ready to eat. Her mouth watered, and she felt even dizzier than before. She tried to focus, but it was almost too hard when she could smell them.
She was known as a compliant and honest girl, so she was one of the few who were allowed to help here with the garden. At first, she thought it was a privilege. Now she viewed it as nothing more than torture. Although she had been coming here every other day, it never got easier.
But she knew the place almost as well as her own mind. Everything was in its place. Nothing concerning. No sign of anyone’s presence, except for hers and Raoul’s.
She sighed as Raoul gathered her up from all fours into a more comfortable sitting position in his embrace. He was warm and smelled like grass in the best possible way.
She thought she had composed herself, but when she heard his whispers, soft words of assurance, she couldn’t help herself. Tears started to pour down her face, and a horrible sob came out of her throat.
“He is going to take me away!” she sobbed and looked at him helplessly. “He is going to lock me up in the cellars, in his house. He will never let me out! What will happen to me if he takes me?” Her voice cracked.
Raoul frowned, but he said nothing at first. He simply gathered her in his warm, strong arms and hugged her tightly once again.
“Shhh…” he hummed softly into her hair.
A good twenty minutes had passed before her breath slowed and the tears stopped falling. Thankfully, his shirt was already ruined even before she started crying.
“You must explain this to me, Lotte. I don’t understand a thing. Who is going to take you?” His voice was gentle and calming, though she could swear he was frowning.
“You won’t believe me. At first, I didn’t even believe myself.”
The feeling of a cold breeze and a damp stone on her skin made her shiver. She looked looked around once again and then glanced suspiciously at the sculpture.
For a second she thought it moved slightly to the right. She was becoming paranoid.
“Try me,” he squeezed her tightly and then gave her some space, letting her look into his eyes. His soft smile… at that moment, it was everything to her.
Or at least, enough to betray.
“It’s… my maestro.”
“Your… angel of music?” he raised his brows and his smile faltered for a second.
“I’m not mad, Raoul. Don’t look at me like that.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…”
He didn’t voice it, because he didn’t want to hurt her, but she was well aware of how it sounded. What she needed was only a little more time to explain, before he started jumping to conclusions about what a few years in confinement had done to her mental health. And with some luck, he would believe her.
“Do you remember when I told you that the angel of music came to me after my father… you know,” she shivered.
He nodded.
“Of course. I heard you sing. You sound divine, but…”
“Surprisingly, I did not make him up,” she snapped. “Oh, he is not an angel. He is a real man, Raoul!” She looked around nervously and whispered under her breath: “Or a monster. I don’t know, but he’s surely not an angel!”
He sat there completely silent for a few seconds. Then, with a newfound resolution, he looked her straight in the eyes.
“Should I talk to him and tell him to leave you alone?”
She frowned.
“You don’t believe me.” Then she gasped. “God, you think me mad!”
She wanted to stand up, but he quickly caught her hand and held her in place.
“I… I want to!” he hesitated. “ But when you were little, you constantly saw monsters, and you... have this strong relationship with God… and truly, Christine! I admire it!... But the times are tough, and you lost your father, and I would not blame you if...”
He was clearly at a loss for words.
“If I what?”
“If you went... I don’t know!... a little bit crazy? Most of us do! Especially with those behind your doors.” He pointed with his chin in the direction of the city. “You probably spent too much time here, that’s all.”
“Raoul!” This time she stood and crossed her arms in a tight self-hug. She felt ashamed.
Don’t cry, my sweet. I believe you. I always believe you.
Guilt washed over her. What had she done?
Raoul stood up quickly and took her face in his hands. He caressed her cheeks softly with his rough hands, dispelling her doubts, filling her mind with himself as her heart started to flutter.
“Wait! Lotte! Stop, I’m sorry. You know I am not the brightest or most sensitive.” He smiled so sweetly that she felt her knees soften. “You must excuse me sometimes.”
She wanted to be angry at him, but she had no energy for it. She needed help. She wanted to feel safe, understood. And Raoul tried.
“Have I seen him here? I promise to believe anything you say.”
When he looked at her with those bright blue eyes, when his golden hair tickled the skin on her cheeks, when she felt his arms around her waist, all the bad scary thoughts seemed to be leaving her.
