Please tell me what you think so far! Hoping to have another chapter posted before the end of the weekend! Thanks for reading!
Chapter 10
I knew the moment I returned to my underground abode I would not stay put for long. My curiosity was piqued instead of sated, and there was much left to explore within the Opera House.
Obedience was not my strong suit, and over the years I had escaped from my parents' cellar and scurried into the night in search of food, clean water, and a change of scenery. Barefoot and half-naked, I roamed the outskirts of the village and often found my way to the seashore where I waded in the chilly water on summer nights and listened the waves roar. Something about the turbulent sea made me feel less alone, and I longed for the feel of salty water on my skin and sand between my toes. The chill of the water and a cool night breeze awoke my senses, and while the waves crashed up to my belly and threatened to topple me over, I felt powerful in the night. The sensation was always short-lived, as I knew eventually I would return to my parents' cellar and all of the strength I felt would be beaten and bled from me.
In the village, once I abandoned the seashore, proved to be a place where I could scavenge for food alongside stray dogs and cats. During the summer I often stumbling upon meals left out by kind folks feeding transient fisherman passing through on their way to whatever life awaited them. Sometimes I found breads and meats, sometimes ale, which I never touched.
Each time I sneaked away from the cellar I knew very well there was a chance my father would discover me missing. Sometimes I shimmied through the window and into the quiet, damp darkness and fell asleep in my corner unnoticed. Other times I returned and found him seated on the cellar stairs, hands clasped and eyes aglow with rage. On those nights there were no words exchanged. He did not ask where I had been or what I did. More often than not he already had his belt in hand and I simply turned away and braced myself for the bite of the leather against flesh, an unspoken punishment for an unnamed crime.
Unlike my parents' home, there was no fear of retribution in returning to the Opera House cellar. With my pantry stocked once more, I stripped off my clothing, bathed in the lake and dressed for bed. The same feeling of strength derived from being in the ocean returned as I made a successful trip onto the main level of the Opera House and returned with the bounty of a king.
Not only did the Opera House have the most delicious food in all of Paris, but Madeline swore the theater itself was the most grand in all of Europe and quite possibly the world. With eyes wide and sweeping gestures, she described the theater in a way that made me feel as though I stood before the red curtain as it parted for the first act. As I climbed into bed, I thought about how Madeline had described the auditorium and the theater lobby in such great detail that I knew another world existed beyond the damp, cold confines of the servants passageways. Though I could see it in my mind, I longed to view it with my own eyes and sit in one of the red velvet seats reserved for the most generous patrons.
Against my better judgement, I departed the following evening at precisely eight with the intention of viewing the sunset from atop the theater with Apollo as my preferred company. Once darkness fell, I planned to return to the main floor, sneak a bite to eat in the kitchen and perhaps catch a glimpse of the empty theater. After that, I vowed to stay put in my own apartments until Madeline returned.
I placed the last slice of sweet bread from my previous adventure into a cloth, which I tucked into my cloak's inner pocket before I laced my boots. Lantern in hand, I took the stairs two at a time, my confidence fueled by my previous excursion.
As I had done the previous night I waited a moment and listened to make certain I was alone before slipping deftly from the cellar into the main hall and into the servant's halls.
With ease I trotted up two flights of stairs and nudged the rooftop door open where I paused and surveyed the area briefly. Several pigeons eyed me and cooed from their perch atop a nearby statue of a woman with her arms outstretched. Rather than scatter, they turned their heads and watched me as I passed them by and made my way to Apollo.
The night air was warm and humid, the city streets below crowded as usual. I sat on the edge of building, legs straddling the wide ledge, and removed the cloth with the sweetbread.
Almost immediately the pigeons took notice and the small flock landed a few feet away, bickering amongst themselves as though trying to decide who would ask for a bite first.
"Hungry?" I asked as I tossed crumbs to them. One particularly bold bird hopped within arm's reach and I held out my hand to offer him the biggest morsel. He obliged, his beady eyes meeting mine for a half a second before he flew away with his supper.
Once I was out of food the rest of the birds scattered to the streets below in search of more handouts. I watched them gather around a central fountain where children chased them away.
For a long while I sat, content with the night and the sounds below. Other than the time spent with my uncle, I had never felt much at ease out in the open, even when I was alone. For most of my life I woke from violent nightmares, a scream often caught in my throat. I dreamt of a faceless monster, a beast with red eyes and blood stained teeth who dragged me from beneath the stairs.
