Title: Devil on the Shoulder
Summary: A month after the events in The Devil We Know, Christine is faced with new puzzles to solve as a mafia don and she will have to go to Las Vegas to find answers. Sequel to The Devil We Know. AU and Erik/Christine.
Disclaimer: Phantom isn't under copyright any more, is it? I don't know. But the book belongs to Leroux and the musical belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. Regardless, Erik, Christine, Nadir, and Meg aren't my original characters.
Author's Note: It's the shortest chapter so far, but I like it. Couldn't really move on without it being unbalanced, so I'll save the Crowley part for next time.
Chapter Five: exit wounds
Strong rays of sunlight broke around the edges of the heavy curtains covering the windows in the master bedroom of the suite. Christine snorted in her sleep and rolled face down into her pillow, unwilling to wake just yet. Crisis averted, she sighed softly and let her consciousness begin to slip away.
A loud cluck invaded her sleep-clouded mind, forcing her eyes open wide. She sat up abruptly to find the hen from the previous day standing on the foot of their bed, head cocked to the side. If she didn't know any better, Christine would almost say it was…
The chicken turned her head to get a better look at Erik, who was sleeping unawares. Christine reached out and shook his shoulder, her voice a frantic whisper. "Erik! Wake up!"
"Hn?" Erik grunted, one eye opening in a groggy slit. Christine's hand stilled on his arm as she glanced at the chicken again. The chicken glanced back. A strange wash of fear made her shiver.
"The chicken's watching us sleep!"
Erik's eyebrows rose a few centimeters in surprise and he craned his neck to look at the foot of the bed. The hen strutted once along the edge then returned to the middle of the foot of the bed and stared at them. He rolled his eyes and let his head fall back on the pillow. "She's just a chicken, Christine."
"How'd she even get in here!"
"How should I know?" Exasperated, he sat up and flung the blanket off him, startling the chicken enough to have her jump off the bed, wings flapping to no avail.
"Take her somewhere else. I don't want her to poop on the floor!" Christine ordered, irritated. "Can't you just drop her off on a farm?"
"No. There's no telling what they'll do to her on a farm. I won't let her become someone's nugget, Christine." Erik got to his feet, kneeling to scoop the chicken into his arms. He padded toward the door leading out of the bedroom. "We should just ship her back to home."
"Hell no! I don't want a chicken at the house!" Christine called after him as he left toward one of the extra rooms. "Put her in one of the guest bathrooms. Give her water and stuff, though."
After a few minutes, Erik returned empty handed. "I need to buy a pen for her. Some food too."
"What do chickens even eat?" Christine wondered, pulling back the covers as he slipped back into the bed. He scooted to her and wrapped his arms around her. The top of her head fit snugly under his chin and she basked in his nearness. Too many times in Vegas she'd gone to sleep and woken up in a lonely bed with Erik nowhere to be found.
Her fingers traced a random design on the bare skin of his chest and he twitched at the touch. She smiled up at him. "You didn't put your shirt or mask back on yet."
His muscles tensed under her hand and she rubbed her palms flat on his shoulders to ease them again. "No, no, it's a good thing. I like it when you forget."
"Well, the mask is all the way in the bathroom. I'll get it eventually." He said, allowing her hands and words to lull him back into a stupor. They lay in warm silence, drifting in that pleasant state between awake and asleep.
Finally, Christine murmured, "Hey, I remember what I wanted to say."
Erik merely made a noise with his mouth to let her know he wasn't asleep. When she squirmed out of his arms, he frowned, but let her sit up. "Show me something I didn't know you could do."
His eyes widened slightly and he thought for a moment. "There are no torches or swords around… oh, I know."
He shifted up in bed and held his right arm straight for her to see. Then he bent it at the elbow until his arm made an upward parabola. Christine went pale, mouth agape in horror. After a moment, he relaxed his arm and curled his arm to show it was fine. Christine covered her mouth and squealed, "What was that!"
