Myao – Thanks again as always for your nice review!
Rachel & Salem – I'm glad you have been finding the last chapters suspenseful and I hope you like this one! Thank you for liking my writing.
Part 9
After a while Christine sniffed and wiped her face with her hand. She was so tired! It would be easy to lie down on the stone floor and fall asleep but she knew if she did so in her wet garments, she would catch a chill that could lead to fever.
Besides, it would make it easier for Erik to catch her – if he was still alive, which she had to assume. He no doubt knew this part of the Opera like the back of his hand and could find her easily…
The air was stale and chilly...she wondered how many levels she had to ascend before she got back to the surface. It seemed aeons since she had seen the sun and felt the wind on her face. Her stomach growled, craving the sweet, addictive tea Erik had given her and an involuntary shudder ran through her body, leaving her shaking. What was wrong with her? What had been in that tea to make her crave it so even now?
Aware she was still dripping wet, with shaking hands she quickly removed her dressing gown and awkwardly wrung it out as best as she could on the floor. Anxious not to waste time she put it back on and paused, wondering which direction to travel in – to go forward or turn and head in the other direction? She mentally shrugged. Surely it could not hurt to walk forward for now and she started trudging carefully along the passage, hoping that she would not bump into anything in the dark.
Usually she would have been scared of the dark, but relief at her narrow escape (so far) from Erik kept her spirits up as she strained her eyes to see where she was going. Her bare feet were cold and ached a bit – what she would not give for a pair of good walking shoes, she thought wistfully. Her braid had fallen from its pins and she pulled it over her shoulder and wrung it out the best she could as she walked along. She kept it over her shoulder, touching it occasionally as she would a talisman to protect her.
She started hearing noises as she walked along, the faint creaking a building did at night, distant clinking sounds from pipes and once, the squeaking of a rat as it scampered past her, making her cry out in fright.
Then she heard a whistling noise and saw a faint light in the distance bobbling along towards her.
She stared at the distant light in tired misery. Surely it could not be Erik. No – for he sneered at whistling and would not have a tuneless whistle if he did so as this person did. She hoped that this person would be friendly…
"Hello?" Christine called out cautiously.
"Who is there?" came the puzzled, gruff reply of a man in the distance. The whistling stopped and the light paused. "Starting to hear things in me old age!" she heard him mutter. "Coulda sworn I heard me a lady down here!"
"It is Christine Daae!" she called desperately and tried to walk faster toward the light but suddenly her legs wobbled and gave way under her. Her knees hit the ground painfully and she cried out in pain.
"Why..it is a lady!" she heard the man say in astonishment and the light grew brighter as it drew closer to her. Then the light defined itself as a lantern being held by an elderly man in patched brown clothes who was carrying a lumpy bag as well. He had a wrinkled face and grizzled grey hair, gaping at the sight of the young black-haired woman shivering in a white dressing gown on the ground, looking like she had been dunked in the lake below.
"What's a young missy like you doing down here?" he said in bewilderment. She stared up at him with appeal on her lovely, fine-boned face.
"My name is Christine Daae" she whispered. "I was held prisoner by the…the Phantom of the Opera!" she added in a faltering voice, nearly breaking on the last words.
His eyes widened in horror. His job as a rat catcher down here sometimes led to the odd encounter with the Phantom – and each time he hoped it would be the last, for there was a cruel soul behind that white mask, he would swear on his sainted mothers grave. And this lovely little missy had been his prisoner? And managed to escape? No doubt that devil was searching for her too…
"Lucky to be alive you are and no mistake, little lady, or my name isn't Rat Catcher Lou!" he muttered kindly to her as he dumped his rat bag on the ground (he would fetch it later) and with that free hand awkwardly helped her to her feet.
"I cannot walk very well, I fear" she muttered apologetically.
"Well then, you just lean on me and I'll get you out of here" Lou said kindly and she gratefully took his elbow. The mismatched pair shuffled along the passage, Christine thankful for this true guardian angel…
"It is a dark day indeed when that masked devil starts to a taking young ladies for sport!" he grumbled.
"You have seen him, have you…ah, Lou?" she said in surprise.
"Aye!" he muttered. "One time he strung me up in a lasso and left me hanging from a hook for hours – not enough to kill, mind you!"
"Oh no!" Christine cried out in horror. "Why would he do such a cruel thing to you?"
