Erik settled into one of the velvet-lined chairs in Box five, letting a
sigh of comfort escape him as he leaned into the soft fabric. The box was
always dimly lit whenever he ventured there; it was light enough to see but
it also had the comfort of being veiled in darkness. In this solitude he
had time to reflect on the events of the past few days. He couldn't
believe what he had done-- what he had agreed to do. Christine adored him
because she saw him as an angel willing to teach her to sing, not for what
he truly was. Erik's mind slowly replayed what had happened between them
and he shuddered at the memories.
'What have I done,' Erik thought.
The chorus girls had assembled on stage and the orchestra pit was filled with the players. Erik turned his attention to the rehearsal, a little more than interested to see how far along they were. He sat back in his chair, listening to the music of 'Hannibal' as the orchestra began to play. His eyes watched as the youthful girls danced across the stage in the costumes they had just received. After a few moments Christine and Meg hustled onto the stage, both dressed in costume, and managed to fall in step with the rest of the girls with incredible ease.
"Monsieur?"
Erik jumped slightly but let out a soft sigh as soon as he recognized the soft, demanding voice of Mme. Giry. He made no attempt to acknowledge the woman or move from his chair. His eyes still watched the chorus girls dance around the stage. Erik's fingers itched to play his own scores; to watch and listen as others performed his pieces of art.
"Have they been worried?" Erik asked, finally breaking the silence. He let his elbows come to rest on the chair's arms, bring his hands together and bringing them near his lips. His eyes watched the girls intently but he listened for the woman's voice
"Yes." Mme. Giry replied. She made no effort to move towards Erik, but remained at the curtains of the box as if to guard it. "She plays one of the main slave girls in this opera. It is a step up for her, you know; we have been proud."
"Shouldn't you be down there instructing the girls?" Erik asked in annoyance.
Mme. Giry took in a soft breath. "They know what they're doing, Monsieur. I came here to see if you were the same."
Erik tensed slightly, feeling the stab of the woman's angry tone. He removed his hat and placed it on the chair beside him, smoothing his hair slightly. "She has such potential as a singer, Mme. Giry. Did you know that?" Erik didn't bother to wait for the woman's reply. "I have heard her sing when she thinks no one is there or listening. If given the chance and the right teacher she could become one of the best singers this opera house has seen. Therefore, I have taken Mademoiselle Daae as my pupil."
Mme. Giry let out a vague gasp. "Monsieur! Mademoiselle Daae is a very naive child; her mind is full of fairy tales and nonsense! It has been worse ever since her father died."
Erik paused; Christine had failed to mention such a thing. He pushed the thought from his mind, only for another to appear. "How old is she?" he whispered.
"Almost twenty." Mme. Giry replied softly. She began to grow uneasy as she heard Erik mutter that she was only five years younger than he. "She is young, Monsieur, and too delicate! You mustn't fill her mind with the dreams you weave. It has only been two years since her father left this world; mademoiselle Daae is still healing."
"I understand, Mme. Giry!" Erik said, his tone growing bitter. He clenched a hand into a fist. He grew silent, letting the only sound come from him was his own breathing. Swallowing his anger, Erik continued. "Answer me one more question, if you please. Who is the lead female in this opera?"
Mme. Giry paused. "Carlotta Giudicelli."
Slipping his hand into his cloak, Erik produced a small envelope. He placed it on the small table separating his chair and the empty one beside it. "Give this letter to the managers. It is of urgent news, Madame, so I hope it is given to them as quickly as possible."
Slowly approaching the table, Mme. Giry bent down to pick up the letter. Her eyes turned Erik and she froze. He watched her, silently, out the corner of his eye, the white mask hiding any emotion on display. She felt a cold chill run down her spine. Mme. Giry quickly grabbed the letter and turned to walk away.
"Oh," Erik said, suddenly, "one more thing."
"Yes, monsieur." Mme. Giry replied, slowly turning back to Erik.
Erik placed fifty francs on the table. "I wish for a glass of wine. The best you can find." He turned in his chair, catching Mme. Giry as she bent to pick up the money. She froze and stared into his eyes, as his hand took hold of hers tightly. "If anyone asks, you are buying the wine for Signora Giudicelli; they'd believe that soon enough. If you make mention of me, you know what I'm capable of." Erik released his grip on the woman's hand. "If there is any money left after you buy the wine, keep it for yourself and your daughter."
Mme. Giry back away, the money clutched to her chest as if it was keeping hold of her courage. She looked down at the money. "I couldn't, monsieur."
