Special thanks to butlerphan666 for reviewing. Bakes large batch of cookies

Chapter 2

The trapdoor had been fixed by that night. I rose from the organ hours later, my whole body in a daze, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, my eyes dulled from exhaustion. I barely remembered stumbling up to the main hall once more. It had been so long since I had given myself so completely to my music, so long since I had become lost in it deep depths of sensuality and harsh tones. I had forgotten even who I was. But after my hazy mind had cleared, everything came rushing back, with a force so powerful I had to give myself something to do. For awhile I had simply paced about the passageways under the opera , but every tunnel carried a memory of her. Soon, I feared that I would go mad when I found myself yet again haphazardly standing behind her mirror, unable to recall how I had even begun to walk in the direction of it. So I ventured upwards once more, ignoring the sinking feeling that always came upon me. Even with no one there I still felt uncomfortable and unwelcome, but the task had to be done. And it would give me something to focus my mind upon.

I rose from my sitting position, covered in grease from the oil that I had applied to the rusty hinges till not even the smallest squeak of protest came from the panel as I laid it down over the massive hole in the floor. I worked with several tapers lit about the steps, their light casting eery shadows on the many statues and hallways that surrounded me. The silence on the streets and in the large building that was built to worship music and laughter un-nerved me, making my movements sharp. The air felt close and stifling, I rolled my shoulders back and glaceed about me. I needed to break this oppressive feeling, but I was unsure if my way of doing it would go un-noticed. Finally, deciding that I didn't care I softly began to sing, an Italian tune that I had learned long ago from listening to one of the many tenors sing for a role in a new production. It was a sad and lonely melody, perfect for my current setting.

Lasciatemi morire

Lasciatemi morie

My mouth formed the words hesitantly, but soon another side of me was screaming at me to pour myself into the song, to become one with the music. My voice bounced about, growing, becoming something that filled every crevice. Covering the silence, showing my true feelings of loss and despair.

In cosi dura sorte

in cosi gran martire

As I closed the lament however, my voice softened from the one that was only moments before threatening to shake the dust from the ceiling, to a sound that was almost in-audible.

Laseiatemi morire

Taking a shaking breath I activated the trapdoor, the panels sliding downwards with perfect grace, not even the smallest groan coming from the aged hinges. I jumped lightly down into the deep darkness, it's cold arms wrapping themselves about me as I made my way to my home.

I never will regret that I impulsively decided to fix the trapdoor that night, for early the next morning five noblemen stood on the very green and gold panels, looking about the hall.

I silently edged my way to the mirror on the wall by the steps, watching the men walk about on the area that I had so carefully worked on; listening to them talk to one another. It had been ages since I had heard any voice but my own and I hungrily took in every word, paying close attention to the tambour and tone of their voices. They seemed worried however, for they never let themselves talk louder then a low murmur, standing next to one another to make out their conversations. I smirked, knowing that in some way my very memory still had the power to quell others. It was yet another link on my already weighty chain of vanity and sin but I still basked in the thought. A man with a voice like a deep brass pot began to speak, rasing his voice only a little, so the others could hear caught my attention immediately.

"All considering Monsieur Dulic it will only take the better part of what remains of the year to have the right side completely fixed. And as for the dust? Pah! Only a bit of sweeping and polishing and all will be as good as new. And Paris shall have it's great opera house once more."

I blinked and stepped back. A new opera house? They wished to re-build the Populaire? Narrowing my eyes, my jaw clinching I pushed myself to the mirror once more, listening to one of the smaller men.

"Yes but surly the costs alone would be too much..."

"The costs? Do my pocketbooks not reach deep enough for you gentlemen? Or is my money simply too new for the likes of the older nobles that abound in this fine city? For I assure you it is the same color as anyone else."

A strained laughter broke out among the men, and I spied the speaker finally, a broad chested man coming up from behind some of the others. From the looks of how things were going he was the man with the most power in the room, no doubt a patron who the existence of this new little project depended upon. His blonde hair was tinted with grey and he wore a fine velvet suit with a ebony silk top hat. His eyes roved about, settling for a moment on one thing then quickly moving on, but there was a strange glint in their brown depths. I sensed danger about this one, and I found myself standing up straighter. If this was the so-called patron for this pipedream of theirs, then I would be sure to give him hell if he challenged me.

"By no means Monsieur Colbartte, however as a possible patron yourself surely you must be worried about how long it will be before you get a reimbursement in this opera's possible profits?"

The opera's profits? Oh God. They weren't serious!

"The end of the year," Colbartte replied pulling out a cigar and lighting the tip, the smoke

curling about him. "The end of the year or you shall receive no more support from me. And we all know that you need the money." He chuckled at their aghast faces and turned his voice dripping with honey, "Come I saw a café across the street. Let us finish up our discussion there."

Apparently the talks and thought of money to line their pocket books worked and these foolhardy men let the renovations begin. Later that same week I found my sanctuary invaded by hundreds of strange men, workers who were not as susceptible to gossip as some. The scaffolding was placed on the right side and I watched as my world was slowly created once more.