Lou grunted. "He said he called the rats 'friends' and said if I wanted a long life I should do the same." He hawked and spat to the side in disdain then looked abashed. "Sorry for that missy, me manners are a crying shame, that they are!"
Christine laughed shakily beside him. "It is all right…"
They arrived at a crossroads in the passage and he turned left. Then when they came to another crossroads a little while later he turned left again and then the passage sloped upwards and then ended in a wooden door. Lou placed the lantern carefully on the ground and fumbled in his pocket for the key, then opened the door that revealed a long corridor that had a row of doors on the right hand side, with rough sconces holding unlit candles on the walls.
"Lou, where are we?" Christine asked in confusion.
He coughed. "This here is the level where them top opera folk store old props and the like. This here first door on the right is my lodgings – and the fourth door down leads to a staircase that will take you up to them upper levels."
Christine gasped in delight. "A way upwards – how will I ever thank you?"
Lou flushed and looked abashed. "No need for thanks – but you need a warm coat, some stew and a rest before you head upstairs, me thinks."
"I cannot stay – he...he will be still looking for me, I know it. I must go!"
"He will have to get past me first!" Lou asserted gruffly and she reluctantly nodded.
"You just head through the door to my room missy, and I will be out here on guard, that I will."
Christine sighed. "I am rather tired – thank you" and watched as he unlocked his door and opened it for her. When she went to go through he stopped her and gave her the key to his door. He stared at her hard.
"Lock the door behind you little missy, and if…something happens to me (if the Phantom caught up with them was left unsaid) there is a trapdoor in the floor – a tunnel will take you to another ladder that will get you up two floors to a store room. A staircase is nearby that will take you to them Opera folk." Lou grunted. "Who ever built this place was nuttier than a good walnut pie, that is all I can say!"
Christine nodded, her face pale. "Thank you for your kindness – I will never forget this" and she went through and closed and locked the door behind her.
Lou sighed and retrieving some whittling equipment from an empty storeroom sat outside his door and set to whittling a piece of wood he was currently working on. His lamp was turned down low and he looked for all the world like an ordinary workman having a break. It did not bother him that it was night – in the depths of the Opera it was always night.
In the depths of the Opera, he searched for his lost prey, his eyes cold. He would find her and then she would pay for this humiliation.
Rachel & Salem – I'm glad you have been finding the last chapters suspenseful and I hope you like this one! Thank you for liking my writing.
Part 9
After a while Christine sniffed and wiped her face with her hand. She was so tired! It would be easy to lie down on the stone floor and fall asleep but she knew if she did so in her wet garments, she would catch a chill that could lead to fever.
Besides, it would make it easier for Erik to catch her – if he was still alive, which she had to assume. He no doubt knew this part of the Opera like the back of his hand and could find her easily…
The air was stale and chilly...she wondered how many levels she had to ascend before she got back to the surface. It seemed aeons since she had seen the sun and felt the wind on her face. Her stomach growled, craving the sweet, addictive tea Erik had given her and an involuntary shudder ran through her body, leaving her shaking. What was wrong with her? What had been in that tea to make her crave it so even now?
Aware she was still dripping wet, with shaking hands she quickly removed her dressing gown and awkwardly wrung it out as best as she could on the floor. Anxious not to waste time she put it back on and paused, wondering which direction to travel in – to go forward or turn and head in the other direction? She mentally shrugged. Surely it could not hurt to walk forward for now and she started trudging carefully along the passage, hoping that she would not bump into anything in the dark.
Usually she would have been scared of the dark, but relief at her narrow escape (so far) from Erik kept her spirits up as she strained her eyes to see where she was going. Her bare feet were cold and ached a bit – what she would not give for a pair of good walking shoes, she thought wistfully. Her braid had fallen from its pins and she pulled it over her shoulder and wrung it out the best she could as she walked along. She kept it over her shoulder, touching it occasionally as she would a talisman to protect her.
She started hearing noises as she walked along, the faint creaking a building did at night, distant clinking sounds from pipes and once, the squeaking of a rat as it scampered past her, making her cry out in fright.
Then she heard a whistling noise and saw a faint light in the distance bobbling along towards her.
She stared at the distant light in tired misery. Surely it could not be Erik. No – for he sneered at whistling and would not have a tuneless whistle if he did so as this person did. She hoped that this person would be friendly…
"Hello?" Christine called out cautiously.
