Ugh, I so didn't like writing this chapter. It was just so weird and so OOC for some characters. This chapter is semi-M and in regards to Four and Jeanine (I made Four Raoul instead of Peter)- I'm so sorry, I really am. I'm going to go take a clean shower from this. Please enjoy!
"Our lives are one masked ball."
― Gaston Leroux
The elegant carriage pulled up in front of the Opera House causing several people on the street to stop and whisper amongst themselves. The driver quickly jumped down from his seat to open the door for the carriage's occupant. Several ladies who were walking stopped and stared at the figure that arose from the carriage; those who were holding fans immediately began to rapidly fan themselves.
He was a tall man, slim but muscular as was the fashion at the time. He was elegantly dressed in a gray suit with a high collar, his black shoes polished and glistening, his white tie tucked into his slightly ruffled tunic. A top hat made of black satin crowned his dark almost black slicked back hair; he tipped it to the ladies who were admiring his emergence. He stepped down from the carriage steps, muttering words to his coachman while he placed his gray linen gloves over his long tapered fingers. He lifted his eyes to the Opera House and smiled; his face was clean shaven, his posture straight, his teeth white, his eyes a sparkling dark and light blue. And when he began to walk up those steps, there seemed to be this air of power that followed him with every step and tap of his ebony cane. He was like Apollo, dazzling at first sight, and forever burning an image within your mind's eye after he had disappeared from view
Inside the Opera House, things were well underway for the opera that would be kicking off the season in a matter of days. Ballet dancers were frantically perfecting their steps, while stage hands worked on sets and the orchestra tuned their instruments. Caleb was turning out to be the toast of the orchestra. In a matter of hours he was close to perfecting the score for the upcoming opera; the managers were well pleased with their decision as well as making the father the opera's administrative assistant.
Sadly, Tris herself was not having the same good fortune. When Jeanine first discovered that Tris was to be her costume girl, she had a fit that could rival the most spoiled of children. She screamed, stamped her feet, swore, and then stomped off to lock herself away in her dressing room for a good hour, while the managers stood outside her door and pleaded for her to come out. Tris rolled her eyes to the whole incident, thinking that despite Jeanine's elegant dresses and years of stage experience, a dog could both sing and act better. While the managers pleaded, Tris busied herself with her tasks, mending costumes that had snares, and ironing ones with wrinkles. She delicately laid them out, examining them closely to see if she had missed any repair work, all the while feeling as if someone…or something, were watching her.
Ever since she and her family had arrived that morning, Tris had the suspicion she was being watched. By whom, she had no idea, for every time she turned her head to look, she saw no one. The feeling was strange; most of the time she felt chilled and uneasy, but she would also feel admired and…she blushed when she recalled feeling somewhat, aroused. She shook her head to the whole thing, believing that once again, it was her imagination running wild. And any other thoughts on the matter were quickly disposed of as Jeanine returned, dabbing her nose and eyes with the handkerchief Max had given her. David, Max, and the lead tenor and Jeanine's admirer Edward followed, each filling the air with praises to her. The whole thing made Tris sick.
Jeanine waved her hand, which temporarily stopped the three men from making further idiots of themselves, and turned to Tris.
"I have decided I will allow you to continue being my costume girl," she sweetly purred, a fake smile creasing the corners of her lips.
Tris stared at the woman.
Jeanine's sweet smile was beginning to fade. Her arms were folded and she was tapping her foot, as if waiting for Tris to fall to her knees and thank God above for granting her this fine honor. Was the woman that conceited?
"Well?"
Tris jumped at the sudden bark that escaped the prima donna's lips. Jeanine quickly smoothed back a silky blonde curl that had escaped from her shout. She smiled again at Tris and said in that sweet voice she had used earlier, "Have you nothing to say, my dear?"
Tris wanted to tell the woman what she really thought. She wanted to tell Jeanine she had no talent, that while she strutted across the stage like a peacock, she sounded like a crow. She wanted to tell the woman that her behavior was disgusting and that there were more important things going on in the world than how one's hair looks or what fabric one's dress is made from. She wanted to scream, and perhaps even strike the woman…but she remembered her Caleb and their father and how much a remark towards Jeanine could jeopardize Caleb's place in the orchestra. So she swallowed her pride and lifted her chin.