"Double jointed." He said, holding out his hand and using his other hand to press his four fingers at an unnatural, downward right angle to the palm. "Technically, though, my tendons and such are more flexible than normal. That's all."
The whites of her eyes were large, surrounding her irises and dwarfing them with fear. She took his hand in hers and he relaxed his fingers into their natural positions. "But it doesn't hurt?"
He shook his head, smirking, and placed a firm kiss to her brow. "Your turn."
"Oh, I know!" She held out her hand so he could see the top of it straight on, hiding her thumb behind her palm, and pretended her other hand's thumb was connected in its place. She then moved her other thumb away slowly and back to the spot it was supposed to be connected to. "I've got a trick or two up my sleeve."
He quirked an eyebrow at her lame magic trick, but refrained from laughing. She blushed and crossed her arms. "Don't be hating on my trick. My dad taught it to me."
"It's horrible." He grinned, mimicking her hand motions as he explained, "You're not even doing it right. See, you held your other thumb with the nail positioned the wrong way."
She pouted and he inched closer to her, but she swatted at him lightly when he tried to cuddle. "No, no! You're a crotchety old man! See if I show you my other magic tricks!"
Chuckling, he continued to try and nuzzle at her neck, arms hanging around her shoulders despite her struggling. "What? Are you going to pull a quarter out of my ear?"
"More like a stick out of your-" He cut her sentence short with a demanding kiss. When they broke for air, he only gave her a second before capturing her lips again, cupping her face in his hands gently. Her fingers twined in his hair, body pressed flush against his, her curves contouring to his perfectly.
And then Christine's cellphone provided a cheery rendition of "Rich Girl" for mood music. Erik shook his head and clung to her when she moaned and tried to break the kiss to answer her phone. Laughing, she turned her face away from his lips and he dotted kisses along her jaw. "Hey, hey, c'mon, it's Meg. I gotta get this."
Thwarted, he flopped boneless onto the mattress and watched her climb out of bed naked to retrieve her cellphone. Her cute bottom taunted him as she padded over to where her purse lay on the carpet and he cursed himself for letting her out of bed. "Hi, Meg."
"Morning, Pal. Didn't hear from you last night. Nadir told me you and Erik had a misunderstanding."
"It's cool, we made up." Christine said, walking around the room impatiently. She glanced at Erik quickly and found him trying to smother himself with a pillow. "It was hot."
"Oh. Am I interrupting something?"
"Kind of."
"Sorry." Meg paused, not sounding apologetic at all, then asked the infamous question: "So, whatcha doin'?"
Christine, being a female and talkative, took the bait. She sat down on the corner of the bed, crossed her legs, and twirled a lock of her hair idly. "Not much. What're YOU doin'?"
Erik knew that stance and voice. He jumped up from the bed, throwing his hands up in defeat as he snapped, "Get off the phone, Meg!"
"Erik's up too!" Meg laughed, knowing full well he'd be present and listening. "Why don't you put me on speaker phone, we can all gossip about each other."
Christine did so, giggling. "Let's talk about Nadir. That bald son of a bitch is the only one not on the line."
"Hey!" Nadir's indignant screech rang through the phone from Meg's side.
"Hey's right! What's Nadir doing at your room!" Christine demanded.
"He won't leave me alone! I tried to get some snacks from 7-11 last night and he jumped out of his room and followed me!" Meg insisted, her voice unusually high as she complained.
"Don't bitch. You totally loved it," Christine could almost hear Nadir grinning on the other line as he spoke. Meg harrumphed and he continued, "By the way, I'm eating a Slim Jim from the store. I bought a whole handful of them. Tell Erik about it."
Erik glared over at her, a deadly expression meant for Nadir, from the doorway to the bathroom. He spat out the word, "Idiot."
"What's this about Slim Jims?" Christine asked, confused. Erik rushed back across the room toward her, grappling for the phone.
