Through Phantom Eyes: Volume Five - Christine

by Theodora Bruns

  Christine’s voice calmed, and became a sweet sound. “Didn’t I tell you? And his voice is just the same. It’s also unearthly. It’s angelic. He has to be an angel.”

  After a sip of his hot tea, Raoul continued, but his voice had lost its humility, “I thought so also, Christine, and I was planning to go back to the inn and tell you so. But I wanted to visit your father’s grave before I did. Then as I was walking through the graveyard, I thought I saw something black, like a shadow, but it didn’t have a form like an animal or a human. It was like the shadow cast by a cloud in the moonlight, only much faster. It had moved around the corner behind the church. Then I noticed a man’s footprints in the snow leading in that same direction. So I stopped and waited, trying to see in the darkness. Then a human skull rolled toward my feet.”

  “What?” Christine nearly shouted. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, quite sure, and they kept coming. I could see stacks of them against the wall of the church. At first I thought perhaps a nocturnal animal had started the first one rolling, but then when they kept coming, and all of them were headed straight for me, I began to suspect that it was a reasoning animal that was the culprit.”

  “What are you saying, Raoul?”

  “Christine, there was someone there; some human that was trying to frighten me, and I knew it. While I was dodging the skulls, I saw the shape again as it moved quickly in through the side door of the church, so I followed it. Once inside, I stood still and listened, trying to hear where the shape went, but all was quiet.

  “Then without any sound, I saw the shadow again move between two pillars. The shadow kept moving from pillar to pillar for several minutes, and some of the times when it moved, I could feel the air around me also move. Then it moved so close to me that I reached out and touched it. I felt its cloak. Christine, it wasn’t a heavenly feeling, it was an earthly one; it was wool, just like my own coat.”

  “Raoul, it was probably only a vagrant. You know one of their favorite places to sleep at night is in a church.”

  “No, Christine, it was no vagrant. I’m now convinced it was your so-called angel.”

  “Raoul, why are you doing this? Why are you using this strange occurrence to work against my beliefs?”

  “Oh, Christine, please listen to me. I was ready to accept your beliefs just moments before that all happened, so what I’m telling you has nothing to do with any personal feelings, except for my fear for you. This person is not only clever, but maybe even inhuman in some respects, because I’ve never seen anything move so fast and silently. In fact, by the time I felt his cloak, he was gone again. He moved so quickly and soundlessly that it was unreal—like he was floating.”

  Searching wildly for a logical explanation that would protect her angel, Christine rationalized. “Then maybe it was a large animal of some sort, perhaps a bear.”

  Raoul almost laughed. “A bear? Wearing a wool cloak? I don’t think so, Christine, especially after what happened next. I saw him move between pillars one more time and then there was nothing but darkness and silence. Then I felt a warm breath on the back of my neck, and, when I turned quickly out of fright, I saw him clearly for the first time.

  “His face was only this far from mine, if you want to call it a face. Under the brim of his hat, where you’d normally expect to see a face, I saw only two golden eyes shining in the darkness—just like a wolf’s in the night.”

  Christine, still not willing to believe her Angel of Music could be the cause of her friend’s condition, tried again. “Well, see, that proves it. It was a bear on his hind legs looking at you.”

  Frustration along with true concern for her showed in Raoul’s next words. “Oh, my innocent Christine, no. A bear wearing a cloak and hat? No, Christine. It wasn’t an animal, at least not a four-footed one. I wasn’t going to tell you the rest of the story because I’m quite embarrassed to do so, but I can see you need more proof.”

  “What, Raoul? What’s your proof?”

  “I was so frightened, Christine. I don’t think I’ve been that frightened in my entire life; no, I know I haven’t. As I looked into his eyes looming over me, I could hear my own heart beating in my ears. I really thought I was going to die, Christine. Then . . . then . . . I think I passed out. I don’t remember anything else until the priest woke me up. I was . . .”

  “That’s it, Raoul,” Christine interrupted. “It was the priest who frightened you. They wear long robes.”

  “No, no, no, my sweet Christine. It couldn’t have been the priest. A priest can’t afford to wear the quality of wool that I felt. Besides, the priest wasn’t that tall. This man, who nearly frightened me to death, was a good head taller than me. No, Christine, it wasn’t the priest; he was the one who saved me.

  “Now, as I was saying, I was lying on the first step to the altar, and I was freezing cold. The priest was asking me all sorts of questions, but I couldn’t even remember how I’d gotten there. See, Christine, if it was an animal of some kind, how would it have placed me on the steps to the altar? And why were my hands folded across my chest as if I was holding a lily? You know, the way they put people in their coffins, with their hands over their chests. Whoever it was was trying to tell me something, Christine. He was trying to tell me he wanted me dead.”

  Clever boy. He’d figured it out. Yes, I wanted him dead, and it was only my love for Christine that saved him, but then it was my love for Christine that put him in harm’s way to begin with.

  There was silence at the bottom of the stairs until I heard Christine sigh slowly. “I find this all very hard to believe, and I certainly don’t believe it has anything to do with my angel. He would have no reason to spend his time trying to frighten you, Raoul, much less want you dead. I’m sure he’s much too busy to spend his nights in such folly.”