As I grew older, the faceless monster became bearded and drunk. His teeth were stained black from chewing tobacco. The only part of the nightmare that remained consistent was the monster still dragged me from beneath the stairs. I realized as I sat above Paris that I did not know the true color of his eyes or any distinct features, nor did I care.
Lightning flashed in the distance and glinted off Apollo's lyre. I waited until I heard the rumble of thunder and smelled the approaching storm before I swung my leg over the ledge and stood. I stretched like a cat, then made my way to the rooftop door and back to the main level.
I had not yet reached the bottom of the stairway when I heard music and laughter coming from the main hall. My pace slowed as I heard two women arguing from the hall leading to the stage and managers offices.
One of the women dragged a metal refuse bin behind her, which scraped against the floor and banged against the walls as she walked toward me. I was thankful for the racket it produced as the sound made it impossible for them to hear me in the hall.
"Your turn to empty the trash upstairs," the one carrying linens shouted over the noise of the trash can. "My knees can't take it. There's a storm coming."
"You and your knees," the other woman groaned.
My breath caught in my throat as I came to the realization of possibly being discovered. They were no more than ten paces ahead of me and once they reached the bottom of the stairs I was certain they would spot me. Without a second thought I darted around the corner and heard one of the women scream.
Her terror propelled me forward and I dashed down the hall, having no idea where I was heading or what lay ahead. Without risking a glance behind me, I pushed through the first door I found and out of their sight.
A flash disoriented me and before I knew what had happened, I shut the door and heard a rumble of thunder above me.
I stood in disbelief, unable to comprehend that I had exited the theater. Drizzle hit my face and I blinked, my contentment with a night out of the cellar replaced by panic. In the darkness I reached for the door handle and discovered there was none, yet still I clawed at the wooden barrier as if somehow it would swing open.
"No," I said under my breath.
Lightning flashed again, splintering in the night sky.
No Admittance, the door read in very large capital letters. I caught a mere glimpse against the split second of light, but suddenly my fate seemed sealed.
My mind went blank. The drizzle turned to a steady downpour as I stood in front of the doorway as though a handle would magically appear.
Eventually I turned my back to the theater door and pressed myself against the building. There was an overhang offering enough shelter to keep dry, which I took advantage of as I looked both ways down the alley and contemplated what I should do.
To the left it appeared to dead end into a large wooden fence with a board missing in the center. To the right was a street where people scattered as the storm approached. For the life of me I had no idea where the entrance Madeline had led me through the night I had escaped the fair. I recalled her saying the entrance was used by the stable boys as a shortcut, but other than that I had no idea how close it was to the stable or the door I had haplessly exited.
Madeline.
My heart sank as I thought of her returning from London in two days only to find the cellar empty. Rather than anger or sadness, I assumed she would be quite disappointed in me taking leave without so much as a note thanking her for her assistance.
Frustrated, I kicked the door and stalked down the alley toward the street. I pulled the hood low over my eyes as I left the shadows and slowed my pace once I saw a group of young men and women trot past. They were far too preoccupied with laughing as they splashed through the growing puddles to notice me approach, but I still placed my hand against the right side of my face to conceal the scars.
For days I had gone without the burlap sack that served as a hood, which was merely because Madeline had not returned it. Within the cellar I had not needed to keep my face covered. Madeline, being my only company, had not made a single remark about my appearance. When she looked me in the eye and spoke, I almost forgot the scars existed.
The rest of the world, however, would not forget. I feared what would happen if anyone saw a glimpse of my face. Most certainly someone would recognize me and I would immediately be placed in irons and sent to the gallows.
I balled my left hand into a fist at my side, frustration boiling over. I cursed myself for leaving the cellar as well as the Opera House even though that had not been my intention.
Rain pelted my cloak. I sloshed through the rain and walked aimlessly to the front of the Opera House, which was dark and imposing as there was no performance taking place. Banners hung from the long columns depicting a robust woman with flaming red hair. The top of both banners read Now Starring while the bottom read The Incomparable Cathedra di Carlo.
I stared at the woman's picture for a moment. She posed with a golden wine goblet overflowing with wine and her breasts overflowing from a golden breastplate. Her cheeks were the same color as her hair and lips, which made her appear somewhat garish. I wondered if her voice was as impressive as her advertisement in front of the Opera House.
