Through Phantom Eyes: Volume Five - Christine

by Theodora Bruns

  “The original idea was to let whoever was in there become so exhausted by the heat and dehydration that they would pass out. I would be able to keep track of what was happening to them through that window up there. When they were unconscious, I could then go in and get them and take them across the lake without a struggle and without them seeing me or knowing what had happened to them. Once on the other side of the lake, where it’s cool and damp, they’d eventually regain consciousness and be able to drink from the canteen I’d leave for them.

  “Well, that’s how it was supposed to work, but Oded, that tenacious fool, knows how I work. I imagine he was looking for the spring that would open this door but instead found the spring that opened the trap door leading down into my wine cellar. With his actions, everything changed.

  “You see, the gunpowder is in my wine cellar, and I feared they might set it off accidentally, so I had to intervene to prevent an explosion. That’s where the scorpion came into play. It’s connected to the water pump that’s also in my wine cellar. I put it there just in case the lake water started to seep through the retaining walls or just in case the water level rose high enough to threaten my home. With it, I could keep the water pumped out and my home would be safe.

  “But with my meddling friend interfering with my plans, I had to pump water into my wine cellar and saturate the gunpowder. Again, these are all safety precautions to protect my home and me. When I heard the water reaching the mirror chamber, I could have turned it off, but, I was so angry and perhaps even out of my mind, I didn’t. That’s when another safety feature came into play.

  “Just in case the gears jam and I can’t reverse the water pump, when enough pressure is put on the other side of this door, six steel locks slip into place to prevent the door from opening and the water flooding my home. This door and the trap door in the ceiling of the chamber are water tight, again, to protect my home.

  “I’ve reversed the water pump, and it’s now pumping the water out of the chamber. That’s where we are right now. There’s too much water in there, so I can’t open the door until it goes down enough. There’s nothing I can do until then—nothing.”

  She’d been watching me intently during my entire explanation, and once I was finished, she looked at the door and began shaking her head. Her eyes started to tear up again, and she looked back at me.

  “What about the trap door in the ceiling? Can you get in there that way and help them?”

  I closed my eyes and lowered my shaking head again. “No, again, there’s another safety feature. When this door locks,” I said as I again knocked on the wall. “The same type of locks seal that trap door. No one can get in or out of that chamber, no matter how hard they try. It’s that secure. It’s made of thick steel, and even if I, or anyone else, set off explosives at the room’s weakest point, it wouldn’t affect it. It would take my home down and the floor above us, but it wouldn’t damage that room.”

  I again shook my head. “That’s why I said my brilliance outsmarted even me. How sad a scenario is this? It was all designed not only to protect me from outsiders but also to protect me from my own weaknesses and opening the door prematurely, thus ending my life along with theirs. There’s nothing I can do. I’m so sorry. I would gladly trade places with those men in there if I could. I truly would.—I’m so sorry.”

  She moaned and slapped her hand on the wall several times. “Raoul! Raoul! Answer me!” She was near hysteria but then calmed and looked at me. “Erik, I know you. I’ve watched you and been a part of you doing things that are unbelievable. There has to be a way to get in there and help them. Think, Erik, think.”

  “Oh, my sweet, Christine. You don’t understand. My thinking is what’s brought us to this place. I thought this entire scheme out completely, and there are no flaws in my design. I wish there were. I honestly wish there were.”

  She shook her head and almost lost her control again, but then asked, “Are you lying to me now, Erik? Is this just another one of your tricks so you won’t have to save Raoul?”

  “Oh, if only I were, this would all end right now. No, my sweet, unfortunately, this is not one of my tricks. My brilliance has truly done its job well in protecting me. That room is impossible to escape from, and, unfortunately, it’s also impossible to break into.”

  She was quiet for a moment or two, but she wasn’t about to give up on her sweetheart. “How can I know for sure you’re not lying?”

  I took a long, slow breath and tried to think of how I could help her cope with the awful truth, the awful truth about how far my genius had gone.

  “Come near to the door, and, when you hear the lock release, you’ll know I was telling the truth, and you’ll know it’s safe to enter and help them.”

  She joined me at the wall and began beating on it. “Raoul, can you hear me? Raoul!”

  I wanted to scream. I couldn’t bear to watch her in such a pathetic state. I was tearing apart inside, but, then, I deserved to be torn in two.

  “Christine, you need to be quiet if you want to hear the locks release,” I said calmly.

  She nodded and pressed her poor, bruised forehead against the wall, and I tried to apologize.

  “I swear, Christine, I’ll spend my last breath trying to help them. Saying I’m sorry for what I’ve done in no way comes close to how I feel. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never find a word to express how I feel. If you weren’t here with me, I know I’d take my last breath and end all the brilliant tricks once and for all.”

  Without opening her eyes or removing her head from the wall, she whispered, “Don’t talk of death anymore. I’m tired of thoughts of death.”

  I began backing away and only glanced at her pitiful sight once more. When in my music room, I closed the door, with her vision embedded in my mind. I looked around the room as if I was in a dream, or, should I say, a nightmare? What had I done? I felt so helpless. I tried to grasp onto some form of helpful thoughts for Christine, but my thinking slipped away from me, repeatedly, like a distant tree in the fog that vaguely appears and then disappears before you can reach it.

