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This story will have 55 chapters total, so three more chapters after this one!

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Chapter 52

Erik

Whether or not to leave Buquet behind was not something I had the time to sit down and really consider. My gut feeling was that it would be better for him to come with us - the thought of him becoming loose in my home was nightmarish.

Keeping him bound and blindfolded on the way up was also not an option - he would move far too slowly.

So when Buquet expressed his rage at Firmin - at how he couldn't believe the manager would allow the rest of the Opera House to suspect him - I took an enormous leap of faith. I untied his wrists and told him he would be coming with us.

But I made it very clear that, should he tell anyone where I lived, he would meet the wrath of the Phantom.

Buquet took in my mask and understood then - understood who I was. Understood who the Ballet Wraith was as well. He swallowed and said that he heard me loud and clear.

I had never moved the boat faster across that damn lake. I'd never moved with such speed through the underground labyrinth. Jules kept up with me all right, but Buquet needed to stop here and there, his body apparently unused to the exercise. It certainly didn't endear me anymore to him.

If the man was shocked to find an underground maze that led to a house right beneath his place of work, he didn't say it. But a look at his eyes every so often told me that he would be itching to tell someone even if he didn't actually plan to.

Once at the surface, I told Jules to lead the way to the hotel - there were currently no cabs around and we wouldn't waste time waiting for one. He agreed - he said it was a mere ten minute walk. Buquet walked behind, and I tailed them both. The rare person walking the streets either stopped and stared at me in my costume, or glanced and quickly looked away.

This walk was the longest ten minutes of my life.

But we made it there - the hotel with its boarded up windows and desperate need of a new coat of paint, looking ever eerie in the darkness and moonlight. Jules bolted for the door, attempted immediately to open it as Buquet and I sprinted as well. But it was locked. Of course.

"Allow me," I said, and pulled lock picks from my cloak; I always carried a pair. I made quick work of the lock.

It clicked audibly.

I opened the door, only to be met with utter blackness.

"Jesus Christ, it's dark," said Buquet. "Do we even know if anyone is here? What if she wasn't taken to this-"

"Shut up," I snapped quietly. "There has to be a source of light, somewhere-"

But before anyone could look for a switch or candle or lantern, all three of us saw a yellow glow descending straight in front of us. The glow illuminated spiral stairs, a girl holding a lantern and running with maddened speed down, down, breathing heavily, feet banging into the steps.

Jules gasped, recognizing her as soon as I did.

"Good lord," breathed Buquet. "She looks positively-."

"Christine." I threw my voice.

And when she heard, she stopped in her tracks and screamed. She brought her hand up to her mouth and raised the lantern in our direction, any direction, as if trying to make someone out. I think she couldn't see us. I think she didn't know who it was that said her name. Her fear had increased tenfold. And at the sight of the opened door behind us, a long, loud gasp emanated from her lips.

"Christine," I said again, and walked forward. "It's me."

She froze, then sobbed, then continued running down the steps. "Is this a trick?" she said shakily, at last making it to the bottom. She moved quickly toward the door. "Is that you, Erik?" Christine continued walking until the light illuminated me. She saw Jules and Buquet, but didn't point them out or give them much thought. She let out another sob, and then ran straight into my arms. I caught her. She was quivering ferociously.

"I have you," I said gruffly. "I won't let you come to harm."

"He's coming," she whispered. "Soon. My ten minutes must be almost over."

"Your ten-"

"There's no time to explain it." She left my arms. "He will kill me if he finds me. He'll kill you too, I think."

"Then we must go."

"I can't." She grimaced. "He has Madame Giry. And he said if I don't..." She shook her head. "He will kill her if we go. We have to search quickly. I might have bought us time, if we are lucky-"

A loud thud from somewhere above, and then a terrible male scream. Christine froze, seeming not to breathe.

"Fuck-" said Buquet, looking up at the source of the sound.

Jules and I stared at her. M. Bernard whispered, "What, exactly, did you do?"

Her shaking hand went to a small brown satchel at her hip. She brought out a spool of black thread. "I tied thread to both sides of the staircase, low to the ground - I made a booby trap, hoping to trip him down the stairs."

