Chapter 21

Erik let out a quiet sigh as he made his way as he made his way down to the passage that led to the managers' office. Erik hated to leave Morgan alone when she was in so much pain, but he had to make sure the opera's managers were obeying orders. He had been neglecting his duties as the Opera Ghost. Duties he was still debating about telling Morgan.

Erik had thought perhaps he could have just shown Morgan what he did when he left the house by the lake. Erik had thought Morgan would enjoy the way the two fools would babble back and forth. Erik paused as he reached the office. He could hear the low argument between the managers just beyond the hidden peephole.

"Well, what are we supposed to do Pologny? What if there is a ghost? Can we really afford any 'accidents?'" the first said.

"You know I don't believe this rubbish for a moment Debiene," Pologny scoffed.

"I don't really believe there is a ghost either, but I do think there may be someone trying to steal our positions."

"Which is why we cannot allow ourselves to be frightened," pointed out Pologny. Debiene nodded.

"Agreed."

Erik sighed he had hoped that at least Debiene would be reasonable Now he saw both managers would need some logic frightened into them. The managers left and Erik carefully opened a hidden door. Erik lifted a large volume from the desk, slipping it into his cloak.

"Bon jour, Nadir," Erik said quietly as Daroga entered his flat. Erik watched with amusement as Nadir put his hand over his heart, trying to calm himself.

"Erik! Never say that I don't respect your privacy," he gasped. Erik chuckled.

"My apologies Daroga. I am not here to laugh at your expense. Amusing though it may be," Erik said, smirking.

"Can I ask why you are here then?" Nadir asked dropping into a nearby chair.

"I need you to look over Morgan for me." Erik requested.

"Why? I should think that wound on her head would be almost healed by now."

"Erik let her go to Mass last night. On the way back, about half a dozen men attacked Morgan. Erik was already looking for her, as she was already an hour late returning. I was just able to stop them before they–" Erik trailed off, growling and clenching his fists in fury. Nadir let out a tired sigh.

"What did you do with the bodies?" Nadir asked.

"Why do you assume Erik killed them?" Erik asked. Nadir gave Erik a meaningful look.

"Erik spared them because he knew Morgan would not approve," Erik admitted. Daroga merely nodded.

"How bad is she?" Nadir asked.

"She is bruised everywhere and she has a rib with a hairline fracture, I think. Erik gave her a hypnotic so she could rest."

Daroga stood up. "Shall we go?"

"What in the world did you give her Erik?" The voice sounded far away, like I was underwater.

"It was only a mild sedative, Daroga," Erik grumbled.

"Yes, well, your idea of mild is very different from that of most people, Erik," Nadir said critically.

"Erik's habits are none of your business, Nadir. The methods Erik uses to deal with his problems is a private matter," Erik stated coldly. I tried to laugh silently; I found it a painful endeavor. Actually, just breathing was painful.

"All I was trying to say is you could easily give the girl an over dose," Daroga said in a disarming tone.

"Erik's decisions are his own business," Erik hissed.

"Be that as it may Erik, if I catch you with any drugs, I'm throwing your bony ass in the lake," I muttered. I felt sore all over and it put me in a bad mood. Erik chuckled softly.

"Erik will be sure to take note of that," he said, laughing at the idea of me over powering him.

"Why is Daroga here, anyway?" I grunted.

"I know a fair bit about medicine. Erik has asked me to make sure you have no serious injuries," Nadir explained. I gave only a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Well?" Erik asked, as Daroga stood up. He had been pacing around my room like I had some terminal illness. Nadir chuckled softly at Erik concern.

"She's fine Erik. She won't be singing for a while though," Nadir said.

"What?" I sat upright. "Why don't you just cut off my arm, Nadir?" The idea of not singing horrified me.

"I fear I don't quite understand, mademoiselle," Nadir said gently.

"I need to sing like I need to breathe, Daroga!" I cried, ignoring the stabbing pain in my side. Nadir raised an eyebrow.

"You needn't be so dramatic mademoiselle."

"Morgan is dramatic by nature. Reprimanding her for it will do you no good, Nadir," Erik said. I could hear his smug grin from beneath his mask.

"I'm not being dramatic at all! I'll go mad if I don't sing!" I shouted. I clutched my side as pain tore through me.

"Daroga, you need to leave. I can't have you upsetting her," Erik said with finality.

Erik watched Nadir leave. He had been pleasantly surprised by Morgan's passion for singing. It seemed as though, like Erik, Morgan viewed music as a physical need.

"Am I really not going to be able to sing Erik?" Morgan asked. Erik sighed, the child sounded almost pitiful. He sat down on the bed next to her. Morgan immediately pressed herself next to him. The way she would seek him out made Erik feel almost normal.

"Erik does not care for it either, but he can't help but worry that if you sing you might injure yourself," Erik said carefully.

"So that's a 'yes' I'm guessing," Morgan pouted. She let her head fall against Erik's chest with a soft thump. They lay there for a few moments.

"Erik!" Morgan's head shot up once more. "What about auditions?" Her eyes were filled anxiety.

"We'll make an exception for auditions, my dear," Erik reassured her. "Are you hungry Morgan?" Erik received a small nod in reply.

I had some how managed to put on my nightgown, working through the pain to avoid any awkward requests for help. I slipped on my robe and quietly made my way into the Louis Philippe room.

Lying on the desk in the corner, I saw a thick book. Next to the book, I saw a bottle of blood red ink. After a swift glance in the direction of the kitchen, I quickly slunk towards Erik's workspace. I opened the book at random. The text was in a neat black print. The paragraphs were filled with sections and subsections. I flipped through the pages looking for the occasional French word, which I understood. I froze when the general boredom of the thing was broken by a paragraph in bright red ink.

It was written in a halting, child-like hand. I knew it to be Erik's. This book was the one that was given to the managers of the opera. Did that mean that mean they had already taken up their positions?

I caught up the graffitied volume and headed towards the kitchen.