  “Oh, my dear Christine. You’re so innocent and sweet. You really don’t get it, do you?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this any longer, Raoul. It upsets me, and I don’t want to be upset anymore. Please, can we talk about something else?”

  There was a silence and then all decided that Raoul needed a hot bath to warm him up. I went back to my room, and, while sitting on the edge of my bed with my face in my hands, I tried to understand what had happened. The night before, I’d been the conqueror. I’d performed something special for Christine. I was there for her, and I felt a closer connection to her than ever. But, right then, it was Raoul who was preparing to spend a day with her. It was his hands she was holding and his cheek she was touching, and where was I? Alone with only my thoughts for company, so what good were any of my efforts of late? No good whatsoever.

  The day moved on and they went down to breakfast, and I watched. They spoke softly over a nice meal, and I moaned into my coffee. They made plans for the day and I felt so alone. They wrapped in warm clothes for a romantic walk in the park, and I was already in my same old cloak, hat and gloves, preparing to be tormented more when I followed them.

  They walked arm in arm, and I walked alone and watched. They sat on a park bench and looked into each other’s eyes, and I sat on a park bench and watched them over the top of my paper. They were together with hearts that were laughing, and I was alone with a heart that was crying. I was miserable, but not nearly as miserable as I was about to be.

  Christine looked so beautiful in the bright sunlight, and she looked so happy, so different than what she’d been like in the cemetery. He was good for her, and I could see that in the light of day. He was making her happy, and it hurt my heart. I was losing her, not that I’d ever had her to begin with, but I was losing her, and it hurt deeply. I’d just decided to put myself out of my misery and put myself on the back of a horse and ride away, when Raoul made a serious tactical error.

  Fourteen

  “He’s no angel, Christine. He’s the farthest thing from an angel. This is all a trick of a very talented but devious man. He has the skills to teach you, to play beautiful music, and, from what you say, sing
just the same. But that doesn’t make him an angel. It makes him an extremely dangerous man.”

  “Raoul, please don’t start this again. Don’t spoil this day by tearing down my angel.”

  Raoul lowered his head and looked down at her hand in his. “I never want any of your days to be spoiled, and that’s why you need to realize that this entire escapade is a sham—it’s not real.”

  Pulling her hand away from his, she huffed. “Raoul, I don’t understand you. Why would you say that? Why do you want to take this away from me?”

  Turning on the bench and looking right at her he insisted, “Because someone is tricking you for his own pleasure, and I don’t want to see you hurt by him. You’re a beautiful woman, Christine. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and I know what this man is thinking.”

  Shaking her head, she frowned at him. “You’re so wrong. You don’t understand our relationship, and you don’t understand him. He would never hurt me. He’s kind and gentle when he speaks to me. He only wants to help me, just as my father said he would.”

  “Oh, Christine, listen to me. Angels don’t speak to humans and carry on meaningless conversations.”

  Angered she rebuked him, “Our conversations aren’t meaningless, and angels do speak to humans. They spoke to Abraham and Sarah, and Joseph and Mary, and Jacob, and Elizab . . .”

  She was about to list everyone in the Bible when Raoul stopped her. “Christine, stop! We know that, but that was in Bible times. It doesn’t happen now—today.”

  She was on her feet by then and staring down at him. “How do you know that, Raoul? A lot of people say they’ve spoken to angels, so why shouldn’t I? Am I not good enough in your eyes to have that blessing?”

  He reached for her hand but she backed away, so he tried softening his words. “Certainly you are, Christine. But it just isn’t logical. I tell you, this is a clever trick by a man who wants to have his way with you.”

  “No!” she protested. “I won’t believe you, Raoul. He’s not a human man with those types of feelings. He’s my perfect angel, and he helps me. You even said so yourself, remember?”

  Raoul rose to his feet slowly and again reached for her, but again she pulled away. “Yes, I remember, but that was before I understood the secret nature of his lessons. I tell you, Christine, this is a ruse.”

  She turned her back on him. “Why do you persist in trying to take this away from me, Raoul? Why don’t you want me to be happy?”

  He reached out and successfully took her hand. “I do want you to be happy, and that’s why I’m warning you to stop this charade before you get hurt.”

  Pulling her hand out of his, she verbally attacked him. “Oh, you make me so angry. Leave me alone. Go away from here. I don’t want to hear any more of what you think. My angel is real, and he’s made me happier than I’ve been since my father’s death. Right now that’s all I care about. Go back to Paris, Raoul! Go away from here. I wish you’d never come here to spoil this for me. Go away!”

  “Christine, listen to me. I can’t leave you here alone with this man.”

  “No! Go away, Raoul! I’m safer here with him than I am with you. At least he makes me happy with his encouraging words and his music. All you’ve done is spoil everything. You’ve made this trip a nightmare. Go away!—now!”

  He acquiesced and turned, heading back toward the inn. She was so angry with him that she stormed away with her arms folded across her chest. She was coming straight for me on the bench, so I automatically lowered my head and raised the paper higher in front of me. She came so close to me that I could have reached out and touched her, but I didn’t. She kept going, heading for a small pond to my right. I looked over the top of my paper and watched her pacing at the water’s edge, occasionally pulling at her gloved fingers the way she always did when she was anxious.

