Chapter 10:
"Beneath this seat you will find a jar. Do not, under any circumstances, open it. Give it to your son. He knows what to do.
~ Mirage "
Early that morning, Erika had ventured up to the ballet room in search of a response. She had found a note hidden behind the paneling:
"I've given the jar to Marc, and he refuses to divulge what you've asked of him. Whatever it is you have planned, you will not bring harm to my son. Nor will you involve him in any illicit activity.
~ G "
Erika had written a final note and left it inside Box Five, knowing Giry would find it during his final round before the performance:
"You have no reason to fret.
~ Mirage "
The letter hadn't been enough to deter Carlo, that much was plain. Opening night of 'La Muta' was underway, yet Erika had given the opera's star one last chance to fall willingly. An envelope with her seal had been sent to his address containing the message:
"Tomorrow night, you will leave the production and allow Christian Daaé to replace you. Either retire with grace, or watch your career burn to the ground. These are your options. Choose wisely.
~ Mirage "
Now, just an hour before the curtain was to rise, Erika stopped in passing to peer through the mirror of Carlo's dressing room. Two members of the costuming department attend to him. One threaded a sewing needle through final adjustments in the wardrobe. The other's hands were colorfully stained with facial paints. The attendant opened a gilded jar situated on the table and dipped his brush into the red cosmetic inside. Lip rouge.
Erika continued on through her passageways after she watched the color being heavily applied to the Italian's lips.
With show time nearing, Erika made for her usual seat in Box Five. She parted the privacy curtain, but immediately threw it shut and hid around the corner. Not one, but two people were seated inside. Box Five was to be kept off-limits to the audience: yet another of her demands not met by the imprudent new management. Her patience was officially depleted. What was more, Erika recognized a voice from behind the curtain as it spoke:
"Father, have you heard rumors that the opera house is being haunted?" the voice of Rachel de Chagny asked.
"Not at all," the voice of the Viscount answered. "Have you, darling?"
"Well, Christian has been rather on-edge," Rachel said. "As it would seem, every time something goes amiss the stagehands are quick to blame a ghost. He's told me it has the cast looking over their shoulders."
"Performers are superstitious, Rachel," the Viscount said nonchalantly, "they're easy to spook. Someone's having a laugh at their expense."
"I've tried telling him that," Rachel said, "but…he seems convinced there's something here."
"Honestly, darling, that doesn't surprise me in the least."
With no other choice, Erika ducked back into the walls. Through the months of rehearsal, Rachel's near constant presence at the opera house had grated on Erika's nerves. At least once a week, without fail, the Viscountess would appear with a chaperone to visit Christian. The sight of them together would crawl under Erika's skin like a parasite. Merely hearing the voice of this tactless intruder brought about the same reaction.
Erika was high above the audience on the maintenance balcony when the orchestra began the overture. The plot of 'La Muta' was simple, a lighthearted comedy about a Count attempting to hide his affair with a maid by disguising her as his pageboy. Christian, bless him, was taking his role as seriously as any other – expressing the character through body language to make up for a lack of voice. Perhaps the absurd aesthetic of a man playing a woman added to the comedy, if the audience's laughter was any indication.
The first scene played out far below where Erika watched. She drummed her fingers on the railing, bearing the weight of her pupil's humiliation while waiting for the right moment to end it. Before the scene's end, Erika started detecting Carlo's subtle turns of the head between each line. He was clearing his throat much too often.
After a deep inhale, Erika tossed her voice loudly into the theatre: "My instructions were not optional!"
The orchestra fell silent, as did the performers. A collective gasp went up from the audience, followed by a murmur of confusion. A quick scan of the theater boxes allowed Erika to locate where the managers and a few of their guests of honor sat. Andrée appeared to be offering an explanation to the guests, while Florence hid behind her fan. In the box opposite them, the Viscount and his daughter whispered to one another.
"One with the power to give, mesdames, also has the power to take."
An aftershock of stillness was in the air after the echo of the Mirage faded away. With a hand wave from Florence, the conductor picked up the instrumental from just before the interruption. Swiftly, all the performers were as they were. Although the audience was now deathly quiet, the scene progressed as intended. At least, it almost did.
The moment he resumed, Carlo's vocal quality sank like a stone in water. His voice cracked and croaked with each note, until they could hardly classify as notes at all. By the end of the measure, his voice was reduced to a shrill, breathy screech. Even from the balcony, the expression that came over the lead "tenor" was hilarious.
The audience struggled to stifle its snickering, but not Erika. She cast a snide laugh over the audience like a lure, daring Carlo to take the bait. Carlo acknowledged the challenge for what it was. He desperately tried to recover his voice, but sounded ever more like an ill feline the harder he sang.
The audience could no longer contain its laughter. Now the other performers were staring in shock and the confused orchestra clumsily halted its playing. Now it was Carlo alone, making an ass of himself before the whole of France.
"It appears they've cast the wrong mute!" Erika declared over the crowd, holding her aching sides. She hadn't had a laugh this genuine in quite some time. This was by far the best comedy the Opera Populaire had ever produced.
Finally, Carlo broke down. He held his throat and began raging at his cast mates – they didn't seem too intimidated, on account of his destroyed voice. Seeing the other performers try and hide their grins, Carlo stood over Christian and made him the target of his ire.
"You had to do with this!" Carlo used what little voice he had left to scream at the smaller tenor. The curtain came rushing down as Carlo went thundering offstage.
Andrée stood and diverted the crowd's attention. "Mesdames et messieurs," she said, "please stay in your seats. Forgive the inconvenience."
Wiping a tear from the corner of her eye, Erika noticed Florence was no longer seated beside her partner. Looking into Box Five, she saw the other manager leading the de Chagny family elsewhere.
"The performance of 'La Muta' shall begin again in a short while," Andrée continued, "when Christian Daaé will be performing the role of the Count. Thank you."
The audience gave an approving round of applause and Erika joined in – if only to praise herself on a plan well executed. A vial of an apothecary's oil mixed into lip rouge, slowly coating the throat of her target as he salivated. Oh, she would have to remember that trick in the future.
As Erika crept behind the walls, descending to the nearest exit to Box Five, she couldn't help but walk a little taller. After the show, she would speak to Christian again. She'd shown what she could – and would – do to make him happy. Perhaps that would be enough to dissuade his fear of her.
"This is where you go off to, 'uh?"
Erika froze, her skin prickling at the sudden voice behind her. Her body braced for the flight of fight response. She heard footsteps coming closer.
"Surprise, Mirage. I found one o' yer 'iding places."
Josephine.