Hellfire

By

Anni Re

Erik smoothly opened the door to the chapel in the opera house, moving so fluidly that he almost didn't make a sound. He closed the door after he assured himself that no one was there. His golden eyes looked at the grey, emotionless walls all bare, except for the fading angel that was painted on the farthest wall. Erik's ever calculating eyes softened as he walked towards the angel, his eyes bound to her cream colored face.

Erik felt something at his waist and looked down at the altar covered in candles that were in memory to the loved ones of those who lived in his kingdom. Only one was lit, the one that was always lit. The candle of Gustave Daae.

Erik's throat constricted at the memory that thrust itself into his mind. This was the place he had first seen Christine, when he had first beheld her as a child kneeling on the exact place he stood before the image of her father. It was the day he became the Angel of Music.

Erik lit the rest of the candles on the altar before he looked up at the thing bathed in the dim light. The only angel in the room. He reached his gloved hand up and touched the right side of her perfect face. Another memory came; the masquerade, and the helpless look on another perfect face. He closed his eyes. He loved her, why was he barred from her? He had sinned yes, but was he so evil that life saw fit to deny him this one, small mercy.

His throat loosened.

Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man

Of my virtue I am justly proud.

He drew his hand away from the angel's face and held his arms at his sides, palms forward, as if beseeching the angel.

Beata Maria, you know I'm so much purer than the common

Andre and Firmin's faces passes before his eyes.

vulgar

Bouquet's.

weak

The Viconte de Changy's.

licentious

Carlotta's.

crowd.

His golden eyes focused of the swirls of grey smoke that stemmed up from the candles. He extended his hand and swirled the smoke so that it danced between his fingers.

Then tell me Maria, why I see her dancing there

Why her smold'ring eyes still scorch my soul

He curled his fingers around the dancing smoke and brought it to his lips where he kissed his closed fist. He held it to his chest, his eyes closed, his head tilted slightly towards the ceiling. He stiffly uncurled his fingers and brought them up to his face. He stroked the white mask in one long motion.

I feel her

He opened his eyes and stared at a spot just above his head.

I see her

The sun caught in her raven hair is blazing in me out of all control

He looked at the candles, which seemed to intensify, meshing together to form a single flame.

Like fire

Hellfire

He crossed his arms over his chest, lacing his long, skeletal fingers into the clothing on his shoulders.

This fire in my skin

This burning desire is turning me to sin

"No!"

Erik turned away from the fire and stumbled back towards the wall. His palms braced the stone and his head bowed to it. He felt the heat on his back and in the long shadows he saw the silhouettes of figures: the slave master, the mob, all staring at him accusingly of ever thinking he would be allowed to love.

It's not my fault

They didn't listen

I'm not to blame

It is this dancing girl, the witch who set this flame

It's not my fault if in God's plan

He made the Devil so much stronger than the Man

Erik knew he was fighting with his inner demon, the inner demon who would have Christine while he was the man who loved Christine. But the man who desired for peace was far weaker than the demon that fed off violence.

Erik spun on his heel and collapsed to his knees, his hands clasped together, pleading with the painted angel.

Protect me Maria, don't let this siren cast her spell.

Don't let this fire sear my flesh and bone

The demon beat back the man.

Destroy Christine Daae and let her taste the fires of Hell

Or else let her be mine and mine alone

Erik heard a door slam above his head and sharply snapped his head up to the ceiling. He heard the Viconte and the incompetents speak.

"Christine, where is she?"

"She's not with you?"

"What?" said Erik to himself.

"She's nowhere in the theatre," said the Viconte, "she's gone."

"But how?" said the incompetents to Viconte.

"Never mind," said the Viconte to the incompetents.

"Get out you idiots," Erik said to all three of them.

Then the Viconte and the Phantom spoke in unison. "I'll find her, I'll find her if I have to burn down all of Paris.

So be it. He would have her. He would have her even if all Hell broke loose. The Phantom turned back to the altar and in his eyes the flames rose covering the wall, eclipsing the angel in the darkness. He spoke to the void, and to the flames.

Hellfire

Dark fire

Now Christine it's your turn

Choose me or your pyre

Be mine or you will burn

The flames grew stronger and seemed to reach out towards him, consume him. Erik backed away towards the door.

God have mercy on her

God have mercy on me

But the demon finally beat down the man, with his only thought being his one desire.

But she will be mine or she will burn

Erik turned the handle of the door that was an inch from his hand and violently left the room, slamming the door behind him with a clang. And seemingly like magic the flames died, as if they never existed.

Finis