“No. You haven’t seen him. He lives in the cellar of the Opera. Deep, deep down below” she shivered remembering the maze, underworld made of corridors, dead ends and horrifying traps he devised. “There are many more levels there than we knew about. No one knows about it, about him. He took me there. Last year was my first time.” She could still remember the fog clouding her thoughts when she learned for the first time the true power of his voice. “I’ve been… visiting him from time to time. But, he grows more and more insistent… he wants me there more… and for longer!”
I know I promised! Erik knows! But can’t you stay one night longer?! Is spending time with Erik such a terrible price for the food you devoured, you ungrateful minx?
“I don’t want to ever go back there… I don’t think he will let me out again.” Not after what she did. What she was doing.
“But… why?”
“He is… very lonely.” She smiled sadly. “And… ah… I… I believe he loves me.” She felt her eyes watering again. “He is a virtuoso. He sounds like an angel. He possesses a voice one cannot forget. And he’s a genius, he has the most brilliant mind. You should have seen his house underneath! He has electricity and hot running water!”
Only a few years ago, she would’ve thought nothing of it. Now, having those luxuries felt like a miracle. The opera had once relied on comforts brought in from the outside. But when Paris fell, and the lucky few managed to turn this place into a safehouse, they had to forgo them.
The only sources of light were sunlight, candles, batteries, and old flashlights used mostly in emergencies. As Piangi once explained to her: generators were too heavy, too loud, and needed fuel that was nearly impossible to scavenge safely. Besides, there were more important things to take.
That’s why, when she saw a lit room in the maestro’s house, she couldn’t believe her eyes. The overhead light buzzed softly, golden and steady. Christine squinted, not from its brightness, but because her eyes weren’t used to artificial light anymore, nothing this constant, this clean. And when he told her she could take a short shower—just a few minutes under warm, running water—she thought she might cry.
In the opera house most plumbing was useless. Water, rationed daily, very strictly, was simply too valuable to waste on anything other than drinking and growing food.
The moment the water hit her back, she let out a strangled laugh. Warm. Actual warmth. Her skin stung from the temperature, but she couldn’t stop herself. She cried quietly, covering her mouth so he wouldn’t hear.
Then, when she came out, he looked almost euphoric. As if offering all of this to her, that comfort, the luxuries of the old world, brought him just as much joy as it gave her.
She should have been grateful. Part of her was. But another part… it curled tight in her gut, whispering questions she didn’t want answered. How did he keep the lights on? Where did he get the water?
His house felt like paradise. Everything worked. Lights. Water. Even warmth. But it felt too perfect. Christine couldn’t shake the feeling it was a perfectly constructed trap meant to convince her to stay.
“I believe he has never had anyone in his life. You see, kindness is quite foreign to him. And when I smile at him…” she felt an uncomfortable tug at her heart. Then his sad, ravenous eyes and his wolfish smile devoid of all happiness flashed in her mind. She shook her head, trying to throw it out. “But, oh God, I can’t do it anymore! His face! His temper!”
The painful memories were swarming her.
Damn you! You cruel, deceiving, little..!.... Look at me! I said LOOK at me!.... This is what you wanted, no? You wanted to see the monster?!…..
She felt ill and started sobbing again.
“ It is a disaster! No one would love... accept... such a man! This smell! The body! He looks like one of them ! Or worse! Oh God! Please forgive me! Don’t let me go down there again! I’m sorry! He was so angry. He will kill me! ”
This corpse is the last thing you will see. You won’t leave this tomb now, Christine!
She turned into a mess again. She was hyperventilating once more, feeling the dry blood on her fingers, underneath her nails. Feeling the numb emptiness in her stomach for weeks after he made her open his face with her bare hands. Her chest clenched painfully at the sight of his awful tears leaking from hollow, blackened eye sockets.
She knew Raoul shook her, he was telling her something, but his voice was overpowered by the desperate screaming in her head.
Christine, you must love me!... Don’t fear me!... Do you want to see some magic? You love magic, my dear child!... I’ll be whatever you want!... See? Your obedient servant. A dog, a pathetic mutt at your feet!.... It would never hurt you! It would rather die, don’t you see?... Please, please, please!... I’ll give you anything you want! You will be my mistress! My queen! My goddess!... Would that please you, Christine?... Stop, stop, stop, stop!... Just STOP fucking screaming!
“Lotte!”
At last Raoul’s voice got through to her. She looked at him with wide eyes, suddenly shocked that she was no longer in the cellar with a weeping man clinging desperately to her dress.