  My thoughts were twisting in all directions, and I tried to slow them and separate them into some type of order so I could think clearly. Raoul was so right, and I had to have a measure of respect for his intelligence in seeing through my guise. I was just what he thought I was, a man who wanted Christine all to himself. But when I listened to him say the words, they sounded so dark and sinister, and that wasn’t how I felt about her. I didn’t just want her to lie beside me. I wanted her to walk beside me forever, and therein lay the difference in my truth and his interpretation. But it wasn’t what Raoul thought about me that was important; it was what Christine believed.

  As I watched her, I wondered what her reaction was going to be when I revealed the truth to her. I’d just seen what she did to Raoul when he tried to take her angel from her and make him human. What was she going to do to me when I became not only the one to strip her angel from her but also the person who’d been deceiving her all this time? The prior day, I’d wanted to hurry up the process of revealing myself to her, but then, as I watched her, I wasn’t sure I was ready for her reaction.

  I realized then that I really hadn’t thought through my entire ploy when I first started it. I feared it was going to take something more powerful than my angelic voice, quick wit, and genius mind to escape her wrath unscathed once she knew the truth. That was one of the times in my life when I believed what everyone thought about me was true. I was insane for pursuing her. But then, perhaps most men could be considered insane, to one degree or another, once their heart had been taken over by that one special angel in their lives. At that time, I could even recognize that same insanity in my opponent.

  Eventually, Christine calmed, and her pacing became a slow stride. I think the ducks she’d been talking to might have helped. She apologized for not having something to feed them and other such comments. But then she started a serious conversation with them, and I listened closer.

  “Do you have parents? Are they here with you now? Is that one over there your mother? Is that one your father? Are they still alive or are they now dead? Or do you even know or care? I wish I were a duck like you. Life would be so much simpler. No harsh words. No tears. No losses. Only days spent in peace—floating on the pond, picking at bugs, flying in the clouds, sleeping in the sun. I wish I were one of you.”

  Then she knelt down and picked up a bright blue duck feather at her feet. Her head went down, and then I heard her sob. No, I thought, don’t cry. I couldn’t bear it when she cried. I glanced around in all directions, and once I saw we were completely alone, I took a big risk and spoke to her.

  After locating a small tree not too far from either of us where I could place my voice, I said softly, “Don’t cry, Christine. I’m here.”

  She jolted to her feet, took a quick breath, and looked at the tree. “Angel?”

  “Yes, my dear, it’s your angel, and I’m here for you. Don’t cry.”

  Taking a step toward the tree, she said, “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so angry and frightened.”

  Trying to be her controlled instructor, I spoke. “I know, Christine, but don’t listen to the idle talk of unbelievers. They’ll only sidetrack you from your goals. Listen to my voice, and I’ll continue to instruct you, and you’ll continue to capture the world.”

  Her voice was so beguiling when she defended me. “But did you hear what he said about you? Are you not angered also at his ignorance?”

  “I’m always angered by ignorance,” I responded, trying not to show the true amount of anger I felt for him. “But I’ve heard much worse from those with little faith. All they have are words, Christine, that’s all, only words. Don’t let him or anyone else take from you what I’ve given you—what you’ve earned.”

  “You’re right,” she said with determination. “I won’t talk to him anymore. Even when he says he loves me, I won’t listen to him.”

  I closed my eyes and took a breath, not knowing where to go next after hearing her say those words. But then, somewhere deep inside me, the words of the man I was came forth without any forethought.

  “He’s not the only one who loves you. I love you very much, my beautiful, Chri
stine. I love everything about you—your angelic voice, your brave spirit, your perfect grace, and your loving heart.”

  By the time I’d said those non-scripted words, I was no longer hiding behind the paper and it lay on my lap. I looked at her longingly. The morning sun was shining through the barren trees on her golden hair that lay softly over her forest green cloak. Without being told, my heart began to lead me down a dangerous path, and I got to my feet and took a few steps toward her.

  I was trying desperately to keep my voice in the tree, which was difficult, considering it wasn’t coming from my mind but my heart. “You’re a beautiful person, Christine, inside and out. You have no need to cling to the words of love spoken by someone who doesn’t understand you or your worth. I love you, Christine, in a way that your young man will never comprehend and you know that, don’t you? You can feel it in my voice, can’t you? I love you in a heavenly way because you’re my beautiful angel—with the angel’s voice—the angel’s face—the angel’s hair—and . . .”

  My entire being was aching to hold her close to me, and I fear the tone in my voice was relaying my desires to her. Her shoulders tightened, and she took quick breaths as she stepped back away from the tree. I stopped speaking and also took steps back to the bench and sat down. Raising the paper again, I tried to find a way out of the situation my heart had gotten me into. Therefore, I continued with my words of hidden, earthly love.

  “. . . and I never want you to forget your worth as a special person, never, Christine. Now relax, and release his hurtful words so you can enjoy the rest of your day here in Perros. Remember the waves at your feet, carrying your cares out to the sea.”