Erik slunk through the darkness of the opera house, sliding into shadows when he thought he saw someone at the end of a corridor. The Palais Garnier... It was minuscule in comparison to the Populaire, but he supposed since the accident the Garnier was now the largest opera house in all of Paris.
Yeah, right 'accident' Erik thought to himself, scoffing slightly. It had been his fault. But truly it was the fault of those managers and the Vicomte, he had warned them... They should have seen it coming. Now he was forced to live like a rat, slinking in shadows and hoping not to be seen. If anyone knew that the Opera Ghost still lived, it would be mayhem, and Erik doubted that this time he would be able to escape.
He cursed as a servant bobbed down the corridor holding a lantern aloft. He quickly slid into a room that he had his back to, and watched through a crack in the door as the servant walked past, holding his breath. It would cause too much attention if one of the servants was discover dead. He was about to leave the room when he heard a noise behind him. He stood stalk still, ready to attack if necessary. The sound was only a person breathing, deep breaths that indicated sleep. He turned to the woman sleeping in the bed, checking to make sure she was actually asleep. Her eyelids fluttered slightly as he watched her, and her face was quite beautiful, her features small and delicate, her pale olive skin making her look like a porcelain doll. He found himself staring avidly at her and he blinked, feeling like he had seen this woman before... Earlier today, at the Populaire! That's right; a woman had been lurking there, along with Madam Giry. Odd, that a woman knowing lyrics from Don Juan and Madam Giry were there on the one day he had decided to return to the Populaire... Very odd indeed. He was sure that this woman had not been on the cast during the days of the Populaire, so he had no idea how on earth she knew lines from Don Juan Triumphant!
He tore his gaze away from her face and left the room silently, careful not to wake her. After hearing the words of his Don Juan sung with such perfection and beauty that he had believed for one shining moment that Christine had returned to him. He wanted to howl in pain at the memory, and he reached into his pocket and gripped the ring he had given her and closed his eyes for a moment as he was hit with a wave of emotion. Pain, regret, anger, sorrow... Wave upon wave of pain engulfed him. After three years he could still feel the pain as clearly as he had the moment she had walked away, leaving that ring to burn a hole in his palm. When he had seen that ring he knew that it would look beautiful on her, and once he had discarded the ring the Vicomte had given her, he had been able to get her a proper ring that would truly compliment her beauty. He had purchased the ring using the remainder of his salaries from the manager before the two fools Firmin and Andre.
Erik kept moving down in the opera house, before he came to a locked door. He picked it in under a minute, and he began the journey into the catacombs of the Palais Garnier. It was cold and damp, and after living with the Giry's for so long he felt somewhat at home.
As Erik turned down a passage he saw a large lake sunken into the bottom of a large cavern, with little pockets carved out of the stone walls. He stopped, looking around. He supposed this would do. He pulled a few candles from his pockets and lit them, setting them around the edge of the lake as he sat down. Large catfish swum lazily in the murky green water, making ripples on the surface.
For two and a half years he had lived with Madam and Meg Giry, but he had never felt right being there, and eventually Madam Giry threw him out, and he had been forced to find a new home. He supposed that an opera house was a good a home as any, at least for him. He felt comfortable down here alone, with just peace and quiet. Of course it would only be a sanctuary; Erik would not pull his Opera Ghost stunt again. He didn't want to cause trouble, he just wanted peace.
He had followed that woman back here, and he had waited until nightfall before he had entered the Garnier. It was a nice opera theater, respectable, but it was nothing compared to the Populaire. Most of his lair had been emptied, only his organ remaining. He did not want to stay there even if it had been left untouched; the memory of what had happened there would haunt him for the remainder of his days. Not that it didn't haunt him, that hurt feeling came and went, and most of the time he was able to block out those memories, and hopefully they would fade with time. He did not want to forget Christine, but he needed to if he wanted to stop aching. Perhaps he should let his heart throb with despair. It was what he deserved after all, for the pain he had caused others. He hoped Christine was happy.
He would need to make this place a little more secure, so he could ensure that no one would find him here.
()
I examined the pieces of sheet music before me, scratching my chin in though. I had never heard of Don Juan Triumphant, and I couldn't find another copy of it in the Garnier's archives. The hand used to write this music was scrawled, the letters thin and leaning slightly to the right and were not the product of the steady hand of a scribe. That being said that meant that this was an original, or the original. The music was sharp and brisk, constantly changing making this probably one of the most difficult operas I had studied. Alice came into my room at that moment and I glanced up at her before I returned my gaze to the pages before me.
"Hello," I murmured. Alice sat on the bed beside me and pulled back her hair with a ribbon, looking over my shoulder at Don Juan.
"Whatcha got there?" she asked.
"I found this when I visited the Opera Populaire a few days ago." I murmured, pushing a few of the pages around on my bed.
"What is it?"
"An opera," I muttered, "called Don Juan Triumphant, have you heard of it?"
"No," Alice said, gingerly picking up one of the burned pages.
"Oh," I twisted my mouth in distaste. "I found it in the orchestra pit, which meant this was being performed when the accident happened..."
"Why does it matter?" Alice inquired, cocking her head.
"Because I just moved to a new country and I have nothing to do," I said. That wasn't actually the reason, but I did give me something to do between rehearsals. No, the actual reason was to find out more about this so called 'accident' and the voice I had heard while I was at the Populaire. And I also wanted to find the rest of the manuscript if there was another copy somewhere.
"I see," Alice said, "Just don't go near the Populaire again, I hear it is haunted."
"You can't honestly believe that," I said, glancing up at her. "Ghosts don't exist."
Alice shrugged uncomfortably. I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the music. Alice picked up another page and whistled through her teeth.
"This music is brutal," she said, "How could anyone play this? Never mind sing it!"
"The composer must have been doing this for years, writing music I mean, wow."
"And there is no name?" Alice asked, grabbing the leather folder and turning it over in her hands, inspecting it closely.
"Nothing. I suppose most of it was lost to the fire... Or maybe the composer wished to remain unknown." I shrugged, "My guess is as good as yours."
"Well come on," Alice said, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. "It's midday and I'm starving,"
"Alright," I murmured, and I spared one last fleeting glance for the pages spread across my bed before I was pulled from my room by Alice.
