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Prima Donna

Firmin's mouth fell open. Piangi snapped his head around. I stared at Raoul in disbelief. What was he thinking? For a moment he stared straight into my eyes, tacitly warning me to remain silent. Then he turned to the managers and took a deep breath. "Gentlemen, I crave your pardon for my unacceptable conduct. I did not consider the consequences. But as Ms. Daae is innocent, I expect her absolved of all blame and punishment."

"Monsieur de Chagny! I've had it with this nonsense! Of all people, I certainly did not expect someone of your birth and position to-" Firmin broke off suddenly. He realized it would cost his pocketbook a fair bit of girth to insult the Opera Populaire's patron. His face turned aubergine with the force of his suppressed tirade as he swept out of the hall. "Impressed by her bedroom vocal performances, no doubt," he muttered sotto voce. Andre scurried after him. Piangi looked indecipherably at me for a moment before leaving Raoul and me alone in the vast foyer.

I reddened at Firmin's remark and dropped my gaze. Raoul's shoes entered my field of vision, then blurred with the sudden onset of tears. "Raoul, you… you shouldn't have done that," I said, attempting to keep my voice level.

"And why is that?" He gently lifted my chin. But his boyish grin gave way to a look of distress when he saw my tears. He procured a handkerchief from his coat pocket and offered it to me. "Oh no, Christine, what is it? Forgive me, whatever it is I have done. I promise to right it." His forehead creased in worry.

I dabbed at my eyes, feeling like a fool. "No, Raoul. I'm not angry, just relieved," I said, managing a small smile. He himself was visibly relieved at that. "But you really shouldn't have done that, not for me. Your reputation-"

"-is nowhere near as important as your well-being," he intervened, then smiled. "I remain ignorant as to the deviser this scheme, but I know we two are innocent. Besides, while I remain the opera house's precious patron, the managers won't risk involving me in a scandal."

Suddenly, I hugged him. All thoughts of proper etiquette vanished, and for once I didn't care. He sighed and wrapped his arms around me. The boy who had so long ago saved my red scarf from the sea was once again my savior. Without him, I would now be outside in the desperate labyrinth of Parisian streets with no money, no home, and no… Angel… Not knowing why, I pulled away hastily from Raoul.

"Don't let me keep you from your rehearsal," he teased. "If you are late, I might not be able to subdue Firmin again."

"Thank you," I said softly, "For everything."

I hurried to rehearsal, intent on keeping a low profile after the morning's turmoil. But I need not have worried: As always, the stage was bustling with actors, dancers, stagehands, and staff, all oblivious to anything but their own tasks. For once I was glad of my mute role. My internal conflict kept me quite occupied. I fingered the gold ring, which I had kept hidden thus far. Why did my reforged friendship with Raoul feel like such a betrayal to the Phantom?

. . . . . . . . . .

I traced the pastel-colored stripes on my pageboy costume as I waited for Il Muto to begin. My breathing came fast and shallow, mirroring my heart rate. And it wasn't a typical case of stage fright. I had grown increasingly agitated since reading the Phantom's letters. His words echoed in my mind: Should these commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur...

This whole business was my fault. He had threatened the managers for my sake- because he wanted me to succeed. Because he loved me. If I could only talk to him, I could make everything better. I ached for his presence with a strong, strange yearning the likes of which I had never felt before. "Oh, Angel," I murmured and buried my face in my hands.

I was interrupted from my thoughts when Carlotta strode up to me, surrounded by her customary horde of sycophants. Piangi seemed a mere accessory, affixed to Carlotta's arm like an evening purse. He smirked at my pageboy costume. Carlotta paused to receive her throat spray from a groveling maid, then looked me up and down. "Coming, dear?" she gestured at the bed on stage. I took a seat behind her just as the pit orchestra started playing the opera's opening notes. I pulled the prop curtains closed around the two of us-we were engulfed in near darkness-and listened to the proceedings on stage, waiting for my cue.

"How does it feel to be playing my lover?" Carlotta hissed. I ignored her, instantly wishing I had been given any other part but the pageboy. "Better you than Piangi, I suppose. He is such a dear, but as far as lovers go?" She snorted. "Let's just say I've had better. I'm sure it's bearable for you as well. Especially because you are imagining Raoul here in my place." I turned to her in the darkness, then bit off a remark. She wasn't worth the effort. She leaned forward to whisper another verbal jab into my ear, but I heard my cue and pulled open the curtains. Startled, she tumbled forward off the bed.

My eyes widened in surprise, but the audience broke into laughter and applause. I looked up and saw even Raoul stifling a laugh.

"Serafimo, your disguise is perfect," Carlotta spat, regaining her footing. Her headdress was slightly akimbo. A "knock" at the door. "Why, who can this be?"

The humorous interlude had eased my mind. As the scene progressed, I found myself relaxing into the performance, easily executing my rehearsed actions. Carlotta was still pouting, but her time in the spotlight appeared to mollify her somewhat. I allowed my mind to tentatively push away all my worries. No doubt I had been overanxious about the Phantom's threat. Surely he wasn't mad enough to-

"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?" That dark, menacing voice reverberated through the theatre, radiating such unbridled power that it seemed to possess a life of its own. My heart fluttered in longing even as the rest of my body went rigid. (Such contradiction my Angel inspired in me!) But remembering his threat, I was overcome by a deep sense of foreboding for those around me. It suddenly seemed quite possible that my mistake had been, in fact, not being anxious enough.

"It's him," I said, barely able to find my voice.

"Your part is silent, little toad!" Carlotta snapped, then ordered the maestro to continue conducting. Flustered, he shifted the score on his music stand and attempted to find his place.

The music took up where it left off, but the lively melody now seemed incongruous, almost ominous. I frantically scanned the stage, but everyone appeared to have forgotten the interruption. Did they not understand the danger they were in? I turned cold as I realized I was the one who would have to save them.

I hesitantly stepped to center stage, where Carlotta was belting out her high notes. "Carlotta, stop," I said quietly. She choked off in the middle of a phrase, utterly surprised. Before she could say a word-and before I could change my mind-I turned to the audience and cleared my throat uncertainly. "We… We are having some… er, difficulties with the… sheep… from the ballet." All eyes were upon me. I glanced up at Raoul, who looked slightly bemused, and then at Firmin, who looked as if he wanted my head on a platter. "Ladies and gentlemen, we… apologize for the inconvenience and-"

Suddenly Carlotta shoved me. Her eyes blazed with hatred, and for a moment I feared for my safety. "How dare you! How dare you ruin my performance, you little brat? What is it Christine? Afraid the Phantom will kill us all?" She turned to the crowd and laughed gratingly. "Forgive Christine, she's never been able to tell reality from fantasy. So much imagination! She even has enough to believe that she, a ballet rat, can romance our wealthy patr- croaaak!" She froze in shock. The audience gasped. She blinked and tried again. "Can romance our croaaak!" A look of pure malice stole over her features, contorting her face almost beyond recognition.

I stepped back uneasily as she approached me with new purpose. This level of histrionics was bizarre, even for Carlotta. "You did this," she breathed through clenched teeth. "You did this. You did this!" Her fury erupted in a demonic shriek. She lunged at me, grabbing me neck with both hands and clamping down with all her strength.

I fell backwards to the floor, and she used the leverage of her position over me to intensify the pressure on my trachea. My vision warped and darkened. I desperately lashed out. The searing pain in my neck spread through my head and chest, threatening to engulf me. I saw nothing. I heard nothing. And as I spiraled into dark oblivion, all I could think about was my Angel's promise to protect me from danger.