Michelle followed Madame Giry's instructions, but she couldn't find the patience to be around Count Andre, so she did her best to avoid him. She curled up into her thoughts most of the time in the dormatory when not studying with the other girls making certain not to be around when Erik decided that it was a proper day to punish Alyssa for becoming the leading sopranna. He never hurt her seriously, just enough to send chills up everyone's spine. Many suspected Joseph Fukay, but then again, he was begining to be more interested in women affectionatly, and less like a child.
Michelle found a note one afternoon on her pillow with the infamous wax stap, and after carefully pealing the wax from the edge of the envelope, she read the letter with her full attention;
My dearest Michelle,
We must talk-some news has reached my ears that I thought that you should be aware of. Make sure you come alone-yes I am well aware of that pompus count at your heels. Your loyalty to me is flattering-one of the reasons I do adore having you as my friend.
Love,
Erik
Michelle folded the letter tucking it into a pocket. She was dressed today like an english rider, pale tan trousers, boots, and a blue jacket over a white blouse. She was going to go out, for a ride, but Erik took presidence over anyone or thing-save Madame Giry. Michelle slipped through the door next to her bedchamber and through the dark hallway. She had becomed accustomed to running her fingers across the rough stone surface of the wall to depict how far she had gone, and how close she was to the overly large staircase that decended to the watery cavern below.
The exit to the hallway became apparent, and Michelle grinned when far below she could see the boat waiting for her.
She began to take the stairs her footsteps light and her thoughts bright, when she heard something behind her.
Another person.
She froze and turned to see Count Andre.
She gulped, as he came towards her.
"So this is where you go when you are out of my sight. My, how dark and sinful a place. You shouldn't be here."
"On the contrary,ser. You shouldn't be here."
He made his way to her step, and turned to face her, "Then that makes us both sinners. You ought to be more rational if your intent is to get my affections. I prefer more lighted places." He began to close the gap.
"Please leave," Michelle snapped her mind was starting to freeze.
"Leave? While you do what? Desend into darkness?" he grabbed her hand, "Let us return to the main floor, and talk like normal people."
"No; you must be the one to leave."
"Michelle,"
A voice echoed off the walls, "And who are you to stop her from where she pleases?"
"Who is out there?" Andre snapped, his grip firm on Michelle's hand.
"Why haven't you heard? This place is haunted by a ghost,"
"Please," Andre said with sarcasm, "I am not afraid. Show yourself."
Michelle took it to mean his attention was no longer focused on her and jerked her arm out of his grip, stumbling a bit, but held her own.
"Michelle?" Count Andre questioned as a dark figure dropped down from between the two.
Erik.
"I told you to come alone," he hissed over his shoulder his eyes locked on the count. His scars were hidden behind his mask, but it was obvious that the count was now unsatisfied with the opera ghost.
"I thought I did," Michelle answered.
Erik turned his attention back to the count. "Now, leave. And never return,"
Count Andre drew a blade on Erik, "Not without Michelle,"
"Michelle can do as she pleases, and she is welcome here in my domain. You are not." he answered Andre's challenge with his own sabre.
And then the duel began.
Despite Erik's obvious knowledge of the sword and the domain, Count Andre had the upper hand his sword countered everything Erik did, and more as he lunged, brushing along Erik's sword arm.
Erik barely made any responce to the cut, as he ascended the staircase, causing the count to stagger as he moved backwards.
Then the death blow came slmost sudden and quickly. The count tumbled backwards against the stairs; Erik didn't hesitate plunging his sword into the count's chest. Michelle paled, as Erik drew his blade back, and catching Andre's collar, dropped him over the side on the stairs into the water below.
Erik sheathed his blade and turned to Michelle, who wasn't sure what to think, but pushed her fears aside, recognizing his wound.
"It's nothing," he answered, gesturing for them to decend the staircase.
"At least let me bandage it for you when we reach your chambers," she insisted.
He shrugged as if it really didn't hurt. Their steps silent.
"I am sorry if killing the count offended you, Michelle." he said after a long period of silence.
"It didn't offend me-it might have been better if there was a way to reason with him, but it was clear he was in no mood for it."
He smirked, as they reached the bottom and he helped her into the boat. He grabbed the oar and padded them out to the lair.
"So what news did you have to tell me about?" Michelle asked as they walked to his desk.
"Death, Michelle; it seems to be the day for it."
"Oh?"
"Misseur Carlotta has been killed. A bar fight with some random drunks. Someone drew a knife, apparently."
"Does Alyssa know?"
