A/N: So, this chapter is going to be really frustrating because I'm sure it's going to leave you with more questions than answers. But! I promise there are answers strung through the chapter, they just won't make sense until later hah. But yeah, I promise all the wild parts of this story will be answered! Soooo anyway, thank you so much for reading!

IV. As Above, So Below

Her fingers glided over the worn material of the messenger bag. A soft breeze blew a stray curl into her face. Christine pushed the strand away with an irritated swat of her hand. The uneasiness in her gut grew with each passing moment, gnawing at her patience until she could stand it no more. She threw a pointed look at her masked companion as he kneeled beside her, silently working at the lock on the door.

They hadn't traveled far from her flat before stopping, much to her surprise. Erik had directed her through a backdoor of her building, one she hadn't known existed but didn't have the energy to question how he knew of it. She had tried not to linger on the thought as he led her through a series of back alleys and tight corners. Before she knew it, Erik had motioned for her to stop at the side of the familiar building, one she had passed many times on her way home.

She had never given the decrepit building much thought, as it had been in its state of decay for as long as she could remember. Curious, and desperate to break the silence, Christine asked, "What is this place?"

Erik paused, his head tilting to look at her. He looked at her as if remembering she was there, but quickly turned back to the lock before him.

"I believe it was a hotel, at some point." He mumbled, giving the knob a small rattle. At once, Christine heard a slight click and the door pushed open. Erik rose to his feet, his head nodding in approval. "It's abandoned now, anyway."

She watched him brush at the dirt on his knees before returning the small bundle of silver instruments to the depths of his cloak. His head swiveled from side to side as he looked over the alley, and he motioned for her to step inside.

Her nose itched the moment she stepped through. The air was teeming with millions of tiny dust particles. The sparse cracks of light that managed to peek through the rotted wood that boarded the windows only added to the eeriness of the space. She heard Erik slam the door hard enough to rattle the ceiling, raining down a small cloud of dirt and dust.

She wondered if they stood in the grave of a former kitchen. There were rows upon rows of rusted meat racks, many of them dangling above cracked countertops or stacks of broken dishes. The shredded remains of once occupied frames hung limply from the blackened walls, and she felt her hand reach out of its own accord to touch the peeling wall.

"There was a fire." Erik said by her ear.

Her breath caught as she flinched. Her hand flew back to clutch the strap of her bag. She whirled around, but Erik pushed past her with his jaw set tight.

Christine watched him cross the room with a glare. It wasn't her fault he crept about without making a sound, and who could blame her for getting startled when he suddenly spoke. Another stubborn stand of curls fell by her face, and she blew them away with an irritated huff.

"We haven't all day, Christine."

His voice was low from the other side of the room. He stood by a crooked door that just barely clung to its hinges, and he shot her an impatient flick of his brow. Christine readjusted her bag for no particular reason and straightened her shoulders. She went to him at a leisurely pace out of spite. He glared at her and crossed his arms, and she met his annoyance with a pleasant smile.

Immediately, she regretted her childish defiance, as a plump rat suddenly darted out from beneath a pile of soiled rags. She shrieked and all but danced in place, her hands coming to clutch her chest. With her grievances forgotten, Christine frantically scrambled forward until her out stretched hands met the sleeve of Erik's shirt. She nearly sent him tumbling over, but he shot out an arm to steady them against the wall as she flung herself behind him.

"Did you see that!" She squeaked, peeking out from behind his back. The rat was no where to be seen, and she sighed in relief.

She still clung to the material of his cloak with her firmest grip as her heart slowed to a normal rhythm. His hands remained by his head, as if he were surrendering, but he cocked his chin to the side to glance at her.

Damn him, she thought. She released her hold on his cloak to hurry through the crooked door. She made a point to ignore his amused face, even as he followed behind her. A flight of stairs waited just ahead to take them below, and she stepped aside to let Erik go first.

"Where are we going?" She asked, cautiously making her way down behind him.

"Down," he replied somewhere out of sight.

