Myshawolf and Angelina walk out. The page is very quiet. Angelina looks
around nervously while Mysha enjoys the quiet.
MW: Ohh, Readers! Hi all. Sorry I'm late with this. You know how a teacher's life is. Midterms to grade, Phone calls to make.
A: Anyways. Here is chapter 4.
MW: Are you sure you never seen Star Wars?
A: Okay, where did that come frome?
MW: *shrugs* I guess I'm not over that little revelation. *sideways glance* Really really?
A *chuckles* Yes, I haven't seen Start wars. Can we get on with this?
MW: Okay. I wonder how the muses are doing?
A: I don't know except I hate to be Haldir when Lucky gets a hold of him. I was hearing dangling earring being mentioned.
MW: *winces* ouch. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost is the working word. *to the readers* On with the Show.
Wandering Children
Chapter 4 - Close Encounters I
John walked among the back stage area the next day looking for clues. So far he didn't learn much except don't mess with the prop table. Glancing at his watch, he noted the time. It was only noon. Half the day wasted for nothing. He was about to go to the Opera House Library when a beautiful song snagged his attention. Turning he saw Christine singing through the scales slowly at first but then quickly pick up speed. Her face was flushed as she burst out into a beautiful aria. John stood transfixed by the pureness of her voice as it flowed over the notes of the song. When she finished, a heavenly smile took over her lips. John couldn't help but smile in response to the sight of her.
Suddenly Dante's voice was heard shouting at Christine. Christine glared at the intruding tenor. John watched as the two fought on the stage. The conversation intrigued him.
"That was filthy, mademoiselle." Dante shouted at her, "You turned that into pure garbage."
"Shut up, Dante." Christine spat, "You wouldn't know beauty even if it hit you in the face!"
"At I know singing. You still need to practice." Dante sneered, "Isn't your Angel teaching you enough?"
"The Angel of music has taught me more than your mother ever even dreamed of knowing!"
"My mother was the greatest soprano in the world, mademoiselle." Dante growled, looking at her like he was ready to charge.
"Only in her mind," Christine sniffed, "Or what is left of it."
Christine turned to leave when Dante grabbed her arms. Christine struggled against him but couldn't get free. Dante pulled her close to him, his face close to hers. Christine looked like she ready bite or throttle him.
"Never insult my mother, you little slut, or you suffer a worst fate than death." Dante threatened lowly, "Of course you might enjoy it with a whore of a mother. Tell me Christine does your mother teach you all her little tricks?"
John was stalking towards them. Anger pushed him to stop this abuse. He had his cane out when Michael's twin landed on the stage behind Dante from the flies high above. John looked up to see two female members of the stage crew watching him go to work. The older one was wearing a smile while the younger one was in shock.
Aidan grabbed Dante by his hair and yanked him away from his sister with a roar, "Don't you dare touch her!"
Dante rolled across the stage and quickly got to his feet, "Ah the big bad brother comes to the rescue."
Aidan positioned himself between Christine and Dante and shot back, "You better believe it."
"I see the whore has been busy." Dante smirked confident Aidan wouldn't touch him while there were people present.
Aidan stalked toward Dante, murder was evident in his eyes. John stepped out on to the stage and quickly stepped in front of Aidan, "Monsieur, don't do it. He isn't worth it."
Aidan glared at john before shoving him aside. John hit the stage hard. As he sat up, Christine was kneeling by his side. Concern was evident in her blue eyes. John blushed embarrassed that he couldn't break up a simple fight. Dante stood defiantly as Aidan approached.
Suddenly a sand bag hit the stage just missing Dante. He glared up at the flies as another landed in front of him. Dante jumped out of the way of the third one. Looking up, He watched as Krissy and Jessamine untying a few ropes. Sensing he was out numbered and in grave danger, Dante ran from the stage. A fourth sandbag grazed him as he fled.
Aidan looked up to see Krissy snapping her fingers in disappointment and muttered, "Zed I hate getting old. I almost had the twit."
Jessamine just smiled at Aidan, who smiled back before turning to Christine. He frowned to see Christine helping up the fool who got into his way. John was thanking Christine for her help while blushing at the same time. Aidan sighed as he walked over. Christine glared at Aidan, wanting him to apologize for his behavior.
"I'm sorry about that, monsieur." Aidan grumbled.
John smiled forgivingly, "Why? I would have done the same thing if he was insulting my family and was hurting my sister."
Aidan smiled back at least he was sympathetic, "Are you all right then?"
John nodded, "Nothing more than a bruised ego. Well, I leave you two alone then, since I can't be of anymore assistance."
John bowed to the both of them before walking away. Aidan smiled knowing why he left. It's hard dealing with making a fool of yourself in front of strangers. Christine watched him go with a wistful look on her face. Aidan groaned, not another one in love.
Jessamine smirked as she watched what was going on. She slapped her hands together and then started to walk away; she turned her head smiling towards the stage. Dante looked mad.
"God I hate him," she scowled looking at him.
Just then Aidan slipped down one of the ropes and landed in front of Jessamine. Jessamine was busy with her thoughts that she didn't see him or know she spoke that last part out loud.
"You're telling the wrong person trust me," he smirked as she smashed into him.
The five foot seven girl toppled backwards and fell into a large box, her arms hanging over the side and her legs sticking out. Her face was shocked as she stared at him. Aidan walked over and stuck his hand out.
"Need some help?" he chuckled.
She looked at him through her crooked sunglasses and laughed nervously, "Merci, but you must stop sneaking up on people," she smiled noticing a piece of paper sticking out of his pocket as he helped her up, "What's that?"
He pulled it out of his pocket and unfolded it, "It's your poem," he smiled, "I carry it around and when I'm in an especially good mood, I use it to somber myself up." He held it out to her, "if you would, I would love a presentation from the poet herself."
