Soul Consumption
Chapter Four
Disclaimer: Same as usual. The Phantom of the Opera belongs to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. However, this plot, as well as some new characters, belong to me. Yay.
Raoul paced across his office, unable to keep still. It had been a day since she had gone, leaving him with nothing but a note and crippling fears. He had contained himself, however. He had not acted upon his first instinct, which was to jump on his horse and ride into Paris, then drag his fiancé back to the estate. But Christine had stated her wishes for him not to follow. But God! Was she crazy? Going to Paris without him? Without telling him where she would be?
"I cannot believe she's done this," he sighed, running his hands furiously through his hair.
"Calm down, Raoul," said the man sitting in his office chair. He was lanky, with his long legs laid out and crossed on Raoul's organized desk. He was a man of money, or so his expensive, silken clothing seemed to indicate. His hair was pale and slicked back from his face, falling to curl around his cheekbones. One eyebrow was quirked as he watched his friend's pacing with laughing brown eyes. "She wrote that she would be back, did she not?"
"But… what if something happens to her!" Raoul suddenly stopped in his step. "She is in Paris by herself, Corin!"
"From the stories you have told me, the girl is able to take care of herself. And as mentioned by your staff, she left with that the girl who came to visit her... what did you say her name was?"
"Giry. Meg Giry."
"Yes, Giry. Well… she is not alone then, is she?" Corin shrugged and put both feet on the floor. Pushing himself up, he stood and walked toward Raoul. Placing his hands on either shoulder of the shorter man, he shook him gently. His voice had dropped a pitch lower, in a manner of scolding. "You must calm down before you give yourself a heart attack. If you are really that concerned, then we shall go to Paris and find her. It will all be fine, Raoul. Trust me."
"How do you know it will be fine?" Raoul scoffed, shrugging his friend's hands away. He turned on his heels and moved to stand by the window. He braced his arms on the windowsill, staring out at the trees in the distance. "For all you know, she could have been robbed already! Or murdered! Oh, God, Christine!" He placed his head in his hands and let out a groan.
"Raoul, honestly!" the dark-eyed man snapped. Raoul turned to look at him with wide eyes. "You are acting like a fool. Collect yourself and take this like a man, not like a child."
"But, Corin… I cannot help it," Raoul said, his voice pained.
"I know, but if you wish to go to her, you cannot act like a school boy. You, Raoul, are the man. So, act like it." With a smirk, Corin grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. Gracefully, he pulled it on and straightened out his clothing. "We will leave tomorrow morning, if you wish to go."
"You don't have to accompany, Corin. I will be fine by myself," Raoul replied, turning to stare out the window again. His voice had suddenly become tired.
"I have business in Paris," Corin said with a wave of his hand. "I will be here at sun-up. We shall leave early so that you may rescue—" the word was said with slight sarcasm, but definite amusement, "—your lovely future bride from the horrors of Paris."
"The horrors of Paris," Raoul repeated softly. With a frown, clenched his fists. "I do not like her brashness, Corin."
"You're a man, Raoul. Of course you don't." Patting his friend on the back, Corin made his way to the door. "I'll be here early. See you tomorrow morn." Corin let himself out of the study, making no move to shut the door quietly; it slammed closed, marking his exit.
With a sigh, Raoul leaned forward and placed his forehead against the cool glass of the window. Strands of light brown hair fell to brush against his cheeks as he stared out the window. Corin was gracefully getting into his carriage. After a few moments, the driver snapped the reins, and the horses started to trot down the dirt road leading into the Chagny estate. The gates opened and then closed as Corin's carriage exited the property. Knowing he was now alone and without his friend's company, Raoul closed his eyes tightly, his hands slowly balling into fists once again.
"Christine," he murmured. "What do you think you are doing?"
"Oh, Madame. She is absolutely adorable. Miss, it is a pleasure to meet you."
Meg reached across the desk and let Monsieur Delvin place a kiss on the back of her hand. She smiled at the older man. He couldn't have been much younger than her mother, but he had aged well, from what she could see. He was dressed plainly, in a charcoal suit, his full head of hair that was slicked back away from his face. Glasses slid down his nose bridge, and he looked over them with smiling green eyes. Meg was impressed by his friendliness, as well as his enthusiasm to be at the Opera House. Maybe he didn't know of the Populaire's unfortunate past?