  I knew it would take at least ten minutes before there would be enough water out of the chamber for the door to be opened, and by then they could be dead, if they weren’t already. What had I done? I couldn’t even begin to curse my horrible existence enough for what I’d done, not only to Oded and Raoul but also, and most importantly, to the woman I loved. I was a monster. I deserved the worst kind of death possible.

  I lowered my head and closed my eyes, again asking myself, why now? I’d just destroyed that special woman and killed her childhood sweetheart as well as my only friend. Why did she love me now when it was too late? My head began to shake harder and harder until I opened my eyes and growled in full fury, why now?

  I began to tear the room apart as my mind tore itself apart in search of an answer to the hardest and most serious decision in my life—the taking of my own life. Nothing was sacred in my music room as I released my anger on it. I stormed through it, wiping the top of my piano clean in one motion. I ripped everything in my reach to shreds.

  “Why now?” I screamed loudly.

  Nothing escaped my wrath; wall hangings, sculptures, pictures, cloths, pillows, even my scores didn’t escape my anguish. Also, Molly’s bust received a smashing blow, sending it off its pedestal and across the room. Why now, after I’d destroyed everything around me? Why did she show me love now?

  When I had nothing more to destroy, I threw myself against the wall, cursing my demented existence and tearing at my hair. I’m truly a monster in every way possible. I deserve nothing more than death. No, even death is too good for me. I should be thrown to wild dogs and be eaten alive. My death—the only answer and end to a tragic but true opera—my life.

  I cursed myself and my inhuman existence. I’d been playing the role of an angel, but I was far from it; I was a demon in every respect. I had to end the hellish nightmare called my life. The only thing that stopped me right t
hen was the wonderful and brave woman I loved. She was shouting my name and shaking my arm.

  “Erik! The lock released! We need you! Please, help us! Please, open the door!”

  I looked at her poor face, bruised and streaked with tears mixed with stage paint and blood, along with a red nose, evidencing her many hours of crying. Her golden curls were matted together around her face with more dried blood. I looked into her pleading eyes for only a moment and then had to look away.

  Knowing I was the cause of all her grief, the little bit of my heart that remained in my cold chest shattered into small pieces. I couldn’t speak, and I couldn’t look into her beautiful eyes, knowing what awaited her in the hours ahead. I felt a sickness inside me that rivaled what I’d felt the days when I became aware of the campfire slaughter. I desperately needed to get her out of my home so I could finish it all.

  I took her by the arm and told her, “I’ll take you to Madame Valerius now.”

  But she pulled away. “No, Erik! You have to let them out first!”

  I swallowed hard, not knowing how I could tell her it was too late. I looked at the floor clock that told me it was past midnight, which meant the two of them had been in the chamber for perhaps twenty-four hours. I felt the chance of their surviving the heat and then the flood of water was nearly impossible, but how was I going to tell my poor and pitiful Christine that the monster before her had killed her childhood friend and love?

  I swallowed hard again, and she pleaded again, “Please, Erik, let them out now—please!”

  Without looking at her, I went to the door to my dungeon of horrors. When it opened for me, a small amount of water trickled into the parlor. I turned on the light, and although I was hoping to find them on their feet and fighting mad, I was not to be favored with that sight. Therefore, it was no surprise to see them both lying lifeless in glistening pools of water.

  Christine rushed past me, and, with several gasps and cries, she fell at Raoul’s side. I wanted to stop her, but I knew she wouldn’t believe me unless she saw his death for herself. How could I help her through this? What had I done? I wanted to slam my head through the wall. What was I going to do? I couldn’t stand her sad sight, so I turned and pressed my face against a mirror.

  Then, within an instant, I knew for sure I was truly crazy. All the people in my past were right. I’d been crazy all along. I’d talked myself into believing that no one understood me, but all of them were right. I was mad. Only a madman would have conceived or even considered what I’d just done.

  Oh, dear God, what am I? I almost killed Christine, the woman I loved more than my own life. What had I done? And Oded, the man I loved as a brother. What had I done? I thought about all the people above me who were almost killed and the children who would be left without a mother or father. What had I done? I should have been locked up as a child in Perros, and so many lives would have been spared. All of them were right. I should have been locked up behind bars. I should die for all I’d done and could yet do in the future.

  I cried unimaginable anguish within myself and slumped against the mirrored wall, with myself and my hideous crimes reflected a thousand times around me. I finally had Christine’s kiss upon my skin. Now all I deserved was death’s kiss upon my dark soul.

  “Erik!—Erik!”

  Christine’s pitiful cries weaved their way through my exhausted and foggy mind. I turned and saw her still on her knees by Raoul and looking up at me.

  “Erik, please help!”

  I managed to make my feet move toward her; then, taking her shoulders in my hands, I tried to lift her up, but she pulled away from me.

  “Erik, help them!”

  I knelt beside her and took a deep breath, preparing to tell her the truth of the matter.

  “Christine . . .”

