CH 28
Erik must have rolled over at some point during the night, because as Annie's senses began to rouse her from slumber, she felt his strong arms wrapped around her. Sighing contentedly, Annie let her fingers trail lazily to his chest. Unfastening the buttons on his nightshirt, she placed small kisses to his cool skin, as she heard a low groan of pleasure rumble in his chest. His arms tightened around her and she felt his fingers playing with her hair, as her lips continued their delicious journey across his flesh. She nudged his shirt open a little more with her nose so that she could take one of his flat nipples between her teeth.
"Oh, Annie," she heard him sigh as the hand in her hair gripped her to him, and she felt him arch against her.
Annie continued to pleasure him a few precious moments more, allowing her tongue to swirl around the prize her mouth had captured, until she heard Erik exclaim, "Oh, Annie"—but this time with alarm.
Annie startled fully awake at the tone in his voice, lifting her lids only to have bright yellow sunlight scream in her eyes.
"Oh no," she whimpered, regretfully extracting herself from Erik's embrace, and rushing to the water closet. "I'm late!"
"I'm sorry, Annie," Erik said, as he too jumped out of bed, cursing himself for allowing this to happen. He had spent the majority of the night awake and staring at the wall. Damn him for finally falling asleep only to allow Annie to wake so late. One of them actually had a job to get to.
They both dressed hurriedly, Annie pulling her hair back into a messy bun. She was by the door, yanking on her cloak, when Erik stopped her.
"You can't forget these," he said, handing her the shoes that Giles Giry had brought by the night before.
"You're right," she said, taking them from him and shoving them into an inner pocket. "I have to return them."
"No, Annie," Erik said, putting his hands on her shoulder and forcing her to stop and look at him. "Wear them. He said the other shoes were too tight. I don't want you hurting your feet because of my foolish pride."
"I am giving them back, Erik," Annie said firmly, looking Erik directly in the eyes. "Because I only accept gifts from the man I love." And turning her head slightly, she showed him that the comb he had given her all those years ago, was sitting atop her bun, holding her hair in place. When he smiled in recognition, Annie continued. "That man—the man I love with my entire being—has already given me so much. So I shall buy my own shoes—with my own wages—which was always my intention. And these shall be waiting on Giles Giry's desk when he returns, with a note declining his kind offer."
"Annie," Erik shook his head in admiration, "I love you."
"I love you too, Erik," she told him quite seriously, taking his face between her hands. "You are the only man who will ever hear those words from my mouth." And bringing his face toward hers, she kissed him fully on the lips. "Even if you are stubborn."
"I prefer to think of myself as tenacious," he muttered with an adoring smile on his face.
"Bullheaded!" Annie countered.
"Determined?" he smirked
"Cantankerous, ornery, headstrong…"
"Late!" he reminded her, a mischievous gleam in his eye.
"Ugh!" Annie grunted, pulling away from him, and opening the door. "Damn!"
"How very unladylike, Antoinette," Erik said with a wry smile as he followed her outside.
Annie glared at him with a look that said she had barely scratched the surface of her unladylike potential, and Erik laughed heartily as soon as he saw it.
"To hell with the clock," he growled, pulling her completely into his arms, and kissing her deeply on the mouth. "I just had to do that," he whispered, as they both broke away, breathless, "before I am bound to resume the role of your brother."
"I am so sorry I told them that, Erik," Annie told him sincerely, as they began their walk, a bit more swiftly than usual. "We are going to have to think of some way to explain it after we marry."
"We will think of something, my love," Erik responded, knowing in his heart that explaining the true nature of his relationship to Annie was the least of his worries. By the time people at the opera house needed an explanation, they would already be married, and at that point, any question about her reputation would be moot.
But before they could get to that point—before Erik could, in good conscience, take Annie as his wife—he needed to be able to support her. He knew such things didn't matter to his beloved at all, but Erik was finding that the need to provide for Annie and give her the life she deserved was becoming an all-consuming obsession.