No, Raoul was nothing like her Maestro. He was calm, sweet, collected, and pleasant. She felt safe with him.
“Thank God, you are calm again,” he sighed with relief and caressed her cheek. She could almost see the tension leaving his body except for tightly clenched jaw.
“Raoul, you must believe me!” she whispered nervously, remembering that they should be quiet.
“I do.”
He brushed her tears away. Then he stopped for a moment and furrowed his eyebrows. Suddenly his mouth went slightly ajar. He hesitated.
“Raoul?”
“You said something about his voice… that it is unforgettable.”
She nodded. They stared at each other for a moment longer before Raoul broke eye contact.
“I may have heard him once.”
He took a deep breath. She held hers.
”That is going to be embarrassing. Please, don’t think I am a creep... That was when we weren’t talking yet, when you thought I did not remember you. Well, as you know, I, in fact, did remember you very well.” His cheeks reddened fiercely. “The first night I came to the opera house I… snuck up to the door of your room to talk, ask if you remembered me… I stood there for a second just trying to get enough courage to knock on your door.” He winced and shook his head slightly. She smiled delicately at him and squeezed his hand. “It doesn’t matter! What I wanted to say is that I think I heard him then.”
Christine’s eyes widened.
“Very briefly and quietly, but nonetheless a divine sound. I thought that I just misheard. It disappeared as quickly as I knocked on the door. Then you came and you were so beautiful that I brushed it off and completely forgot.”
She knew what he was talking about. That night, after the joyous reunion with Raoul, she and Erik fought horribly for the first time. And she was so afraid she would lose her teacher and all the music that had returned to her life with him, that she tried to avoid her childhood friend for the following month.
Her throat tightened. Erik was her guardian and her best friend. The only soul who truly seemed to understand her. Not so long ago, she would have trusted him with her life.
Was she overreacting?
No — she had seen what he could do. She had seen his body, smelled the rot beneath the mask. She had seen his rage and the madness he was drowning in.
And still... a part of her doubted herself.
„What should I do? He will want me to come back.”
„When?”
„I don’t know. In a day. Maybe two if... if I am good.”
„Then stay with me. Stay in my room. He doesn’t want to be seen, right? He won’t make you when you are with someone.”
„He will be angry. He is very jealous. I don’t want anything bad happening to you.”
Raoul scoffed.
„I want to see him try.” He cracked his knuckles. „If I only knew about him earlier... Men like him are no better than the filth on the streets.”
„I’m serious! He’s dangerous.”
„If you are afraid, I can take some men.”
She hesitated for a moment, though the point of no return was already past her.
„He killed a man, Raoul. It was before you came here. Buquet was scum, but he was our best scavenger. He will hurt you, hurt us all , if we are not smart about it.”
Raoul probably knew that too. Although he tried to hide it, she saw a shiver running through his spine and a slight tremor in his hands.
He never knew Buquet, but he surely heard about him. He was one of the Opera’s best suppliers. A middle-aged wounded veteran who, after his service, ended up as a janitor at their opera before all the massacre happened. A massive man who served the community for a very long time and led it through the most dangerous period of the pandemic. Buquet would get Raoul to his knees with one hand — Raoul, who was a young champion himself. If Buquet was put down by Erik, then Raoul did not stand a chance in any potential conflict.
“He is not to be underestimated. Do you remember what I told you about his mind? We don’t know what he is capable of.”
There was also one more thing that she didn’t want to tell him or even fully admit to herself. Something deep inside of her did not want to see her maestro surrounded like a wild animal. Especially not because of her.
She closed her eyes. Everything was so wrong. She wanted so badly to be back in Sweden with her father. She wanted them singing and playing on the streets, watching silly old movies on his laptop in cheap cozy motel rooms, eating hot dogs at petrol stations.
Everything had seemed so fun, easy, and exciting back then.
Now, everything seemed terrifying.
Suddenly Raoul spoke:
“I know what we must do.”
She looked up. All of a sudden he looked very tired.
„Let’s go to Gibraltar with me, Lotte.”
Gibraltar. It was a place he originally planned to go last spring before he decided to stay and help the community. He told her about it once, but having lived her whole life in the isolated opera, she did not want to listen about it, how wonderful he would have it there.
„It will be safer there. You will be free.”
Impossible.