She paused on the last step. There was only darkness before her, and she felt the urge to run back upstairs into the light. She gripped the rail and nearly scampered back the way she came, but a flicker of orange flame caught her eye. The glow went out with a hiss, and she heard Erik swear. The spark flickered to life once more, and it grew until the entirety of the cellar was cast in warm light.

Erik held a burning torch in one hand and a shattered bottle of wine in the other. He wordlessly offered the torch to her, and she took it gratefully.

"How did you do that?"

He shrugged and turned to grip the right side of an empty wine rack. He tugged at it until it began to slide, revealing a crude hole in the wall behind it. Her mouth fell open, and she leaned in closer.

It was large enough for a person to fit through, but one would have to literally climb into it. Christine suddenly felt rather cramped, and she dreaded the thought of what waited on the other side.

There was a sudden commotion from the floor above, and they froze. She heard a series of heavy bangs as someone sent furniture toppling over, and she looked to Erik in fear. He shook his head and held a finger to his mouth. She nodded, her free hand coming to rest over her mouth.

Erik beckoned her closer, and she crept to him. He cupped his hands and kneeled by the missing chunk of the wall, waiting. It took her a moment to understand, but another boom from above made her jump and clamber forward. She tossed the torch inside before placing her foot on Erik's hands. She braced her own hands on either side of the entrance, and then nodded.

She fell into the passage in a heap, landing on her hands and knees. Sharp bits of rock and debris pressed into the soft skin of her palms, and she pulled her hands away from the cold ground with a wince.

Christine carefully pushed herself back up onto her feet just as Erik dropped into the passage with a soft thud. She watched as he leaned out to grab a seemingly well-placed handle on the back of the rack and jerk the cover back into place. It felt as if he had just sealed them within a tomb. She shuddered.

Erik leaned against the rocky surface of the tunnel. He coughed, the crook of his elbow coming to cover his mouth, and he slid down against the wall until he sat on the floor. He looked deathly pale in the dim light. Every few breaths his body would shudder, and his fists would clench as if it pained him. She took a cautious step towards him, but he waved her away.

"I'm fine, it's alright," he rasped.

There was something off about the shadow his arm cast, and she spun away from him with a gasp. She hadn't noticed the slight slope in the ground, and their one source of light was now tumbling further and further away into the darkness of the tunnel. Christine bolted forward, chasing after the fading light.

"Christine!"

His call for her fell on deaf ears, as her body was spurred after the light with a sort of primal desperation. It was no secret she was afraid of the dark above all else, and the thought of losing the torch and being plunged into an impenetrable darkness made her heart quiver. She heard her own frantic breaths in her ear as she ran, drowning out the sound of Erik pleading for her to wait.

The gentle slope of the floor rapidly grew steeper and steeper as she flew by the openings of countless other paths. Her hands extended out in a poor attempt to grab the torch, and suddenly her feet were no longer touching the floor as she lost her footing. The way ahead split into two separate arches, and she screamed as the torch rolled right and her body tumbled left.

It was a small drop, but she lay paralyzed in the darkness. Her body ached, her mind screamed, but she made not a sound as she felt another presence with her in the dark. She trembled as a series of deliberate knocks came somewhere deeper within the darkness. It sounded like someone tapping a small stick against a stone wall, each calculated sound immediately followed by another.

The noise grew closer, and she shuddered, letting out the smallest whimper. The knocking silenced for the first time, and instead a low growl rumbled through the dark. The knocking resumed, louder this time, like a fluttering heartbeat, and to her horror it was coming closer.

She was being hunted by something in the dark, and she covered her mouth with both hands to stop the wail in her throat from escaping. She prayed it couldn't see her, that it could only hear her like she could hear it. The thought gave her an idea, and she struck her hand out to the side. She hovered her fingers over the floor until she met the sharp edge of a rock.

Christine hurled the rock as far away from her as she could. The creature in the dark screeched, making her blood run cold. The series of knocks hurried off in the direction of the rock, and she gently rose to her feet. Her entire body shook like a leaf in the wind, but she willed her steps to be silent as she tried in vain to climb back where she had fallen. The ledge was just out of reach, but she couldn't risk making even a single sound.

"Christine!"