"You don't get paid enough for what you do." Erik replied. He turned in his seat and gazed across the empty seats. In a few days all the seats would be packed full of people; people here to see Carlotta. Of course, Erik had other plans for Signora Giudicelli. "You've taught so many people, Madame." Erik said, continuing. "And you've seen many things, so many horrid things." Laughter soon burst forth from Erik's body.
**********
Christine sat in her dressing room, staring dreamily into the mirror of her vanity dresser. She smiled softly and raised a brush to her curly black hair. So much had happened in so little time. After spending only a matter of days with Erik, Christine felt as if she had been changed. The Angel's voice seemed to raise her spirits and ignite a newfound flame in her soul.
The necklace Erik had given her was placed next to her handbag. Christine looked at it and smiled, remembering the moments before Meg and her mother arrived; their lips almost met. Christine shuddered at the thought and could almost swear she felt Erik beside her, touching her cheek softly. She looked at her reflection, hoping to see him but wasn't surprised to see only her reflection looking back.
A soft knock sounded at the closed door. Christine didn't bother to turn, but looked into her mirror; the door reflected in the glass, unmoving. She hoped the intruder would leave her in peace so she could prepare for her night's lesson. The knock came again. Christine lowered her eyes to the necklace. She took it and slipped it on as yet another knock rang out.
With a sigh Christine put her hands into her lap with a sigh. "Come in." she said. She examined her reflection for a moment before turning her eyes to the opening door. The petite frame of Meg appeared in her mirror. The young girl's cheeks were flushed from an obvious run and her breaths came in gasps; her eyes were wide with fear and other than her flushed cheeks she was as white as a sheet.
"Meg!" Christine cried. She stood quickly and rushed to her young friend, taking her into her arms. "What's wrong, Meg? It looks like you've seen a ghost!" The small girl gave no reply. Christine closed the door and led her friend to a small couch. The two sat, Christine trying to comfort Meg. "What's wrong? There has to be something wrong, Meg. I can see it your eyes. Please tell me."
Slowly Meg looked up at Christine. She blinked and a tear trickled down her cheeks. "Joseph Bouquet is dead, Christine! He was hung from the catwalk. No one knew he was there until his body fell, nearly crushing Signora Giudicelli! They say it was suicide, but why would he do such a thing? He was a happy man."
Christine let out a startled gasp. Joseph Bouquet was the person in charge set changer, and the best at that. He did no harm, but managed to fabricate the most tales about the Opera Ghost. The chorus girls would gather around, begging him to retell tales of his encounters with the ghost.
'He saw us!' Christine remembered, her heart skipping a beat. She remembered that instant as they rounded a dark corridor and in the distance a light could be seen. Erik had stepped in front of Christine, shielding her but she had peered around him, only to find Joseph standing in the faint light. The look in his eyes showed his fear. 'Joseph saw Erik bring me into the opera house. My Lord, why didn't I think of this before? That look Erik gave him was enough to kill anyone's soul. Joseph could only imagine that Erik was a ghost.'
"Christine?"
"What?" Christine asked, a little more than startled.
Meg looked at Christine, her eyes wide with child like innocence. "Is everything okay? Ever since you came back from your disappearance you've been acting strange, you've never acted like this before." Her eyes studied Christine's face. She blinked and smiled slightly. "Maybe it's because of the man mama and I saw you with."
Christine smiled and felt her cheeks flush. She had a feeling Meg had seen Erik, but hoped that she didn't. She hoped so now, more than ever, in fear of what Erik may do to her. "He's just a friend; nothing more." she replied softly.
"You have an admirer!" Meg swooned. She looked at Christine dreamily. "Oh how lucky you are, Christine! Are you going to fulfill your father's wishes soon? Will you finally find your man and marry? Oh, how lovely it would be to see you with a young baby in your arms. The child will look like you!"
A soft laugh escaped Christine. "You're jumping to conclusions, Meg. I have not thought of marriage with this man; I have known him for only a few days. Like I said he's nothing more than a friend."
Meg smiled slyly. "I saw how he was holding you Christine and how he was looking into your eyes. That was a look of love."
"Meg!" Christine cried out.
"Ha! You're blushing, Christine, I must be right."
"You are not, Meg! You don't know what was happening."
"Oh, but I do! The way you two were so close, locked in that embrace." Meg giggled as she continued. "It looked as if he was to kiss you, and you weren't making a single move to stop him. You can't tell me that this isn't true."
Christine blushed and turned her head away, trying to hide her smile of joy. The idea Erik coming so close to kissing her was something that sent a shock through her body. She knew the idea was odd; a mortal loving an angel in the manner of a lover was something that no one seemed to think of. Still, Erik didn't seem to care and Christine couldn't deny she didn't care either.
