Chapter 2: A terrible Mistake

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Warnings- None for this chapter

Disclaimer- See chapter 1

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Madame Giry was furious. As she pointedly made her way down the many hallways of the opera house, her heels clicking with each step, people parted like the Red Sea in order to avoid her scorn. No one wanted to be at the receiving end of the Madame's fury. Why she was upset, none knew for certain, but as she arrived at the manager's office door they found themselves pitying M Moncharmin and M Firmin.

A quick strike to the door alerted the two men inside. "Come in" they called out in unison.

And found out they had made a terrible mistake.

Giry's steel eyes were blazing a steady fire. "May I ask why you have given the order for dressing room three to be reopened?" She hissed.

Both men remained still like prey under the eyes of a temperamental beast, trying their hardest to remember if they had done something out of line. Moncharmin was the first to speak up.

"Ah- yes! You see, my niece is coming up to stay here for a year or two. I thought since the room was currently unoccupied that it would be best if-"

"There is a reason for that dressing room's vacancy M Moncharmin." Giry snapped. "Put the child elsewhere!"

"And where else would he put her, Madame?" Firmin cut in, gaining back some of his authoritative air. "The room is not in use, and as far as I'm concerned we run this opera house, not you. If Armand wishes to put his niece up in dressing room three, then she shall be put in dressing room three."

The woman looked just about poisonous, her eyes narrowed to slits and her mouth soured into a thin line.

"Monsieur, I'm telling you that you are making a grave mistake."

At this Moncharmin threw up his hands. "And where do you suggest I put her, Madame? In the stables? She is no ballet rat, much less a singer, and the dormitories are filled to the brim! Dressing room three is the only available space for her, so that is where she will stay."

"You both are as dense as rock." She scoffed, and spun around on her heel to continue her rampage through the Opera. The men sighed in relief when the sounds of her shoes clicking viciously grew faint. Ever since that night the opera house had seen its darkest, the Madame was never the same. The woman walked on hot coals and shattered glass and had the temper of a rattlesnake. Her poor students received the worst of her wrath, but the managers weren't very far behind them in her seemingly endless supply of anger. They put up with it only because Giry was the best ballet instructor this side of Europe, that and she had been at the Opera longer than anyone there. Her sound judgment and skill at teaching was enough to keep her around- even if it meant enduring her tongue and cheek.

"That woman will be the death of us." Firman sighed before turning back to face his partner and the stack of papers they had yet to go through.

Moncharmin nodded. "To be quite honest with you… she is the only women who truly scares the hell out of me."

….

The grand entrance of the Opera was obviously a big show for the rich that came to see the performances, but beyond the affluent and lavish decor lay an old, wooden dungun. At least, to Berdine that it what it felt like the further they wandered from the foyer and deeper into the heart of the big building. It wasn't necessarily dirty, or even falling apart… it was just old. Old and dark. Not a very cozy environment, she was sure, and was not looking forward to two years of mildewed wood smell and tripping over things she couldn't see.

And to top this experience all off, she now had to live a life of a mute. Berdine supposed she could just end the confusion by confessing that her uncle had made a slight mistake, but where was the fun in that? She would much rather spend her time locked up in whatever room they stuffed her into, reading and spending her days in solitude. She knew from watching her older brother Charlie that people were rather awkward and horrible when it came to things like mutism and had the tendency to make it a bigger deal than it really was. That being said she was hoping for a similar result here, that her estranged uncle would be wary and dare she say it- embarrassed- by her made up affliction and keep her out of the spotlight as much as possible.

Her parents were good about Charlie's birth defect, and loved him as much as they did all of their children. But that didn't stop others from the small town they lived in to avoid her brother like his mutism was a plague. He was picked on by the other children since he was a mere boy, and grew up into an adulthood that was filled with adults who might as well have been children with the way they cracked jokes and outright ignored him.

Berdine herself was not immune to this kind of treatment either, like her brother's cross was her own to bear as well. She got poked fun of for simply having a mute brother and was no stranger to harsh words. She could certainly handle this.

The woman she was following was very small, but no less a woman. The poor thing in all her excitement had yet to even give Berdine her name, and despite the awkwardness of their introduction she had yet to stop talking.

