And to my reviewers!!!! Litagirl- I CRACKED UP when i read ur review!! it was really great....! and yes, i do believe cupcakes could be considered as muffins! hope u love this chapter.... and write me another long review!!!!!
tasha- thanks so much for your reviews. Glad you're 'hooked'! makes me feel like a good author!! :) By the way, i agree with you that the kiss could have been a little more detailed... i was reading back on it, and i realized that i had written that scene kinda fast. but thanx 4 pointing it out! KEEP READING & REVIEWING
Raveene- thanks a million!!!
And my new reviewers: Caroline and Maridelpiero (i think i spelled that right!) thanks 4 your encouragement!
everyone else who reads& reviews, thanks. ENJOY!!!
Chapter 12- A Masquerade and a Massacre
Over the next few days, the members of the Opera Company saw less and less of Clare. No one passed her in the halls; she arrived promptly for rehearsals and performances, but no one saw her afterward. She now spent a majority of her time in the dungeons with Erik. He was still training her, and the lessons were becoming more intense. He had a way of making her challenge herself every time they sang together, always wanting to do better than the last time, trying to make Erik proud of her.
It was toward the end of the week when Clare brought up the subject of the ball. They had just finished their singing lesson for the day, and Erik was playing several different keys, letting his creative muse take flight. He always seemed to be more inspired to write whenever Clare was with him. Her presence alone fueled the fires of his mind, helped him to feel the music, and unravel his thoughts.
"Erik?"
"Mmmm?" he asked, half-listening.
Clare wasn't sure how to go about asking him. "You know there's going to be a masquerade ball in three days?"
He nodded, eyes closed as he played a mournful sounding song.
"Will you be there?"
The music ceased. "Maybe."
He was remembering back to the last masquerade ball.... and what had happened. The day he had discovered Christine's "secret" engagement to the Vicomte de Chagny.
Clare accepted his answer reluctantly- she had wanted to know for sure, but thought it best to leave it there.
She sat down next to him and rested her head on his shoulder as he continued to play.
Erik started at the sudden weight on his shoulder; even now, human contact still felt new and strange to him. But with Clare there beside him, everything felt, at last, as though it were finally right.
Two days before the ball, Christine came to Clare's door.
Her friend opened it, looking exhausted, even though it was already midmorning. The cast had been given the day off and by the looks of things Clare had needed one. Her late nights spent in the dark, cold cellars with Erik had made her paler than usual, and dark patches were forming under her eyes.
"Are you all right, Clare?" was Christine's first question.
"Yes... just tired. Did you want something?"
"Well... I wanted to ask you if you wanted to come with me today. We need to find costumes for the ball... I was planning to shop today, but if you are too tired-"
"No, no- I'd love to go," said Clare.
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. Give me a minute..." She changed as quickly as she could, trying to make herself presentable.
Then, the two women set off, leaving the opera house and heading into the city. Clare's eyes took longer than usual to adjust to the sunlight- it had been days since she had been outside in the daytime.
They went to several shops, before Clare finally found the perfect dress.....
"Oh, Clare, you look stunning," said Christine, affixing the last of the curls in place with a diamond clip. The two girls were in Christine's dressing room, preparing to go down to the ball. Clare looked at her slender form in the large mirror. Her hair was styled so that half of her curls were piled on top of her head, while the rest hung around her shoulders, and flowed down her back. The dress was a deep, crimson red, and sleeveless with a plunging V-neck- the bodice fit like a second skin, and the skirt flounced out considerably. Around her neck was a simple diamond pendant, which she had borrowed from Christine.
"So do you," said Clare.
Christine's gown was white and scoop-necked, very feminine and elegant.
Clare picked up the black mask that sat on the table. It was simple- adorned only with tiny black beads, which were embroidered on the sides. Christine fastened the mask over Clare's face, and Clare did the same with hers.
"Will Erik be there tonight?" Christine questioned.
"I don't know," Clare answered truthfully. She had seen him only briefly since the last time she had been down in the labyrinth. I hope so, she added mentally.
The two women ventured down to the ball together. When they arrived, Raoul came over at once to whisk his wife out onto the dance floor. Clare watched them with a slight feeling of envy. They looked so perfect, in each other's arms, laughing and dancing together.