"Who is there?" came the puzzled, gruff reply of a man in the distance. The whistling stopped and the light paused. "Starting to hear things in me old age!" she heard him mutter. "Coulda sworn I heard me a lady down here!"
"It is Christine Daae!" she called desperately and tried to walk faster toward the light but suddenly her legs wobbled and gave way under her. Her knees hit the ground painfully and she cried out in pain.
"Why..it is a lady!" she heard the man say in astonishment and the light grew brighter as it drew closer to her. Then the light defined itself as a lantern being held by an elderly man in patched brown clothes who was carrying a lumpy bag as well. He had a wrinkled face and grizzled grey hair, gaping at the sight of the young black-haired woman shivering in a white dressing gown on the ground, looking like she had been dunked in the lake below.
"What's a young missy like you doing down here?" he said in bewilderment. She stared up at him with appeal on her lovely, fine-boned face.
"My name is Christine Daae" she whispered. "I was held prisoner by the…the Phantom of the Opera!" she added in a faltering voice, nearly breaking on the last words.
His eyes widened in horror. His job as a rat catcher down here sometimes led to the odd encounter with the Phantom – and each time he hoped it would be the last, for there was a cruel soul behind that white mask, he would swear on his sainted mothers grave. And this lovely little missy had been his prisoner? And managed to escape? No doubt that devil was searching for her too…
"Lucky to be alive you are and no mistake, little lady, or my name isn't Rat Catcher Lou!" he muttered kindly to her as he dumped his rat bag on the ground (he would fetch it later) and with that free hand awkwardly helped her to her feet.
"I cannot walk very well, I fear" she muttered apologetically.
"Well then, you just lean on me and I'll get you out of here" Lou said kindly and she gratefully took his elbow. The mismatched pair shuffled along the passage, Christine thankful for this true guardian angel…
"It is a dark day indeed when that masked devil starts to a taking young ladies for sport!" he grumbled.
"You have seen him, have you…ah, Lou?" she said in surprise.
"Aye!" he muttered. "One time he strung me up in a lasso and left me hanging from a hook for hours – not enough to kill, mind you!"
"Oh no!" Christine cried out in horror. "Why would he do such a cruel thing to you?"
Lou grunted. "He said he called the rats 'friends' and said if I wanted a long life I should do the same." He hawked and spat to the side in disdain then looked abashed. "Sorry for that missy, me manners are a crying shame, that they are!"
Christine laughed shakily beside him. "It is all right…"
They arrived at a crossroads in the passage and he turned left. Then when they came to another crossroads a little while later he turned left again and then the passage sloped upwards and then ended in a wooden door. Lou placed the lantern carefully on the ground and fumbled in his pocket for the key, then opened the door that revealed a long corridor that had a row of doors on the right hand side, with rough sconces holding unlit candles on the walls.
"Lou, where are we?" Christine asked in confusion.
He coughed. "This here is the level where them top opera folk store old props and the like. This here first door on the right is my lodgings – and the fourth door down leads to a staircase that will take you up to them upper levels."
Christine gasped in delight. "A way upwards – how will I ever thank you?"
Lou flushed and looked abashed. "No need for thanks – but you need a warm coat, some stew and a rest before you head upstairs, me thinks."
"I cannot stay – he...he will be still looking for me, I know it. I must go!"
"He will have to get past me first!" Lou asserted gruffly and she reluctantly nodded.
"You just head through the door to my room missy, and I will be out here on guard, that I will."
Christine sighed. "I am rather tired – thank you" and watched as he unlocked his door and opened it for her. When she went to go through he stopped her and gave her the key to his door. He stared at her hard.
"Lock the door behind you little missy, and if…something happens to me (if the Phantom caught up with them was left unsaid) there is a trapdoor in the floor – a tunnel will take you to another ladder that will get you up two floors to a store room. A staircase is nearby that will take you to them Opera folk." Lou grunted. "Who ever built this place was nuttier than a good walnut pie, that is all I can say!"
Christine nodded, her face pale. "Thank you for your kindness – I will never forget this" and she went through and closed and locked the door behind her.
Lou sighed and retrieving some whittling equipment from an empty storeroom sat outside his door and set to whittling a piece of wood he was currently working on. His lamp was turned down low and he looked for all the world like an ordinary workman having a break. It did not bother him that it was night – in the depths of the Opera it was always night.
In the depths of the Opera, he searched for his lost prey, his eyes cold. He would find her and then she would pay for this humiliation.