"You'll love it here!" She said this with a mighty flourish of her arms that looked quite funny coming from such a tiny thing, like she was a child trying to conduct an orchestra. She whipped around to face Berdine with a big smile.

"And your room is one from a past rising star."

Berdine quirked an eyebrow.

At this, the woman giggled. She gave off so much animated energy that Berdine found being in her presence exhausting. She supposed the girl was pretty, all thin and graceful looking, with blonde hair and soft brown eyes. She looked kind, if not a bit ditzy.

And suddenly a yawn escaped Berdine's throat.

She must be feeding off of my lifesource, she thought bitterly.

Her companion leaned in close with a grin, eyes shifting to make sure no one was in hearing range. "Her name was Christine Daae. She was a beautiful singer with the voice of an angel!" She sighed dramatically. "But alas her fame was cut short due to… an incident of sorts."

Ah, she must be talking about that girl. Berdine had heard of a girl who had to quit the stage due to an obsessor that nearly brought down the opera house in his insanity. The story had traveled far because of its obscurity and peculiar nature. No one had ever heard of such thing before, and all of western europe had the tragic tale on their tongues for at least a month before it began to die down. If she remembered correctly, the whole thing had happened almost a year ago, surely the madman was dead and perished if not apprehended by the law, but she certainly didn't remember the story of his arrest.

"The manager's insisted you have it! Can you imagine? Such a beautiful room, surrounded by tragedy!" She continued walking down the large hallway and they passed many doors, each with a number posted on the top frame and the farther they traveled the lower the numbers became, counting down from fifteen until they reached door number three. With a heavy hand the woman unlocked it with a key she then handed over to Berdine before stepping back so the girl could enter her new home for the next two years.

It wasn't big, but it was far from the cramped room she had stayed in at her parents' house. It was filled with things that reminded her of ladies in big beautiful gowns, all frills and lavenders that made the room feel like one, big, extravagant cushion. There was a cot in the far corner, more for napping in than actual sleep for the performers who wished to rest between parts in the performances. She would have to find a way to ask for an actual bed later on. Then her eyes swung the the other side of the room where a makeup vanity sat, unused if the small layer of dust on its surface was any clue. Come to think of it, the whole room looked dusty and abandoned. Maybe even a bit creepy. The last part of the room she noticed was a rather large and obnoxious mirror that was much taller than Berdine thought necessary. The thing could have been a door with how large it was. Divas, she tsked.

Overall not a bad place to stay, it was probably much more comfortable than the cramped dormitories and tiny cells for the stagehands.

"You can place your bags in here, and then I'll take you to see M Moncharmin to announce your arrival. Oh- oh my goodness heavens forgive me dear, I never told you my name! How silly of me! I'm Adeline Fincher." She grabbed one of Berdine's hands and shook it enthusiastically. "What's your name- Oh, I'm sorry! You can't exactly tell me. I didn't mean to be so rude, forgive me."

This woman was so exhausting.

How in the world was she to introduce herself without talking? Her brother had always had one of his family members to introduce him by name, but here she was alone.

Then it hit her.

Berdine tugged on Adeline's dress sleeve to get her full attention before forming her hands into wings, her thumbs hooked together, and flapping them like a bird. The woman gave her a confused frown.

"What? You want to go flying? I don't understand."

Berdine shook her head and puffed a frustrated breath out her nose. She then pointed to herself and then made the flapping motion again, and was relieved when Adeline's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Oh! You're trying to tell me your name!"

Berdine nodded.

"Okay, um-" She tilted her head and stared at the hands flapping once again. "Flapping? Oh, butterfly? No, okay...Bird?"

Berdine nodded but then put her hand up in a 'hold on' gesture. She then drew a 'y' in the air and repeated the flapping bird again. A smile stretched across her companion's face.

"Birdy? Is your name Birdy?"

Berdine nodded in satisfaction. Close enough, she liked her childhood nickname. She had the sneaking suspicion her mother named her Berdine just so she could call her Birdy. Her mother rarely, if ever, called her by Berdine. It was always "Birdy, could you help me in the kitchen?" or "I love you my sweet, little bird".

Adeline seemed to think it was cute, because before she knew what was happening both her cheeks were being pinched. "Aw! That's so adorable!" The woman cooed and shook Berdine's head back and forth by the grip on her skin. "You are absolutely charming! I can't wait to introduce you to Meg! She'll just adore a sweet thing like you. Come on, darling. We have to stop by your uncle's office and then I'll give you a tour."