"I have repaired the silk ball gown you were planning to wear for the opening gala."
Jeanine stared at the girl. Tris showed no emotion on her face, but inside she was laughing at the blank expression she was receiving from the so-called great star. Not the answer Jeanine Matthews was expecting, let alone looking for, but it was not one she could scream at either.
"What a handy little thing you are," she said through clenched teeth, mustering all the sweetness her voice could create. Fake pleasantry was perhaps the worst acting Jeanine could do.
Tris smiled, placing the gown gently back down on the table, while the managers and Edward exchanged worried looks between one another, knowing that the young woman was playing with fire.
"Well!" David interrupted. "I must say, keep up the good work mademoiselle, you'll do fine in the opera business I'm sure!"
Jeanine only gave Tris a cold smile. "Yes my dear, do show me what else you've accomplished. I can see that life in America has perfected your skills in…humble domestic crafts. Not exactly the life I would expect for the daughter of a former prima donna."
Tris flinched to the stinging words, but refused to show Jeanine any sign of their effect. "I'm sure my mother would be thrilled that I have air in my lungs and another day to live…there is one dress that I have pinned together that was literally falling to pieces…"
She turned to retrieve the dress, while Jeanine took the hot iron Tris had used earlier and placed it, hot side up, near Tris' arm. The second the girl turned back, she gave a yelp of pain as her skin made contact with the iron, causing her to drop the dress in her hands onto the floor (thus sending pins and pieces flying every which way) and to knock the iron over with her elbow and land on a beautiful white silk gown.
"AH! YOU CLUMSY LITTLE FOOL! LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO MY COSTUME!"
The managers turned quickly to Jeanine's shouts, and Edward was by her side in a second. "My darling! What happened? What did the wretched girl do?"
Tris was still rubbing the painful burn on her arm before she realized what had happened. She gasped and lifted the iron off the dress, but the damage had already been done. A large brown stain and several tiny holes remained on the dress as souvenirs from the iron. Tris lifted her shocked eyes to Jeanine's face, surprised and enraged upon seeing the smirk in the woman's eyes.
"This…this little idiot has ruined two of my costumes!" she shouted to both Edward and the managers who had rushed to her side. "She has not only ruined the gown I must wear for Faust by sticking atrocious pieces of fabric to it, but she has also burnt a hole in the silk gown I must wear for Hannibal!"
Max and David stared at Tris, not sure what to say, but knowing if they did not do something quickly, Jeanine would explode.
"Don't just stand there, fire this wretched little thing!" Edward shouted in defense of Jeanine. He attempted to wrap his arm around her but she shrugged it off immediately.
"Fire her?" David asked, glancing at Max with worried eyes. With only five days till the opening night of the opera season, they needed the Prior boy to play in the orchestra more than ever. If they fired the girl they knew they would lose him too. But they couldn't displease Jeanine either! They were in a very tight spot indeed. "Perhaps we can come to an arrangement madame-"
"Arrangement?" Jeanine exclaimed. "There will be no arrangement! This stupid little-"
A gruff male cough interrupted Jeanine's shrieks. "Um…beg your pardon, but is this a bad time?"
The managers and Jeanine turned their heads and all exclaimed at once, "MONSIEUR!"
Tris, whose cheeks were still burning red from both Jeanine's cruel words and foul tricks, stared at the man with whom the others appeared to be enamored. He was very handsome; tall, dark, and obviously wealthy judging by the clothes he wore. He looked right past the admiring managers who were crowding around him and stared into her eyes. She felt her knees go weak and reached out to clutch the table at her side.
"Good day," he said with an elegant bow of his head. Tris swallowed the lump in her throat and gave the man a small curtsey. He smiled at her and she felt that strange feeling in her knees again.
"Well, who is this pretty little thing?" he asked the managers who were still singing praises into his ears.