"Nadir, don't you tell her," Erik ordered, but Nadir's laughter was loud and Christine was far too curious. "If you tell her, I'll kill you myself."
Before Nadir could reply, Meg cut in, "Nadir, back up off my phone! Geez. You're breathing on me!"
"Aw," Christine muttered, her fun ended. "What do you want?"
"Nadir won't leave me alone. I figure, even if I try to go out and have a meal, he'll follow me, so I might as well invite you." She sighed. "That way he has a legitimate reason to be there, other than bothering me."
The digital clock on the nightstand displayed the time: 11:36 AM. Without a reason to wake up early, her soul at ease from the lying in her lover's arms all night, Christine was surprised to see how late she'd slept. "Wow, it's almost lunchtime! I'm going to get dressed. Just come over whenever, we'll leave as soon as everyone's here."
She hung up and saw Erik waiting in the bathroom. "Are you coming?"
"What?" She asked, surprised as he held out his hand for her. "We're taking a shower together?"
"They'll be here any minute. If we take one together, it'll be faster."
"Yeah, I doubt that." She returned the grin and hurried after him before he shut the door.
Meg had an intense urge to eat Chinese food. No matter what anyone else tried to suggest, she simply restated her preference for their meal. Finally, Christine huffed, "Damn it! You better remember this when I'm pregnant! I'll be choosing all the food then!"
Erik shuddered to remember his run-in with her favorite food: Mac-N-cheese with hotdogs. This gave him just another reason to keep Christine's uterus free of baby.
The four of them piled into Nadir's rental Benz with Erik and Christine riding in the back. As Erik knew the city best, he acted as back seat navigator while Nadir drove. He gave directions down the Strip to Vegas's nicest, causal Chinese restaurant.
The set-up inside the sit-down restaurant was relaxed, but still impressive. The giant, decorative fans on the wall and the various other themed trimmings added to the polished atmosphere. A young waiter greeted them at the front counter and took them to their booth. Once their orders were placed, they chatted amongst themselves, the conversation dominated by Nadir, Meg, and Christine as Erik half-listened with a bored expression.
The restaurant was rather busy, many families and couples seated at tables surrounding them. The din of laughter and involved discussions required Christine to raise her voice slightly to be heard. Their food arrived fifteen minutes in and Christine fought with her chopsticks to eat her chicken chow mein. Erik watched her out of the corner of his eyes, not sure whether to be amused or horrified that she refused to make use of the fork on her napkin.
"Look," he held up his hand, chopsticks positioned between his index finger and thumb so the ends gradually angled toward each other. He opened and closed the chopsticks a few times for her to see, then gracefully picked up a portion of her food, bringing it up carefully toward her mouth.
Christine was starting to lean in toward him when a small, red dot on his chest caught her eyes. For a moment, she stared, eyebrows drawn in confusion, then she sat back and reached over to wipe the dot away with her hand. When she touched where it was, the dot jumped onto her hand until she moved back, then it returned to the same spot on Erik's chest. Over his heart.
"What are you-" Erik glanced down where she was patting at him. Then he threw her backward, her chair skidding a few feet away as he dove to the ground just as a loud gunshot rang out. The wooden backrest of his chair took the force of the bullet, splinters flying into the air as the bullet burrowed through. Shrieks erupted from the crowd around them.
Erik rolled with the momentum of his dive until he was kneeling upright on the other side of their table. Christine scrambled to her feet, having fallen when her chair was knocked out from under her, and Erik snapped at Nadir, "Do your job."
Nadir was already on his feet, grabbing Christine and dragging her and Meg under the table, shielding both their smaller bodies with his own. Erik had no time to worry about them. They weren't in danger anyway; from the aiming of the gun and actions of the hitman now running, Erik knew the hit was for him. He spotted the lone gunman running for the door, even as the rest of the diners reeled from shock.
The front door jingled as the hitman dashed out, Erik following close on his heels. The man sprinted down the street, arms pumping, the weapon he'd tried to use on Erik holstered at his waist in plain sight. If he hadn't been running after the man, Erik would have sighed and shook his head. "Am I the only professional left in the world?"