"Madame Giry is supposed to be giving her the news while I send it to you."
Michelle paled, "What does this spell out for me?" she snatched some scraps of faberic, and water, and returned to his desk. Erik had taken to his intriquetly carved wooden chair. She set her things on the desk, and from behind removed his dark jacket reveling the bloodstained white tunic below.
He removed his own white shirt, revealing his shirt, revealing his bare-and well toned torso. Michelle did her best to hold her breath; this was more than she had planned to see, but it was not unwelcome. In fact she was mentally excited, but remained focused, cleaning away the blood, and wrapping the cut in the scrap farbic that she knew was clean.
"You didn't have to do this," he muttered.
Michelle was confused slightly, he was the one who removed the shirt, "I had to; you saved my well being from a stalker, and in the act was wounded. This is the least I can do."
"Speaking of that, what shall we tell our friends upstairs should they ask you?"
"I don't know,"
"Good answer," he winced as she tied the ends off, and stepped away, to sit on the dirt steps near by the desk.
"What would you want me to say?"
"The same thing you just said. Someone will come down here again on their own accord and figure it out."
"The count didn't come down here by his own accord?"
"No-he was on the prowl for you."
"He would have never gotten me."
"No?"
"Nope."
He looked amused, "And tell me, why would you not?"
This time it was Michelle's turn to smirk; "Because my heart belongs to another."
"And who would that be?"
"You,"
Madame Giry left the girl's domatory wiped out from dealing with Alyssa's tears. The girl had no idea what had happened to her father, and despite everyone's hate for their colleague they all took her side on this one, and did their best to support her.
Madame Giry knew Erik was taking charge of telling Michelle, and knew that she was still with him, since his letter was not seen on her pillow. She could only wonder how she was taking the news. Could she be cheering for the man's death?
Madame Giry couldn't understand why no one pressed charges. Michelle was way too kind to let Alyssa get away with what she did. What did Michelle plan to do? Or was it already taken out by all the stunts Erik pulled off?
For the time, Madame Giry let it go, and returned to her office for a glass of red wine. Missure Le'Fevre sought her out though not long after she had settled into her privacy.
"Madame? Might I have a word with you?"
"Of course, come in."
The manager entered and joined Madame Giry.
"Wine?" she offered.
"No-thank you but no thanks. I was hoping you could help me with something."
Madame Giry's brow rose, "What is wrong?"
He looked flustered, "Nothing . . . nothing . . . oh, the patron-Count Andre de'Chagny has gone missing and I don't know where to look. He wasn't in his apartments-Roaul told me he was here, but I doubt that. Michelle isn't here either, so I know not to ask her."
"Why ask Michelle?"
"Because he loves her."
"Yes, but does she love him?"
He blinked, "Any woman would be lucky to have him,"
"That's not the question at hand,"
He hesitated-he knew the same answer she did, "No. No she seems to despise him."
"Indeed,"
"Could she kill him?"
"Kill?" Erik would be, but Madame Giry doubted Michelle had the audacity to kill.
Would Michelle tell her the truth if Erik or her was the culprit?
"No, Michelle cannot kill. She can tell someone off hard enough I think though to cause someone to take the afternoon off though," she winked, "Young love is hard-you remember."
He nodded, "Thank you madame,"
Raoul paced in the living room of the flat he shared with his brother. Andre hadn't been home in three days. He contacted the authorities and reported everything he knew including the mysterious Michelle that his brother was infactuated with.
He paced after they assured him that they would investigate his absense. The door knocked again, and Raoul opened it to two older gentlemen.
"Greetings; I am Missure Andre and this is my colleague,"
"Misseur Fierman," the second finished.
"How can I help you two gentlemen?"
"We are a couple of recently retired men seeking out a new career in theatre," Andre began, "We were in the scrap metal buisness."
"And why come to me?"
"We need a patron." Misseur Fierman answered.
"A patron? To which opera house?"
"The Opera Popular,"
Raoul shook his head with disbelief, dropping into a chair. The two gentlemen sat in chairs without being promted.
"My brother is the patron there,"
"Well, he's gone missing apparently."
"So I am aware." he paused, "What happened to the current manager?"
"He wants to retire."
"Do you two have any idea how to run a theatre?"
"We will learn as we go."
Great, Raoul thought, Two idiots who want me to play patron, and one missing brother to a manager who clearly has no sense of responcibility. Why not be the patron? I can aid them when they have a question off stage.
"Very well," Raoul said in more of a groan than a confindent announcement, "I shall be your patron. Send me word when you wish for me to appear."
"Excellent!"