"Who? Oh! Just the new costume girl. Monsieur, we are so pleased you came to see us today. As you can see, we are well underway in preparing for the opening gala-"
"Yes, yes, it is all looking wonderful Max," the man said with a wave of his hand, his smile still remaining on Tris. "And what is your name, mademoiselle?"
Tris stared for a long time at the man, trying to find her voice, but it was Jeanine who spoke in her stead.
"What does it matter? The girl is incompetent with costumes, as I'm sure she is with everything!" she thrusted the burnt dress in the man's face. "
See what I have to put up with monsieur?" she pouted. The man gave a weak smile to the prima donna before turning and looking to the managers for answers.
"Oh! Um…" Max glanced at Tris, trying to remember the name. "Prior…Bertha Prior, I believe."
Tris frowned and lifted her chin, looking directly into the handsome man's eyes. "My name is-"
"Silence!" Jeanine barked, throwing the burnt gown in Tris' face. She then turned and smiled sweetly up at the gentleman.
"My dear monsieur, had I been expecting your surprise visit I would have dressed more elegantly for you." The man smiled warmly at Jeanine as she batted her eyes, causing Edward to fidget with jealousy.
Tris glanced back and forth between the handsome man and the cow that had burnt her. The two acted as if they knew each other…rather well.
"Monsieur, um…we have some matters of business to discuss with you. There have been some notes-"
"All in good time David," the man answered without taking his eyes off Jeanine . "I first have some matters of business to go over with Madame Matthews. She has written to me of her displeasure with the way things are run here…" he glanced at the managers, the handsome smile disappearing and being replaced with a serious frown.
"D-d-d-displeasure?" both men stuttered, looking at one another and Jeanine in horror.
"Yes," Jeanine snapped, linking her arm with that of the handsome man.
"Much displeasure and hiring that girl is now on the top of my list!" she began to lead the man away from the managers who were too flabbergasted to utter a single word. "Come monsieur," she said with a twirl of her skirts. "Let us go to my dressing room to talk things over."
The man turned his head back to Tris and gave her one last charming smile before he was literally dragged away by the boorish opera star. Tris' face continued to burn as she watched the two walk away, her emotions confused. Yes, the man was indeed handsome, and his smile appeared warm and inviting, while his words and manner were quite charming. But there was something about him that didn't seem right; it was probably the company he seemed to prefer to keep.
The managers finally dashed away, both pale and stuttering worries about what must be done to please Jeanine. Edward immediately followed in Jeanine's wake, trying to catch up with the pair. Tris sighed, looking at the burnt costume in her hands, wishing she had intentionally caused the burn with Jeanine in the costume. She bent down to retrieve the dress that had fallen apart on the ground when a small voice caught her attention.
"I can't believe it…he actually spoke to you!"
Tris glanced up, seeing that the voice belonged to a petite ballet dancer with dark complexion, short brunette bob, and wide eyes. It was Christina, the lead dancer and charge of the ballet mistress.
"Do you know who that was?" she asked Tris, her voice filled with excitement. Tris shook her head, confused at Christina's behavior.
"Christina! Was it him? Has he come back?"
Christina grinned and nodded her head to several other ballet girls who were standing back a little ways. The group burst into squeals and excited shrieks. Tris needed answers.
"Who is he?" she asked, rather irritably.
The girls looked at one another, rolled their eyes, and then exploded into giggles again. Christina however kept some composure, at least enough to explain.
"He's Tobias Eaton, the Vicomte de Sevoy!" Tris' blank expression forced the girl to continue. "The highest paying patron of the Palais Garnier!"
At last it all fitted together. That was why the managers were falling over themselves and why they panicked at Jeanine's mention of displeasure. Tris stared after the direction the Vicomte had disappeared, feeling like a fool for thinking that for a moment he admired her, and that she thought him kind and charming. They may not have had titles of nobility back in the United States, but Tris was no fool; a man with wealth and prestige only looked at a woman in her situation for one thing.
"Girls!" the dancers stopped their giggling and quickly scampered back to where they should have been practicing. Madame Tori Wu emerged from the curtains and looked crossly at all of them.
"Christina!" she barked at the embarrassed girl. "What is the meaning of this?"