As her eyes moved around the crowd, her heart began to flutter nervously. Would Erik be there, she wondered. Would he come? He should, she thought- the one time when he could blend in with other human beings- how could he pass it up? But then, she thought, how would he recognize her? Would she know him if he were to walk past, or would she take him for another ordinary man?
Suddenly, she felt someone appear at her arm, and a smooth, silky voice whispered in her ear, "Good evening, angel."
She turned her head slowly, and saw him. One look into his dark eyes, and she knew. He had come.
"You're here," she said, mildly surprised.
"For now," came the reply.
"How did you find me?" she asked.
"I can always find you, Clare," he said mysteriously.
She shivered happily. "Dance with me, Erik," she said impulsively.
He didn't respond, but instead he put his hands around her waist and swept her off, leading her to the music of the waltz. Clare had never been much of a dancer; but with Erik leading, her feet seemed to move automatically. One of his hands rested firmly on the small of her back, guiding her, and the other held her hand in his black-gloved one. He was wearing a black evening suit again, but his mask was a full one which covered the top half of his face, cutting off just above his lips.
From across the floor, Christine caught sight of them, dancing. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw them- they were looking into each other's eyes, oblivious, it seemed, to all other things.
"Raoul," she whispered. "Look over there."
Her husband glanced over. "Who is that?" he asked.
"Do you not know?"
"Who is it, Christine?"
"Why, it's Erik, of course!"
The Vicomte's eyes widened. "Erik!" he hissed angrily. "What's he doing here... and with Clare?"
"Don't they look perfect?"
"Perfect!" Raoul snorted. "That monster deserves to be locked up!"
Christine frowned. "Raoul!"
"I'm sorry, Christine," he said. "I know you don't think so. But I can't stop thinking about what he did to us- the pain he caused."
"I think he's happy now, Raoul. I think he and Clare are good for each other."
Raoul didn't argue. As the waltz ended, he escorted Christine off the dance floor. She went off immediately to speak with some old acquaintances, while he went out in search of Martin. He found his friend standing, glass of champagne in hand.
"Have you seen Clare?" Martin wanted to know.
"Yes," said Raoul. "As a matter of fact, I have. She's over there." He pointed to where Clare and Erik were dancing.
"Who's that?" Martin asked, hint of jealousy in his voice.
"I'll tell you," said Raoul. "But you must promise not to do anything foolish."
"Tell me who it is."
"It's the phantom of the opera," said Raoul lowly.
Martin drew in a sharp breath of shock. "We have to get him away from Clare..." he began.
"Christine tells me that she is in love with him."
Martin couldn't stop his jaw from dropping open in shock. "In- in love?" he sputtered. "How can she be?"
Raoul shrugged. "Whether willingly or not, I don't know."
Martin's gaze as the couple passed them was icy.
Meanwhile, Clare was lost in Erik's eyes, and he in hers, both overtaken by some powerful force. In the back of her mind, Clare heard the song begin to end, and realized that she was slightly tired, from lack of sleep for the past few nights. Erik lead her off the floor and got her a drink. They stepped off to the side, so as not to stand out.
Martin planned his move quickly. When the phantom had turned his back, he took the opportunity to take Clare's hand and lead her away onto the dance floor once again.
"Good evening, Clare," he said smoothly.
"Martin," she said, slightly startled at his sudden hold on her. She struggled to keep up with him as he moved her around the floor. The dance was not one she was familiar with.
"Who were you dancing with earlier?" he asked, voice full of skepticism.
Clare's heart sank. Did he know something? She wondered. "No one," she lied.
"Really?" Martin raised an eyebrow, though she couldn't see; it was hidden by the black mask he wore. "You seemed to be pretty... attached to him," he said.
Her eyes sharpened. "Let me go," she said.
"Very well."
No sooner had he released her, she felt another pair of arms take her back. She turned, and sighed in relief. "Erik," she breathed. "Thank god."
"Who was that?" he growled.
"No one. Just an acquaintance."
"Come," he said.
"Where are we going?"
"Just follow me."
He led her out of the ballroom, into a small, deserted parlor room.