  Then I heard it. I could hear water gurgling in his throat with each feeble attempt at a breath. Every sense in me came alive in that moment, and I quickly felt for a pulse. It was weak, but he had one. With renewed hope, I looked at Oded and charged toward him. He was in the same condition.

  When I went back by Raoul, I laid him flat on his stomach with his head to one side, and placed his arms above his head. Kneeling with one knee on either side of his head, I began applying pressure to his back and ribs and then pulling his arms and shoulders toward me. I continued using all my weight on his back, pulling on his arms in repetitive motions, and with each movement a small gush of water escaped his throat and passed his blue lips.

  I could hear Christine crying softly beside me, and I knew I needed to get her out of the chamber if I couldn’t revive him, so I gave her a job to do. With emotional control, I gave her my bag of keys.

  “Christine, put a kettle of water on the stove for tea.”

  She didn’t move and I almost had to yell at her to get her to obey me. But she finally left me alone, with what I feared were my most recent victims. All too soon she was back and knelt beside her sweetheart.

  Time seemed to move on forever as I watched and listened to both Raoul and my old friend all alone across my horrible room. I knew the longer I worked on Raoul, the less chance Oded had of surviving, but what was I to do? I couldn’t leave Raoul there in that condition. I had to keep trying.

  I was ready to give Christine another job to do, not wanting her to be present if her love took his last weak breath, but then there was a larger gasp, gagging, coughing, and more water began rushing out of his open mouth.

  “Oh, Raoul!” Christine cried while throwing herself down next to his blue face.

  He was barely breathing and Christine was losing more control, becoming almost hysterical. So, once more, I sent her out of the room.

  “Christine, listen to me. Go get all the blankets you can find and take them into the parlor, and then check the teapot.”

  She left, and I continued to work with his meager breathing, trying to encourage his lungs to work on their own. I was at the same time watching my friend at death’s door, trying not to become so emotional that I lost my focus. I knew I had to remain in control and separate from emotional feelings if I was to accomplish the impossible and save both the lives I’d just endangered.

  Christine came back in the chamber and again fell on her knees beside Raoul. She was running her hand across his cheek and speaking to him softly, telling him how she loved him. At any other time that would have been a very dangerous action for her to take, but, at that moment, I knew it was all over. I’d resigned myself to that fact. So, while her words were like swords through my heart, I had no thoughts of letting her young man die. Once the color started to come back into his lips, I moved on to Oded and sent Christine away again.

  “He’s breathing on his own, but now he needs your help. You need to make a large amount of tea, the same you made for me when I was sick. Do you remember how?” She nodded quickly. “This is important. He’ll need it to protect his lungs from infection.”

  She again nodded and left the chamber.

  I didn’t get as good a response from Oded as I had from Raoul, and I feared I was too late. At that point, the tears began fogging my eyes, unchecked by any effort on my part to conceal them.

  I was close to losing my emotional control and began talking to him.

  “You’re not going to die on me, you stubborn daroga. Where’s you fight? Where’s your tenacious spirit?”

  Each time Christine came back, I gave her more instructions just to keep her mind busy and her body out of the mirror chamber. I had her build a fire to warm the parlor, get two sets of dry clothes from my armoire, and put some brandy in the tea to warm their bodies.

  Oded still wasn’t responding, and I had to turn my face away from him, but I kept on working on him and talking to him, even though I feared the worst.

  Raoul’s coughing echoed through the barren chamber, mingling with Christine’s whispers. I looked toward them just as she tried to help him to his feet, only to have him fall and take her down with him. I charged toward them, liftin
g him up over my shoulder and then carrying him to the divan.

  “Cover him, Christine, and force just as much of that tea as you can on him.”

  I worked a long time on Oded, waiting for him to have the same response that Raoul had had. I waited for that gasp and flush of water from his lungs, waited for some color to return to his blue lips. Time became nonexistent as I worked, only faintly aware of Christine moving around and speaking my name.

  I no longer felt the need to keep her mind occupied, as my own need to help my friend became all-encompassing. On occasion, I felt the pressure of her hand on my shoulder and heard her soft words, without ever registering their meaning.

  I don’t know how long I was there while my mind traveled through the forest of Persia with Oded by my side. I saw his face on the other side of the campfire as we talked. I saw my own face smile at him each time he stormed away from me in frustration. I saw his frown and the concern in his jade eyes during those days he nursed me back to health. I saw his tears and heard his sobs the days after the loss of his family.

  At one point, I was ruthlessly beating on his back with my fist and cursing him. “Don’t you dare die on me now, you cursed daroga! Don’t you dare leave me! Don’t you die on me!”

  Then I heard a strong gasp, and the flush of water I’d been waiting for escaped from his lips. Overcome with emotion, I collapsed on his back and sobbed like a child. It was Christine’s hand on my shoulder that brought me back to the need to continue to help him recover. So I returned to pushing on his back or beating on it, much the same as he’d done to me while I was on my own death bed in Kord Kay, Persia.

  By that time, some of his color was returning, and I was in control again. I carried him to Christine’s bed and took off his wet clothes; then I wrapped him in blankets. I gave him some of my herbal medicine and made him drink some tea before I let him lie down and rest.