So, here's the second part! Enjoy!He flipped on the switch, not turning it up too high, and two women came into view- a young, lithe dark-haired girl and an older, rounder dame, both blinking in the sudden light.
"Is that one of the box-keepers?" the Persian asked in confusion.
"Yes, I believe it is. My box-keeper, if I'm not mistaken. Are you acquainted with Madame Giry? Oh, and it looks as though she's brought her daughter along as well. Little Meg..."
He stood quietly for a minute while the two stood in confusion, looking around.
"Are you going to let them out?"
Erik peered into the torture chamber for another minute before turning back to face the Persian. "I haven't decided. I think I might leave them in there for a while. But I suppose they'll start banging around soon looking for a way out. If they become too much of a nuisance, I shall probably have to let them out after all."
"Yes, well, as long as you don't harm them..." The Persian shifted uncomfortably and began to head back to the living room. Erik lingered behind a minute or two.
"I should probably find a better location for that trapdoor," he mused quietly. "It won't do to have people dropping in on me like this all the time."
"Erik, do you have a present for Christine?" a voice came from the other room.
"Of course I do, you fool, what did you expect?" Erik snapped back as he returned to the daroga.
"Well, it certainly seemed as though my presents were found, and wrapped, at the last minute..."
"What are you going on about? I've had those candies for months." Erik took a seat opposite his Persian friend once more. "And I've some very nice roses for Christine. A handkerchief, perhaps, as well."
"Er, Erik, I think Christine might want something a bit more than roses and a handkerchief," the Persian suggested nervously. Erik's glare silenced him from any further advice.
"Very well. I shall finish up the lullaby I have been writing her." He rose stiffly and headed for his room.
"Erik... do you think you'll have enough time to finish writing her lullaby before she's dressed?"
"Yes, of course I will." Erik continued walking and the Persian rose to follow him.
"But are you sure you'll have enough time?" Erik grunted and began turning the doorknob. "And isn't the vicomte dressing in your room?"
The door flew open and Raoul, giving a small shriek of surprise, hurried to hide himself behind the side of the coffin.
Erik's eyes opened a bit wider in surprise. "I had forgotten you were in here," he muttered.
"I... I... You... It's fine," Raoul managed to stutter out eventually.
"You know, you fail to impress me as a dignified aristocrat, with your stuttering and stumbling incompetence."
Raoul blushed and shrank a bit closer to the floor.
"Erik, I think we should just leave the boy in peace," the daroga murmured quietly. "He needs to finish dressing, after all."
"Yes, I suppose." Erik slammed the door shut and the Persian had to hurry to move out of the way. When they returned to the living room Christine, dressed in fresh, dry clothes, was standing on tiptoe fastening something to the ceiling. She turned around quickly upon hearing them enter.
"Oh, good, I was wondering where you two had gone," she greeted them cheerfully. "I was starting to worry something bad was going on. There are strange noises coming from in there." She gestured toward the direction of the torture chamber. "I was afraid it was something dangerous."
"Oh, really," the Persian replied with fake nonchalance, glaring sideways at Erik. "I wonder what that could be."
"I haven't the foggiest idea," Erik answered defiantly, returning the glare. Christine merely continued smiling at the two of them.
"Well, you're both out here now, at any rate, so we could open presents, right?"
"Well..."
"Er..."
"Maybe in a bit, when the vicomte is dressed..."
"Yes, of course. Christine, my dear, as soon as the boy is done, we can exchange every gift we have. But, for now, please excuse me."
Erik abruptly disappeared. Christine and the Persian sat down in awkward silence, occupying themselves with the decor...
Twenty minutes later, all four current occupants of the house were seated in the living room, holding presents for each other. Erik and the daroga both prepared themselves for another uncomfortably long wait, but Christine moved first.
"This is for you, Erik," she announced, handing him a neatly wrapped square package. "I'm sorry, I didn't get anything for you," she apologised to the Persian.
"I understand. We don't know each other very well. I didn't bring you a present either."
Christine smiled apologetically and nodded.
"I have a present for you, Christine," Erik spoke up.
"Oh, thank you, Erik." She received the gift with barely contained glee.
"And this is for the vicomte." He handed her another, smaller, present.
"Thank you again, Erik. I'm sure Raoul will love it, won't you Raoul?"
Raoul managed a small smile and nodded weakly, looking away from Erik.
