Chapter 2- The Angel
As directed, you arrive promptly at 10 in the dance room. You wait patiently, heart racing, stomach flip flopping with anxiousness. You were beginning to think that this was a joke being played on you, when you heard the ruffle of a cape. "Hello?" you whisper.
"Sing." A deep voice demands.
"I beg your pardon?" you respond, somewhat annoyed at the terseness of the comment.
"I said, sing." The voice demanded again.
"And what makes you think that I would sing when someone asks like that?" You are beginning to get very annoyed with this person, whoever they were. "Monsieur, I shall not sing until you reveal yourself and you stop being so rude." There was no answer. With a quiet, "Hmph!" you head towards the door, when it suddenly slams shut by itself, blowing out all of the candles that were lit. You strain your eyes to see in the darkness. You whirl around, searching for any sign of this mysterious man.
"Sing now or consequences will occur."
"Ohh, I'll show YOU consequences monsieur." You begin to turn pink with aggravation and anger. You hear the ruffle of a cape, then feel gloved hands grabbing hold of your shoulders. They begin to apply bone crushing pressure, but you do not whimper, only grimace in pain.
"No matter how strong you are, my dear, pupils shall not respond to their teachers in such a disrespectful manner. You must learn to control your tongue and temper." He releases, but not before you grab one of his hands and throw him in front of you.
You give a half smile, then very swiftly, your fist and his jaw connect. He stumbles back in surprise, and laughs a little.
"And what, monsieur, may I inquire is so very funny?" You are very angry now, for not only has he demanded things from you, he has tried to hurt you.
"You little viper, you. When your master commands you to sing, you must learn to not be so rude. You would not want something to happen to your gorgeous dancer's legs, would you?"
As soon as he finished saying this, you feel a rope around your ankles, and within seconds and one rather good pull, you are face first on the ground.. "Monsieur," you manage to gasp out, you had gotten the wind knocked out of you, "I will sing….only if…I can see…who you are..and you..stop being..so..very..demanding and rude.."
"But my little songbird, looks can be deceiving. Yours certainly are." The rope around your ankles loosens and vanishes. A gloved hand reaches out to help you up. You ignore it, and get up on your own, slapping the hand away. "Now, my little tigress, will you sing?"
"Now, mysterious monsieur, may I see your face?"
"You just don't give up, do you?" he replied, somewhat annoyed.
"If I sing, will you reveal yourself, and stop demanding things?"
"It depends on how well you sing."
"Very well." You reply smugly. "What shall my master have his servant do?" You say sadistically, rolling your eyes.
"Just warm up, from your lowest note to the highest, back to the lowest." He says with aggravation.
You do as your "master" commands, and you do it flawlessly. "Was that satisfactory?" you spat at him.
"Very much so. But you need my assistance in order to be great. Although I must say, it was better than La Carlotta could ever dream of doing."
You smirk at this comment. La Carlotta, the designated diva of the Opera Populaire, was past her prime, and all but her realized it. She threw childish tantrums when something did not go her way, and she threatened to leave and give bad publicity to the theatre, so the managers did all they could to keep her, such as giving all principle roles to her.
"So, monsieur, our deal? You will now show yourself?"
You hear a ruffle of a cloak, then nothing. The candles in the room ignite suddenly, and there is no one there but you. You leave the room that night, confused, curious, annoyed, yet mysteriously pleased with yourself.
You arrive in your room and there is another note waiting for you. You open this one, and it reads:
My little tigress,
What a performance you displayed for me tonight. You have a wonderful talent, but your temper is quite the contrary. Learn to hold your tongue around your master, it is not fitting for a pupil to display that kind of rebelliousness and demanding towards their teacher. Your lessons shall continue until I deem necessary, and we shall always meet 10pm sharp in the dance room, unless otherwise noted. I shall be watching your performance tomorrow; I expect the best from a student of mine. One final thing: no one shall ever learn of our meetings. I do not exist when you are not in the room, and no one shall know of your lessons. If anyone were to find out, dire consequences will occur.
Your Angel
You put the letter in your mother's jewelry box, and dress in your nightclothes. You feel exhausted, but when you get into your bed, all you can think about is your teacher, and how much he demands from you. You were beginning to question your decision, but sleep had taken hold of you.