Christina fidgeted and bit her lip.
"I'm sorry Madame, it was just…" Tori lifted a dark eyebrow, awaiting the girl's answer. "It was just…well…we saw the Vicomte de Sevoy, and-"
Tori's face paled at the name. "The Vicomte is here?"
Christina nodded her head, her face turning from embarrassment to worry. "Tori- I mean Madame, are you alright?"
Tori gave her head a quick shake to compose herself and lifted her chin, her face returning to its cold expression.
"Do not let me catch you or any of the other girls wandering away when you should be practicing," she ordered through tight lips. Christina nodded her head, still looking concerned, but scampered off in the direction the other dancers had gone. Tris stared up at the ballet mistress whose face returned to one of worry. She wrung her hands together, fidgeting slightly, biting her lip, and glancing about wildly.
"Madame? Are…are you alright?" Tris rose to her feet and placed one hand gently on the woman's arm. "Is there anything I can get you? A glass of water perhaps?"
Tori finally acknowledged Tris, but her expression did not change.
"Where did he go?" was all she asked.
"He left with Ms. Matthews…they are going to discuss 'business matters' in her dressing room." What was going on? Tori lifted an eyebrow at Tris' statement.
"Well he'll be occupied for some time," she muttered under her breath.
"I beg your pardon?"
Tori looked at Tris and smiled a small smile at her. Despite what the stage hands may have muttered about the woman, Tris could tell the ballet mistress truly did have warmth underneath the cold exterior she showed.
"Thank you my dear, but no, I'm truly fine." Without another word she turned and quickly walked away, leaving a confused Tris in her wake.
"My dear, I must implore that I stay-"
Jeanine groaned and gave Edward the cruelest of looks. "Be gone! I have many important matters to discuss with the Vicomte and I do not need you breathing down my bodice!"
Tobias Eaton couldn't help but chuckle at the prima donna's words. He stood just outside Jeanine's dressing room with Edward blocking the entranceway. The young man was loyal, one could not deny that. It amazed the Tobias that despite Jeanine's obvious displeasure for the man, he still willingly remained her lap dog.
Edward continued to glance back and forth between the Tobias and Jeanine with unease. He didn't like it when this man came for visits. He didn't care that the man was rich, or that he was the reason both he and Jeanine had jobs at the Paris Opera House. He saw the way his lovely English Rose looked at the man, and vice versa. Jeanine sighed and realized it was time to resort to other necessary battle moves.
"Edward," she said in a sweet manipulative voice. "Why do you worry? Do you think my virtue is in danger if I allow the Vicomte into my dressing room?"
Edward bit his lip and shifted back and forth a little, glancing at the Vicomte with slight distrust. Jeanine smiled and reached out to caress the tenor's face.
"I admire your chivalry. You truly are my knight in shining armor." Her voice was dripping with fake sweetness, yet Edward was enamored. He was cracking.
"I assure you I will be quite safe…and I will cry out if I am in need…but I will be perfectly fine. And knowing you are near warms my heart and fills me with such…" she leaned close and planted a soft meek kiss on the tenor's lips. "…passion."
She had won. Edward melted away from the dressing room door and smiled bashfully at his lady love. She smiled back and winked at him, while she disappeared into the room, Tobias merely smirking behind her. The second they had entered the dressing room, she slammed the door shut, locked it, and began to spit.
"Eh! The stench of him is all over me. I'll have to burn this dress!"
Tobias continued to smirk, placing his hat and gloves on her dressing table. "He's quite attached to you, more than ever I see…and quite suspicious…"
Jeanine groaned. "Do not remind me! And to think…I have to kiss him in the opera we are performing!"
She squealed when she felt two powerful hands grab her by the shoulders and twirled her around. She found herself being pressed to the Vicomte's body, and she went limp the second she felt his hard frame mold to her own.
"How will I be able to control myself then? Seeing you on stage with him…" one of his hands went up to her hair and began to pull the pins out, causing the blonde curls to fall across her shoulders. "…in his arms…" he ran his hands up and down her arms in a sensual manner. "…kissing him…" his lips captured hers and she melted even more, returning the passionate kiss and clawing at his dress coat. Tobias pulled back immediately.