The man skidded around a corner, but had to slow slightly to avoid careening into the street beyond the sidewalk. Before he could pick up speed again, Erik's hand grabbed him by the shoulder, hauling the man aside and slamming him into the wall of a nearby building.
The hitman's breath whooshed out, knocked from his body the force of the shove against the brick wall. Even disoriented, the man threw his right fist toward Erik's head, but Erik easily halted the blow by catching the man's forearm. He pinned the man's right arm straight out against the wall. "Right handed, hm?"
A vicious light glinted in Erik's dark eyes as his free hand whipped out to yank the man's gun free from its holster. He smashed the gun full force against the man's forearm. An agonized scream ripped from the man's throat as the butt of the gun fractured his radius and ulna bones near the elbow.
Before the man could recover from the pain, Erik's hand darted to his wrist, twisting the man's hand until the delicate bones of the wrist dislocated and cracked. The hitman's knees gave out from the sheer intensity of the pain, and Erik grinned as he knelt beside him for the last blow.
Erik's hand closed around the gunman's index finger, snapping it easily. This time, the hitman could only manage a feeble grunt to show for the pain. Erik knew the man was on sensor overload, mind reeling from shock and physical torture. Leaning close, he looked into the man's eyes and said, "Go back to your employer. Show him your arm. Tell him if this happens again, it'll be his arm and I'll break it in more than three places."
He stood up again as the hitman crumpled to a heap on the sidewalk, moaning. Before he turned to leave, he kicked the man once in the stomach. Then he left him there, writhing on the cement in the middle of the Strip.
Back at the Daae hotel, Christine was pacing restlessly in the living room of her penthouse suite. Nadir had driven them back after Erik had disappeared from the restaurant and it had been thirty minutes since Christine had seen or heard from him. Unable to keep still while her mind buzzed with worry, she walked circles around the living room, clutching her cell phone to her chest.
She raised the cell phone up and scrolled through her contacts, hands shaking. Glancing up from his seat on the couch, Nadir commanded, "Put the cell phone down, Christine. What if he's doing something that he needs full concentration for? You'll only distract him."
She didn't put the phone down, instead snapping it shut to hold in her hands again. Tears glistened in her eyes as she fought to keep them from running down her cheeks. "How can you be so calm? What if he-"
Christine turned her head away, covering her mouth as she gagged. Recovering her composure, she faced him, the tears finally escaping her eyes. "Nadir, he's all I have left. If he's killed, I don't know what I'll do."
Meg rushed over to her, wrapping her arms around her friend and holding her as she cried. She shot a 'help-me' glare to Nadir, who held his hands up in confusion. Christine sobbed, "Erik's supposed to be the one shooting! Not other people shooting at him!"
"Christine, listen." Nadir said, his voice level and kind. Meg tugged Christine over to the couch and sat down beside her, resting her arm over her friend's shoulders as Nadir spoke to them. "I've known Erik a long time, and in all that time, he's never been shot, stabbed, or otherwise wounded by a hitman."
Christine sniffed sadly and said, "What about his mom?"
"Besides her. But she was a crazy bitch with the added advantage of being his mother. You know he has mommy issues."
Meg nodded when Christine looked at her for guidance. "Yeah, and I've known him since I was little. I can't remember him once coming in with a wound. He's a crafty veter when it comes to hits."
"He is a crafty veter," Christine agreed.
Meg watched her for a moment then decided to lighten the mood. "So, you've seen Erik without his mask, yeah?"
"Of course."
"What's it look like? His face, I mean. I hear he's the thing of nightmares. But, you know, even though that's what they say all the girls at Madame Giry's think he's super hot." Meg said, grinning. "I don't know of one that wouldn't hit that, ugly or no."
Shaking his head, Nadir said, "I haven't seen his face, but there was one time I saw his hand. It was pretty fucked up."
