Chapter Five ~The Phantom of the Opera~ Rushing through the dark, twisted tunnels and corridors, I suddenly became aware of my position. Me, timid little Meg Giry, working for the Opera Ghost, supposed murderer, kidnapper, and tormenter of the Paris Opera. I was following him to his lair, where, with very little trouble, he could dispose of me.

An abrupt feeling of panic overtook my and my stomach clenched nervously as I fought to keep up. At the rate we were traveling, I would rather pursue this phantom than be lost in this gloomy maze myself.

Breathlessly I gasped, "W-where are we going?"

I received no answer in return, just a small jerk on my arm. Turning a sharp corner, the masked stranger halted before me, causing me to run into him. Quickly I back away and waited. The Phantom, as I called him in my head, stepped into a small boat and turned around, looking at me expectantly.

My eyes, better adjusted to the light than before, blinked in surprise as I examined my surroundings. I had not known a lake was down here! Yet, low and behold, an underground lake.

Quickly I stepped into the craft and sat down. As we moved farther into the mist, candles shown out in the dark. A minute later, the boat bumped against shore and I leaped out. To my surprise, before me was a grand house. I followed the Phantom inside of it.

A dark room, lit by candles, awaited us. My eyes, now adjusted to the dark, took everything in. I wondered if I was the only person who had seen this and lived to tell about it. Suddenly I wondered if indeed I would live to tell about it. Like it or not, I was at this madman's mercy.

His voice cut into the silence sharply. "My humble abode. I trust you will find it comfortable?"

Though the words were polite, the tone struck me as insolent and hateful. I dare not answer, I dare not ignore.

Finally I stammered, "I-its fine."

Spinning about, his white mask glinted in the candlelight as I caught his glare.

"Fine? It is more than fine! It is a masterpiece!" Stepping closer, he breathed, "Do you know who constructed the very Opera House above us? The basement? Everything below?"

I shook my head, terrified.

"It was I! Everything that has been taken for granted! You think anyone else but I could have accomplished such a feat? Of course not." The man ended bitterly. He turned again to face the wall, breathing hard.

I slowly backed away till my back hit the wall. My eyes wide, I stared at my captor. This was the man I was to serve? How had I gotten myself into such a predicament?

I wished I could turn back time and escape from this nightmare, but there was no turning back. I thought back to earlier, when I feigned bravery. He was shocked that I stood up to him. Perhaps if I could find that bravery, or rather, bravado, I would find myself alive at the end of the evening.

Gathering every ounce of courage I possessed, I went up to the man, and placing my hand on his arm, questioned boldly, "Who are you?"

Slowly he turned his haunted eyes upon me. A strange look crossed his face, and I could not tell in the poor light whether he was trying not to laugh, or merely sneering at me.

"You are mine now. My servant. Only under my most extreme confidence will you ever learn anything, and only my extreme trust can earn you that." He stared at me, piercing me with his gaze.

"Should you prove to be as faithful as your mother, though she acts mostly under fear, I will consider enlightening you on certain details. Until then, understand your place under my employment is not one of friendship, but of service."

I nodded in agreement. Did I dare do anything else?

"Do you have a name? What must I call you?" Surely, I could not call him 'The Phantom'.

He paused for a moment. "Your mother calls me 'Monsieur'. That should be enough for you."

"You have a name, no?"

"I have a name, yes. However, I do not need to provide you with it." Is voiced edged slightly, and I decided to stop pestering him with questions.

"Now. To bind your contract, I will give you your first lesson. Then you will run an errand for me. Come!" He beckoned for me to follow him. Trailing behind, but not too close, I entered a large room with the best light in I had seen in hours.

Blinking rapidly, I saw the largest piano in France sitting before me. Carved delicately on spindly legs, black with deep-toned brown highlights, and creamy silken keys, its beauty was astounding. Even I, who detested every piano lesson I took, felt my fingers ache to touch the find instrument, to skim along the work of art.