When Giry had given Annie those blasted shoes, it had cut him to the bone. No other man should have to give Annie what he should be providing for her himself. It was a testament to Annie's strength of character that she would return the gift—choosing instead to cause herself discomfort rather than damaging Erik's pride. But Erik did not want that. He wanted to give her the shoes himself—except that the monthly rent for the cottage had taken up a good bit of the money they'd earned at the market, and they had to save all they could for the following month, because Erik would sooner live on the streets than accept Giles Giry's charity. Except. . .
Erik would never see Annie destitute on the streets of Paris. For her, he had to find a way to earn money, so that he could continue to pay for the cottage—for now—and put enough away so that they could find a place to live with no ties to anyone but themselves. Only at that point could he finally marry her—when he was truly his own man.
And of course, Erik wanted to give Annie a ring…
Get some experience. The words of the foreman rang in Erik's mind, as they had over and over again during the night when he had been staring blankly at the wall. Get some experience. Erik would love to get some experience in the building trade, but he did not know how he was going to do that, if no one in Paris would give him the opportunity. Most builders had spent their youth—those precious, formative years that Erik had spent locked in a cage—apprenticed to a master, learning the craft. At Erik's age of 18, he was already too old for that, and he could only hope for someone to give him a chance. But even when someone did, like the gruff but kindly foreman, his face and his mask managed to ruin it.
People's minds in other places might not be as closed as they are here. What good did other places do him? It was true, Erik did not have as much trouble finding meager employment when he and Annie had lived near Toulouse—but Annie's dreams were tied to Paris now. There was no way Erik would ever ask her to leave so that he might be able to go to some far off land to gain experience in his desired field. She had already been asked to leave one home that she loved. He would never ask her to do it now, especially as opening night loomed ever closer. Her dreams were finally within reach. No, he could not ask Annie to leave Paris. But then again, perhaps, Annie didn't have to leave.
Get yourself some training and then come back. Erik felt a chill spread throughout his insides at the very thought. Could he even consider leaving without her? Preposterous! Even if there were builders in other parts of the world that would hire him, the thought of leaving Annie to seek out experience was the most ludicrous thing he could ever imagine. He would not even know how to live without her—his heart could hardly be expected to continue beating without seeing her smile first thing in the morning or feeling her tender kiss last thing at night.
"Erik, are you alright?"
Jarred out of his terrifying thoughts by Annie's concerned voice, Erik realized he was shaking. Leaving was a terrible idea—an impossible solution. There had to be some other way.
"I am alright, my love," Erik assured her, as she continued to regard him with a worried expression.
"But you look ill," Annie pressed.
"I am just tired, love," Erik promised with a little smile. Looking around him, he realized they were about a block away from the opera house. "Well, it looks like this is where I must say goodbye, my darling."
Erik saw Annie shudder visibly at his choice of words. "Never say goodbye, Erik!" she scolded. "Never."
"Only for the day, my love," he smiled at her, comfortingly, knowing he could never survive longer than that without her. "Only for the day." And then, knowing that she had to continue without him, he added, desperately, "Annie, how I wish I could take you in my arms right now and kiss your luscious lips, but . . ."
"I know, I know," Annie groaned, feeling her insides burn for just that very thing. "You're my brother!"
Leaning down to place a peck on her cheek, he murmured in her ear. "I'll be waiting for you tonight, darling."
With a wide smile, Annie repeated, "Tonight," before turning and walking to the opera house.
"Ah, Mademoiselle Laramie," the Madame Delacroix said, walking through the line of ballerinas that were postured on their toes when Annie arrived in the rehearsal room. Morning stretching had already been completed and the ballet mistress was running the girls through the routine in Scene 8. In short, Annie was very, very late. "I had wondered if you were planning on joining us today. I would have sent someone to check on you, but, of course, you do not reside in the dormitories, so…"
"Madame Delacroix," Annie said in a penitent voice. "I am very sorry. My brother had been ill last night, and he still was not feeling well this morning, so I wanted to make sure he was alright before leaving."
"I see," Madame said, cracking her baton near the feet of a ballerina who had not quite achieved full pointe. "Well, while I find your devotion to your family member admirable, you must remember that dedication is required here as well."
"I promise you, I shall, Madame."
