Erik recognized the first creature now. It was the brown striped tabby he had encountered on numerous occasions hunting rats and mice in his cellars. The cat that he had first seen near the gates along the Rue Scribe.
It had been pouring rain. Erik noticed with some unease the water level in the lake rising. Taking the boat across the lake to the opposite shore, he docked it. He had been on his way up to one of the upper cellars to check the valves that controlled the drains that poured off excess water into the Seine when he first heard the pathetic little kitten mewling. No ordinary human would have been able to hear it. The kitten was curled up just inside the iron bars of the gate, obviously seeking sanctuary from the driving rain. Too afraid to brave the deluge but equally afraid to brave the unknown darkness of the cellars, it had hovered between, shivering with wet and cold.
Erik always had a much greater love for animals than humans. He knew the poor creature wouldn't survive without care. He crouched down in the shadows and crooned softly to the kitten to calm it before approaching. It was at that unfortunate moment that another pitiful sodden creature happened by. The girl had obviously caught a glimpse of something behind the grate. She stopped and peered inside, unseeing. The kitten immediately leapt to its feet feeling trapped. Still unwilling to brave the darkness he crouched down, readying for flight. Erik saw the creature's rear wiggle as it braced its rear claws into the soft earth and tensed its body. He knew the terrified cat would be struck down by the passing brougham and he instinctively lunged forward to grab it. He had been a moment too late.
The girl's eyes widened and she fell without grace onto the sidewalk. The kitten used her as a springboard, launching into the street and under the carriage wheels. Erik hissed his displeasure when he heard the animal's cry of pain. He was reaching for the gate's latch to rescue the cat when he heard the sobbing of the girl.
"Oh no! Oh no no no!"
She was already crawling through the muddied street to the prostrate form of the kitten. She picked it up gently, as if fearing to break it further. He recognized her now. She was a member of the ballet corp, not a bad dancer but seemed to lack the conviction to excel. She tucked the kitten in her satchel and ran off toward the main entrance to the opera. Looking down, Erik surveyed the items that she had abandoned on the sidewalk in favor of aiding the kitten. They were mostly food items, spoiled by the rain, and toiletries, she had obviously been out shopping for necessities. A glint of gold caught his eye and he reached down to pick it up. It was a small tarnished locket. The loop that once allowed the locked to hang by a chain had worn thin and broken. Popping the locket open, Erik saw two faces looking back at him. One was a handsome man with light eyes in uniform, the other, an astonishing raven-haired beauty with dark eyes and an uncommonly serene expression. He snapped the locket closed and pocketed it.
He recognized the cat; he could only assume that the monkey chasing it was the girl in costume. With distaste he also recognized the third contender in the race, Joseph Bouquet.
The man was a thorn in Erik's side. Joseph Bouquet was toted as something of a legend among the younger members of the chorus. He was the only man to come face to face with the Phantom of the Opera. Indeed he had quite literally run into Erik in the flies one evening. The man had wet himself with fear as he ran away but that's not the story he told the awe inspired children. He described Erik as a monster without a face ruthlessly hunting unwary trespassers in his domain. Bouquet described himself as being exceptionally fearless, frightening the phantom away and securing another night of safety for his precious ballet tarts. It had earned him several baisers de merci and he was awarded with several girlish pecks upon his whiskered cheeks.
Since that day Bouquet had been relentless. It seemed that since he survived one encounter with the Phantom, he was invincible and sought him out everywhere. Bouquet would follow any shadow, any unidentified sound, any movement caught from the corner of his eye in search of Erik. It was really quite tiresome. Erik would not be seen again unless he chose to be.
He watched as the cat fled into the wings of the stage followed by the girl. Bouquet had been slowed by the throngs of people in his way. He knew Bouquet's temper and realized that he would have no qualms about killing the cat and possible hurting the girl. He didn't care so much about the girl, but Erik would be damned to let an innocent animal be harmed at the hands of that great lummox.
He swiftly exited Box Five through the trap door cleverly concealed within the marble column. He shinnied up the hollow pathway until he reached the inside of the great domed ceiling. Skipping over dusty rafters with practiced skill he lifted a grate and dropped down on to the catwalks above the stage. He arrived in time to watch the girl coax the frightened cat out of hiding, clutch it to her chest, and slip behind a flat just as Bouquet burst through the red velvet curtains, swinging a blunt object like a Neanderthal.
"Stupid girl," Erik thought, "That's no proper hiding spot." She was mere feet from Bouquet, he would spot her any second, and she'd left herself no route of escape. Without wasting another moment, Erik sped down the length of the cat walk swirling his black cloak in his wake and disappearing again in the darkness. "That should get his attention."
It had. Bouquet was trudging his way up to the flies, sweating like a stock pig and cursing under his breath. Erik watched the girl and cat slide out of the paneling and edge toward the backstage area, fearful eyes fixed on Bouquet's back. The last he saw of them was the monkey's tail whipping around the door frame and he knew they would be safe enough. He returned his full attention to Bouquet.
Erik was concealed behind a panel of lever controls that could raise and lower the back drops and curtains. His long, slender fingers idly caressed a wooden lever. It would drop the panel that Bouquet was currently leaning on to the stage below, taking the stinking ruffian with it. Erik licked his lips and imagined the sound Bouquet would make as he struck the hardwood of the stage thirty feet below. His fist tightened around the lever cranking it back several inches but not far enough to engage the counter-weight. He hesitated.
"Grrrah! Dammit!" Erik slammed the lever forward again. No killing. No killing unless it is in self-defense. It seemed a life time ago that he made that promise to the Daroga. He had been true to his word thus far. Erik sighed in a defeated manner and rose to his feet. Reaching above his head he hefted himself back into the rafters and returned to his box. This evening had been trying and he longed to return to his sanctuary below the opera house, away from the thrum of humans and the garish light and decoration. He knew the wing that housed his box would be relatively empty and opted to take the hidden stair behind the pilaster adjacent to the hall corridor. There was another path back to his home in that wing as well. The dressing room farthest from the main corridor held a large gilded mirror. He had fitted the mirror with a counter-weight turning mechanism years ago for reasons he could barely remember. He hadn't employed that route for just as many years for it was a long and winding route from the mirror to the banks of the underground lake. He made a mental note to oil the apparatus to assure its silent maneuverings in the future.
Erik took one last look over the party and turned his back. There had been a time in his life that he wanted nothing more than to be one of them, to feel normal and have a normal life. He closed his eyes and forced the thought from his mind. No more. He didn't need anyone; he had his music, his Don Juan to fill his hours. He had secured a tidy income from the management to fund any research endeavors he cared to pursue in his laboratory. He had a comfortable home and no ties to bind him. The pranks he once enjoyed playing on the opera patrons and employees now bored him, he no longer wished to be a ghost. He wished only to be Erik and to be left alone.