Jessamine smiled as she took it from him. Smoothing out the gently creases she began to read, her cheeks blushing slightly, "Alone, by Jessamine Deveraux. I am a dark corner in a lighted room. A shelved book amongst a destroyed library. A lone picture hanging on a white wall. A red ant crushed in a sea of black. The little child lost in the woods, the world around her caving in, smothering her. A red rose in a bouquet of white thrown out on Valentine's Day. The lone ranger racing towards the sunset of life. I am alone," she looked up at him and smiled, "So, did you like your performance?"
"It was very stirring," he said pocketing the poem again, "I will be waiting for your next piece of work. Good job, mon chère," he said walking away, clutching the poem in his pocket. He smiled to himself as he pulled it out again and looked at it.
As he walked along looking at it his brother snuck up behind him, "What are you looking at dear brother?" said Michael as he placed his hand on his brother's shoulder causing him to jump.
"You know you really shouldn't sneak up on me," he said his face returning to the normal stern expression. He quickly stuffed the poem in his pocket and stared at his little brother.
"Come now," Michael said amiably, "You must have been looking at something important that you don't want any one else to see it. Let me see!" he tried to grab his brother's piece of paper. "Come on Aidan, let's see it!"
"Jesus Christ you little pest!" spat Aidan, "What's wrong with you? Must you be so damned nosy?" His eyes narrowed and he grabbed his brother's shirt collar. "If you want to know what I'm reading, if you must know you stupid little moron, I am reading a poem! Are you satisfied?"
Michael nodded nervously as his brother lifted him off the ground slightly. Aidan placed him down and Michael stared at his brother in disbelief, poetry? When did he start reading poetry, he thought to himself as he straightened his collar.
"The only person that writes poetry around here is," Michael smirked and then said, "It's by her isn't it? Oh Aidan! I should tell Mama and Papa! They would love to hear this."
Aidan tried to stay as calm as possible while his brother berated him. His eyes narrowed slightly at the grin on Michael's face
"Dearest brother," he said in stressed voice, "I'm also sure Papa would love to hear about your romantic ventures with the Yardie. Now I highly recommend you keep quiet or else I may have to divulge into information that could indefinitely have Papa's career in crime extend far beyond theft."
Michael scowled; his own sick joke had turned on him, "Fine, I'll keep quiet but you better not open your trap either. Remember I could always tell Mama and Papa about my older brother and Jessamine the pick pocket."
"Well, at least Jessamine the pickpocket, as you refer to her, will not arrest me!" he stormed away and went into an empty dressing room sitting upon the small chair and picking up a pillow to yell into it. How his brother annoyed him so. "Who does he think he is anyway?" he asked himself as he sat there and recuperated from his screaming fit.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*
Mirielle traveled the back stage corridors looking for incriminating evidence. She had been at it for over an hour and found nothing. Grinding her teeth she pressed on then she saw a trap door. Walking over to it she peaked from side to side and tried to open it. After a few good pulls it creaked open and she started down the stairs. Then she remembered what Krissy had told her.
"You're hand at the level of your eyes," she repeated over and over again as she descended.
She neared the bottom and smiled thinking that she had made it there safely and then out of no where swung a rope. She caught it with her hand and then pulled the knife out of her back pocket. Quickly disarming the piece of rope she sighed. "People really need to figure out how to protect whatever they are protecting without using a noose," she murmured as she walked on.
The dark cellars of the opera house were cold and dank. Mirielle shivered and went deeper into the basements. She still couldn't find anything, "Zed," she whispered. Further and further she went, still to no avail, aside from a few mice of course. She turned around and walked back up to avoid getting lost in the cellars. "Hmm," she hummed, "Where could it be?" she asked absentmindedly as she walked back towards the stairs and up them.
As she closed the trap door she saw Akeem walking around back stage, "Excuse me," she said, "Do you know where I can find Miss Erika Noir?"
Akeem laughed a little and then looked at Mirielle with a stern face, "I honestly cannot tell you that. I am not one to give up information that isn't any business of mine. Besides, if you want an appointment with her you'll go on a list with about ten thousand others."
Mirielle mumbled under her breath and then asked, "Where can I find the keeper of the 'list?'"
"I would have to say that your most likely bet would be with my uncle, Nadir," Akeem said thoughtfully, "But I can't promise anything. After all, she was the best, and most likely still is. She only keeps company with those she trusts."
"Thanks," Mirielle said unconvincingly. She walked towards the auditorium and stage area to try and see if anything was going on there. "Well, if anything these criminals are clever," she said through her teeth as she tried to think of a way to get her guys.
As Mirielle stomped away from Akeem, Erika stepped out of the shadows with Nadir. Erika's face was thoughtful and worried while Nadir was just worried. Nadir had come to know James as a friend despite his profession. Erika turned to Nadir.
"Are you sure of her origin?" Erika asked.
"Yes, she is the eldest child of Sherlock Holmes and Elizabeth Lestrade." Nadir confirmed, "She is here on important business for the Yard."
"Probably James's latest project." Erika deduced.
"He still won't tell you what is on that disk?" Nadir asked with a raised eyebrow.
"No," Erika sighed, "I know he is selling it to the highest bidder on the market."
"Has he given any consideration to retiring with you?"
Erika smiled, "How long would that last, my friend? A year? No I won't force him to stop until he is ready."
"He could stay here and help out. He would make an excellent addition to my staff." Nadir mused, "I could use someone like him."
"Good idea," Erika laughed, "You can tell him."
"No thank you. I leave that temper to you. Oh well, I still have Akeem, Aidan and Michael to convince. I'll tell them that they can beat up Dante."
"Why do you say that? Yesterday, you told me as The Phantom I had no claim on his life for trying to seduce Christine."
"That was until he had a confrontation with Christine today." Nadir froze at the look at Erika's eyes, "She is fine. Aidan stepped in as did Krissy and Jessamine."
"Jessamine? The writer that's been around here?"
"The pick pocket. Yes, apparently Aidan got her a job here." Nadir sneered, "I still can't believe Krissy hired her."
