Erik settled into one of the velvet lined chairs in Box five. The candles in the box were never lit, giving Erik the comfortable cloak of darkness he wished for. Now he had time to reflect on what had just happened. He knew how close he had been to Christine, and how the primeval lust for human flesh had swept over him. Erik knew that Christine was an innocent, but she held the beauty of every creature within her eyes, body, and voice.
The chorus girls had assembled on stage and the orchestra pit was filled with the players. Erik sat back in his chair, listening to the music of `Hannibal.' His eyes watched as the youthful girls danced across the stage in their costumes. After a few moves Christine and Meg hustled onto the stage and managed to fall instep with the rest of the girls.
"Monsieur?"
Erik let out a soft sigh as he recognized the aging voice of Mme. Giry. He made no attempt to acknowledge the woman or move from his chair. His eyes still watched Christine dance around stage. The music was lifting his fear of be caught by anyone besides Mme. Giry or Christine.
"Have they been worried?" Erik asked, finally breaking the silence between him and Mme. Giry. He rested his elbows of the chair's arms, bring his hands together and bringing them near his lips.
"Yes." Mme. Giry replied. She made no effort to move towards Erik, but remained at the curtains of the box. "She plays one of the main slave girls in this opera. It is a step up for her, you know. We have been proud."
Erik shook his head. He removed his hat and placed it on the chair beside him. "She has such potential as a singer, Mme. Giry. Did you know that?" Erik didn't bother to wait for the woman's reply. "If given the right teaching she could become one of the best singers this opera house has seen. I have taken Mademoiselle Daae as my pupil."
Mme. Giry let out a vague gasp. "Monsieur! Mademoiselle Daae is a very naive child. Her mind is full of fairy tales. It has been worse ever since her father died."
Erik smiled to himself as the music stopped and Christine began to practice her steps. "How old is she?"
"Almost twenty." Mme. Giry replied softly. She began to grow uneasy as she heard Erik mutter that she was only two years younger than he. "She is young, Monsieur, and too delicate! You mustn't fill her mind with the dreams you weave. It has only been two years since her father left her. Mademoiselle Daae is still healing."
"I understand, Mme. Giry!" Erik said, his tone growing bitter. He clenched a hand into a fist. He grew silent, letting the only sound come from him was his own breathing. Swallowing his anger, Erik continued. "Who has the lead female role in this opera?"
Mme. Giry paused. "Carlotta Giudicelli."
With a wave of his hand, Erik produced a small envelope. He placed it on the small table separating his chair and the empty one beside it. "Give this letter to the managers. It is of urgent news, Mme. Giry, so I hope it is given to them as quick as possible."
Slowly approaching the table, Mme. Giry bent down to pick up the letter. Her eyes turned Erik and she froze. He watched her, silently, out the corner of his eye. The white mask hid any emotion on display. She felt a cold chill run down her spine.
Mme. Giry quickly grabbed the letter and turned to walk away.
"Oh," Erik said, suddenly. "one more thing."
"Yes, monsieur." Mme. Giry replied, slowly turning back to Erik.
Erik placed thirty francs on the table. "I wish for a glass of wine. The best you can find." He turned in his chair, catching Mme. Giry as she bent to pick up the money. She froze and stared into his eyes. "Speak nothing of me. I don't wish to be known by people, other than you and Mademoiselle Daae. If there is any money left, you may keep it for yourself."
Mme. Giry back away, the money clutched to her chest like it was keeping hold of her courage. She looked down at the money. "I couldn't, monsieur."
"You don't get paid enough for what you." Erik replied. He turned in his seat and gazed across the empty seats. In a few days all the seats would be packed full of people. . . . People here to see Carlotta. Of course, Erik had other plans for Signora Giudicelli. "You've taught so many people." Erik said, continuing. "You've seen many things. So many horrid things." Laughter soon burst forth from Erik's body.
**********
Christine sat in her dressing room, starring dreamily into the mirror of her vanity dresser. She smiled softly and raised a brush to her curly black hair. So much had happened in so little time. After spending only a matter days with Erik, Christine felt like she had been changed. The Angel's voice seemed to raise her spirits and ignite a new found flame in her soul.
The rose Erik had left with her sat in a small vase. Christine looked at it a smiled, remembering the moment before Meg and her mother arrived. Their lips almost met. Christine shuddered at the thought. It was blasphemous to think of kissing an angel in the manner of human lust. She knew that, but she still had the inkling that Erik was something more.
A soft knock sounded at the closed door. Christine didn't bother to turn, but looked into her mirror. The door reflected in the glass, unmoving. She hoped the intruder would leave her in peace so she could prepare for her night's lesson.
The knock came again.