"Careful!" he hissed, removing her hands and looking at the coat to be sure it wasn't damaged. "This was quite expensive, I'll have you know."
Jeanine pouted and folded her arms crossly as he carefully removed the coat from his body. "I don't seem to recall you ever feeling a need to be careful with my expensive gowns!"
Tobias grinned, and purposely placed his coat on top of a large white box that was sitting at the chair before her dressing table. Jeanine's eyes followed where his coat went, and she looked at him for confirmation. When he nodded, she squealed happily and tore at the box like a child at Christmas. He had to carefully remove the coat again.
"OH! Monsieur, it is most beautiful…" she whispered, pulling the elegant gown from the box. It was pink, with blue ruffles and black lace. There was a billowy train and a very low neckline that glittered with black and blue sequins. Most people would look at such a gown and find it atrocious, however the Vicomte had long since learned that Jeanine's taste in fashion was just that.
"Now you truly can burn that gown," he chuckled, coming closer to place kisses on the back of Jeanine's neck while his expert fingers began to undo the buttons on her present dress.
Jeanine whimpered at his touch and leaned back against him. "It has been far too long monsieur since our last encounter…I was beginning to think you had forgotten me…"
"You?" he said with mock horror. "Never…"
While one hand continued to undo the buttons, the other climbed higher and began to sink beneath the bodice of her dress. She moaned when she felt the Vicomte's hand close around one breast. He smiled at her reaction and leaned closer, his lips tickling her ear as he nibbled the lobe slightly.
"Now…I have a favor to ask of you…" his fingers stroked her breast and she gasped as he began to cruelly caress it.
"Mmmm…aanything…" she whimpered, leaning back and purposely pushing her back further against his body. He groaned at the movement, but years of experience in the art of lovemaking had taught him self-control.
"Good girl…" he hissed, biting her neck briefly, while his other hand moved to lift up her skirts. "I want you to tell me…" her skirts were up to her thighs. "…everything you can…" he pushed the stockings and garters down. "…about your adorable little costume girl…"
Jeanine's eyes flew open and she pushed Tobias' hands away before tearing herself away from his body. "WHAT?"
Tobias sighed and closed his eyes momentarily to prepare himself for the shrieks that were to follow.
"WHY THE HELL DO YOU WANT TO KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT HER? SHE'S GARBAGE, SHE'S SLIME, SHE'S-"
"Be quiet!" The Vicomte snapped. "Do you want all of Paris to hear you?"
The fire in Jeanine's eyes grew wilder and she fashioned her dress, stockings, and garters back into place- clearly the moment was ruined. "FUCK PARIS! I DON'T CARE IF ALL OF FRANCE HEARS ME! ANSWER ME WHY YOU WANT TO KNOW!"
The Vicomte stared back at Jeanine, his hands closing into tight fists of rage, eager to wrap themselves around the soprano's pretty neck and snap it in two. However, he knew the best way to handle situations like this was not to lose one's temper. And he too could play the same games that Jeanine played on Edward.
"My dear, I am only interested in knowing what all is going on in my theater," he crooned, putting on his most charming smile and slowly walking towards her. He hoped the passion that filled his eyes would weaken her; however, Tobias realized it would take more coaxing, as Jeanine was having none of it.
"I am not a fool, Vicomte!" she snapped. "You think I know nothing about your infamous reputation? You think I know nothing about the many chorus girls and ballet dancers you've bedded? You think I don't know that one of the main reasons you patronize the Opera House is so you can be assured of a pretty young face, with a mouth wide and open and willing-"
"That was before I met you!" Tobias lied, coming to her in two strides. He was truly an actor when professing false words and phrases of flattery and love.
"I will not deny my past, but the moment I saw you perform on stage in London and heard your voice, you alone are the only woman I think about, dream about…" his hand caressed her breasts above the hemline of her bodice. "…and the only woman I want in my bed…"
Jeanine melted slightly to his words, especially as she felt his hands move back to remove her dress. Still, she tried to show some self-control.