"I can. Just remember how Krissy was when Buquet first found her and hired her. She was a little trickster herself especially at the Masquerade."
Nadir tried not to smile as he remember those parties, "She sure knew how to get into trouble."
"So did we, so do our heirs. I heard Akeem by accident walked into the dancer's dressing room yesterday."
"Yes on a dare by your two sons. He has a hell of a bump on his head. Danesh was scolding him with fixing the cut on his forehead." Nadir chuckled, "He was wondering when Michael and Aidan were going to pay him."
"Speaking of which, I haven't seen either yet. I hope they are keeping their noses clean." Erika worried.
"They better be." James spoke up as he wrapped his arms around his wife, "I missed you this morning."
"Meeting with the managers." Erika smiled as she kissed her husband hello.
"I'd better be going. I have to protect The Opera from our children." Nadir grinned as he walked away. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched James pulled Erika back into the Shadows. Maybe James was closer to retiring than Erika had thought. Nadir smirked as he decided to seek out the Holmes girl.
Mirielle groaned. Hours and hours of fruitless searching wore her out. "Where is he?" she asked herself looking for a dressing room or something of that sort with the name Nadir on it.
She snorted and pressed on through the building. While she continued to work in her own little world Nadir followed her silently, just observing her habits and ways. He smirked as she became frustrated and her cheeks reddened.
She finally turned around and noticed him, "Excuse me sir," she tried to put on her happiest face, "but do you know a man named Nadir?" she asked.
"Why yes, in fact I do," he smiled, "He's right here."
Mirielle tilted her head to the side and eyed him questioningly. "What do you mean?" Her sandy hair fluttered over her shoulders as her violet eyes looked at him with severe confusion burning in them.
"I am Nadir," he laughed. "My, my, Mademoiselle Holmes, nothing gets by you." He grinned and then his face went deadly serious, "Mademoiselle, may I ask why you are poking your nose around here and why you request a meeting with Madame Noir?"
"It's my job," she replied. "Besides, I need to question her about her whereabouts the other night. I have been told a few things which I should look into. I was also told that you were the man I should talk to about a meeting with Madame Noir. Would you be able to do that for me or should I keep trying myself?"
"Oh no Mademoiselle," mused Nadir, "I could help you, but Madame Noir must agree beforehand. She's not easy to get a meeting with. I suggest you don't wait to continue your investigation until your meeting with her, because it could be a while. Au revoir Mademoiselle," he said walking away.
Mirielle looked at Nadir walk away. A look of pure frustration covered her face, "How can it be so hard to get a meeting with a prima donna?" she looked up into the rafters and then massaged her temple.
"Aidan!" Erika shouted at her son, who fell asleep on her cot. Aidan woke with a start he looked around the small dressing room until he spotted his mother's concerned eyes. Aidan rubbed the back of his head as he tried to explain to Erika why he was in there. Erika took a seat at the vanity while she waited for her son to gather his thoughts.
"How long I have been out?" Aidan asked as he stretched.
Erika shrugged and changed the subject gesturing to the mirror, "You know this is my dressing room. If you are tired your bed is just down the hallway."
"I'm sorry I ducked in here to get away from Michael. He can be so annoying sometimes."
"He is your brother, but I understand." Erika smiled, "I heard you got Jessamine a job here."
"Yeah, she needs one." Aidan paused then knowing his mother won't judge, continued his thought, "Mom, she is a talented pickpocket. I was thinking of teaching her like how Grandpa taught me and Michael."
"And Christine. Or did you forget when she swapped all your money from your back pocket to buy ice cream." Erika teased her son, "I think you should do as you see fit. I can't forbid you from doing it any more than your father can."
Aidan nodded and decided to bring up his next concern, "Mama, what would you do if you knew someone close to you was making a big mistake but they won't listen to you."
Erika tilted her head to the side, considering the question, and then answered her son, "I would probably hope for the best and be there to catch them when it didn't work out. Just like what your father and I did when you fell for Cosette."
Aidan blushed, "I just don't want Michael to get arrested because he fell in love with that detective."
Erika laughed at Aidan's horrified look when he let that last part slip, "I knew about that since you two came back. Let him be. Michael knows how to handle himself. Just be then when he has to walk away just as he was for you."
"I will, Mama."
"Now I have a meeting to get ready for. Nadir has told me that the detectives want a meeting." Erika smiled.
"You can't, Mama. What if you let something slip?" Aidan panicked.
Erika's grin went wicked very quickly, "Then we'll see how clever Holmes' children are. Besides they are meeting both sides of me. Who said they have a chance to ask questions."
Mirielle and John met in the lobby. They both looked exhausted and frustrated. "Did you find anything?" asked John as he sat down in one of the chairs out there. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.
"Only that there are some strange people here, namely a Middle-Eastern man named Nadir," she replied. "How about you?"
"Well, I found that we shouldn't mess with that table on stage," he shuddered, "and then the guy who yells at you tells you about some stupid lasso."
Mirielle grimaced at the thought of the lasso, "Well I found that out yesterday. Maybe we should go to the hotel, Mum and Dad may have called with some information or something like that," she somberly walked towards the door.
John pulled himself out of the chair and made his way across the lobby. He looked at the portraits on the walls as he left, 'Strange,' he thought, 'these all look similar to Christine or the two twins.' He noted that and then walked outside. He saw his sister getting ready to get into the driver's seat and his eyes opened wide. "I don't think so!" he yelled as he ran towards the car.
He was too slow and she had climbed in already and turned the key. He went to open the door and Mirielle smirked, she had locked it. John scowled and tried to jiggle the handle. It wouldn't budge. He finally gave up and walked to the other side of the car and got into the passenger side. "So, little brother, are we ready to go?" she asked teasingly.
"I'm never ready to go when you drive," he said pulling the seatbelt tighter. "Please, try and avoid making me want to retch."
"I'll try," she smiled as they started to drive. She drove well, for the most part; it's just that she took after her mother in that aspect.
