A short chapter, but a very important one.
I know this is moving slowly now, but things are about to pick up. Thanks for the reviews! Feel free to make suggestions about where you'd like the story to go...Ask and you shall receive!
It had been some time since Erik had gotten a letter.
He had found the gleaming white envelope shoved under his huge, heavy main doors. Now he turned it over and over in his hands, hesitating to open it for some reason.
It was early evening, before his nightly ritual of indulging in drink had begun. His head was swimming with the aftermath of another evening spent drunk, but it was a sensation he was used to.
Besides, it would instantly cease with his first swig of brandy.
He sat now in front of an impressive fire atop an elaborate red velvet chair in his study. Books and papers scattered the room. Half-written scores literally covered the three large desks sitting in various locations. Empty glasses that were once filled with brandy could be caught within a person's eyesight, no matter where they looked.
Erik sighed. His fingers began to work the delicate seal keeping the envelope's contents from him. He slowly pulled the paper out from inside and began to read.
I am aware of your continued existence.
I have always known the grave lowered into the ground that was supposed to carry your remains was empty.
But I do not write to threaten you. Quite the opposite, in fact. I am writing to bestow upon you a bit of information you may find interesting.
It seems you still live within the walls of the Opera Populaire. A performance of Don Juan Triumphant has been scheduled and rehearsals have already begun.
Christine Daee will be playing the lead.
Erik's blood ran icy. A thin line of sweat formed on his upper lip.
He had been so careful. He had been certain all who knew of the "Opera Ghost" now believed him to be dead.
He had been certain!
And Christine…oh, his beautiful angel! She was there! Within the walls of his opera house! He thought, by now, she would be living a temperate life with that bloody fop Raoul…perhaps baring him children…he shuddered at the thought…but certainly not performing!
She still sang! She sang without her angel of music!
It had also been quite some time since Erik felt the painful current of emotion thump through his veins. He had shut everyone and everything out for so long…and now this.
How his heart ached!
He stood, moving quickly to a tall, mahogany liquor cabinet. He pulled the polished doors and reached for a full flagon of brandy.
Just as his shaking was about to pour the amber liquid into a glass, he stopped.
He replaced the carafe.
And without another thought, he left the room.
For the first time in God knows how long, Erik felt alive.
Perhaps it was because he was returning to the Opera Populaire.