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur. What you've done to the Opera House is absolutely wonderful," Meg said as she seated herself in a chair next to her mother. She smoothed out the creased in her dark green dress and folded her hands on her lap.
"Oh, it is nothing new. I just had my men mend all of the horrible tragedies that occurred to the montage. That fire really did ravage it." He straightened up his desk as he spoke, putting piles of paper neatly to the side. "It has taken many days past a year, but we're finally ready to start rehearsal. And Meg, I understand you will be joining us? Your mother tells me that you are an exquisite dancer."
"If it is so, I would be honored," Meg said with a smile at the compliment. "I loved doing the small dance performances in Le Théatre Rose, but I do miss the large stage and performances, with the sea of people. It would be lovely to dance here again."
Monsieur Delvin nodded. "Then we welcome you here with open arms. The opera will be Per Sempre e un Giorno. We will be working fast, I will confess to you now. I may be a man of friendly company, but I take my work very seriously. I wish to have the performance perfect for the stage as soon as possible. It will be hard work, but at the end, it will wonderful, I assure you.."
"Per Sempre e un Giorno?" Madame Giry questioned. "I have never heard of this opera before."
"That, Madam, is because it is because it is a newly written opera," Delvin said with a small smile. "It was written and sent to me when it was found that I would be purchasing and renovating the Opera House. I was blown away when I read it, and immediately decided that it would be the performance used for the Grand Opening."
"And who wrote this opera, if I may ask, Monsieur?" inquired Madame Giry, her eyebrows drawing together.
"His name is Monsieur Foncé," Delvin said with a nod. "I have yet to meet him, though I have communicated with him through mail for quite some time. He will be coming for the Grand Opening. The man is a genius, I must say. He has a creative fluency with words I have never seen before. Wait until you read the transcript, Madame. You will be blown away."
"I cannot wait to read it, Monsieur. I am sure your choice was excellent. It has been a while since I have been involved in a large scale performance, and I cannot wait until we start preparing."
"I am enthused as well. And I am very sorry, Monsieur, but I must asked to be excused for a few moments." Meg ignored the angry glare she received from her mother. "A friend of mine has accompanied me to Paris, and is wandering around the Opera House, very much by herself. She knows her way about, but I wish to make sure she is all right."
"Oh, it is quite all right, child. Who is this friend you speak of?" The older man showed no interest in who her friend was, but was only asking out of politeness.
The young woman's muscles tensed. "Christine," Meg said, trying to relax her tightening voice. "Christine Daaé."
"My God," Delvin exclaimed with a laugh, looking up at Meg. "The Miss Daaé? Who sang here when Firmin owned this place? She is here? Oh, I remember seeing her sing in Hannibal. She was absolutely stunning. Her voice was angelic." Monsieur Delvin raised a brow in thought. "Maybe she would like to join our cast. I would be honored to have a voice such as hers."
"I'm afraid that would be impossible," Madame Giry spoke, shooting a glance to Meg, who continued standing uncomfortably. "She is to be married this year to the Comte de Chagny. And as we know, society does not allow a woman of such high status to do something such as sing for an opera."
"That is too bad," he said with a sigh. "It would have been lovely to have her si—"
A voice cut Delvin off. The heart-wrenching scream had seemed to slide through the walls and fall upon their ears. Meg glanced around wildly, her dark eyes wide with sudden fear. Madame Giry had pushed her chair back and stood, her face turning white. She and Meg had recognized the voice with no doubt in their minds; the echo of it still floated around them like a ghost.
"ERIK!"Delvin blinked in confusion, slowly pushing his chair back and standing. He glanced from Meg to Madame Giry, his eyes narrowing. The two women looked like they had just seen someone rise from the dead. "What on earth was that sound?"
Madame Giry was the first to reply. She placed a hand to her chest and let out a breath. With her free hand, she fanned her face and gave a short, seemingly embarrassed laugh. Meg silently applauded her quick thinking, as she was still too stunned to react. "Oh, my. That screaming made my heart skip a beat. It sounds as if one of the men is having a problem in the Entrance Hall."