"Why then do you care about who she is…" she hissed, her lips going dry as she felt his fingers inch closer to the pulsing heat between her thighs.
Tobias grinned as he could tell he was winning this battle.
"My dear, did you not say that the girl was incompetent?" His lips brushed against hers as his fingers traced the outline of her waist and hips by the silken undergarments she wore.
Jeanine moaned and melted even more, licking her lips and trembling beneath his touch. "That is true…"
He grinned and slowly helped her of her dress.
"Yes, it is…and you're not happy…" he whispered against her cheek, already undoing the laces of her corset. "I only want to make you happy Jeanine…I only want to give you pleasure…"
His fingers were softly running against her thighs as he took off her stockings and garments, and he could see from the expression on her face that she would tell him anything so long as he didn't stop.
"Her name, Jeanine…" he huskily whispered, refusing to do anything as she remained bare. "Tell me her name…"
She couldn't take it anymore. She need him inside her now.
"Beatrice Prior. Such plain name for an annoying trollop!" She sniffed, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him passionately, while Tobias lifted her body with one arm, and the other cleared the dressing table before placing her down on top of it. He removed all his clothing and flashed a debonair arrogant smile.
"Thank you my dear, " he groaned before he entered inside her, laughing inwardly at how easy it truly was to get a woman to reveal or do anything with a little "coaxing".
Already, he was imagining the pretty costume girl as the one before him, as the one he was so eagerly fucking, instead of this dried up singer who was clinging to what little youth and beauty she once had. But as he had learned, from the time his father had taken him to a brothel at the age of sixteen after a beating to "make a man out of him", any woman could be easily bought at the right price. Sometimes it took money, sometimes jewels or other expensive gifts, sometimes even words of affection and love; but every woman had a price, and it only took the Vicomte de Sevoy little time to learn what it was, before luring a woman to his bed. Jeanine definitely suited his purposes; he knew she was once a star in Britain, and with the right publicity, he could make her a star in France and get more money into his pockets. And if that meant having to come every now and then and listen to her litany of complaints before finally moving onto "normal business", as he referred it, then so be it. Whatever it took for him to get what he wanted.
He looked up from the screaming woman, and smiled at his own reflection in the mirror. He continued to look at himself while he thrusted in and out of her body, thinking of all the wealth he was acquiring from her so-called talents, thinking of his next escapade: bedding the costume girl. She looked young, full of virtue; he loved breaking virgins in. She would be a most eager student, he grinned. Yes, he would soon seduce her to his bed, and gain much pleasure for himself from her. Jeanine was business, but the costume girl would be his pleasure. And he loved mixing the two together. He thought all these things while he smiled at his own reflection, before crying out his own release.
Tori hurried down the stone steps that led to Eric's lair, her face pale and covered with worry lines. She carefully avoided the passages that she knew were booby trapped, all the while hurrying as fast as she could. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadowy figure.
"Where is he?" she called out to it. The figure made a groaning sound before pointing off to the right. She nodded her head in thanks and took the passage the figure had indicated. The sound of music filled the cavern and chasm before her, and she knew he would not be pleased to be interrupted while working.
"Eric! Eric!" she called out, while she crossed the candlelit cavern.
The organ music stopped, and the figure stood, his shoulders slumping slightly before straightening his back.
"I'm very busy, what is it?"
She stopped a few feet away from him, panting and clutching her chest while she tried to regain her composure. "He's…h-here…"
Eric turned, his face masked and the visible eyebrow arching in speculation.
"Tobias Eaton? The Vicomte de Sevoy?" he simply asked. Tori looked at him with surprise.
"You know?" she asked, her breathing slowly returning to normal. Eric waved his hand in a blasé manner. "
It's my theater, is it not?" he said, before adding under his breath, "Despite what that son of a bitch thinks." He reseated himself at the organ and began to play.
"Besides, it was rather hard to ignore the harpy's shrieks…at least in climax the woman can hit a proper note."