Meg suddenly let out a gleeful squeal, catching Christine off guard. "You're face has turned so red!" The young chorus girl threw her arms around Christine. "You do have more than feelings of friendship towards this man; I can see it in your eyes. There is no denying it now! Don't worry, though! I promise not to mention a word of this to anyone."
Before Christine could reply, the giddy chorus girl had run out of the room. She felt a smile form on her face once again. She knew Meg had seen through the fabricated lies; she did adore Erik, but she couldn't figure out if his actions before was more than a test; a test to see if she would give into something as simple human urges. Christine hoped that is wasn't and prayed that Erik's feelings were of affection.
**********
"This isn't good!" Firmin said reading over the Opera Ghost's latest letter. He sighed, putting the letter face down before himself. "I had a hunch he was behind this!"
Armand lifted his head from his desk; anger reflected in his eyes as he looked at his business companion. "How could you tell? That damned ghost didn't even give an insinuation of his hand in what happened. It can't plainly be in that letter."
Firmin shrugged. "True, but he did say that if Signora Giudicelli is not stripped of her leading role a great misfortune will fall upon her." He grabbed the letter and put it in its envelope, slowly looking at Armand coldly. "Just today Joseph Bouquet was killed and fell, nearly hitting la Carlotta. Now, tell me this isn't our ghost's doing."
"Our friend is quiet tricky." Armand said, slowly standing and stretching his arms.
Firmin nodded. "And he always happens to be seen or heard from after our little 'accidents' are committed. If anything happens there is always a letter waiting for us when we return."
"And who, Armand, is the only person the delivers the letters to us?" Firmin asked with a menacing smile.
Armand paused. "Mme. Giry!"
"Precisely!"
"What are you saying, Firmin? Do you think Mme. Giry is behind all this? Pardon my saying, but she doesn't seem like the person to do such a thing."
"No! What I was saying is that Mme. Giry must speak or see our ghost to receive the letters. So, if, by chance, we have someone follow Mme. Giry around, without her knowing of course, we could find out who our ghost is."
Armand smiled and approached Firmin. "A wonderful idea! But are you serious about this? If Mme. Giry, or our ghost, found out what we're doing, we could get in trouble."
Firmin shook his head. "We are of high standings in Paris, my dear friend. Mme. Giry couldn't do a thing to us!"
"And what about our ghost?"
"His days will soon be numbered, Armand. I can guarantee you that."
'What have I done,' Erik thought.
The chorus girls had assembled on stage and the orchestra pit was filled with the players. Erik turned his attention to the rehearsal, a little more than interested to see how far along they were. He sat back in his chair, listening to the music of 'Hannibal' as the orchestra began to play. His eyes watched as the youthful girls danced across the stage in the costumes they had just received. After a few moments Christine and Meg hustled onto the stage, both dressed in costume, and managed to fall in step with the rest of the girls with incredible ease.
"Monsieur?"
Erik jumped slightly but let out a soft sigh as soon as he recognized the soft, demanding voice of Mme. Giry. He made no attempt to acknowledge the woman or move from his chair. His eyes still watched the chorus girls dance around the stage. Erik's fingers itched to play his own scores; to watch and listen as others performed his pieces of art.
"Have they been worried?" Erik asked, finally breaking the silence. He let his elbows come to rest on the chair's arms, bring his hands together and bringing them near his lips. His eyes watched the girls intently but he listened for the woman's voice
"Yes." Mme. Giry replied. She made no effort to move towards Erik, but remained at the curtains of the box as if to guard it. "She plays one of the main slave girls in this opera. It is a step up for her, you know; we have been proud."
"Shouldn't you be down there instructing the girls?" Erik asked in annoyance.
Mme. Giry took in a soft breath. "They know what they're doing, Monsieur. I came here to see if you were the same."
Erik tensed slightly, feeling the stab of the woman's angry tone. He removed his hat and placed it on the chair beside him, smoothing his hair slightly. "She has such potential as a singer, Mme. Giry. Did you know that?" Erik didn't bother to wait for the woman's reply. "I have heard her sing when she thinks no one is there or listening. If given the chance and the right teacher she could become one of the best singers this opera house has seen. Therefore, I have taken Mademoiselle Daae as my pupil."
Mme. Giry let out a vague gasp. "Monsieur! Mademoiselle Daae is a very naive child; her mind is full of fairy tales and nonsense! It has been worse ever since her father died."