Meg gave him a confused look, "So it's not just his face that's all gnarly? How much of him is messed up?"
"Why are you asking him?" Christine demanded, indignant. "I'm the one who's seen it all!"
Waving Christine into silence, Meg made a hissing "shh" noise. "Quiet, I want to hear Nadir's story!"
Gesturing with his hands as he spoke, Nadir related his tale of Indiana Jones-like proportion. "So this one time, I was bodyguarding for Christine's dad when a hitman chased us up onto the roof of a big, old skyscraper. I'd been fending this merc off for days, he kept having a go at knocking off Gustav every time my back was turned, and I think Elizabeth was getting pretty pissed about it too."
"Anyway, I was sloppy, somehow ended up hanging from the edge of the roof. Gustav was sprawled out on the roof, the hitman had his gun pointed straight at him. Suddenly, Erik walks out of the shadows- like he REALLY just appeared there from nowhere- and shoots the hitman before he can off your dad."
"So I'm all hanging there, you know, real action hero stunt-like, and Erik strolls over. In his rush to get to us, he must have forgotten his gloves, because his hands weren't covered. He offers me his right hand and says 'Take my hand,' and I'm like 'No, no, give me your other one!' I mean, I wasn't ready! He assured that was his strong hand, and to be honest, I'm a pretty muscular guy-"
Meg coughed behind her hand, "Fat."
"Hey! I'm not fat, this is all muscle. Anyway, you've seen him, I probably weigh twice what that stick does. So my only options were: fall to my death or grab his mummy hand. I did what any sane man would do- I grabbed his leathery claw. He hauled me back up onto the roof and as soon as I'd brushed myself off, I thanked him. But I had to say, 'Grabbing your hand was like grabbing a handful of Slim Jims down at the 7-11.'"
"I had a good laugh about it until he socked me in the jaw." Nadir finished, a nostalgic look in his eyes. He grinned, "We've been friends ever since."
"Oh, so that's why you were laughing so hard about those Slim Jims earlier!" Meg realized, hitting her fist into her palm. "You should have seen him, Christine. He was all on about those damn things. Said Erik would know what he was talking about."
"Yeah, it pissed him off pretty good," Christine informed them, smiling as she remembered how angry he'd been that morning. "Tell me another one, Nadir. You're old, I'm sure you have plenty more stories about him."
"Let me tell you!" Nadir laughed, slapping his knee. "There was this other time another hitman was trying to off your dad- different one this time. Anyway, I caught him and was about to dispatch him with my gun, when Erik rises up out of the shadows once again, like he commands the very darkness with his sorcerer powers. Long story short, turns out this is a guy he's been hired to kill and he insists he shoot him."
"Of course I was all 'No, man, I worked so hard trying to find him, no way I'm gonna let you kill him.' So Erik looks at me, turns to look at the hitman, and I'm sure his little brain is trying to formulate a witty comeback. Then he shrugs, pulls out his gun, and fires a bullet point-blank into the guy's face. As if I hadn't just chased the son of a bitch down the street for two hours!"
"Then he laughs while he's walking away from me. What a bastard!" Nadir snapped, the sense of irritated anger flooding over him as if the memory wasn't a few years old. He frowned at Christine. "I can't believe you like that ass."
Suddenly, the elevator buzzed and Christine leapt up from the couch, running over to the control panel. She barely glanced at the monitor to see it was Erik before hitting the unlock button. Nadir piped up from his seat, "Ten bucks says he isn't even sweating."
The elevator doors swung open, but he didn't even hand time to take more than a step into the penthouse before Christine assailed him. She dropped her cell phone to the floor, latching onto his overcoat with shaking hands as she threw herself into him. Stunned for a moment, he quickly overcame his confusion to wrap his arms around her shoulders and back, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. It was a good feeling.