Upon reaching the hotel John climbed out the car with a paled face. "Jerk," he murmured staggering towards the door. They got into the elevator again and went up to the room. "How many times are you going to get me sick before it sinks in that you can't drive?" he asked as she opened the door.
"You only heaved once," She smiled, "Besides, you can't drive any better. You drive like Commish."
"Shut up," John scowled, "I do not drive like Grandpa Grayson!"
"Yes you do," she smirked as she almost closed him out of the room. John placed his foot between the door and the framing and pushed it open. Mirielle huffed and then looked at the message board. "Looks like we have an audio message," she sighed pressing the button.
"Bonjour Mademoiselle and Monsieur Holmes," said the unfamiliar voice, "Welcome to Paris. I hope you are enjoying your stay. I will give you the chance to meet me at de'l Harmonie for forty-five minutes, tonight at six o'clock. You shall be greeted by Nadir and he will lead you to my private room. Goodbye Children."
Mirielle smiled and looked at her brother who was now collapsed upon the bed clutching his stomach and moaning. "We got our interview!" she yelled triumphantly.
John was about to say something when he had to jump up and run to the bathroom. Mirielle shuddered and John walked out again, "I think it's your interview Mir, if I look at food I'll get sick."
"Wimp," she murmured. "Fine I'll go by myself but you better be ready to listen to every detail when I get back. I'll take my digital recorder and record the whole conversation with Madame Noir."
"Go," motioned John towards the door, "Leave me alone." He curled up in a ball on the bed and closed his eyes as Mirielle left.
She gently shut the door behind her and got out her keys. Looking at her watch it was five forty-five already, "Zed, another day wasted," she murmured shutting off the radio. She sped to the restaurant and climbed out after parking. She saw Nadir mumbling something to himself and walked up to him.
Nadir briefly wondered how in hell he gets talked into this one. Granted he swore to protect against anything but still they have pulled this stunt since their younger days. Nadir muttered a string of curses in Arabian when he spotted Mirielle approach him.
"Bonjour Mademoiselle," he bowed slightly, "Madame Noir is expecting you. Follow me," he abruptly turned and walked into the restaurant.
Mirielle followed him into a small back room where a woman with deep brown hair and sparkling blue eyes was waiting for her. She silently clicked the button for the recorder and Nadir exited.
"Bonjour Mademoiselle Holmes, where is your brother?" asked Erika in a sweet voice.
"He couldn't make it. He's feeling a little under the weather," she sighed. "Madame Noir, I have reason to believe that you are of close relation to Christine Noir and Michael and Aidan. Am I correct?"
"You would be," Erika smirked. "I am related to them."
"Very well," she went on. "Beg pardon, but, where were you two days ago?" She asked jotting down a few notes, although she didn't need them.
"I was in the Opera house, and I have witnesses who can prove it. If you would like Nadir could vouch for me," Erika said getting ready to get up to get him.
"No, no that won't be necessary," Mirielle raised her eye brow and then said, "May I ask the name of your husband? You kept your maiden name and I am afraid there is no record of a marriage to Madame Erika Noir."
"I think you should be able to tell me that," smirked Erika, trying to play mind games with the girl. "I knew your mother and father, they would be proud if you figured it out and I didn't tell you."
Mirielle grumbled and then remembered her parents. Her eyes snapped back to Madame Noir and she pondered for several moments. No one came to mind. She didn't see anyone with her and there was no inclination of anyone.
"This is tiresome Madame Noir," she said after fifteen minutes, "The fact that you don't answer is becoming suspicious."
"Oh, look at that, thirty minutes is up, mon chère," she smiled. "I am afraid I have another appointment right now, but it was a pleasure to meet you." Erika got up, her red velvet dress slightly trailing behind her. "Au revoir," she smiled as she walked out a back door, the dry click of it locking ringing through Mirielle's head.
Mirielle sat there for a few moments. Finally she got up and went to leave the room when she ran into a figure in black. Its face was covered with a white mask and its hair was hid by a black fedora. Deep blue eyes stared at her. Mirielle took a step back and fell into her chair. The Phantom was real.
"Mademoiselle." The Phantom greeted in sharp tenor voice, "I heard that you have been poking around my theater lately. Why?"
Mirielle gulped and tried to sound composed as she answered, "I'm investigating crime that took place in New London."
The Phantom nodded, "So what brings you here to Paris then?"
"We tracked the criminals involved here." Mirielle continued her confidence building as she remembered what her mother told her, "In fact, it was a move accredited to you that brought me to the Opera."
The Phantom seemed amused, "Really? Do you think I was a part of it?"
"Anyone who hides behind a mask has something to hide."
"Mademoiselle, we all hide behind a mask. Some are easy to see than others. Everyone has their secrets."
"Then maybe you can tell me where you were two days ago."
The Phantom laughed, "You have your mother's tenacity even if you have your father's looks. I was here at the theater watching the auditions for the new Opera. No one saw me as it should be."
"You people are not helping."
"Then maybe you need to remove your mask, mademoiselle, and take a new look at things. Masks can blind us to the truth as well as hide it from ours."
Mirielle huffed at the advice, "I thought you be warning me off."
"I should since I have more to lose than it may appear." The Phantom smiled as he held out his hand gesturing to Mirielle, "However I see a little girl trying to prove herself to her family. She wants to move out of her parent's shadow and stand on her own. You can look, Mademoiselle, but don't touch. When you are in the theater, remember it is my world."
"And you control it, right?"
"No, I let things go the way they need to, but I can conceal and reveal many things. Watch your steps, mon cherie, I will be watching."
With that said the Phantom disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Mirielle stumbled out of the dining room into the hallway trying to catch her breath. She looked up and down both sides of the hallway looking for some sign of which way the Phantom went. Finding nothing, she headed back to the Hotel, dejected since she had learned nothing new. Now she needed to talk to her mother about all this. The Phantom had too much insight into what she was feeling to continue with out some advice from her mother.