"That would be wise," Madame Delacroix warned. "For our patron, the count, will be present for our full company rehearsal on Friday. Even friends in high places will not assure you a spot in the ballet line on opening night if you do not know the routine by then."
"I understand, Madame," Annie nodded.
"Go change!" Madame commanded, by way of dismissal.
"Yes Madame," Annie said as she walked toward the dressing room, hearing Babette Sorelli snicker as she went by.
After leaving Annie at the opera house, Erik walked about town again, desperately trying to seek out some type of employment, but everywhere he went, he was met with the same answer. "We're not looking for help right now." "We have everyone that we need." "We need someone with experience."—Every answer was a valid excuse, except that Erik saw the looks of distrust on the faces that were turning him away. He knew his mask was closing doors before him as surely as his lack of experience was. If Erik was to find a job, something was going to have to change—and it certainly wasn't going to be his face.
By the middle of the day, he found himself back where he had started, outside the opera house, feeling frustrated and agitated. Once again, he had failed Annie—once again he had spent the day trying to further their future, and he had nothing to show for it. No one had even gone so far as the foreman had yesterday to offer him but a chance to prove himself.
He thought about going back to the site of the de Chagny build. He considered going before the men there and simply removing his mask—showing them exactly why he wore it. But images filled his mind of the builders running in terror from the sight of him. And chances were, they wouldn't come back. He could not find it in himself to do that to the kindly foreman who was the only one who had given him a chance.
There had to be some other way, he thought, as he paced back and forth, two fingers pinching the bridge of what should have been his nose in concentration. There must be some method—some other means that he hadn't yet considered—by which he could earn money. All he needed to do was think.
Erik looked up and regarded the stately building before him—considering the secrets that hid behind its walls and beneath its floorboards. If nothing else, Erik thought, it would be a place of solitude—a place where he could consider what options might lay before him.
Blending in with the crowd was a task that Erik was becoming accustomed to, and as he had never been one to draw undue attention to himself, he was finding it to be rather simple. When he reached Box 5, he did have a moment of panic, worrying that they might have chosen to lock the door after fixing the curtain, but to his great relief, he found the entrance as unencumbered as it had always been. Quickly liberating the lantern from the wall, Erik lit the flame, then pressed the lever that would allow him to enter a world of darkness.
Once closed within the secret passageways behind the opera house, Erik felt his sense of adventure begin to tingle. Perhaps this was exactly the type of distraction he needed in order for his mind to think of a solution to his employment dilemma. Coming to the end of the first staircase, instead of again finding his way down to the lake, Erik decided to turn right. To see what other intrigues the opera house had to offer.
The tunnel was narrow, and just as unfinished as the rest of the walkways, but from time to time, Erik could hear sounds as they carried over from the other side of the walls. Erik wondered…if there was an entrance into this secret world of darkness from Box 5, could there be other entrances—and exits—as well? Coming upon a spot where he could hear bits and pieces of a rather satisfied discussion about ticket sales, Erik approached the wall for a closer look. Holding up his lantern for a better view, he found that this wall looked just as rough and unfinished as any of the others. But there—just a bit below eye level—he saw a depression in the stone that looked like…well it almost looked like a handle! If he placed his fingers in just right and pushed…
A square shaped section of the wall slid soundlessly to the left, and a man's face looked directly back at him! It was one of the managers at the Garnier—one of the two who had hired Annie. Erik startled back in horror when he saw him, knowing that he had let Annie down. This was even worse than the incident with the curtain. Surely the managers would launch an investigation into the strange masked man behind the wall, and once Giles Giry identified him as Annie's brother, everything would be over for her.
"I'm sorry, Annie," he breathed, trying to shrink out of sight. "I'm so sorry, my love."
But seconds passed and the conversation continued, with no words of alarm to indicate that the manager had noticed anything amiss—not a strange masked man…not even a sudden hole in the wall. Stealthily, Erik crept back to the opening, to find the manager busily adjusting his tie as he rolled up his lips and jutted out his mouth, apparently to check for something lurking between his teeth.