Meg swallowed the lump of fear that had formed in her throat. With a quick, clumsy curtsey, she excused herself. Her mother's calls didn't stop her as she hurried from the office toward the Entrance Hall. The men did not seem phased and were still working quite diligently. Meg tapped one man on the shoulder. He turned around with a grumble.
"May I 'elp you, Madame?"
"Yes, yes. A woman… about my age, dressed in blue. Have you seen her?"
The man scratched the back of his head, pursing his lips together as he tried to recall the described woman. "Oh, yes. She disappeared into one of the corridors a while ago. I believe it 'twas…" he glanced around, his eyebrows knitting in concentration. "That one." He pointed at the darkened hall across the Entrance Hall.
Meg stuttered her thanks, picked up her skirts and hurried through the crowd of men.
In the office of Monsieur Delvin, Madame Giry slowly lowered herself back into her seat. The Monsieur was staring at her oddly, his bushy eyebrows raised in bewilderment. Madame offered a small smile, though her wiry hands were wringing together in nervousness.
"I am sorry for my daughter's rashness, Monsieur. I assure you, she is not usually so brisk. She is quite fond of Miss. Daaé, who has had quite a past in the Opera House, and she probably wishes to make sure she is all right."
"Ah, yes. I remember. I knew there was more to the name Daaé than just her excellent performance in Hannibal. I remember reading of the happenings here when she performed in that… oh, what was it called? Don something." He scratched his beard, his eyes looking to the ceiling in thought.
"Don Juan Triumphant," Madame Giry supplied, trying to seem nonchalant even though her pulse was starting to quicken. The events of the past were none too happy in her mind, nor did she want to evoke the ghosts of the past. She had left Paris to let the ghosts be laid to rest, and this man was digging them up again. However, she did not let her facial expressions betray her true sentiments.
"Yes, yes. That was it. Brilliant opera, I've heard. I was not able to come to the first performance of it. And if I'm correct, it was the only performance. I do not think it has been performed since." He gave a laugh. "Maybe we shall use it later in our career."
Madame Giry curved her lips in a tight smile, nodding her head.
"Of course, that was the opera in which the chandelier crashed, wasn't it? Horrible accident. Absolutely horrid." He shook his head, and then beamed. "But alas, it's destruction had been erased, and the Paris Opera House had been brought back to life from its desolation."
And apparently, other things have been brought back as well, the older woman thought dismally. She had heard the named clearly. Erik. The named Erik had been screamed in a voice so easily identifiable as Christine's. Already omens were appearing, and she had been here for only a day.
"You have done a wonderful job in restoring its extravagance, Monsieur," Madame Giry agreed. "I am very optimistic about the Opera House's future."
"As am I, Madame. As am I." Smiling, Delvin stood and nodded his head. "Now, if you would, you may accompany in monitoring how the last details are coming along. If we are indeed on schedule, I believe we may start preparing for the first performance by next week."
Standing, Madame Giry let the Monsieur take her arm. He led her out of the office, chatting away happily about his ideas, oblivious to the fact that she was not paying attention. Once inside the Entrance Hall, Madame looked around, her dark eyes scanning for her daughter. However, neither Meg nor Christine was in sight.
Though she was once again calm, she could feel dread creeping at her heels. She prayed that tragedy would not befall the Opera House or its occupants once again.
Author's Note: Ah, thank you all so much for reviewing! You guys are awesome. This chapter was a bit of a bridge chapter. So boring, yes I know. There is no Erik in it, which makes me sad. But the next chapter shall be much more interesting. Again, thank you all for the reviews! Please continue to do so! It always fuels me to get chapters done!
And also, two more little notes:
Note One: I did a bit of phan art. I am purely obsessed with Phantom of the Opera at this point. Anyway, it can be found at: tinypic. com / 1dy 24x (Take the spaces out and the link will work. I had to put them there so it would show up.)
NoteTwo: I know I've been updating like crazy this weekend, and I'm very sad to say it won't last. I get very busy with school, so updates will not be as quick. They will most likely be every 4 to 7 days. So don't kill me when periods between updates start to grow longer.