MW: Ohh, Readers! Hi all. Sorry I'm late with this. You know how a teacher's life is. Midterms to grade, Phone calls to make.
A: Anyways. Here is chapter 4.
MW: Are you sure you never seen Star Wars?
A: Okay, where did that come frome?
MW: *shrugs* I guess I'm not over that little revelation. *sideways glance* Really really?
A *chuckles* Yes, I haven't seen Start wars. Can we get on with this?
MW: Okay. I wonder how the muses are doing?
A: I don't know except I hate to be Haldir when Lucky gets a hold of him. I was hearing dangling earring being mentioned.
MW: *winces* ouch. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost is the working word. *to the readers* On with the Show.
Wandering Children
Chapter 4 - Close Encounters I
John walked among the back stage area the next day looking for clues. So far he didn't learn much except don't mess with the prop table. Glancing at his watch, he noted the time. It was only noon. Half the day wasted for nothing. He was about to go to the Opera House Library when a beautiful song snagged his attention. Turning he saw Christine singing through the scales slowly at first but then quickly pick up speed. Her face was flushed as she burst out into a beautiful aria. John stood transfixed by the pureness of her voice as it flowed over the notes of the song. When she finished, a heavenly smile took over her lips. John couldn't help but smile in response to the sight of her.
Suddenly Dante's voice was heard shouting at Christine. Christine glared at the intruding tenor. John watched as the two fought on the stage. The conversation intrigued him.
"That was filthy, mademoiselle." Dante shouted at her, "You turned that into pure garbage."
"Shut up, Dante." Christine spat, "You wouldn't know beauty even if it hit you in the face!"
"At I know singing. You still need to practice." Dante sneered, "Isn't your Angel teaching you enough?"
"The Angel of music has taught me more than your mother ever even dreamed of knowing!"
"My mother was the greatest soprano in the world, mademoiselle." Dante growled, looking at her like he was ready to charge.
"Only in her mind," Christine sniffed, "Or what is left of it."
Christine turned to leave when Dante grabbed her arms. Christine struggled against him but couldn't get free. Dante pulled her close to him, his face close to hers. Christine looked like she ready bite or throttle him.
"Never insult my mother, you little slut, or you suffer a worst fate than death." Dante threatened lowly, "Of course you might enjoy it with a whore of a mother. Tell me Christine does your mother teach you all her little tricks?"
John was stalking towards them. Anger pushed him to stop this abuse. He had his cane out when Michael's twin landed on the stage behind Dante from the flies high above. John looked up to see two female members of the stage crew watching him go to work. The older one was wearing a smile while the younger one was in shock.
Aidan grabbed Dante by his hair and yanked him away from his sister with a roar, "Don't you dare touch her!"
Dante rolled across the stage and quickly got to his feet, "Ah the big bad brother comes to the rescue."
Aidan positioned himself between Christine and Dante and shot back, "You better believe it."
"I see the whore has been busy." Dante smirked confident Aidan wouldn't touch him while there were people present.
Aidan stalked toward Dante, murder was evident in his eyes. John stepped out on to the stage and quickly stepped in front of Aidan, "Monsieur, don't do it. He isn't worth it."
Aidan glared at john before shoving him aside. John hit the stage hard. As he sat up, Christine was kneeling by his side. Concern was evident in her blue eyes. John blushed embarrassed that he couldn't break up a simple fight. Dante stood defiantly as Aidan approached.
Suddenly a sand bag hit the stage just missing Dante. He glared up at the flies as another landed in front of him. Dante jumped out of the way of the third one. Looking up, He watched as Krissy and Jessamine untying a few ropes. Sensing he was out numbered and in grave danger, Dante ran from the stage. A fourth sandbag grazed him as he fled.
Aidan looked up to see Krissy snapping her fingers in disappointment and muttered, "Zed I hate getting old. I almost had the twit."
Jessamine just smiled at Aidan, who smiled back before turning to Christine. He frowned to see Christine helping up the fool who got into his way. John was thanking Christine for her help while blushing at the same time. Aidan sighed as he walked over. Christine glared at Aidan, wanting him to apologize for his behavior.
"I'm sorry about that, monsieur." Aidan grumbled.
John smiled forgivingly, "Why? I would have done the same thing if he was insulting my family and was hurting my sister."
Aidan smiled back at least he was sympathetic, "Are you all right then?"
John nodded, "Nothing more than a bruised ego. Well, I leave you two alone then, since I can't be of anymore assistance."
John bowed to the both of them before walking away. Aidan smiled knowing why he left. It's hard dealing with making a fool of yourself in front of strangers. Christine watched him go with a wistful look on her face. Aidan groaned, not another one in love.
Jessamine smirked as she watched what was going on. She slapped her hands together and then started to walk away; she turned her head smiling towards the stage. Dante looked mad.
"God I hate him," she scowled looking at him.
Just then Aidan slipped down one of the ropes and landed in front of Jessamine. Jessamine was busy with her thoughts that she didn't see him or know she spoke that last part out loud.
"You're telling the wrong person trust me," he smirked as she smashed into him.
The five foot seven girl toppled backwards and fell into a large box, her arms hanging over the side and her legs sticking out. Her face was shocked as she stared at him. Aidan walked over and stuck his hand out.
"Need some help?" he chuckled.
She looked at him through her crooked sunglasses and laughed nervously, "Merci, but you must stop sneaking up on people," she smiled noticing a piece of paper sticking out of his pocket as he helped her up, "What's that?"
He pulled it out of his pocket and unfolded it, "It's your poem," he smiled, "I carry it around and when I'm in an especially good mood, I use it to somber myself up." He held it out to her, "if you would, I would love a presentation from the poet herself."