"Does anyone else have any presents?" Christine asked. Receiving no response, she began peeling open the paper wrapping. She pulled out a rolled up sheet of music and a couple red roses bound with a red satin ribbon. "Erik, what is this music?" she asked as she unrolled and examined the sheets.
"It is a lullaby I wrote for you."
"Erik, that's so sweet! Thank you!" She smiled and stroked the notes. "Wait a minute, this ink is still wet." She pulled up two black-streaked hands and looked at them in minor disgust. "Er, do you have a sink I can use?"
"Yes, of course, right through there," Erik gestured toward the bathroom and Christine hurried to the door.
Erik and Raoul both chose to take the opportunity to open their own presents. Erik removed a stack of empty lined sheets for music and a pair of silken black socks. Raoul pulled out a white linen handkerchief. The two men eyed the presents curiously until Christine returned.
"Christine, would you like to explain why you gave me socks?"
She blushed slightly. "Er, well, it is awfully cold down here, and I thought you might need some socks..."
"Well, thank you."
"You're welcome," she smiled shyly. Raoul nudged her and muttered something in her ear about a handkerchief. "I don't know, Raoul, but I'm sure you could find something to use it for."
Before Raoul could reply, a particularly loud bang issued from the direction of the torture chamber, followed by a loud shout.
"What was that?" Christine asked nervously.
The daroga shot a meaningful glance at Erik. "Perhaps Erik should see what the problem is."
"Yes, perhaps." Erik glared at the Persian quickly before disappearing into the other room.
"Maybe I should go help him," Christine suggested, rising from the couch.
"I think we should let him examine it himself," the Persian replied, rising to stop her.
They met in the centre of the room, stopping just under the mistletoe. Both looked up, as if sensing the plant dangling above their heads, then at each other.
"I don't think this would be a good idea," the Persian began.
"But it's a tradition," Christine protested. "And it's not a real kiss anyway."
"Christine, maybe it would be best if you ignored this particular tradition for once," Raoul added in.
"Raoul, it's all in good fun. What harm could it do?"
"Mademoiselle, do you know Erik? He would murder me if he found out."
"But why would he have to find out? He's not here right now."
Before the Persian could issue another word of warning, Christine moved in and pecked him lightly on the cheek. "See, that's all."
The Persian blushed slightly and quickly moved away from the mistletoe just as Erik walked in, Madame Giry and Meg following behind him as if in a trance.
"When did they get here?" Christine asked in confusion. "How did they get here? Were they the ones making all that noise?"
"You have many questions, my dear, most of which I cannot answer at this time. Suffice it to say that these two were indeed making a great deal of noise in the adjoining room."
Erik returned to his seat and the mother and daughter seemed to snap out of their trance.
"Are you really the Ghost?" Meg asked, looking up at Erik with uncontained admiration, respect, and fear.
"Of course he isn't," Madame Giry staunchly denied. "The Ghost isn't a mere man, you silly little girl. This is obviously someone acting in the Ghost's stead. He must have wanted us for something."
"Er, yes, of course," Erik replied, putting on a cheerful tone of voice. "The Ghost wanted you both to escort these three back aboveground."
"But we were just starting to have fun," Christine protested as Meg gently picked up her arm.
"Why don't you have fun with the vicomte's family, as you intended?" Erik suggested.
"I suppose..."
"Er, monsieur," Meg began nervously, "How do we get back up there? Mama and I fell down a trapdoor to get here."
Erik rolled his eyes and led them to a flight of stairs. "Just follow these stairs and you will find your way back."
Madame Giry nodded and began dragging both Raoul and the Persian up the narrow staircase. The two men protested as they were shoved against each other while the old woman continued on with dogged determination. Meg began following a fair distance behind her mother, Christine walking freely behind her. Suddenly the young dancer sneezed violently, almost falling back into Christine and knocking her off balance.
"It's very dusty up here," she complained.
"Ah, that might be my feather duster. Christine, would you please hand it to me?"
Christine nodded and removed the duster from under Meg's nose. Erik tossed it aside and watched the group until they were out of sight up the stairs.
Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief and go back to the kitchen to pour the wine he'd wanted earlier. There were still fingerprints and marks to be cleaned off the torture chamber walls, and discarded wrapping paper lying all over his living room floor, but those could wait. He still needed to relax and take some time to enjoy his Christmas in peace and solitude.
Perhaps next year would be better...