This story is rated M for some violence, coarse language, and minor adult themes.
It is not appropriate for readers under the age of 16 and should not be viewed by such.
Disclaimer – same as the other parts.
New York City, NY, USA – 2008
I ran out of the office – I needed to find Toby. Racing around backstage, I couldn't find him. I headed into the apartments – but the lobby was currently in an uproar.
There was a large crowd – I couldn't see what was going on, but I spotted Meg near the back and ran toward her. "Meg, what's going on?"
She hugged me. "Oh, child, thank God."
"What's going on?"
"I came running when I heard people screaming, so I'm not entirely sure. But I think it has something to do with Christian."
I turned and stared toward the front of the crowd, but I couldn't see anything. Pushing my way toward the front, I spotted Sophia helping Christian to his feet. He was coughing fiercely – one hand was grasping his throat, massaging it. "Oh, God," I whispered.
As soon as he was on his feet, he turned to me. "I think your Phantom's here."
"What makes you say that?" I said quietly.
He coughed slightly, then stared at me for a moment before answering. "I don't know – something about the noose that just tried to strangle me from nowhere…maybe that." He didn't look angry, but something in his voice said he certainly wasn't happy.
"But…Christian…" I followed him as he started walking toward a door – his office. "Christian, wait."
He turned and stared at me for a moment. "Yes, what is it?"
"What did you do that would make Erik mad enough at you to try to kill you?"
For a moment, he looked confused. "Maybe he doesn't like me bossing around his diva." Before I could ask anything else, he'd gone into his office and had shut the door.
Rehearsals for the play were run by Sophia for several weeks – Christian was too on-edge to run them. Inferring only from what Sophia said – in various bits and pieces – Christian was afraid that Erik would show up at rehearsals and finish him off. I sent several messages with Sophia for Christian, trying to reassure him that I wouldn't let that happen, but he still wouldn't come to rehearsals.
The night of our full rehearsal – the night before the show went up – he finally showed, but with one slight problem. "I can't sing tonight," he wheezed the second he had our attention.
"Laryngitis?" I asked. He nodded.
The reaction was immediate. The entire cast started screaming and whining. Christian bowed his head – he seemed embarrassed. Before I could say anything, Sean's voice rang out. "Now you don't wanna sing, Muhlheim? After all your big talk about everyone else's voice, now we don't even get to hear yours?"
I turned. "Sean, stuff a sock in it." The chattering ceased – Sean stared at me as though I'd lost my mind entirely. "Don't you think he feels bad enough already? Obviously he's been practicing so much on his own that his voice gave out – at least he's been practicing, Mr. I'm-So-Great-I-Don't-Need-Rehearsal." Now Sean's head dipped low. He'd been coming to rehearsals lately boasting that he was so great he didn't even need to be there, that he could just learn it all onstage during the show.
We ran through most of the show, with one of the crew members filling in Judge Turpin's vocals – since Christian couldn't sing and that was his part. He went through the motions, at least – lip synching when he could, but at least working on his blocking. After going through the entire play twice, Christian pronounced us ready for the show the next night – as loudly as he could without having much of a voice – and we adjourned to our rooms to get some rest.
Against my will, I suddenly found myself sharing the lift with Christian. I didn't want to make him talk – not with his voice the way it was – but I didn't want to be rude, either. Luckily, the ride was mercifully short, and we reached my floor before I could decide what to do. "Good night, Christian."
"See you in the morning," he croaked as the doors shut.
I let myself inside my penthouse and locked the door behind me. I could hear Molly mewing disconsolately from the kitchen area – she must have been hungry. I knew I was. "Coming, Mol."
An hour and a half before the show, Sophia showed me to my dressing room. It looked exactly the way I thought it would look. There was a huge vanity table on one wall of the room. Next to that was an overlarge table on which were many vases already filled with flowers. I cringed just seeing them. Everyone expected so much of me – what if I couldn't do it? What if I let them down? My eye continued around the room. In one corner was a huge closet, the door partially open so that I could see all the elaborate costumes inside. They would all have been made to fit me, of course. Next to that was a blank wall, presumably for posters of my performances and other things like that. Then, on the wall directly across from the door, there was a mirror. I walked to it, just to get a better look.
It was huge, more than twice my height. I ran my hand along the edge, where the glass seemingly met the frame. There were no seams, and I let out a breath I hadn't been aware of holding. "Thank you, Sophia." I heard the door shut, and as soon as it had, I started to get into costume.
When the call came for us to get into places, I felt my heart start beating so fast I thought it would explode. Erik's eyes wouldn't be on me tonight – I didn't think I could do it. I took a glance around the room as I started out the door – then a vase caught my eye. I walked toward it, staring. Two dozen red roses, each with a black ribbon tied about the stem – I looked frantically for a card and found it after a moment. I picked it up and read it.
Kit, you'll be fine. I'm always with you. –Erik.
I wanted to scream, but with the audience already seated and the show about to begin, I didn't dare. Dropping the card, I raced out to the stage and found where I was supposed to be, waiting for my part to begin.
Most of the play went off fine. The first hitch came when "Pretty Women" started. As soon as Christian started singing, Toby's eyes went wide – and I could tell mine did, too. I knew that voice…I knew it…but I couldn't place from where. The lucky thing is Toby didn't even miss a beat – he stayed calm and kept singing.
In the final scene, we'd arranged for a full scene change between the first and second half of that scene. So during Turpin's death, I was offstage, watching. Inexplicably, I could feel myself tearing up, even though I knew Toby and Christian were only acting. I couldn't explain why I was reacting funny, either. As my death scene came up, I could have sworn I heard Christian growl at Toby from his spot on the stage – but that could have just been my imagination.
After the final curtain call, Christian congratulated us all backstage. "Wonderful job, everyone. Now, I believe a party is in order, so I will meet everyone on the stage at…" He glanced at his watch. "Oh, wow…how about midnight?" After a few bouts of laughter, everyone agreed, and we went off to change and relax for a bit before the party.
Returning to my penthouse – I couldn't deal with the two dozen red roses from Erik right now, I was still wondering how they'd gotten there – I changed quickly, then sank down on the sofa to watch a little TV. As I did, the diorama caught my eye again, and I stared at the tiny version of Molly again. Hearing the real Molly start purring near me, I reached over to pet her. My hand stopped in midair. I started looking from Molly to the diorama back to Molly, over and over again, until I was certain.
It wasn't Molly in the diorama.
I jumped up from the sofa and stared at the tiny cat next to Erik closely. It wasn't the right coloring to be Molly. Molly was black-and-white, with a scratched-up face and torn ear. The cat in the diorama was grey-and-white, and looked fine otherwise. "Oh, mon Dieu," I said – then clapped a hand over my mouth, realizing what had come out of it for the first time in five years. "It's…not possible."
But it was. The cat was Ernie.