Far above Catherda di Carlo, Apollo stood as a sentinel atop the Opera House. I squinted in the rain as I risked a glance at the bronze statue. The sky above him split open again with another flash of lightning, which was closely followed by the rumble of thunder that shook the ground.
"Please, help me," I whispered to the likeness of the deity.
Footsteps garnered my attention and I turned to find two men jogging toward me. I stepped aside, head bowed, and felt one man brush up against me, his hand tugging at my cloak with such force I almost lost my balance. They took off in opposite directions, their feet pounding the cobblestones as they disappeared into the night. Thieves, I realized a moment too late, who would come up with only an empty cloth and sweetbread crumbs.
I whirled around and discovered the streets were quite empty aside from two waiters attempting to pull chairs and tables beneath an awning. They ignored me and I walked briskly around the side of the Opera House furthest from where I had cast myself out. I balled my hands around my cloak and pulled the fabric tight around my body as the storm grew more violent and the wind picked up.
The alley on this side of the Opera House was much wider and paved with cobblestones. Several of the doors, which I frantically checked, had small awnings over them just like the one I had exited. Each time I rattled the handles and tugged with all of my weight hoping for a miracle. With each failed attempt I became more desperate to find a way back into the theater. My hands felt cold and numb, a mixture of the rain on my flesh and my frayed nerves.
At last I found myself at the rear of the theater where the smell of horses and hay permeated the air. Suddenly I realized why the alley was wider on this side of the building: the passage of carriages.
I crept beneath the overhang of the stable and out of the storm where I shivered. The stable doors were closed for the evening and padlocked, but there were two windows open for ventilation low enough for me to climb into the stable itself. It took two tries before I managed to lift myself up high enough. Without an ounce of grace I tumbled through the window and landed on several bales of hay. The back of my head hit the inside wall and I winced, cursing under my breath. My arm hit a pitchfork, which thankfully had been speared into the hay bail and didn't skewer me on my fall.
The horse in the stall across from where I had landed-a black mare with a braided mane-snorted and danced back and forth at my sudden appearance, her nostrils flared as she sniffed the air and she let out a snort of displeasure.
"Shh, you're fine," I whispered as I rolled to my feet. I walked to her, pleasantly surprised to be in the company of such a beautiful creature, and ran my fingers along her warm, soft neck and shoulder. She settled at my touch, which made me smile. While women and children shrieked in my presence, animals never showed fear or discomfort. The bichons in the circus curled up against me at night and the show horses whinnied and nuzzled me as I stood amongst them. My uncle would have said they sensed my good heart.
The horse nuzzled my ear before she pushed her head beneath my arm, apparently smelling the remnants of sweet bread crumbs. "I am sorry, I have nothing left," I whispered.
Soft brown eyes forgave me, and once the horse seemed content I slipped out of the stall and through the stable where I passed several other horses and a black and white barn cat that hopped down from the rafters and followed me, meowing as she rubbed against my leg.
I tried the door leading into the Opera House and, to my utter surprise, it swung open. I shivered again as a warm rush of air greeted me, the sensation running from my scalp to my toes. The soft glow of lantern light stretched down the empty arched hallway and I sighed in relief, grateful to be out of the storm.
As quietly as I could I shut the door behind me and made my way down the hall, leaving behind a trail of muddy footprints and a considerable amount of rain that splattered from my cloak. My mind raced as I found myself back to familiar surroundings at last, and I nearly sank to my knees once I saw the door leading out into the main door and at last down to the cellars.
Breath held, I pressed my ear to the doorway and listened for voices, but the party had either moved elsewhere or ended for the night. I counted to three and exited the servant's hall where I grabbed a torch off the wall and disappeared through the cellar door. My knees shook with each step, which I assumed was from both the panic I had experienced as well as the arduous walk in the storm.
Once I reached the fifth cellar, I removed my muddy boots and left them near the door. Shivering from the cold, I shrugged out of my cloak and allowed it to fall in a heap. Closer to the table I removed my shirt and trousers and flung them aside, not caring where they landed.
Exhausted in every sense of the word, I waded into the lake and floated in the middle of the bubbling warmer water until my heart rate slowed and my body finally stopped trembling. My eyes grew heavy, weariness settling into my bones as adrenaline wore off and I considered what could have been my fate.
I did not risk leaving the cellar again, at least not for a long while.