Erik pulled his head back, a rather disgusted expression on his face as the manager finished with his tie and went on to smooth his hair, as if he were looking in a…
"Mirror?" Erik whispered out loud, as the manger winked at what Erik was beginning to suspect was his own reflection. Finally turning to his partner, who had been waiting for him on the other side of the office, he opened the door and the two men took their leave—each of them quite oblivious about the hole in the wall through which they had just been observed.
His fear of being detected now quite assuaged, Erik inspected the opening more closely. It was a perfect square, and though it was below eye level for him, for a man of average size, it would be positioned at the perfect height for primping and preening one's appearance—as it appeared the manager had just done. Erik reached out his hand carefully, and just as he expected, he touched glass. "Will Garnier's genius never cease?" Erik exclaimed in awe, as he ran his fingers along the edge of the glass. "This is extraordinary!"
And so it was. Erik realized he was looking at a two-way mirror. It seemed like a window on his side of the wall, but when the occupants on the other side looked upon it, they could only see their reflections. Erik examined the little sliding door he had moved to reveal the mirror. Even with the wall's rough finish, the movement on the door had been completely soundless—never alerting the manager to its existence. Erik chuckled to himself in wonder at Garnier's ingenuity. This was a perfect tool for undetected observation—and he wondered why it had been incorporated into the design—and if the element existed anywhere else in the building.
Keen to explore what other surprises might be discovered in the innards of the opera house, Erik slid the little compartment shut, and continued down the tunnel.
Descending another staircase at the end of the passageway, Erik found himself behind what he assumed would be the preparation area for the performers. He could hear tittering and laughter, and somebody practicing scales—badly—behind the walls as he glided through the hidden hallway, and in one spot he heard rhythmic counting accompanied by the tapping of a cane. This must be the ballet rehearsal room, Erik thought with a smirk, and shining his lantern before him, Erik began to scrutinize the markings on the wall, wondering if there were, indeed a mirror through which he could watch his Annie rehearse.
He was busy trying to find a similar handle in the wall, when he heard, from behind him, the sounds of rattling and muffled groaning—as if someone was being hurt. His protective side surfaced immediately, afraid that some harm might possibly be coming to his beloved, and he dashed to where he had heard the sound, examining the wall for a handle. When he found it, he wasted no time in tripping the mechanism—intent as he was on helping whatever hapless victim he found on the other side, fervently praying it wouldn't be Annie.
It wasn't.
A section of the wall slid to the side—a longer one this time; more like a door than a window—and Erik's mouth dropped open at the scene that unfolded before him.
A man with light brown hair, and pants hanging at his ankles, was pounding with great alacrity against a woman with a long blond ponytail who was bent over a dressing table, her pink tutu lifted high around her waist. The man's hands were pawing at the woman's bosom, and she appeared to be meeting his lustful assault with great enthusiasm. Erik felt his cheeks grow hot when he heard the woman cry out, "God, yes, Philippe! That's exactly how I like it!"
Hurriedly shutting the sliding door, Erik felt a little queasy when he heard the groans—which he now knew to be expressions of extreme pleasure—continue to mount. He hastened down the remainder of the hallway, greatly desiring to escape the carnality that he had just witnessed, desperately trying not to imagine himself and Annie in a similar embrace.
Erik continued to amble through the passageways—looking for secret openings in the walls, and finding too many to count. They were everywhere, it seemed—behind vanity tables, hanging on the walls like pictures—everywhere a mirror could be hung, it seemed, there was a way to observe from the other side. The larger mirrors, Erik noted, also had handles on the inside, and in one empty dressing room, Erik slid the mirror aside, to discover that it did, in fact, function as a door. There were entryways and exits into this dark little world literally all over the Garnier. Luckily for him, he did not stumble upon any more untoward activities in his explorations. One lascivious surprise was quite enough for the day.
When Erik was making his way back to box five, late in the afternoon, he heard a sickly saccharine voice on the other side of the wall that made his ears prick with attention.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Antoinette Laramie—Giles Giry's little pet."
"Excuse me, Babette," Annie's unimpressed voice sounded from the other side of the wall, as Erik frantically looked for a handle that would lead to an opening. "But I have business here that doesn't concern you."