Erik's voice echoed from somewhere above, and the demon in the dark gave another snarl. The knocks raced towards her like a charge, and she knew it would find her in a matter of moments. She jumped up and down in an attempt to grab onto the ledge.

"Christine where are you!"

She felt the weight of death upon her. She feared whatever waited at the other end of the knocks that aimed towards her, and she let out a scream.

"Erik!"

There was the sound of rocks sliding against the floor above, and suddenly a dark figure with a fiery torch leapt down beside her. Her relief was cut short, as the mercy of light gave her a clear look at the red hooded thing charging right at them.

Erik yanked her behind him and held the torch above their heads before booming out, "As above!"

The hooded thing skittered to a stop just before them. The light didn't reach the shadows of its face, but Christine took in the sight of it's pale, stained hands. It stood hunched over and gave a hateful growl from the back of its throat. It was an awful sound she never knew a person could make.

That was one thing she was sure about it, whatever it was. It was human, and it spoke with a hellish voice she never wanted to hear again.

"So below," it replied.

The thing banged its crude staff against the floor, sending shivers up her spine. It was only then she noticed the chipped skull that sat atop of its staff, and she held tighter to the material of Erik's cloak. The hooded thing backed away from them with writhing movements, reminding her of a beetle. The staff tapped against the floor with every step it took, and she heard its strained voice as it mumbled in an endless chant.

"As above, so below. As above, so below."

She felt Erik release a sharp breath, and it only occurred to her then that he was not actually fearless. Erik could fear something just as she did, and the thought comforted her.

The feverish skin of his hand made her flinch, and she fell out of her thoughts. Erik had turned to her, but he kept an eye on the thing as it wondered the area. She opened her mouth to thank him, but he shook his head. He only had to point at the hooded figure for her to understand. She reached for his hand instead.

Erik looked from her to her hand with a frown, and held out the torch, confused.

Perhaps it was the near-death experience, but Christine didn't have the patience for these sorts of games. She entwined their hands and held his sleeve with her other. She had never clung to his side so boldly before, but she didn't care that much to think it over. All she wanted was to get as far away from the tunnels and the hooded thing as possible.

Erik squeezed her hand, as if testing out the feeling of her hand in his, and ran his thumb across the back of her palm. Even as he led her through the middle of the stone room, he periodically squeezed her hand. She didn't mind, not when the thing tilted its hooded head to the side to listen to them leave.

"Erik," she whispered. "It's watching us."

"It can't see us." He breathed back, though he did look over his shoulder. "It's blind."

"Oh," was all she could think to say.

There were four archways at the end of the room, and he led her to the one on the far right. The thing let out a demented giggle, and she whimpered.

"Oh, I know that voice," it practically sang. She felt frozen in place, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Erik tugged her forward, but then it spoke again, making them both stop. "That's the man in the mask, yes that's who. They say it's a golden mask, for the price that's asked. A golden mask, the man's mask." The thing let out another chuckle, but this time it was she who tried to pull Erik away. "But it's only a golden task if you bring a dead man's mask."

The thing's high, cold laughter followed them into the next passage. She knew she wasn't the only one going over its cryptic words, but she didn't dare ask Erik what it meant by a dead man's mask.

Christine fell into her thoughts until Erik slowed to a stop. She couldn't hear the terrible laughter anymore, but her spine tingled at the memory of it.

"You're hurt," Erik stated.

He looked at her with a frown, and her hands followed where he stared until she found a small cut above her eyebrow.

"Oh, I didn't even real-"

"I'm sorry." He pressed on through the narrow tunnel again, leaving her stunned in place.

She had enough sense to not lose the light again, and she quickly caught up to him. It was difficult to match his long strides, and she went back to clutching his hand and sleeve, as it seemed to slow him down. He didn't object to her touch, but she felt him twitch under her hand.

"What are you sorry for?" She looked at the bare half of his face as they walked. She watched him try to find the right words, his jaw clenching and unclenching in thought.

"I couldn't catch up," he confessed. "Normally…normally it's not like this."

"Like what?" She pressed. Erik shrugged, but she caught the miserable look in his eye.

"Hard to breathe," he muttered. The edge in his tone made her throat sting, and she tore her eyes away from him to stare ahead into the endless darkness.

