I forced myself to write this late at night so I apologise for any grammatical errors, but I am too tired to check! I am sorry for the delay, just lacking motivation right now. I cannot promise that the next chapter will be up soon. As usual, thank you for the kind reviews, I really appreciate them! All rights go to Gaston Leroux etc and I don't own any of the characters apart from Benoit. Please review! I love reading your thoughts on this story. It keeps me going. Much love to you all!
A few days passed. The Opera house was an empty shell, void of all bar the residents that lived in its dormitories. Rehearsals started the week after, so there was no need for anyone to be there. Of course, enquires were held and questions were asked. The group that witnessed the stabbing were called to the manager's office, where Benoit and Raoul waited, their plan precisely planned out which managed to fool the witless ladies and gentlemen. 'An extravagant prank' they had said, 'a planned out event set to make the night more intriguing and fun'…
"Is the man alright?" They asked, gesturing to their visage, "The one with the melting face?"
"Yes. Yes, quite. Another mask, not real. He's quite alright." They replied. Both of the managers seemed satisfied with their answers, though they were slightly annoyed that they had not been part of this prank. "Next year," Raoul told them with a charming smile, before excusing themselves for the day. Of course they did not mention Mademoiselle Giry. She was not even considered for questioning. Even Raoul had foolishly forgotten that she was involved. What a fool, missing out a key part of the evidence. It wasn't hard to see that she had been affected by all of this. She ghosted around the building all day, frightened of shadows that lurked in every corner. It made her realise how much she took Erik's presence for granted. She needed the Phantom right now. Right now, he was below in the cellars of the Opera House, unable to give her the protection she so desperately craved.
Benoit and Raoul found themselves in the bar where they had made their crucial discovery and were sat in the corner opposite four unsightly men who stared at them greedily. A fat sack of gold sat in the centre of the chipped table, stained with years of mead and foggy looking ale. Their fingers itched in their pockets, eyes utterly trained on the sack as their mind ticked away thinking of gold, gold, gold. Always gold. They craved it. It was the substance they lived it. It was like a poison to them, one that would slowly drown them in to the abyss of longing despair when it wasn't enough.
"You understand what you have to do, yes?" Benoit asked, looking at each man in well disguised disgust. Their stench was quite intolerable.
"Yes."
"Of course." They all muttered their own words of confirmation, barely grasping the plan that Benoit had intricately laid out but knew they had to be at the Opera House on the Monday of next week. Something to do with an Opera ghost, they weren't sure. But the money… Oh how it called them.
"Excellent. Remember, you need to blend in, so be sure to wash and find your cleanest clothes… If you have any." He added snidely, inching the bag further towards them.
"Yes, yes. Look clean, act sharp. Ask about the Phantom. Get information, we get it. We're not stupid." One sneered, rubbing the bristles of his beard with a liver spotted hand.
"Yes, become part of the crew. Be there on Monday at 7am. We'll remember, we'll remember…"
"Now give us the money!"
"Yes, the money!" They hawked, like vultures speeding down onto their prey. Benoit practically shoved it towards them, curling his fingers back into his hands as he watched them fight like petty children for control of the bag.
"Let's go, Raoul. Our work here is done." He murmured, pushing Raoul out of their seat so they could escape their squalid surroundings.
"Are you sure it will work? What if they don't fit in? What if they don't find anything?" Raoul pondered in worry, pacing across the cobbled streets back to the carriage. The night was young and the moon was a fat wheel of cheese dipping in the horizon. A crisp, cold air blew about them, stinging their hot cheeks as they pulled their coats tighter around their body. A frost had already begun to pattern the floor with its intricate designs, filling in the cracks of the pavement.
"Don't worry, it will work. Now quickly, back in to the carriage. It looks as if it could snow tonight… It certainly is cold enough." Benoit shivered, noticing the gleaming black doors of the De Chagny carriage just in the distance, urging his friend further on into the night.
CHRISTINE'S P.O.V
I left Erik, reluctantly, in my bedroom as I refused to allow him rest in that ghastly coffin of his, and travelled back to the surface. Rehearsals started today, my idea of hell as I wanted to be anywhere but, however Erik was incredibly insistent that I go back up and show myself. After all, I had completely disappeared for a handful of days and I didn't want to raise any suspicion as to my whereabouts. So, up I went, to my dressing room which was cold and musty from days of not being used. Flowers had curled into themselves, dying in the glass confinements so I quickly went about disposing them all and propped the door open so I could get some fresh air in before making my way to the stage. I had nothing of value in my room and I made sure the mirror was securely shut behind me, so no one would find anything if they did choose to snoop. As much as I didn't like to clearly invite people in, the room needed the fresh air desperately. Rehearsals were dull, nothing much occurred. I gained several funny looks, probably because of the whispers of rumours that had laced themselves in the very fabric of the building. Everyone had heard about Erik's face it had seemed, though many were quick to remind that it was just a 'prank'. Oh yes, I had heard what those two slugs had come with for an excuse and how it made my blood boil. We were dismissed in the early afternoon, much to my joy so I eagerly made my way back to my room. My joy quickly dissipated when I realised my light was on and someone had made themselves comfortable in my room. Sighing, I pushed the door open further to see Raoul sitting on my chaise longue, staring up at me in a new coldness that I found rather unsettling.
"Monsieur De Chagny, what are you doing in my room?" He shrugged and leant against the back of the chair.
"The door was open. If you didn't want people in, you should have locked your door." Huffing, I removed the white gloves I wore from my hands and placed them on a stand near the door.
"My room needed airing. It was not an open invitation for people to let themselves in."
"Well I am here now," He replied, making his way over to where I stood. I was quick to remove myself from his path which was a silly mistake as he closed the door and locked it. "And I have a few questions."
"Is the locked door necessary?" I probed, though my heart was racing a hundred miles a minute at the thought of being locked up in the same room with this… snake.
"We wouldn't want anyone walking in on our conversation, would we? After all, the context is most sensitive. You and I both know what happened that night, Christine."
"Yes, I seem to recall you cornering me in a room like you are doing now and hurting my arm." I scoffed, going to sit down in my chair to remove my hair from its uncomfortable bun.
"Not that." He hissed, moving closer towards me, "I am talking about that friend of yours. Our little 'prank'." I turned in my seat and glared at him in hatred.
"I remember with crystal clarity what your friend did to my dear tutor. He almost died, Raoul. Have you no shame?"
"So he is still alive… I had wondered if Benoit had managed to slay that beast."
"Don't you dare call him that." I hissed vehemently, standing up so that I was on the same level as he. "If anyone is a beast it is you and that snake of a friend that clings to your side like a babe suckling its mother." Raoul smirked and looked at the long mirror which connected my world to Erik's.
"You know, it's funny really. I heard what he looked like. Like a corpse. Imagine my surprise when I heard the Phantom had exactly the same features. Looks like Buquet is good for something."
"The Phantom is not real. You are listening to a man who dreams and thoughts are induced with whisky. I would not pay much attention to him." I warned, walking over to my door to unlock it. "Now kindly get out and leave me alone."
"You know, it's strange Christine. You used to be so sweet and innocent. How you have changed. It's almost like you've had someone influence you. A certain tutor perhaps." He got closer to me and glared into my eyes. "I am not stupid Christine. I know your tutor and the Phantom are the same man and I will go to the ends of the earth to prove it. Now, crawl back to your corpse of a lover whilst you can because soon he will be dead." He muttered with such venom that a chill crawled down my back, my hand quick to lock the door behind him as he stepped out into the corridor. I quickly gathered a few things and rushed to the mirror, unlatching the trigger. I had to warn Erik. We needed a plan, and fast.