Jessamine smiled as she took it from him. Smoothing out the gently creases she began to read, her cheeks blushing slightly, "Alone, by Jessamine Deveraux. I am a dark corner in a lighted room. A shelved book amongst a destroyed library. A lone picture hanging on a white wall. A red ant crushed in a sea of black. The little child lost in the woods, the world around her caving in, smothering her. A red rose in a bouquet of white thrown out on Valentine's Day. The lone ranger racing towards the sunset of life. I am alone," she looked up at him and smiled, "So, did you like your performance?"
"It was very stirring," he said pocketing the poem again, "I will be waiting for your next piece of work. Good job, mon chère," he said walking away, clutching the poem in his pocket. He smiled to himself as he pulled it out again and looked at it.
As he walked along looking at it his brother snuck up behind him, "What are you looking at dear brother?" said Michael as he placed his hand on his brother's shoulder causing him to jump.
"You know you really shouldn't sneak up on me," he said his face returning to the normal stern expression. He quickly stuffed the poem in his pocket and stared at his little brother.
"Come now," Michael said amiably, "You must have been looking at something important that you don't want any one else to see it. Let me see!" he tried to grab his brother's piece of paper. "Come on Aidan, let's see it!"
"Jesus Christ you little pest!" spat Aidan, "What's wrong with you? Must you be so damned nosy?" His eyes narrowed and he grabbed his brother's shirt collar. "If you want to know what I'm reading, if you must know you stupid little moron, I am reading a poem! Are you satisfied?"
Michael nodded nervously as his brother lifted him off the ground slightly. Aidan placed him down and Michael stared at his brother in disbelief, poetry? When did he start reading poetry, he thought to himself as he straightened his collar.
"The only person that writes poetry around here is," Michael smirked and then said, "It's by her isn't it? Oh Aidan! I should tell Mama and Papa! They would love to hear this."
Aidan tried to stay as calm as possible while his brother berated him. His eyes narrowed slightly at the grin on Michael's face
"Dearest brother," he said in stressed voice, "I'm also sure Papa would love to hear about your romantic ventures with the Yardie. Now I highly recommend you keep quiet or else I may have to divulge into information that could indefinitely have Papa's career in crime extend far beyond theft."
Michael scowled; his own sick joke had turned on him, "Fine, I'll keep quiet but you better not open your trap either. Remember I could always tell Mama and Papa about my older brother and Jessamine the pick pocket."
"Well, at least Jessamine the pickpocket, as you refer to her, will not arrest me!" he stormed away and went into an empty dressing room sitting upon the small chair and picking up a pillow to yell into it. How his brother annoyed him so. "Who does he think he is anyway?" he asked himself as he sat there and recuperated from his screaming fit.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*
Mirielle traveled the back stage corridors looking for incriminating evidence. She had been at it for over an hour and found nothing. Grinding her teeth she pressed on then she saw a trap door. Walking over to it she peaked from side to side and tried to open it. After a few good pulls it creaked open and she started down the stairs. Then she remembered what Krissy had told her.
"You're hand at the level of your eyes," she repeated over and over again as she descended.
She neared the bottom and smiled thinking that she had made it there safely and then out of no where swung a rope. She caught it with her hand and then pulled the knife out of her back pocket. Quickly disarming the piece of rope she sighed. "People really need to figure out how to protect whatever they are protecting without using a noose," she murmured as she walked on.
The dark cellars of the opera house were cold and dank. Mirielle shivered and went deeper into the basements. She still couldn't find anything, "Zed," she whispered. Further and further she went, still to no avail, aside from a few mice of course. She turned around and walked back up to avoid getting lost in the cellars. "Hmm," she hummed, "Where could it be?" she asked absentmindedly as she walked back towards the stairs and up them.
As she closed the trap door she saw Akeem walking around back stage, "Excuse me," she said, "Do you know where I can find Miss Erika Noir?"
Akeem laughed a little and then looked at Mirielle with a stern face, "I honestly cannot tell you that. I am not one to give up information that isn't any business of mine. Besides, if you want an appointment with her you'll go on a list with about ten thousand others."
Mirielle mumbled under her breath and then asked, "Where can I find the keeper of the 'list?'"
"I would have to say that your most likely bet would be with my uncle, Nadir," Akeem said thoughtfully, "But I can't promise anything. After all, she was the best, and most likely still is. She only keeps company with those she trusts."
"Thanks," Mirielle said unconvincingly. She walked towards the auditorium and stage area to try and see if anything was going on there. "Well, if anything these criminals are clever," she said through her teeth as she tried to think of a way to get her guys.
As Mirielle stomped away from Akeem, Erika stepped out of the shadows with Nadir. Erika's face was thoughtful and worried while Nadir was just worried. Nadir had come to know James as a friend despite his profession. Erika turned to Nadir.
"Are you sure of her origin?" Erika asked.
"Yes, she is the eldest child of Sherlock Holmes and Elizabeth Lestrade." Nadir confirmed, "She is here on important business for the Yard."
"Probably James's latest project." Erika deduced.
"He still won't tell you what is on that disk?" Nadir asked with a raised eyebrow.
"No," Erika sighed, "I know he is selling it to the highest bidder on the market."
"Has he given any consideration to retiring with you?"
Erika smiled, "How long would that last, my friend? A year? No I won't force him to stop until he is ready."
"He could stay here and help out. He would make an excellent addition to my staff." Nadir mused, "I could use someone like him."
"Good idea," Erika laughed, "You can tell him."
"No thank you. I leave that temper to you. Oh well, I still have Akeem, Aidan and Michael to convince. I'll tell them that they can beat up Dante."
"Why do you say that? Yesterday, you told me as The Phantom I had no claim on his life for trying to seduce Christine."
"That was until he had a confrontation with Christine today." Nadir froze at the look at Erika's eyes, "She is fine. Aidan stepped in as did Krissy and Jessamine."
"Jessamine? The writer that's been around here?"
"The pick pocket. Yes, apparently Aidan got her a job here." Nadir sneered, "I still can't believe Krissy hired her."
"I can. Just remember how Krissy was when Buquet first found her and hired her. She was a little trickster herself especially at the Masquerade."