"What...?" Clare asked, confused.
"There were too many people in there," he said as an excuse. "Too easy to lose you." He undid her mask and slid it off her face. Holding her chin firmly, he leaned down and joined their lips together.
Neither of them knew that they were being watched. But Martin had followed the couple out of the ballroom, and was now standing in the shadows, trembling with anger as he watched Clare wrap her arms around the phantom. He heard her sigh happily as Erik deepened the kiss, then, feeling sickened, he turned away and left.
Fury encompassed him as he set off in search of a strong drink. Did Clare have no sense? Had all reason abandoned her? She must be under a spell, he thought. Yes, that was it. The phantom had bewitched her; she didn't know what she was doing. But in his mind, he knew that that wasn't the truth. And the truth angered him. Secretly, he wanted Clare for himself. He had grown fond of her over the past several weeks, she was beautiful and sweet and innocent. He deserved her more than that darkness-loving murderer did.
Erik pulled away from Clare, hand resting on her shoulder, fingers entwining themselves in her hair gently. "I have to leave tonight," he said.
"What do you mean?" Clare asked, blue eyes looking anxious.
"I'll be gone a few days- I must see an old friend of mine who has just returned to France."
"I see," said Clare.
"I won't be gone long, I promise. Just a few days."
He touched her cheek lightly. "I promise," he repeated.
"Just be careful, Erik. What if someone sees you?"
"Don't worry," he said soothingly. "I'll be traveling by night- no one will see me." He gave her back her mask, and she put it on. He took her by the hand and led her back to the ball.
Martin saw them re-enter the ballroom a few minutes later, joining the other couples in the slow dance that the band was now playing.
They stayed a while longer, then Erik whispered in her ear, "Time for me to return."
He felt her shoulders slump in disappointment. "Must you?"
He nodded slowly.
"I guess I might as well leave also," she said.
"I'll walk you to your room," he offered, taking her by the arm. When they reached Clare's door, she turned to him, leaning against the doorframe, smiling a small, half-smile.
Erik suddenly realized, as he looked at her, how stunning she looked that night. How the dress she wore perfectly accentuated her feminine form, and how her eyes seemed to sparkle like the diamond pendant she wore. He suddenly found himself staring at her.
"What?" she asked.
"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" he asked in a soft voice.
Her cheeks took on an involuntary pink tinge. "You think so?" she said passively.
"I do."
She rose on tiptoe to kiss him. He kissed her back hungrily- she pulled him into her room before he could stop her. There was laughter in his eyes as he pulled away.
"A little impulsive, are we?"
"I told you I didn't want you to leave."
"So you're trying to talk me out of going?"
"Perhaps."
"You'll have to be more convincing...."
He toyed with her affections for a few more moments, savoring each moment of her closeness, until he feared that if he didn't leave now, he would never be able to.
"Clare-"
"Don't leave, Erik."
"I have to, my love," he whispered gently. He kissed her forehead. "I'll be back soon, I swear it," he said, his last words to her before he walked out the door and left her standing alone.
Four days passed.
They went slowly for Clare, with no Erik to look forward to seeing at night when he would come take her down to his labyrinth. On the fifth night, Clare was restless. She decided to go down to Erik's home- even if he wasn't there, she still felt closer to him when she was in the dungeons of the opera house. She opened the mirror in the dressing room, and immediately, she was hit with a cold blast of air. She shivered. How could Erik stand to live down here, in the cold? She knew he probably wouldn't like her coming down when he wasn't there, but she didn't care. She missed him- she felt like something was missing.
She found the boat at the end of the passageway, and began to row carefully to the other side. Stepping off, she used the candle she had brought with her to light some of the other candles around the organ. The warm, yellow-orange light spread throughout the room, making it seem more friendly. She curled up in the large, throne like chair, when she thought she heard something from one of the back rooms.
"Erik?" she called out softly.
There was no answer, but she heard a low groan of pain coming from the other room. She got to her feet at once, following the sound to the room that she had often stayed in. She pushed open the door- and froze.
Lying on the bed, limbs askew, was Erik- deathly pale and stained with dried blood from wounds on his chest.
A/N: dun dun dun!!! what in the world happened to erik???? review!!