Her cheeks were released and her arm was grabbed instead only to be yanked forwards with astounding force from such a frail looking woman, and then they were off again down the long corridor and deeper into the belly of the opera house.

….

Armand had never seen his brother's family, nor his brother, after the man married that floozy and ran off to the country- leaving his mother and Armand to tend to the farm themselves. Their father had died a few years prior to Bayard turning twenty, Armand himself was only sixteen at the time and their poor mother had a hard enough time tending to the generous farmland when her husband was still well. With Bayard off in town with his apprenticeship with some business man- though at the time Armand suspected his brother only went to see the man's daughter, who was notorious for sleeping around- it was the younger brother who would have to help their mother around the farm.

Not being able to keep up with the high demand in work, his mother deteriorated quite quickly and just a short four years later she too passed, leaving two sons who had absolutely no interest in farming their father's land. So they sold it and split the money, and by that time Bayard had told him he had decided to marry the local whore (he hadn't exactly said it like that but it was no less the truth) and they had procured a small house in one of the tiny villages still around on the far reaches of France.

Armand had never seen his brother again after that, though the whore found it necessary to send him letters letting him know how they were doing. At first, he received a letter every month, but then they stretched out to once a year, then only when a child was born would he receive one, telling him about the new arrival to the family. It was after their third, the tiny girl who was now being thrust into his life, that the letters stopped completely. He supposed it didn't help that he never bothered to write a response, but what was he to even tell his brother? He never married, never got a proper house, and didn't even find it within him to go out for drinks with the other men his age. The only thing he had to his name was a solid income of 10,000 francs every year and the position of manager at an opera house.

For the past sixteen years, he had heard hide nor hair of his brother, and with all the pent up resentment he decided it would be better off to just forget he even had one. So imagine his surprise when he received a letter in the mail about a month ago, asking if he would allow his niece, Berdine, to come and live within the Opera Populaire for two years and explore Paris a bit.

At first, he wrote out a short note telling his brother in not so many words, that he and his entire family could go drown in a lake and that he had absolutely no interest in babysitting his daughter for such a long period of time. The absurdity of the request in itself was laughable, and he was sure there was family on her mother's side that would be more than willing to take the girl in and 'let her explore'. He had never had any interest in having children, he found them unmanageable and unpredictable, so he most certainly didn't want to start taking care of one now. He had an opera house (a ghost-free one at that) to run after all.

However, the longer he sat and stared at the response to his brother, the more difficult he found to actually put it in an envelope and send it. Suddenly it wasn't even about his brother, but the girl whom he had never even laid eyes on. If he remembered correctly- and he was pretty confident he did- the poor thing was mute, and he remembered in one of those many letters all those years ago he had felt an odd pang at finding out one of his brother's children was born without the gift of speech. At first he wasn't sure of his assumption but it did make perfect sense, send the girl with the defect away from the small town where she was no doubt ridiculed and send her to a big city where she would have more freedom to do as she pleased.

Armand had sat at his desk for what must have been hours, going through the pros and cons of having this stranger he called his niece to come and stay at the opera house. On the one hand, the girl was sixteen, or around that age. She was an adult, of marriageable age, so it wasn't as if he was truly dealing with a small child and would have to keep a very close watch over her during the duration of her stay. But it wasn't like she could go without complete supervision, he had no doubt the girl was pretty (if her mother was anything to go by) and she was mute, the gruff stagehands would have a field day if she was discovered at night wandering alone. He had many cases of this very incident happening numerous times in the past, and had to fire quite a few unscrupulous men from his Opera. Then there was the problem of where to put her. She was no dancer who could be put with the other ballerinas, nor was she a hired help who could be placed with those whom he paid to live here. Besides, those spaces where already filled to the brim and he had no room, even for just one more girl.

Things had been a bit difficult lately, though they were certainly looking up after the chandelier incident. He and Firmin no longer had an angry ghost watching their every move, his singers had stopped disappearing for months at a time, and no more dead bodies dropped down during performances. But now that the opera had reopened he now had many people not only wanting to see the operas performed at the most renowned opera house in all of Europe, but many talented performers had showed up on their doorstep seemingly overnight. His biggest fear after the incident was that they would have to close down the Populaire due to the public's fear of its recent history. But instead they had full houses at all the showings, filled with people who desired a glimpse at the opera house that had been overrun with phantoms, death, and insanity. So instead of having to find another job, Armand and Firmin had had their hands full with trying to keep the order of a suddenly cramped building.