Erik paused; Christine had failed to mention such a thing. He pushed the thought from his mind, only for another to appear. "How old is she?" he whispered.
"Almost twenty." Mme. Giry replied softly. She began to grow uneasy as she heard Erik mutter that she was only five years younger than he. "She is young, Monsieur, and too delicate! You mustn't fill her mind with the dreams you weave. It has only been two years since her father left this world; mademoiselle Daae is still healing."
"I understand, Mme. Giry!" Erik said, his tone growing bitter. He clenched a hand into a fist. He grew silent, letting the only sound come from him was his own breathing. Swallowing his anger, Erik continued. "Answer me one more question, if you please. Who is the lead female in this opera?"
Mme. Giry paused. "Carlotta Giudicelli."
Slipping his hand into his cloak, Erik produced a small envelope. He placed it on the small table separating his chair and the empty one beside it. "Give this letter to the managers. It is of urgent news, Madame, so I hope it is given to them as quickly as possible."
Slowly approaching the table, Mme. Giry bent down to pick up the letter. Her eyes turned Erik and she froze. He watched her, silently, out the corner of his eye, the white mask hiding any emotion on display. She felt a cold chill run down her spine. Mme. Giry quickly grabbed the letter and turned to walk away.
"Oh," Erik said, suddenly, "one more thing."
"Yes, monsieur." Mme. Giry replied, slowly turning back to Erik.
Erik placed fifty francs on the table. "I wish for a glass of wine. The best you can find." He turned in his chair, catching Mme. Giry as she bent to pick up the money. She froze and stared into his eyes, as his hand took hold of hers tightly. "If anyone asks, you are buying the wine for Signora Giudicelli; they'd believe that soon enough. If you make mention of me, you know what I'm capable of." Erik released his grip on the woman's hand. "If there is any money left after you buy the wine, keep it for yourself and your daughter."
Mme. Giry back away, the money clutched to her chest as if it was keeping hold of her courage. She looked down at the money. "I couldn't, monsieur."
"You don't get paid enough for what you do." Erik replied. He turned in his seat and gazed across the empty seats. In a few days all the seats would be packed full of people; people here to see Carlotta. Of course, Erik had other plans for Signora Giudicelli. "You've taught so many people, Madame." Erik said, continuing. "And you've seen many things, so many horrid things." Laughter soon burst forth from Erik's body.
**********
Christine sat in her dressing room, staring dreamily into the mirror of her vanity dresser. She smiled softly and raised a brush to her curly black hair. So much had happened in so little time. After spending only a matter of days with Erik, Christine felt as if she had been changed. The Angel's voice seemed to raise her spirits and ignite a newfound flame in her soul.
The necklace Erik had given her was placed next to her handbag. Christine looked at it and smiled, remembering the moments before Meg and her mother arrived; their lips almost met. Christine shuddered at the thought and could almost swear she felt Erik beside her, touching her cheek softly. She looked at her reflection, hoping to see him but wasn't surprised to see only her reflection looking back.
A soft knock sounded at the closed door. Christine didn't bother to turn, but looked into her mirror; the door reflected in the glass, unmoving. She hoped the intruder would leave her in peace so she could prepare for her night's lesson. The knock came again. Christine lowered her eyes to the necklace. She took it and slipped it on as yet another knock rang out.
With a sigh Christine put her hands into her lap with a sigh. "Come in." she said. She examined her reflection for a moment before turning her eyes to the opening door. The petite frame of Meg appeared in her mirror. The young girl's cheeks were flushed from an obvious run and her breaths came in gasps; her eyes were wide with fear and other than her flushed cheeks she was as white as a sheet.
"Meg!" Christine cried. She stood quickly and rushed to her young friend, taking her into her arms. "What's wrong, Meg? It looks like you've seen a ghost!" The small girl gave no reply. Christine closed the door and led her friend to a small couch. The two sat, Christine trying to comfort Meg. "What's wrong? There has to be something wrong, Meg. I can see it your eyes. Please tell me."
Slowly Meg looked up at Christine. She blinked and a tear trickled down her cheeks. "Joseph Bouquet is dead, Christine! He was hung from the catwalk. No one knew he was there until his body fell, nearly crushing Signora Giudicelli! They say it was suicide, but why would he do such a thing? He was a happy man."
Christine let out a startled gasp. Joseph Bouquet was the person in charge set changer, and the best at that. He did no harm, but managed to fabricate the most tales about the Opera Ghost. The chorus girls would gather around, begging him to retell tales of his encounters with the ghost.