„I can’t.” Her throat went dry. Even the thought of going outside made her freeze. „I won’t last a second out there.”
„You will, with me. I’ll take care of you.”
You are not safe with the boy, ma petite... You will not survive five minutes with him outside... He’s reckless, impulsive. He will die outside sooner or later, and you will be eaten. They will not eat you with Erik… Only I can ensure your safety, dove. You will never be hungry with me. The boy will give you cans. I can give you meat...
„I don’t...”
„It’s not safe here any longer. You said so yourself,” he emphasized.
„It’s safer here than outside!”
„Christine, listen,” he sighed and lowered his voice. „We would probably have to leave soon either way. I am not supposed to tell anyone this, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. Please do not panic.”
She swallowed. It meant bad news.
This time Raoul was the one to look around. He raised his hand in a calming gesture.
She felt as if she was already panicking.
„The opera is running out of food. So are the nearby stores and apartments. Firmin and Andre don’t want people to know because they don’t want fighting, but we won’t be able to bring enough food in time. People eat in a day more than scavengers can bring and grow in a week.”
She looked at him, his words were not quite reaching her mind.
„We have an emergency supply...”
He frowned and rubbed his face.
„Yeah. We emptied half of it last month.”
Her empty stomach was turning. She felt her legs giving out.
Was that why the directors were behaving so weirdly in the last month?
„But we are starving and rationing...”
„We are starving to make it last two more months. Before that, they will have to decide on something. Probably send more people for scouting.”
„But the only ones left are women and children.”
Raoul nodded, sadness vivid in his eyes.
„The young Giry already knows she’s going.”
Oh, no.
Meg...
“They haven’t thought of sending you yet—God knows why. But they will,” he explained with furrowed eyebrows, suddenly quite nervous, spurting too much information far too fast. “I thought if you went with me, it would be all right, but I guess there’s no point in coming back here anymore.”
“Do you want to leave these people?”she demanded. “We’ve lost too many scavengers already!”
This way of thinking was not like Raoul at all. He was the closest she knew to a Superman—always helpful, mindful, strong. He would do everything for the community. He could have left, lived a better life, but he decided to stay in this prison, only so others wouldn’t starve.
When he spoke, she knew she had struck a chord.
“There’s not enough of them either way.” His voice turned harsh. For the first time this evening, his eyes went cold and his lips became a thin line. “And the more they starve, the less selfless they become. Jules is leaving with Trish after the next run. Sorelli didn’t die. If all is good, she’s heading north—probably already halfway to Amsterdam.”
She covered her mouth with her hand.
They were quiet for some time, the weight of the news tolling on them too much. Then, after a few minutes, he spoke quietly, the sudden tenderness in his voice surprising her:
“I cannot demand sacrifice from others. They are free to go, just as we are. Please, Lotte, don’t think for a second that I want to abandon these people.” He touched his chest and looked at her with force and determination. “I’ll live with the guilt for the rest of my life,” he rasped and took her hand. “But surely... surely you must already know how I feel about you.”
The boy loves you, Christine. I can see it in his eyes, in his movements, when he follows you. I almost pity him. You cannot toy with his feelings endlessly. Hope is a cruel master. End it. Let him not suffer anymore. Remember—you swore yourself to music.
“I want them alive and well, but more than that, I want you safe and fed.”
Love is like poison. It clouds your mind, narrows your sight, whispers lies into your ears. If you don’t stop this charade, one day his love for you will make him do something truly foolish. And thus, you will kill him.
“I love you,” Raoul swallowed, glanced at her eyes and then at her lips. “Say that you love me, Lotte. Say that you’ll go with me.”
She was so scared. There was death lurking inside the opera house. There was death awaiting outside. She wanted to hide, curl into a ball, and cry. But she couldn’t. She had to think. She had to plan. She needed more time.
“I can’t choose now,” she said quietly.
“I’ll take you to the ocean. Christine, you’ll see the world again! You’ll love Spain—it’s so warm there and...”
He wasn’t listening to her. He was rambling on about Gibraltar and their possibilities, getting more excited with every word.
But she wasn’t listening to him either.
Her heart was racing. When was the last time she’d been outside the opera house? What if she had to climb something or run for a long time? What if she couldn’t assess the danger correctly or see it in time? She couldn’t fight for her dear life. How far could they get before being eaten?