Finally, Erik found a handle, and pushed it aside, to reveal an office—much like the one in which the managers had been talking earlier in the day. Annie was standing just inside the door, looking rather tired, the wrapped pair of pointe shoes in her hand. The blond woman who had been rather vigorously engaged with "Philippe" earlier in the day was there as well. Thankfully, her tutu was now covering all that it was supposed to cover, but the venomous tone in her voice was quite apparent.
"I would have thought you'd have handled all your business with Monsieur Giry before he left on his trip," she answered with a snotty little laugh. "Isn't that the real reason you were late this morning? Too busy giving Giles the proper send off?"
Erik felt his blood boiling at the blonde's insinuations, and the look of abject disgust on Annie's face told him she felt similarly. "How dare you imply such a thing, Babette?" she asked in outrage. "As I explained to Madame Delacroix this morning, my brother was feeling poorly and I had to tend to his needs before I left."
Erik remembered exactly how Annie had been tending to his needs that morning and felt a pang of guilt run through him at the memory. If he had not been so sullen the night before, they might have gotten out of the cottage on time this morning.
"Oh please!" Babette responded. "Nobody believes that ridiculous ruse about your brother. Everybody knows the only reason you got special dispensation from Giles Giry to live outside of the dormitories is because he wants you there to warm his own bed at night."
"That is a lie!" Annie spat, looking every bit as stricken as Erik felt.
Babette giggled, "Sure it is! Is that why you're here, in his office, when everybody else has gone back to the dorms for the night?"
"I am merely returning something of his," Annie informed her.
"Oh, did he leave something at the cottage last night?" Babette asked, a haughty smirk on her face. "Something, unmentionable, perhaps?"
Erik glowered at her from behind the wall, and it was a very good thing that the opening in this office was more of a window. Erik could not be sure that he wouldn't have just walked right through the wall to give this little chit a piece of his mind for treating Annie with such disrespect.
"Babette Sorelli," Annie asked, an angry edge to her voice. "What is your problem with me? You have been hateful to me from the moment I started here, and I don't understand why. I have never done anything to you."
"You know, Giles Giry is known for sleeping with whomever he pleases," Babette said cattishly, "But I did not expect him to insert one of his little pets where she doesn't belong. We all worked hard to get where we are."
"I worked hard too!" Annie insisted.
"Yes, but we worked on our toes," Babette spat. "Not on our backs!"
Erik flinched when he heard the crack of Annie's hand connecting with Babette's cheek. He could not deny a sense of pride at the look of irritation that came over the vile woman's face when she touched her finger to her mouth only to pull it back and see blood.
"Well," Babette said in an icy tone. "I sure hope someone has warned Monsieur Giry that his little kitten has claws."
Erik's pride faded into dismay when he saw the frustrated tears in Annie's eyes as she pointed a finger at Babette and insisted in a shaky voice, "I am not sleeping with Giles Giry! He has never laid a finger on me! He is merely a kind man who happened to take pity on me and my brother! He did not get me this job! He is not my lover! He is just a man who understood, in his kindness, that I could not stay in the dormitories because of Erik! My brother! And you!" she added, tears beginning to spill over onto her face. "You are a vile, hateful, spiteful, disgusting woman! And I would thank you never to speak to me again!"
Annie stormed over to the large wooden desk in the center of the room and tossed the shoes on top. Then she brushed past the overbearing ballerina, wiping her eyes with her fingertips on her way out the door.
Babette watched Annie go, curling her lips in a wicked little grin. She turned and walked over to the desk and put her hand out to inspect the package that Annie had tossed on it. Before she could touch it, however, a ghostly voice warned her, "Get out, Babette Sorelli."
Looking up and all around her, she called out, "Who is that? Who is there?"
Taking advantage of the rumors that were circulating through the opera house, Erik harnessed all the anger, irritation, and outrage he felt for the way this girl had just mistreated Annie, into one great deafening boom as he shouted "GET OUT!" and then laughed—in as ghostly a manner as possible—while Babette Sorelli fled, shrieking, from the room.
AN: Well, it looks like the opera ghost has spoken! LOUDLY, ha ha. (Babette's lucky that's ALL he did, since he was messing with Annie.) And, oh, what an eyeful he got earlier. Kind of serves him right for snooping around...