She pulled back just far enough to rant, "Where were you! You could have been killed! Do know how fucking worried-"
He pressed his lips to her forehead, stemming her anger, before drawing her back into that bruisingly sweet embrace. A heart wrenching sob tore from her lips even as she tried to bury her face in his shirt, surrounding herself in his comforting scent and warmth. "You don't understand! You're all I have! Everything else- without you-"
"Shh," he felt her arms slip around his waist, her hand bump the stolen gun that was kept for the moment in his belt. "I'm fine. Nothing happened."
Her hand darted back to the gun, running along the cool metal as she peered up at him. "What's this? You don't usually keep guns here."
He let go of her to extract the hitman's gun from his belt and walk over to deposit it on the coffee table. "It's the hitman's. I didn't have a holster for it, so I had to improvise."
"So you caught him." A sudden iciness sharpened the edges of Christine's voice. Erik's gaze flicked back to her face- it was as much a mask as the one he wore. This professional blankness was unnatural for her. It reminded him of his own face. He didn't like it. "Did you find out who hired him?"
"I have my suspicions." He replied, running his gloved hands along her upper arms as if to warm her. "Don't mind that. I sent a clear message-"
"Was it Crowley." Strange to hear her mimic that same tone he often used. He knew she didn't expect an answer, because it wasn't really a question. This control over her emotions wasn't normal for her. If he had to guess, he'd probably attribute it to shock.
Nadir and Meg had watched the entire scene with curious eyes. Erik glanced at them dismissively. "It's alright, you two can return to your rooms. I'll inform you when she's calmed down."
Nadir and Meg didn't argue, but as Meg picked up her purse, she said, "I dunno, she looks pretty calm right now."
Erik didn't want to say it out loud, didn't want to undermine Christine in front of them, but he had a feeling she was balancing close to the edge emotionally. More so than ever. Meg touched Christine's shoulder as she passed to reach the elevator. "Call us later, okay?"
Christine nodded slightly, more an acknowledgement that she'd heard Meg than a promise. The elevator doors slid shut without noise. Her gaze focused on Erik. "What do you want me to do?"
"What do you mean?" He asked, crossing to her again, his hands on her face lovingly. "I've dealt with this sort of thing before, Christine. It's never been a problem that I couldn't handle."
"It's a problem for me. When the man I love is nearly killed before my eyes-"
"Don't exaggerate. I wasn't nearly killed. The bullet didn't even graze me."
"It could have!" She hissed, for a second her teeth flashed in an almost animalistic snarl. "If you hadn't seen it at the last minute, you could have been shot!"
"You've seen me completely naked." He pulled her into an embrace, though it took a moment before she relaxed into his arms, pliable and warm. In her hesitation, he sensed pain and cold. She was truly afraid of his death. She dreaded it more than anything else. "Have you ever seen a scar on me from a bullet?"
"No." Christine breathed, her shoulders slumping as his touch eased the tension from her muscles.
"No, exactly. I'm quite hard to hit when I want to be." Erik said, trying to keep his voice warm and tone light. She only needed a small excuse to lapse back into her paralyzing fear. "And now that they've lost the element of surprise: the only thing in their favor, if they are stupid enough to try again I'll be ready."
She clung to him as if he were the only safe point on the whole planet. With her head bowed her hair fell away, exposing the soft skin at the nape of her neck, he leaned over to press lips onto her seventh cervical vertebrae, that wonderful spot on her spine right before her shoulders. What tension there was left in her dissolved as if his lips worked magic.
She cocked her head to the side, revealing her side of her neck for him. He gladly pressed his lips to her sensitive skin, nibbling up to her jaw. A soft sigh whooshed from her lips and he could almost sense the change back to a sort of normalcy. He felt her relief at his safety.
When his mouth reached her ear, she turned her face towards his, their lips inches away as she commanded in a whisper, "You. Me. Bedroom. Now."
His eyebrows raised on his forehead as he shrugged out of his overcoat obediently, following her as she turned to the bedroom. He nearly tripped over his feet as he struggled to kick his shoes off.