'He saw us!' Christine remembered, her heart skipping a beat. She remembered that instant as they rounded a dark corridor and in the distance a light could be seen. Erik had stepped in front of Christine, shielding her but she had peered around him, only to find Joseph standing in the faint light. The look in his eyes showed his fear. 'Joseph saw Erik bring me into the opera house. My Lord, why didn't I think of this before? That look Erik gave him was enough to kill anyone's soul. Joseph could only imagine that Erik was a ghost.'
"Christine?"
"What?" Christine asked, a little more than startled.
Meg looked at Christine, her eyes wide with child like innocence. "Is everything okay? Ever since you came back from your disappearance you've been acting strange, you've never acted like this before." Her eyes studied Christine's face. She blinked and smiled slightly. "Maybe it's because of the man mama and I saw you with."
Christine smiled and felt her cheeks flush. She had a feeling Meg had seen Erik, but hoped that she didn't. She hoped so now, more than ever, in fear of what Erik may do to her. "He's just a friend; nothing more." she replied softly.
"You have an admirer!" Meg swooned. She looked at Christine dreamily. "Oh how lucky you are, Christine! Are you going to fulfill your father's wishes soon? Will you finally find your man and marry? Oh, how lovely it would be to see you with a young baby in your arms. The child will look like you!"
A soft laugh escaped Christine. "You're jumping to conclusions, Meg. I have not thought of marriage with this man; I have known him for only a few days. Like I said he's nothing more than a friend."
Meg smiled slyly. "I saw how he was holding you Christine and how he was looking into your eyes. That was a look of love."
"Meg!" Christine cried out.
"Ha! You're blushing, Christine, I must be right."
"You are not, Meg! You don't know what was happening."
"Oh, but I do! The way you two were so close, locked in that embrace." Meg giggled as she continued. "It looked as if he was to kiss you, and you weren't making a single move to stop him. You can't tell me that this isn't true."
Christine blushed and turned her head away, trying to hide her smile of joy. The idea Erik coming so close to kissing her was something that sent a shock through her body. She knew the idea was odd; a mortal loving an angel in the manner of a lover was something that no one seemed to think of. Still, Erik didn't seem to care and Christine couldn't deny she didn't care either.
Meg suddenly let out a gleeful squeal, catching Christine off guard. "You're face has turned so red!" The young chorus girl threw her arms around Christine. "You do have more than feelings of friendship towards this man; I can see it in your eyes. There is no denying it now! Don't worry, though! I promise not to mention a word of this to anyone."
Before Christine could reply, the giddy chorus girl had run out of the room. She felt a smile form on her face once again. She knew Meg had seen through the fabricated lies; she did adore Erik, but she couldn't figure out if his actions before was more than a test; a test to see if she would give into something as simple human urges. Christine hoped that is wasn't and prayed that Erik's feelings were of affection.
**********
"This isn't good!" Firmin said reading over the Opera Ghost's latest letter. He sighed, putting the letter face down before himself. "I had a hunch he was behind this!"
Armand lifted his head from his desk; anger reflected in his eyes as he looked at his business companion. "How could you tell? That damned ghost didn't even give an insinuation of his hand in what happened. It can't plainly be in that letter."
Firmin shrugged. "True, but he did say that if Signora Giudicelli is not stripped of her leading role a great misfortune will fall upon her." He grabbed the letter and put it in its envelope, slowly looking at Armand coldly. "Just today Joseph Bouquet was killed and fell, nearly hitting la Carlotta. Now, tell me this isn't our ghost's doing."
"Our friend is quiet tricky." Armand said, slowly standing and stretching his arms.
Firmin nodded. "And he always happens to be seen or heard from after our little 'accidents' are committed. If anything happens there is always a letter waiting for us when we return."
"And who, Armand, is the only person the delivers the letters to us?" Firmin asked with a menacing smile.
Armand paused. "Mme. Giry!"
"Precisely!"
"What are you saying, Firmin? Do you think Mme. Giry is behind all this? Pardon my saying, but she doesn't seem like the person to do such a thing."
"No! What I was saying is that Mme. Giry must speak or see our ghost to receive the letters. So, if, by chance, we have someone follow Mme. Giry around, without her knowing of course, we could find out who our ghost is."
Armand smiled and approached Firmin. "A wonderful idea! But are you serious about this? If Mme. Giry, or our ghost, found out what we're doing, we could get in trouble."
Firmin shook his head. "We are of high standings in Paris, my dear friend. Mme. Giry couldn't do a thing to us!"
"And what about our ghost?"
"His days will soon be numbered, Armand. I can guarantee you that."