"Judging by the sound, I think you succeeded," I said, and turned to Jules. "Go get the police. Now. No telling how long that trap will prove effective."

"He's armed," said Christine shakily. "He has a rifle. I don't know how many rounds it has. But he's armed."

I stared hard at Jules. "Go. Now."

"Yes, sir." He was out the door faster than I could tell him to be quick.

I turned to Buquet to give him an instruction as well.

But he was gone.

I spun in place, looking for him - but he was nowhere to be found. He'd either wandered out of the hotel, somehow unnoticed, or he'd gone deeper into the hotel like a madman. Or to help Firmin, like a traitor. At this point, it was too late to make an effort to find out.

I faced Christine and put my hands on her shoulders. The mere contact relaxed her a fraction.

"Do you have any idea where Madame Giry might be?" I asked. "Any clue?"

"No," she whispered, "I don't." She paused. "How did you know where to find me?"

"Jules-"

Before I could finish, there was a pounding down the stairs, and another glow of light came barreling down. Attached to it was Firmin, moving fast but limping, grimacing against some pain. In his other hand was indeed a rifle.

"Bitch," he growled, and reached the bottom, "you twisted my ankle. I will-"

He froze upon seeing me. Took in the open door behind me. Then slowly grinned. "Well. Isn't this a pleasant surprise. I finally meet the Phantom face to face. Come to collect your Wraith?" He raised the gun, pointed it at us. Without thinking, I moved Christine behind me, shielding her from the path of a potential bullet. "Oh, don't worry, Phantom," he crooned. "There's a bullet in here for her too." He raised his voice. "This is cheating, Christine! So now you will all die - you, your precious Ghost, and the poor Madame in the basement-"

Out of the darkness, I saw Buquet's large body come barreling toward Firmin. Before the manager could turn to look, the stagehand had pummeled him to the ground. Firmin gave a yell, and the lantern smashed to the ground; the rifle went sliding across the floor, our of his reach. Christine bolted for it, picked it up.

I went to Christine, but didn't take my eyes off of Buquet as his large stomach seemed to crush Firmin's diaphragm - the manager was face down, so the man was unfortunately lost to Buquet's monstrous gut. I'd never been so grateful that another human possessed so much fat on their person.

"Good man," I said slowly. "Where the hell did you go?"

"Figured he'd be coming down the stairs soon, so I went to hide - to do what I just did," he said, and chuckled at his own perceived genius. Firmin struggled, gasping for air, and Buquet only pressed himself down harder.

I wouldn't admit it to him, but it was more intelligent of a plan than I would have expected from him.

I held out a hand to Christine for the gun and lantern. She nodded and gave them to me.

"How dare you?" said Buquet, breath in Firmin's ear. "How dare you?"

"What on earth do you care?" said Firmin, voice strained.

"You ruined my reputation," snarled Buquet. "You tarnished it."

"It wasn't exactly golden to start with - ah!"

Buquet dug his elbow into Firmin's side.

I went around the two men so that Firmin could see me. I looked Firmin in the eye. Saw the coldness there - saw how he'd managed to mimic warmth in order to fool the world, lure girls and women into trusting him. I'd always considered myself like a spider - but he...

I lowered the lantern to the ground to get a better look at him. I felt disgust at what I saw.

And in that moment, I wanted him to feel the same sort of revulsion. In that precise moment, I didn't entirely care if Buquet saw. Or Christine. All I wanted was to shock and repulse this killer of innocents.

I removed my mask.

Buquet cursed.

Christine gave a sharp gasp, moved her hands to her mouth - later. I'd deal with that later.

And Firmin.

Firmin went pale. Firmin looked as though he were looking into the face of the Devil himself.

"I hope," I said to him, "that you have nightmares of this face every single imprisoned day of your life. I hope this is the image that haunts you in Hell." I lifted the gun's barrel so that he was staring straight into it. "Now, tell me - you say that Madame Giry is in the basement. I assume that it requires a key. Buquet?"

"Monsieur."

"Search him for keys."

"It would be my pleasure."

"Firmin," I said, as the man lay motionless, unable to tear his eyes away from my face as Buquet's hands went through his pockets, "where precisely is the basement's entrance?"