Tori shuddered and tried not to think of the unfortunate image. She was surprised, however, with how cool Eric was behaving. Normally he would fly into rages when he learned that the Vicomte was at the Opera House. Eric despised Tobias Eaton, and she could not blame him. The man wore the mask of a gentleman, when in truth he was more of a monster than Eric ever could be. True, Eric had committed acts of terror and murder, but the Vicomte…his crimes were so much more heinous to the ballet mistress, especially since she knew that he was responsible for impregnating three of her dancers over the past five years. One girl died when seeking crude means to have an abortion, while the other two were thrown out onto the street with nowhere to go and no money. Tori had no idea what happened to them, and she cursed the Vicomte for ruining all three lives.
She also knew the many reasons Eric despised the Vicomte…so why was he acting so nonchalant?
"You…you do not care then?" she asked, not daring to come around and face him, but unsure what else to do or say. The Phantom ceased his playing momentarily and sighed heavily.
"Oh, I care very much indeed," he growled under his breath, before his fingers violently banged against the organ keys, causing the cavern walls to shake.
Eric's reasoning for despising Tobias Eaton was somewhat different. Like the current managers, the Vicomte cared very little for art and music, and more for the money that rolled into the Opera House. While the Vicomte was a patron, he also had stock in the Opera House, and ten of the profits from every performance went straight into his pocket. The Vicomte was also the one responsible for placing Jeanine at the Opera House, a sin that Eric would never forgive the man for. Yet the crime that Eric held over the Vicomte more than any other was what he did to Nita, a dancer Eric had fancied himself in love with when he was much younger.
Eric was only nineteen when he saw the girl on stage for the first time. She was beautiful, with long dark brown hair, a dark brown complexion, and large soft brown eyes. For the first time, he sent her love notes and flowers, thinking she would find it romantic that she had a secret admirer at the Opera. However, his love sick dreams were dashed when the Vicomte de Sevoy, a boy of sixteen at that time, easily seduced the star-struck girl, making her believe he was the one who had sent her the flowers and notes!
Eric wanted to interfere, but feared if he revealed himself a mob would discover his whereabouts and force him back to the life he had long escaped as a boy. So he waited, and plotted how he would make the young Vicomte pay. Nita, the foolish girl, believed that Tobias truly loved her, and that the two were going to run away to get married. She abandoned her dreams of performing for the scoundrel, disappearing early one cold November morning, never to be seen again. It wasn't until after the death of Tobias' father, that the Vicomte returned to the Opera House, some three years later. No one knew what had become of Nita, and the Vicomte did not seem upset at all.
The man was a snake; Eric saw how he strode about the theater as if he owned it, giving musicians advice, telling the managers how to run the business, and bedding chorus girls and dancers along the way. The time would come when he would have his revenge for all the atrocities the Vicomte had put him through.
But revenge was a dish best served cold…and simply killing the man was too polite. No, Eric would have his revenge when the time was right, and it would be a long, agonizing revenge, one full of screaming and begging. This little joy made him smile, and he easily regained his cool demeanor, despite his random outbursts of rage.
It was this show of emotion that Tori feared most. She could not think of what else to say, and he seemed so engrossed with his music that she turned and began to walk away. Yet before she left, he casually called out to her, "I've seen the Prior girl."
Tori paused and slowly turned back. "And…?"
"She is very pretty, you did not tell me that," he said with a simple wave of his hand, before turning the page of the score before him. He furrowed his eyes when thought of her. He didn't get a clear view of her from up the rafters, but for some unforeseen reason, she seemed familiar to him. He felt as though he had met the girl before, but he couldn't scrounge up a possible reason as to why he should have.
"She appears to be a hard worker, her care for costumes is impressive," he added and gave a harsh smirk and laugh. "But what I admire about her most…is the way she refused to give Jeanine the satisfaction of 'thanking her' for the opportunity to work under her."
Tori gave a small smile, but sighed sadly. "I fear Jeanine will make her life a living hell."
"Jeanine makes everyone's life a living hell," Eric grumbled. "At least she had the courage to stand up to the harpy, despite the so-called accident the bitch did to her."
"Accident?" Tori's brow furrowed with confusion.
