A/N: Happy Easter everybunny! Here's your Easter egg, a brand spankin' new chapter! Hope you enjoy! If you review I will love you forever!
Gray dawn light filtered in through the small paned glass window of Magdalene's dressing room. With her room situated at the far end of the hall on an exterior wall of the opera house, she resided in one of the few dressing rooms that had a window. Though small, it afforded her a bit of natural light during the day. The leaded glass was frosted white with tiny crystals that had grown over night. November had arrived.
Magdalene sat up on the divan with a jaw-cracking yawn. She half expected to see her breath in the cool air. Wrapping the afghan around her shoulders she stood and paced across the room to the steam radiator on the far wall. Laying a hand upon it she felt it to be ice cold.
"Blast it! Of course I have the room with the broken radiator!" She kicked the metal appliance soundly with the flat of her foot and was rewarded with a bruise and a painful reminder. What did it matter? This was her last day at the Opera. Magdalene was suddenly possessed with the urge to curl up and cry, something she hadn't done since the day she buried her mother.
It had been raining that day in late autumn as Magdalene watched her mother's casket lowered into the ground. The only others in attendance were two kind nurses that had cared for Noelle during her final weeks. Oblivious to the rain and cold, Magdalene stood stoically, clutching the potted rose bush to her body. The two nurses squeezed the girl about the shoulders and wished her well before returning to the hospital to finish their shifts. Only when she was finally alone did the girl sink to her knees before the mound of freshly turned earth and weep, tears flowing unchecked down her cheeks with the rain.
"What am I supposed to do without you, mother?" she cried out to the deserted cemetery. "I don't want to be here without you. Who will be my angel now?" When Magdalene's father died, Noelle had consoled her heartbroken daughter by telling her that Jacques would send her an angel from heaven to keep her safe and watch over her. She told the girl that she would always be cared for, even when things looked their bleakest. Young Magdalene had always believed that her mother was her angel, but angels don't die.
She began clawing at the earth with her hands, digging a shallow hole near the grave. The rain had softened the soil making it easy but messy work. Carefully pulling the small rose bush from the pot she placed it in the hollow and packed soil around its base. "Rain is good for roses." She watched as the heavy drops landed on the broad leaves making them dance. The following spring, the small shrub would fill the air with the sweet scent of pale pink roses but Magdalene would not return to see them. Over the past year she had tried several times to visit her mother's grave but each attempt resulted in the same horrible feeling of grief that would grip her insides and send tears immediately springing to her eyes. She hated crying. Crying doesn't bring change, or give you answers. It doesn't solve problems or make things any better. Each time she would begin that short walk to the graveyard, and each time she would end it by stopping abruptly on the small bridge in the park and staring at her reflection in the little brook. It wasn't her face she would see but her mother's. Then she would leave whatever item she had brought with her, meant for her mother's grave, on the railing of the bridge and start back toward the Opera.
Magdalene rocked back and forth on the floor massaging her aching foot. Lying back on the chilly floor she stared at the ceiling. Everything would change today; she'd be back to being a penniless, parentless, homeless stray once again. Standing up, she began to dress. She decided to go to breakfast, at least then she wouldn't have to start out hungry. It would give her a chance to say goodbye to Meg as well.
The ballet corp usually arrived very early for morning practice. The opera house kitchens were located in the North wing in the first basement. Every morning the girls would gather and gossip with each other over croissants and scones and tea. Many Opera rumors were born at those breakfasts and they were never wanting for entertainment. Magdalene had no doubt she would be the center of conversation today and she didn't want to be there for it. If she could steal in, grab a bite to eat and escape before the majority of the girls arrived she wouldn't have to be exposed to their hostilities. Meg would be there already since she arrived with her mother in the morning well before rehearsals started.
Magdalene grabbed her practice bag from the corner intent on stuffing it full of food for later. She snapped the door closed behind her, leaving her dressing room an untidy mess. Her night clothes, pillow and blanket were still tossed on the divan, normally stowed in secret underneath. It didn't matter today, nothing mattered. Magdalene never really burned bridges but if getting sacked was inevitable then she might as well meet it head on.
She made quick time to the kitchens and prying the heavy door open she was met by Meg already eating voraciously from a pile of warm croissants with butter and black currant jam. For living an easy life with her mother and in a lovely home, Meg always tucked in like she'd been starved since birth. You couldn't tell it from her thin figure, but get too close during a meal and you were apt to lose a finger.
"MAGGEE!" Meg cried out, spitting crumbs across the scrubbed wooden table, "I've been waiting for ages!" Maggee turned toward the small window in the kitchen; it was still barely light out. She gave Meg an incredulous look. "Well it's felt like ages anyhow. I lost you after you ran after that cat last night. Did you catch it?"
"Well… yes, but-"
"I got caught too! My mother was so livid with me! Where did you get to anyway?"
"I started back to my-"
"You missed everything! There was an attack last night!" Meg stopped here and stared at Magdalene expecting a reaction. Magdalene had given up trying to actually speak with Meg and had started nibbling on a blackberry scone. Glancing up at her friend's expectant look, she realized that she was supposed to be surprised by this information.