Nadir tried not to smile as he remember those parties, "She sure knew how to get into trouble."
"So did we, so do our heirs. I heard Akeem by accident walked into the dancer's dressing room yesterday."
"Yes on a dare by your two sons. He has a hell of a bump on his head. Danesh was scolding him with fixing the cut on his forehead." Nadir chuckled, "He was wondering when Michael and Aidan were going to pay him."
"Speaking of which, I haven't seen either yet. I hope they are keeping their noses clean." Erika worried.
"They better be." James spoke up as he wrapped his arms around his wife, "I missed you this morning."
"Meeting with the managers." Erika smiled as she kissed her husband hello.
"I'd better be going. I have to protect The Opera from our children." Nadir grinned as he walked away. Glancing over his shoulder, he watched James pulled Erika back into the Shadows. Maybe James was closer to retiring than Erika had thought. Nadir smirked as he decided to seek out the Holmes girl.
Mirielle groaned. Hours and hours of fruitless searching wore her out. "Where is he?" she asked herself looking for a dressing room or something of that sort with the name Nadir on it.
She snorted and pressed on through the building. While she continued to work in her own little world Nadir followed her silently, just observing her habits and ways. He smirked as she became frustrated and her cheeks reddened.
She finally turned around and noticed him, "Excuse me sir," she tried to put on her happiest face, "but do you know a man named Nadir?" she asked.
"Why yes, in fact I do," he smiled, "He's right here."
Mirielle tilted her head to the side and eyed him questioningly. "What do you mean?" Her sandy hair fluttered over her shoulders as her violet eyes looked at him with severe confusion burning in them.
"I am Nadir," he laughed. "My, my, Mademoiselle Holmes, nothing gets by you." He grinned and then his face went deadly serious, "Mademoiselle, may I ask why you are poking your nose around here and why you request a meeting with Madame Noir?"
"It's my job," she replied. "Besides, I need to question her about her whereabouts the other night. I have been told a few things which I should look into. I was also told that you were the man I should talk to about a meeting with Madame Noir. Would you be able to do that for me or should I keep trying myself?"
"Oh no Mademoiselle," mused Nadir, "I could help you, but Madame Noir must agree beforehand. She's not easy to get a meeting with. I suggest you don't wait to continue your investigation until your meeting with her, because it could be a while. Au revoir Mademoiselle," he said walking away.
Mirielle looked at Nadir walk away. A look of pure frustration covered her face, "How can it be so hard to get a meeting with a prima donna?" she looked up into the rafters and then massaged her temple.
"Aidan!" Erika shouted at her son, who fell asleep on her cot. Aidan woke with a start he looked around the small dressing room until he spotted his mother's concerned eyes. Aidan rubbed the back of his head as he tried to explain to Erika why he was in there. Erika took a seat at the vanity while she waited for her son to gather his thoughts.
"How long I have been out?" Aidan asked as he stretched.
Erika shrugged and changed the subject gesturing to the mirror, "You know this is my dressing room. If you are tired your bed is just down the hallway."
"I'm sorry I ducked in here to get away from Michael. He can be so annoying sometimes."
"He is your brother, but I understand." Erika smiled, "I heard you got Jessamine a job here."
"Yeah, she needs one." Aidan paused then knowing his mother won't judge, continued his thought, "Mom, she is a talented pickpocket. I was thinking of teaching her like how Grandpa taught me and Michael."
"And Christine. Or did you forget when she swapped all your money from your back pocket to buy ice cream." Erika teased her son, "I think you should do as you see fit. I can't forbid you from doing it any more than your father can."
Aidan nodded and decided to bring up his next concern, "Mama, what would you do if you knew someone close to you was making a big mistake but they won't listen to you."
Erika tilted her head to the side, considering the question, and then answered her son, "I would probably hope for the best and be there to catch them when it didn't work out. Just like what your father and I did when you fell for Cosette."
Aidan blushed, "I just don't want Michael to get arrested because he fell in love with that detective."
Erika laughed at Aidan's horrified look when he let that last part slip, "I knew about that since you two came back. Let him be. Michael knows how to handle himself. Just be then when he has to walk away just as he was for you."
"I will, Mama."
"Now I have a meeting to get ready for. Nadir has told me that the detectives want a meeting." Erika smiled.
"You can't, Mama. What if you let something slip?" Aidan panicked.
Erika's grin went wicked very quickly, "Then we'll see how clever Holmes' children are. Besides they are meeting both sides of me. Who said they have a chance to ask questions."
Mirielle and John met in the lobby. They both looked exhausted and frustrated. "Did you find anything?" asked John as he sat down in one of the chairs out there. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.
"Only that there are some strange people here, namely a Middle-Eastern man named Nadir," she replied. "How about you?"
"Well, I found that we shouldn't mess with that table on stage," he shuddered, "and then the guy who yells at you tells you about some stupid lasso."
Mirielle grimaced at the thought of the lasso, "Well I found that out yesterday. Maybe we should go to the hotel, Mum and Dad may have called with some information or something like that," she somberly walked towards the door.
John pulled himself out of the chair and made his way across the lobby. He looked at the portraits on the walls as he left, 'Strange,' he thought, 'these all look similar to Christine or the two twins.' He noted that and then walked outside. He saw his sister getting ready to get into the driver's seat and his eyes opened wide. "I don't think so!" he yelled as he ran towards the car.
He was too slow and she had climbed in already and turned the key. He went to open the door and Mirielle smirked, she had locked it. John scowled and tried to jiggle the handle. It wouldn't budge. He finally gave up and walked to the other side of the car and got into the passenger side. "So, little brother, are we ready to go?" she asked teasingly.
"I'm never ready to go when you drive," he said pulling the seatbelt tighter. "Please, try and avoid making me want to retch."
"I'll try," she smiled as they started to drive. She drove well, for the most part; it's just that she took after her mother in that aspect.