Monsieur sat down at it and quickly warmed his fingers. I merely looked on, staring about the room. A large trunk caught my eye. What would he keep in there? Dead bodies? I shuddered. His voice broke into my thoughts.

"Mademoiselle, we shall begin." I inched towards the piano and my teacher. My teacher, the angel of music! Suddenly Papa Daae's words flew back to me.

"Tell Meg, tell Meg I love her as my own daughter, and that she too should have the Angel, if she will accept him."

Was this possible? Indeed, it was a reality, for Monsieur was now glaring at me in frustration.

Condescendingly he hissed, "Do not waste my time. Come prepared to sing, or do not sing at all. Now," he continued in a deadly calm voice. "You will sing the aria from 'Hannibal'. Think of me, on the E note. One, two, and-"

I opened my mouth and barely whispered the opening line.

"No, no!" He roared. "I do not need a mouse as my student! I refuse to have you squeak and timid. Whether you sing on key or as flat as paper, sing loud and sing strong! Now again!

I raised my voice and tried again. "Think of me, think of me fondly when-"

The keys crashed. "Blast it! I did not ask for Carlotta! Think clear, simple, and crystalline, like Christine's voice. And for God's sake, girl, breathe! A deep breathe, now. No! Not from your lungs, from your diaphragm!"

And so my first lesson began. ~ Finally, it was over. I excused myself and hurried towards the door, but Monsieur called me back.

"I wish these two to be delivered promptly to the managers' office. You will place them on the desk in their absence, under no one's observation. The others shall be placed in the proper accommodations. You will tell no one, either about the author or about your connection. You will merely be a spectator like everyone else. Understood?"

Saying this, he handed me four folded notes. On one, the name 'M. Firmin', on another, 'M. Andre', on yet another, 'Vicomte de Chagny', and the last 'Madame Carlotta'. I glanced at them, wondering what was on the inside.

Reading my thoughts, Monsieur added, "You shall not read them." I nodded absently, eager to be out of his sight, but he was not finished. "You are now free to use the boat on the lake as often as our meetings occur. Should I need you at a different time other then our scheduled lesson, you will know."

The unsaid threat hung in the air as I took in the meaning. Must I live in daily horror that the man will snatch me? "Now, go." I left, quickly. I paused at the water, remember the way back. Then I settled in the boat and read the letters.

First, I opened Firmin's. It said:

"Dear Firmin, Just a brief reminder: my salary has not been paid. Twenty thousand a month, in case you were not informed. Send it care of the Opera Ghost, Madame Giry will know what to do with it. No-one likes a debtor, so it's better if my orders are obeyed! O.G"

I gasped at my mother's name. So she had been telling the truth! Ripping open Andre's, I found a similar message:

"Dear Andre, What a charming gala! Christine enjoyed a great success! I were hardly disturbed with Carlotta's absence, Indeed, I enjoyed it greatly. In the future I suggest Christine Daae be cast as a larger role. Oh yes, the chorus was entrancing, but the dancing was a lamentable mess! O.G"

Indignantly I folded the letters up. The dancing, a mess! Indeed, we all worked very hard, and anyone who knew ballet could tell.

Suddenly the boat reached land. I followed the twisted path back to the origin and opened the door. I was shocked to find myself at the Rue Scribe, near the back of the Opera House. The sky was dark now, and the stars bravely tried to shine through the heavy fog that had fallen.

I sighed and returned to the Opera House. After making my deliveries, I headed home. On my way, I stopped by Christine's house and asked the maid if she was home.

"Qui, Madame Daae returned not short of 3 hours ago. However, I regret to tell you, Mademoiselle, she is asleep now. I can leave a message you were here, no?"

I smiled, relieved. "No, that won't be necessary. Thank you." The maid bobbed a curtsey and closed the door.

At least she is home safe, I thought. Thinking of the past few hours, I walked home.