"Uh… an attack? D-do they know who did it?"
"Of course they do! It wasn't long after you left and mother caught up with me that Joseph Bouquet came barreling out to the entrance hall looking like he's been struck down by a train!" Surely her little cymbals hadn't done that much damage to Bouquet. Meg was prone to exaggeration though. "He was stumbling around all dazed with great long scratch marks all over his face and a broken nose! Of course we all asked him what had happened but he wouldn't say a word until he'd had a snifter of brandy and a sit."
Here it comes, here it comes. She already knows! Why is she dragging this out? Magdalene was restive and gripping the edges of the table. Meg didn't notice her friend's anxiety, or if she did she simply chalked it up to fine storytelling.
"Well," Meg continued, "after he'd stopped his nose from bleeding and cleaned himself up a bit, he told us all what had happened. He said he was coming past the boxes on the second tier, just down from your dressing room, Maggee, when he met with trouble." Magdalene's mouth was dry now and she could hardly swallow the bite of scone she had forced down. All of a sudden she was no longer hungry. "He said the air got icy cold and silent and he knew he was no longer alone. When he looked about him he realized that was standing right in front of Box 5! Box 5, Maggee!" Meg had slammed her palms down on the table for emphasis. Magdalene had a perplexed look on her face. They hadn't been in front of Box 5. They were well down the hall, almost to the corner where the hall turns and leads to the stairs. "It's the Opera Ghost's box! Honestly, Maggee, pay attention!"
Magdalene snapped her focus back on her friend, "Sorry."
Meg let out an exasperated sigh. "Bouquet said there was this terrible clap of thunder and all of a sudden he was surrounded by a horrible, ghastly laugh that sapped the strength from his arms and legs until he fell and struck his head on the marble. When he awoke he said he was being attacked by some kind of demon animal and he barely escaped with his life!" Meg was standing now, hands pressed flat to the table, leaning over her friend. "This all happened last night! In this very opera house! Did you see anything? It was just down from your dressing room. Just down the hall!"
Meg was in her element. She lived for conspiracy and intrigue. The enthusiasm was palpable around her. Magdalene was leaning so far back from her friend that she nearly fell backwards. "Well… I didn't see anything like that. Is Monsieur Bouquet…is he alright?"
Meg sat back down and started to butter a warm crumpet. "The managers have given him a few days off. They're starting auditions for the new piece today so he won't be needed anyway. Messieurs Andre and Firmin disappeared last night, too. After they heard Bouquet's story they wouldn't talk to anyone. They just took their coats and hats and locked themselves in their office. Mother says they are worried that the Phantom will start exerting his control over their positions again."
Magdalene suddenly remembered seeing Madame Giry in the corridor last night and how she had nearly discovered her. "Your mother, what does she think about all this?"
Meg swallowed half the pastry in a single bite before answering, "She told me she was in that corridor last night too," Meg leaned in closely, "but she says that Bouquet is full of you-know-what!" Meg broke out into laughter, "She says that if the Opera Ghost was really there then Bouquet would be dead!" Magdalene didn't join in her friend's laughter. She was trying to puzzle everything out in her head. If Bouquet had not divulged her little secret or the fact that it had been she that attacked him in the hallway then she might not be in trouble after all. At least not yet. She certainly had not broken his nose or set a vicious demon animal after him, those were parts of the story she had yet to make sense of. The insidious laughter was true though. Had there been someone else present last night? Or something else? The man that Magdalene had met had disappeared completely; there had been nowhere for him to go. He had been just a man though. Quite solid, she had run right into him. But men don't dissolve into the air.
A shiver ran down her spine and she tried to shake the thought from her head. She finished eating her scone and felt it sit like a rock in her stomach. Down the hall she could hear the sounds of others arriving and she hurried to get up and return to her dressing room. Meg attempted to protest her departure through a mouthful of crumpet but was silenced as Magdalene felt a firm hand upon her shoulder.
"Not so fast, Mademoiselle LaFreniere. I will see you in my office. Now." Madame Giry released her shoulder and strode from the kitchens toward her office. Magdalene looked back at Meg for support but her friend would not meet her eye. Despondently she turned and followed Madame Giry, desperately trying to keep the scone she had just eaten from resurfacing.
Madame Giry unlocked her office door and ushered Magdalene in without a word. Once inside, the ballet mistress bustled around her desk, picking up an envelope that was lying quite obviously in the center of her work area. She opened it quickly, her gray eyes darting back and forth across the page. Magdalene caught a flash of red sealing wax and black trimmed parchment before Madame Giry stowed the note in a pocket of her dress. Magdalene had not visited this office since she was initially hired to the ballet corp, but it had not appeared to have changed at all. The desk was a large heavy wooden construction, kept tidy to a fault. There was nothing upon it apart from a green glass reading lamp, an ornate pen and inkwell, and a framed photo of her late husband in a silver frame. The rest of the office was equally spotless. The left wall was lined with bookshelves. To the right sat a small leather couch and coffee table. The windows were framed by brocade curtains of dark green that were kept open to allow the dawn sunlight to spill into the office, illuminating the ballet mistress from behind, giving her a shadowed, sinister appearance as she sat down in her desk chair.