But then he suddenly had an idea.

There was one room at the opera house that remained unoccupied, for no one dared enter in fear of what had occurred there almost a year prior.

Christine Daae's dressing room.

Yes, it was the perfect opportunity to lay everyone's fears to rest about the dead phantom and would appease his brother all at the same time!

So in not so few words, he wrote a letter saying Berdine was welcome to stay at the opera house for as long as she desired.

There was a knock on the door that shook him from his thoughts, and he called out for whoever was there to enter. Firmin was out on business, and had made excuses in order for Armand to be there to receive his niece upon her arrival. The door opened to reveal Adeline, and a pretty, young girl with dark, almost black, locks that flowed down to her trim waist.

His suspicions were correct about the girl, she was a spitting image of her mother. Those same blue eyes that spoke of german descent, and the wavy hair that reminded him of the Arabian horses they had locked up in the stables was staring him in the face just like her mother's own beauty had all those years ago. It was a shame she was tarnished by her defect, for she would make the perfect wife for any man lucky to catch her eye.

He cleared his throat and stepped out from behind his desk. "It's a pleasure to meet you my dear. I am your uncle Armand." He then extended his hand for her to shake.

The girl's grip was unsure, and perhaps even a bit awkward, like she had never exchanged this type of greeting before and she withdrew her hand quickly. Armand silently cursed his brother for not teaching the girl how to give a proper handshake. It seemed he would have to leave her out of social gatherings until he could get her an etiquette instructor.

He then turned to his secretary. "Adeline, this is Berdine. You are to show her around and be her escort of sorts until she gets her bearings of the opera house. Make sure she is comfortable."

The blond frowned. "I thought her name was 'Birdy'?"

"A nickname, I'm sure." He glanced at his niece for confirmation and she nodded. "Do you prefer to be called Birdy?"

Berdine shrugged, indicating she didn't care what she was called. What a passive creature, he thought. "Alright then, I will be addressing you as Berdine, if Mlle Adeline wishes to call you Birdy then so be it." Armand turned and sat back down at his desk, he still had a lot of paperwork that needed to be done. He waved his hand dismissively.

"Off you both go then."

Adeline and Berdine shared a look, but both headed out of the office, shutting the door behind them.

….

The fourth occupant of the room then left as well, though completely undetected by the other three. Erik had been on the other side of the two way mirror, one of hundreds within his opera house. He stalked down the catacombs, in complete darkness, yet he was not hindered in the least and managed to arrive in only a short time to his underground lair.

"Berdine." He let the name slide off his tongue like sweet nectar, savoring it.

He went over to his organ and sat down, his fingers caressing the keys tenderly before beginning to play. It was a haunting melody that filled the underground with dark promises and let their master's intentions be known.

She was beautiful. An exotic looking creature who reminded him much of the concubines held in the palace of the Shah who danced with many colorful scarves and jingling bells.

Christine had been a pretty woman, with subtle curves and a doll-like face. But this girl was beauty at its most fiery essence, like a succubus. The girl couldn't have been a day over seventeen, and yet her body was all woman with curves and softness that made his finger itch to touch- to explore.

Yes, this new edition to his collection was a gem among petty rocks. He wouldn't make the same mistakes he did with Christine, he would make sure to seduce the girl to join him in the bowels of hell of her own free will. Like Hades tempted innocent Persephone with the taste of pomegranate seeds, so would he temp this little bird with the promise of the pleasure of a man's touch.

It's true he didn't normally care for those without talent, and besides the girl's stunning beauty she didn't seem to have any use but taking up space in his domain. But that was fine, he had something else planned for her.

"Don't worry, dear child." He whispered, a devious grin stretching across his face. "I might have a use for you yet."

….

Author's note: Well, here's chapter two. Please don't forget to leave a review, even if it's just a little 'please continue' I am a review whore and desire them above all else! *hangs head in shame*

And thank you to those who favorited the first tiny chapter! You guys rock!

IiR