What about Erik? Could she leave him alone? Would he be safe? Would he follow them?
Suddenly, it became hard and unnatural to breathe. The world was spinning.
“Let’s leave, Christine!” He scared her by grabbing her by both arms. He was so close she could feel his hot breath. “We won’t starve here anymore. And he is not going to steal you away from me.” His lips were almost brushing hers. “Let’s go to Gibraltar, Christine. We’ll settle there.” He smiled. “I’ll take you on tomorrow’s run. We’ll head south, and the others will cover for us.”
All of this was overwhelming. She opened her mouth to say something, but he offered her the brightest, most beautiful smile she had ever seen—
And kissed her.
It wasn’t her first kiss. In fact, it wasn’t even their first kiss. They had kissed once before, many years ago. She was no more than fourteen then. She was traveling with her father through Eastern Europe when she met a sixteen-year-old boy who ran into the sea to fetch her scarf and steal her heart away.
Her father told them the dark stories and legends of the North during their shared lunches. And when he left them, they laughed, joked, scared each other, explored the small town, and shared chaste kisses in the old, abandoned chapel.
The last time they saw each other was on the train platform, where they promised to stay in contact. She bid him goodbye, and he kissed her sweetly in front of his entire scandalized family.
They wrote to each other nearly every day until the pandemic came, and the lack of electricity and internet cut them off.
But now he was with her again. It was truly a miracle they’d found each other again in all this mess. It was like no time had passed. He still loved her.
His lips were soft, full, and warm. His presence comforting. She felt transported back beneath a cozy blanket, when the only thing ahead was a day spent playing on the beach and singing. This time, when she felt butterflies swirling in her stomach, it was a pleasant feeling. And when she eagerly responded to his kiss, he took her in his arms and swirled her around as if she were a princess.
She laughed joyfully.
The silver ring on her finger was burning.
Raoul put her down, still grinning from ear to ear.
“I’ll start preparations immediately. You can’t tell anyone, Lotte. If they know, they won’t let me leave that easily. I’ll arrange everything, and you must go to sleep. The first days will be the roughest, but once we get out of the city, you’ll see it’s not so bad.”
“Raoul, wait...”
Would they go through the town? Which route would they take? On foot? He was unintentionally keeping her in the dark. It all felt so rushed.
And more importantly, she hadn’t even agreed yet.
“I know you’re scared,” he interrupted her again. He kissed her forehead and patted her head affectionately. “I’ll give you a crash course before we go.”
“How to survive the apocalypse for dummies?” she raised an eyebrow.
He laughed.
“Exactly. But I guess you already have the basics from movies. And the rest from surviving here. Just stick with me, and everything’s going to work out.”
No, no, no! I simply cannot fathom what you fail to grasp... Now tell me, where did you make a mistake?... There is absolutely no margin for error, you foolish girl! You must think five steps ahead at all times... Most of them are mindless, yes, but that does not mean you can afford to underestimate the danger! That’s how people get eaten!... What if some imbecile thoughtlessly left a window ajar, allowing them to slip inside at night?... No! Again! What are the first five things you do when you are alone outside on the open streets?...
“Hey! Are you even listening to me?”
She shook off the memories.
“...Uh, yeah.” She grimaced. “Do you think he would follow us?”
“Do you?” She lowered her gaze. He looked at the city drowning in darkness. The chilly night breeze blew past them. “It doesn’t matter. I know I don’t know the guy much. He may be someone not to mess around with, but that only stands while we’re here. Following someone out there is a suicide mission. It’s hard enough to survive without a path set in stone. Once we’re out, he’ll just be one of your scary stories.”
Suddenly the wind grew stronger, knocking over a plastic flowerpot. Christine jumped and looked in its direction, once again remembering to be aware of her surroundings.
“Do you think he heard us?” she asked Raoul, not taking her eyes off the flowerpot and scattered soil.
“No,” he said, directing her attention back to him. “Even if he did, how much can one man do in a day? We’ll be far away before he even realizes you’re gone.”
He kissed her on the cheek. She smiled softly, feeling a little better. She stood on her toes and kissed him once more.
He was probably right. Erik was down in the cellars, immersed in his angry, morbid music. When he remembered her, she would already be gone.
And she would have her angel of music no more.
“Let’s go,” Raoul whispered excitedly in her ear. “Our new life starts in a day. We must prepare.”
Then the alarm rang.