Thanks for the reviews! I realize these chapters are short, but that's how they're turning out. I'm also still just setting thing up here. Be patient! The good news is, I update frequently, especially over the weekends:) Also, so you know, this rating will eventually go up due to sexual situations. If, one day, you can't find it, check the "R" section!
Christine's eyes grew wide as she walked onto the stage.
It was already beginning to look precisely as it had three years ago.
Red silks hung from the rafters. A bridge was being raised twenty feet from the stage floor. A makeshift fire pit was beginning to assemble.
"Dear God," Christine breathed. Madame Giry, having heard the exclamation, moved smoothly to Christine's side. She placed a thin hand on the young woman's shoulder.
"I understand how difficult this will be for you, Christine," the older woman said, her voice low. Christine offered her a weak smile.
"Some things, Madame, must be done no matter how difficult they prove to be."
She walked onto the set, peering out into the empty audience, allowing her eyes to travel to box five.
The accursed box was empty, having not been sat in for years. Just as Christine was about to avert her eyes, she saw a shadow move.
Her heart jumped, momentarily hopeful.
Just as quickly, it fell. Erik was dead; her mind was playing tricks on her.
"Mademoiselle Daee!" Monsieur Firmin was hurrying over to her, Monsieur Andre on his heels. "We cannot begin to tell you how pleased we are you have decided to bring your former role to life. Of course, things will go a bit more…smoothly this time."
"It is the least I can do, Monsieur Firmin," Christine replied, forcing her voice to sound emotionless and allowing her managers to kiss her hand. She was now used to such groveling. She could remember a time when La Carlotta was the center of the managers' attention. Now that Carlotta had left for America, she was their last remaining hope for success. "I only have one request," Christine continued.
"Anything," Andre said quickly.
"All you have to do is ask," Firmin said simultaneously.
"I would like to move into one of the vacant rooms within the opera house for the remainder of rehearsals and the run of the performance," she said.
The managers exchanged puzzled looks. Raoul, who had been off to the side, watching the exchange, suddenly moved closer.
"Christine," the young man began gently. "Are you sure that is the wisest move?"
"I believe I know what's best for me, Raoul," she replied coolly. "Is that possible, Messieurs?" She asked, looking at the two rotund men before her.
Andre nodded. "Whatever you wish, Mademoiselle."
Christine nodded. "I will be sending for my things immediately."
With that, rehearsal began.
Erik leaned even further back into the shadows of box five. The Maestro had begun to conduct the first few chords of "Past the Point of No Return."
His eyes slid closed as his music invaded his senses.
As soon as they closed, however, his eyes reopened, his gaze falling back onto the face of his beloved Christine.
She looked starkly pale in the glow of the gaslights.
He held his breath as the music led into her lines.
Then, she sang.
"No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy…
No dreams within her heart but dreams of love…"
Erik shuddered. The voice that had been so cold when she spoke to the managers, even to the man Erik believed to be her fiance, was now filled with a passion that was almost tangible.
She held out the last note for what seemed an eternity, piercing his heart and forcing a tear from his masked eye.
He breathed in her sound, feeling more powerful; whole.
His lips curled into a smile.
It seemed, then, he was to pick up almost exactly where he had left off.