With a sigh Christine put down her brush. "Come in." she said, raising a small powder puff to her cheeks. The door open and the petite frame of Meg appeared. Her cheeks were flushed from an obvious run, but she didn't breathe hard. Her eyes, though, were wide with fear.
"Meg!" Christine cried. She stood quickly and rushed to her young friend. "What's wrong, Meg? It looks like you've seen a ghost!" The small girl gave no reply. Christine closed the door and lead her friend to a small couch. The two sat, Christine trying to comfort Meg. "What's wrong? There has to be something wrong, Meg. I can see it your eyes."
Slowly Meg looked up at Christine. She blinked and a tear trickled down her cheeks. "Joseph Bouquet is dead, Christine! He was hung from the cat walk. No one knew he was there until his body fell, nearly crushing Signora Giudicelli!"
Christine let out a startled gasp. Joseph Bouquet was their resident set changer, and the best at that. He did no harm, but managed to fabricate tales about the Opera Ghost. The chorus girls would gather around, begging him to retell tales of his encounters with the ghost.
`He saw us!' Christine remembered. `Joseph saw Erik bring me into the Opera House. My Lord, why didn't I think of this before? That look Erik gave him was enough to kill anyone's soul.'
"Christine?"
"What?" Christine asked, startled.
Meg looked at Christine, her eyes wide with child like innocence. "Is everything okay? Ever since your came back from your disappearance you've been acting strange. You've never acted like this before, and I've known you for years! Was it that man mama and I saw you with?"
Christine smiled and felt her cheeks flush. She had a feeling Meg had seen Erik, but hoped that she didn't. "I suppose so." she replied softly.
"You have an admirer!" Meg swooned. She looked at Christine dreamily. "Oh how lucky you are, Christine! Are you going to full fill your father's wishes soon? Will you finally find your man and marry? Oh, how lovely it would be to see you with a young baby in your arms. The child will look like you!"
A soft laugh escaped Christine. "You're jumping to conclusions, Meg. I have not thought of marriage with this man. I have known for only a few days, just enough to consider him a friend, and nothing more."
Meg smiled slyly. "But the way the two of you were in the darkened hall didn't make it seem like he was just a friend."
"Meg!" Christine cried out.
"Ha! You're blushing, Christine. I must be right."
"You are not, Meg. You know nothing of the sort."
"Oh, but I do! The way you two were so close. It looked as if he was to kiss you, and you weren't making a single move to stop him."
Christine blushed and turned her head away, trying to hide her smile of joy. Her hopes had proven right! Erik was going to kiss her, at least Meg and herself thought so. She could only hope that next time they wouldn't be disturbed and kiss could be exchanged.
Meg suddenly let out a gleeful squeal. "Christine, you blush like a school girl!" The young chorus girl threw her arms around Christine. "You feel fondness towards that man! I can see it in your eyes. There is no denying that! Don't worry, though! I promise not to mention a word of this to anyone."
Before Christine could reply, the giddy chorus girl had ran out of the room. She felt a smile form on her face once again. She knew Meg had seen through the fabricated lies. She did adore Erik, but she couldn't tell if he felt the same way. Christine could only hope that Meg was right.
**********
"This isn't good!" Firmin said reading over the Opera Ghost's latest letter. He sighed. "I had a hunch he was behind this!"
Armand lifted his head from his desk. The anger reflected in his eyes as he looked at his business companion. "How could you tell? That damned Ghost didn't even give an insinuation of his hand in what happened. It can't plainly be in that letter."
Firmin shrugged. "True, but he did say that if Signora Giudicelli is not stripped of her leading role a great misfortune will fall upon her." He put the letter down and looked coldly at Armand. "Just today Joseph Bouquet was killed and fell, nearly hitting la Carlotta. Now, tell me this isn't our ghost's doing."
"Our friend is quiet tricky." Armand said, slowly standing.
Firmin nodded. "And he always happens to be seen or heard from after our little `accidents' are committed."
"And who, Armand, is the only person the delivers the letters to us?" Firmin asked with a menacing smile.
Armand stood. "Mme. Giry!"
"Precisely!"
"What are you saying, Firmin? Do you think Mme. Giry is behind all this? Pardon my saying, but she doesn't seem like the person to do such a thing."
"No! What I was saying is that Mme. Giry must speak or see our ghost to receive the letters. So, if, by chance, we have someone follow Mme. Giry around, without her knowing, we could find out who our ghost is."
Armand smiled and approached Firmin. "Are you serious about this? If Mme. Giry, or our ghost, found out what we're doing, we could get in trouble."
Firmin shook his head. "We are of high standings in Paris, my dear friend. Mme. Giry couldn't do a thing to us!"
"And what about our ghost?"
"His days will soon be numbered, Armand. I can guarantee you that."