"It doesn't matter," Eric replied casually, turning the page of the score. "The pianist plays very well too and the father seems to do a better job at managing and supervising a theater instead of those two idiot managers. They both can stay so long as they continue to obey the rules."
Tori nodded her head and turned to leave, but Eric called out to her one last time. "I have a note for you to deliver. Lynn has it, see her before you leave."
Tori nodded her head again, finally leaving to retrieve the letter Eric had written. He listened to her distancing footsteps while he continued to play the sweet cords of music written before him. He noticed out of the corner of his eye a hunched figure approaching.
"I'm busy Uriah, you know I do not wish to be disturbed while working," He said icily. The figure remained in the shadows, but nodded its head.
"I know. Forgive me, master," he slowly replied, quietly. "I just couldn't help overhearing that you were talking…about the costume girl…"
Eric nodded his head, not lifting his gaze from the music. "Yes, and what of it?"
The figure shuffled his feet a little before finally responding. "I like her. She seems different…nice…like the girl…"
Erik paused and looked at the hunched figure. "What girl?"
Uriah nodded his shaved dark head. "Yes… from the story about the girl two tried to save you…"
Eric rolled his eyes and groaned and quickly resumed his playing. "There is no such person, Uriah. She's not real."
The hunched figure shifted his feet nervously again, his voice barely above a whisper. "But Will says…"
Eric's fists came crashing down on the organ as his temper flared.
"THERE IS NO SUCH PERSON!" He shouted, his voice echoing throughout the cavern and passageways. Uriah gave a cry of fear and quickly backed away, molding his frame to the stone wall, as if hoping the shadow would keep him safe. Eric sighed and took several long breaths before lifting his head and speaking again, his tone icy, but calm.
"She doesn't exist, Uriah. There is no girl or woman on earth like that…" he sighed one last time before finally lifting his eyes to where the hunched figure stood shaking. "Beautiful women do not fall in love with monsters like us. We're not to love and be loved, that is the reality of it, and it's better than you learn this now, before…before you do something foolish and risk hurting yourself."
Uriah nodded his head as if he understood, his shoulders sulking he made his way through the dark caverns. Eric sighed and cradled his head in his hands. Damn that girl, somehow she was to blame for this. He recalled the crude scene of the Vicomte and Jeanine, together in her dressing room. He followed her angry shrieks to see if his suspicions were correct, and yes, there was the Vicomte, attempting to win her affections with seductive lies. While Eric was a spy, he was not a voyeur, and had no interest in watching the two people he despised most become like wild animals with one another. But before he turned to leave the disgusting sight, he heard the Vicomte ask for the name of the new costume girl. Jeanine finally conceded, telling him what he wanted to hear, and was thus rewarded with what he had come to the Opera House for all along.
Eric hated the man, but normally did nothing to stop his seductions and rendezvous with the ladies of the Opera House. If they were more concerned with what the Vicomte thought of them, they were not fit to be a part of his theater. However, Eric felt a strange urge within his being to protect the girl from the hands of the handsome monster. He wasn't entirely sure why, as he didn't entirely feel this way for Nita. But he felt compelled to keep a close watch on the girl, to make sure that her virtue, if she had any, wasn't turned into a plaything for the Vicomte.
Yet now her supposed sweet nature was having an effect on Uriah, and he did not need those that he took care of to be filled with such foolish notions, like love and romance. Love got him nothing, and he knew that if he had revealed himself to Nita long ago, she would have rebuked him the second she saw his face. Indeed, love was not meant for creatures like himself. He stopped playing and made his way to his desk where atop the mahogany desk sat an ebony box where he kept most of his private possessions. Peering inside the box, he picked a set of two light grey gloves. There were small enough to fit a small child and were made of the softest wool. Looking back to where Uriah fled and back to the mittens, Eric pondered over Uriah's words. No girl or woman could ever exist like that. He sneered. Even if she did, she would only run away and or become hurt in the end and look where it got him. Monsters were meant to be feared and hated. They were not made for love.
The thought filled Eric with such rage that threw the mittens back in the box and reseated himself in front of his organ. He pounded his fingers on the organ keys till blood flowed in time with the music.