It was deathly quiet below ground, with only their footsteps and the soft wheeze in his chest breaking the silence. There were a hundred new questions in her head she was determined to ask him, but not now. Even though her desire for answers was almost painful, from the origin of the tunnels to the thing in the stone room, she knew it would have to wait. One day, when he looked a little less close to death, she would sit him down and demand to know everything she could think to ask.

Erik guided her through so many twists and turns she gave up trying to keep track. He let her cling to him, for which she was grateful, but they didn't speak save for the occasional quiet direction from him.

They stopped for breaks with increasing frequency, but still she said nothing. It wasn't until he stumbled for the sixth time in ten minutes that she made him stop.

"Let me feel your head," she demanded.

He pulled out of her reach. "I'm fine," he snapped.

Christine threw her hands up in defeat. She stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare. Her patience had run thin, her feet ached terribly, and she wanted nothing more than a warm pastry and a nap. He glanced from her face to her hand, but she looked away from the unspoken plea in his eyes.

It was rare when she felt a streak of bitterness in her heart, but she found herself throwing his earlier words back at him as she turned to the darkness ahead.

"We haven't all day, Erik."

There was no rush of immense satisfaction from her coldness, to her surprise. Erik walked ahead with a slow stagger, his shoulder's low. Mortified by her cruelness, Christine felt her cheeks burn red. She was too embarrassed to speak, as she was afraid she would damage everything further, and she couldn't bring herself to reach for his hand.

It was an uncomfortable silence, and she despised every moment of it. Her mind was filled to the brim with awful thoughts of herself. She didn't notice Erik had stopped until she nearly walked into him. He swore again, and she stepped out from behind him.

The way forward was flooded, all the way to the lone ladder at the far end of the hall. The air itself was cold enough, and she couldn't imagine how agonizing the water would feel.

"Is there another way?"

Erik shook his head. He gestured to the ladder. "That's our stop."

Christine sighed, and closed her eyes. Her skin was already teeming with gooseflesh, and she shivered. There was a rustle beside her, and she opened her eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"It's knee deep for you," he said, handing her the torch to remove his cloak. He offered this to her as well, but she looked him wide eyed as his plan became clear.

"Absolutely not," she snapped. "You are not carrying me-"

"Rats can swim, Christine."

Christine stepped away from the water with a grimace, holding the torch out like a weapon. She worried her lip in thought.

"You're sick," she stated.

"I am."

"What if…what if this makes you sicker?" She frowned, lowering the torch. He looked at her, puzzled by her fear. There was a splash somewhere out in the water, and Christine yelped. "Was that a rat?"

Erik offered his cloak again, and she took it reluctantly. At the very least, he would have some dry clothes she supposed. She hastily tucked the dark material into her bag before he held his arms out for her.

"Please don't burn me," he asked seriously as he swung her up and into his arms.

Christine rolled her eyes, but made sure to hold the torch out a safe distance from them. "I'm not going to burn you, Erik." When he didn't immediately move, she titled her head to the side and looked at him.

He was watching her with bright eyes, his lips struggling speak. "Since you're…well, you can reach now…. if you still…" His words failed him, and he gently leaned forward.

She couldn't help the sad smile that tugged at her lips, and she carefully placed her free hand against the uncovered half of his forehead.

"Are you implying I'm short, Monsieur?" She hid her concern behind the playful tease in her voice, as his skin was almost too hot to the touch.

He didn't answer, and she looked away sheepishly before she did something she would regret. Her hand went from his head to his shoulder, and she felt the moment he stepped into the water as his entire body tensed.

"Is it quite cold?"

Erik nodded, and she felt the smallest tremor in his grip. She felt awful as he carried her through the frigid water. She looked at him once more, but her eyes caught the shadow of a large figure at the edge of the water behind him. Her hand gripped at his shoulder tight enough to make him stop, and she raised the torch above their heads.

"Erik," she whimpered, "It's back."

A/N: I want to apologize for leaving off on such a terrible moment, but I will make it up to you guys I promise! I really hoped you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you so much for sticking with me :D