"Sit," she instructed tersely, indicating a straight backed wooden chair directly in front of the desk. Magdalene swallowed hard and sat heavily in the chair willing herself to remain composed. For a few blissful minutes while talking to Meg she had honestly thought that she had somehow skirted trouble; that she would be allowed to remain at the opera after all. Now, staring into the bird-of-prey like expression of Madame Giry her little world began to crumble again.
"I am very busy today, Mademoiselle LaFreniere, so I will make this brief." Madame Giry opened a drawer and withdrew a file that Magdalene recognized as her contract, "Here is your contract and it clearly states-"
"Please, Madame Giry! I'm sorry about what happened! It won't happen again, I swear it! Just give me another chance! Please!"
The older woman stopped mid-sentence and stared at the pleading girl. Choosing to ignore the sudden outburst she continued in her sternest voice, "As I was saying, it clearly states that you are obligated to accept and perform any role assigned to you to the best of your ability." She paused as if expecting Magdalene to burst forth with another volley of apologies, "thus I am informing you that you have been appointed a solo role in the upcoming production."
Magdalene sat, still leaning out of her chair, mouth open and eyes wide, without saying a word. What was this? Had Madame Giry just promoted her to a solo role? She must have misheard. She opted to not say or do anything and sat motionless staring back at her instructor.
Madame Giry raised an eye brow at the lack of reaction from her pupil. Obviously the girl had had a bit too much fun at the Masque; she looked pale and sleepy and slightly sick. "Meg tells me you have a fine voice which is the reason I am assigning you this role. You will play a forest nymph and perform your ballet routine while echoing several lines from the lead's aria in act III. You are a strong dancer, Magdalene, and I have no doubt you will do well with this." Madame Giry paused again. The girl had still not responded apart from snapping her jaw shut at the mention of singing. With a tone that one would use to explain something simple to a small child she said, "If you have something to say regarding this matter, now would be the time."
"S-sing?" Magdalene's voice was small and shaky.
"That is what I said, Mademoiselle LaFreniere. There aren't many dancers in the corp that have the ability to both sing and dance so my choices were few. I have heard you sing on occasion and you have good pitch. Monsieur Reyer will be scheduling rehearsals with you in the upcoming weeks for your vocals and I will have private sessions with you and Meg for the dance. You will be able to attend all rehearsals, correct?"
Magdalene absently nodded her head. A vocal solo as well? What was going on? She wasn't being sacked; she was being given the opportunity to fulfill her mother's dream. The enormity hit her at once and a smile split her face.
"You will need to purchase a new pair of shoes before we begin rehearsals." Again she opened a drawer and this time took out a small black cash box. She handed Magdalene a small handful of Franc coins. "This should cover the expense; it is in addition to your current stipend and reflects the larger role that you will be encompassing. If there is nothing further, then you are dismissed for the day to purchase your shoes and read over the libretto." She handed Magdalene a thick sheaf of papers. "Your part has been highlighted, but familiarize yourself with the entire production. Monsieur Reyer and I will be auditioning for other roles for the majority of the day. Should you have any questions I'm sure Meg will be able to help you. She's more than likely listening at the door as we speak."
Behind her, Magdalene heard the sound of stifled giggling through the keyhole of the heavy door. "Merci, Madame! I will do my best!"
"I'm sure you will," she replied with a stiff nod of her head. Magdalene rose and exited carrying the libretto and stipend she had been given. She was instantly tackled by Meg outside the door.
"How exciting is this! We both get to have solos! And you, Maggee, get to sing!" Meg was bouncing on the balls of her feet. The energy it took to keep this secret from her friend had obviously been trying.
"I can't believe it," Magdalene stood shaking her head staring at Meg. She couldn't believe that she had not been asked to resign; she couldn't believe she'd been assigned a solo; and "I can't believe you told your mother I could sing!" She took a good natured swing at her friend which was easily dodged. Meg began laughing anew and grabbed Magdalene's free hand, spinning her in a circle.
"We must go out today! We'll go to lunch and buy our new shoes together!" Meg turned and started skipping down the hall back to the kitchens. "I must go tell Jammes that the monkey has a solo and she doesn't! Ha ha ha ha!"
"I'll meet you in the entrance hall at noon!" Magdalene shouted after her fiend. Meg waved an arm to show that she had heard and rounded the corner. Magdalene started in the opposite direction back to her dressing room still in a state of shock. She couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. Though terribly nervous about the new challenges that lay ahead she couldn't help but feel that her mother would be proud of her little girl. In addition, she'd finally have the opportunity to train her voice properly. It was true that she could carry a tune aptly, but to be taught to sing professionally was something Magdalene had only dreamed of.
She was humming to herself by the time she reached her dressing room door. As she reached for the door handle she heard a horrible grating sound from within her room. She froze, her hand on the knob, and listened. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard and it made her cringe. There was obviously someone in her room and she panicked, realizing that she had left it looking more like a bed room than dressing quarters. The sound abruptly ceased with a loud slam and all was silent again. Screwing up her courage, Magdalene prepared herself to confront her trespasser and pushed the door open.