Upon reaching the hotel John climbed out the car with a paled face. "Jerk," he murmured staggering towards the door. They got into the elevator again and went up to the room. "How many times are you going to get me sick before it sinks in that you can't drive?" he asked as she opened the door.
"You only heaved once," She smiled, "Besides, you can't drive any better. You drive like Commish."
"Shut up," John scowled, "I do not drive like Grandpa Grayson!"
"Yes you do," she smirked as she almost closed him out of the room. John placed his foot between the door and the framing and pushed it open. Mirielle huffed and then looked at the message board. "Looks like we have an audio message," she sighed pressing the button.
"Bonjour Mademoiselle and Monsieur Holmes," said the unfamiliar voice, "Welcome to Paris. I hope you are enjoying your stay. I will give you the chance to meet me at de'l Harmonie for forty-five minutes, tonight at six o'clock. You shall be greeted by Nadir and he will lead you to my private room. Goodbye Children."
Mirielle smiled and looked at her brother who was now collapsed upon the bed clutching his stomach and moaning. "We got our interview!" she yelled triumphantly.
John was about to say something when he had to jump up and run to the bathroom. Mirielle shuddered and John walked out again, "I think it's your interview Mir, if I look at food I'll get sick."
"Wimp," she murmured. "Fine I'll go by myself but you better be ready to listen to every detail when I get back. I'll take my digital recorder and record the whole conversation with Madame Noir."
"Go," motioned John towards the door, "Leave me alone." He curled up in a ball on the bed and closed his eyes as Mirielle left.
She gently shut the door behind her and got out her keys. Looking at her watch it was five forty-five already, "Zed, another day wasted," she murmured shutting off the radio. She sped to the restaurant and climbed out after parking. She saw Nadir mumbling something to himself and walked up to him.
Nadir briefly wondered how in hell he gets talked into this one. Granted he swore to protect against anything but still they have pulled this stunt since their younger days. Nadir muttered a string of curses in Arabian when he spotted Mirielle approach him.
"Bonjour Mademoiselle," he bowed slightly, "Madame Noir is expecting you. Follow me," he abruptly turned and walked into the restaurant.
Mirielle followed him into a small back room where a woman with deep brown hair and sparkling blue eyes was waiting for her. She silently clicked the button for the recorder and Nadir exited.
"Bonjour Mademoiselle Holmes, where is your brother?" asked Erika in a sweet voice.
"He couldn't make it. He's feeling a little under the weather," she sighed. "Madame Noir, I have reason to believe that you are of close relation to Christine Noir and Michael and Aidan. Am I correct?"
"You would be," Erika smirked. "I am related to them."
"Very well," she went on. "Beg pardon, but, where were you two days ago?" She asked jotting down a few notes, although she didn't need them.
"I was in the Opera house, and I have witnesses who can prove it. If you would like Nadir could vouch for me," Erika said getting ready to get up to get him.
"No, no that won't be necessary," Mirielle raised her eye brow and then said, "May I ask the name of your husband? You kept your maiden name and I am afraid there is no record of a marriage to Madame Erika Noir."
"I think you should be able to tell me that," smirked Erika, trying to play mind games with the girl. "I knew your mother and father, they would be proud if you figured it out and I didn't tell you."
Mirielle grumbled and then remembered her parents. Her eyes snapped back to Madame Noir and she pondered for several moments. No one came to mind. She didn't see anyone with her and there was no inclination of anyone.
"This is tiresome Madame Noir," she said after fifteen minutes, "The fact that you don't answer is becoming suspicious."
"Oh, look at that, thirty minutes is up, mon chère," she smiled. "I am afraid I have another appointment right now, but it was a pleasure to meet you." Erika got up, her red velvet dress slightly trailing behind her. "Au revoir," she smiled as she walked out a back door, the dry click of it locking ringing through Mirielle's head.
Mirielle sat there for a few moments. Finally she got up and went to leave the room when she ran into a figure in black. Its face was covered with a white mask and its hair was hid by a black fedora. Deep blue eyes stared at her. Mirielle took a step back and fell into her chair. The Phantom was real.
"Mademoiselle." The Phantom greeted in sharp tenor voice, "I heard that you have been poking around my theater lately. Why?"
Mirielle gulped and tried to sound composed as she answered, "I'm investigating crime that took place in New London."
The Phantom nodded, "So what brings you here to Paris then?"
"We tracked the criminals involved here." Mirielle continued her confidence building as she remembered what her mother told her, "In fact, it was a move accredited to you that brought me to the Opera."
The Phantom seemed amused, "Really? Do you think I was a part of it?"
"Anyone who hides behind a mask has something to hide."
"Mademoiselle, we all hide behind a mask. Some are easy to see than others. Everyone has their secrets."
"Then maybe you can tell me where you were two days ago."
The Phantom laughed, "You have your mother's tenacity even if you have your father's looks. I was here at the theater watching the auditions for the new Opera. No one saw me as it should be."
"You people are not helping."
"Then maybe you need to remove your mask, mademoiselle, and take a new look at things. Masks can blind us to the truth as well as hide it from ours."
Mirielle huffed at the advice, "I thought you be warning me off."
"I should since I have more to lose than it may appear." The Phantom smiled as he held out his hand gesturing to Mirielle, "However I see a little girl trying to prove herself to her family. She wants to move out of her parent's shadow and stand on her own. You can look, Mademoiselle, but don't touch. When you are in the theater, remember it is my world."
"And you control it, right?"
"No, I let things go the way they need to, but I can conceal and reveal many things. Watch your steps, mon cherie, I will be watching."
With that said the Phantom disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Mirielle stumbled out of the dining room into the hallway trying to catch her breath. She looked up and down both sides of the hallway looking for some sign of which way the Phantom went. Finding nothing, she headed back to the Hotel, dejected since she had learned nothing new. Now she needed to talk to her mother about all this. The Phantom had too much insight into what she was feeling to continue with out some advice from her mother.