To my surprise, the man laughed. I shivered; it was a frightening laugh.
Deep from his throat, the evil chuckle floated about in more of a whisper
than any other sound. "My dear mademoiselle," he began dryly. "I hardly
think I am the one to worry about."
The threat was so obvious that I became angry. "Monsiuer! Explain your words and then leave!" My face flushed in my fury, even though I was deathly afraid.
He sneered as he replied, "Mademoiselle Giry, after all your mother has said to you, I should think you might listen. You seem like a sensible girl. You should have kept your pretty little nose out of other people's business." Before I could answer, he continued. "You have been given plenty of warnings, particularly from people you love, which is more than several others have gotten. At this point I would say, consider your destruction your own fault." I was speechless. I took a step toward him and suddenly I knew who this man was.
"You.you're the. the-"
"The Phantom of the Opera, Meg?" the man mockingly said my name. He bowed. "Indeed, I am. Or perhaps you would know me better as the Opera Ghost." He swept he cape and bowed again, more extravagantly. "Then again, if you are acquainted with Christine Daae, you might even dub me the Angel of Music." He began to laugh again. I took the opportunity to make a run for it while he was diverted, but his reflex was better than I thought. He whirled around, and, grabbing my wrist, threw me against a wall. I stayed, cowering against the wall as he deliberately paced about me. Seriously, he said, "Now, Meg Giry, we can talk. Is it true that you talked to Buquet about me?"
"Why, I-" I stuttered, taken aback.
"Indeed, so it is. I knew the old fool couldn't keep anything to himself. But I can take care of him later. How much has your mother said to you?"
"Monsieur," I said. "My mother told me nothing. I assume now she did so for my protection."
"She did. Your mother is a shrewd woman, and that is why she alone survives in my service. " I winced at the horrible words. "Answer me truthfully, mademoiselle. How much do you know?"
I stood. I was tired of being interrogated, and I figured the sooner I told him everything I knew, the sooner he would let me go. Putting my fear aside, I retorted, "I know you are a man." His eyebrows rose slightly but gave no motion of answering me. "I know that you made rumors travel of you being a ghost to create fear in the minds of everyone who believed. So that you would seem to have an infinite power, and be immortal. I know you terrorize the opera for your own sick pleasure.
"I know that you kill for sport, by use of the Punjab Lasso." Nervously I glanced at the mentioned weapon and continued. "I know that Buquet has seen you and started rumors. You are mad at him because he warns everyone of you, and you prefer the element of surprise." I ran out of breath and stopped, waiting for his reaction.
With a hint of a smile on his face, he said, "Well. I see someone has been doing some research on me. Indeed," he slowly added, relishing the look on my face, "It will be a pity to have wasted such a mind. And talent, for that matter."
His words dawned on me. "You wouldn't-" I began.
"Oh I very much would. You see you know too much about me. With enough study, you might be able to predict my movements and counter them. At the height of your career, people might choose to believe you when you say such things. It is quite possible. You are dangerous, Meg Giry. Therefore, I am forced to dispose of you." Deliberately he removed the rope from his cloak.
Quickly I blurted out, "Are you really the Angel of Music?" I had to distract him someone. Perhaps asking questions might save me. I had no doubt that this madman would not hesitate to kill me.
Surprised, he answered cautiously, "Yes, I am. Why does that concern you?"
"Are you in love with Christine Daae?"
I could see his patience was wearing thin. "My patience is wearing thin, why do you ask me such impertinent questions!" It was more of a statement than a question. "You can stop trying to distract me, for I care not of what happens to you, a simple ballet rat!" He raised the lasso.
Desperate, I countered, "Do you care about the feelings of Christine?"
The phantom (for I had already started to think of him as a phantom, considering he wasn't a ghost and certainly not an angel) checked himself, startled at the argument. "Why should any of this matter to you?"
I smiled triumphantly; I could tell he was in love with her. "I am her best friend. If you kill me, and she finds out, I can guarantee she will not find you as entrancing anymore."
The threat was so obvious that I became angry. "Monsiuer! Explain your words and then leave!" My face flushed in my fury, even though I was deathly afraid.
He sneered as he replied, "Mademoiselle Giry, after all your mother has said to you, I should think you might listen. You seem like a sensible girl. You should have kept your pretty little nose out of other people's business." Before I could answer, he continued. "You have been given plenty of warnings, particularly from people you love, which is more than several others have gotten. At this point I would say, consider your destruction your own fault." I was speechless. I took a step toward him and suddenly I knew who this man was.
"You.you're the. the-"
"The Phantom of the Opera, Meg?" the man mockingly said my name. He bowed. "Indeed, I am. Or perhaps you would know me better as the Opera Ghost." He swept he cape and bowed again, more extravagantly. "Then again, if you are acquainted with Christine Daae, you might even dub me the Angel of Music." He began to laugh again. I took the opportunity to make a run for it while he was diverted, but his reflex was better than I thought. He whirled around, and, grabbing my wrist, threw me against a wall. I stayed, cowering against the wall as he deliberately paced about me. Seriously, he said, "Now, Meg Giry, we can talk. Is it true that you talked to Buquet about me?"
"Why, I-" I stuttered, taken aback.
"Indeed, so it is. I knew the old fool couldn't keep anything to himself. But I can take care of him later. How much has your mother said to you?"
"Monsieur," I said. "My mother told me nothing. I assume now she did so for my protection."
"She did. Your mother is a shrewd woman, and that is why she alone survives in my service. " I winced at the horrible words. "Answer me truthfully, mademoiselle. How much do you know?"
I stood. I was tired of being interrogated, and I figured the sooner I told him everything I knew, the sooner he would let me go. Putting my fear aside, I retorted, "I know you are a man." His eyebrows rose slightly but gave no motion of answering me. "I know that you made rumors travel of you being a ghost to create fear in the minds of everyone who believed. So that you would seem to have an infinite power, and be immortal. I know you terrorize the opera for your own sick pleasure.
"I know that you kill for sport, by use of the Punjab Lasso." Nervously I glanced at the mentioned weapon and continued. "I know that Buquet has seen you and started rumors. You are mad at him because he warns everyone of you, and you prefer the element of surprise." I ran out of breath and stopped, waiting for his reaction.
With a hint of a smile on his face, he said, "Well. I see someone has been doing some research on me. Indeed," he slowly added, relishing the look on my face, "It will be a pity to have wasted such a mind. And talent, for that matter."
His words dawned on me. "You wouldn't-" I began.
"Oh I very much would. You see you know too much about me. With enough study, you might be able to predict my movements and counter them. At the height of your career, people might choose to believe you when you say such things. It is quite possible. You are dangerous, Meg Giry. Therefore, I am forced to dispose of you." Deliberately he removed the rope from his cloak.
Quickly I blurted out, "Are you really the Angel of Music?" I had to distract him someone. Perhaps asking questions might save me. I had no doubt that this madman would not hesitate to kill me.
Surprised, he answered cautiously, "Yes, I am. Why does that concern you?"
"Are you in love with Christine Daae?"
I could see his patience was wearing thin. "My patience is wearing thin, why do you ask me such impertinent questions!" It was more of a statement than a question. "You can stop trying to distract me, for I care not of what happens to you, a simple ballet rat!" He raised the lasso.
Desperate, I countered, "Do you care about the feelings of Christine?"
The phantom (for I had already started to think of him as a phantom, considering he wasn't a ghost and certainly not an angel) checked himself, startled at the argument. "Why should any of this matter to you?"
I smiled triumphantly; I could tell he was in love with her. "I am her best friend. If you kill me, and she finds out, I can guarantee she will not find you as entrancing anymore."