While the crowd resumed their seats, I waited in a nearby rehearsal room. I could hear the shocked whispers and speculations about the Phantom of the Opera. Some audience members refused to stay for the rest of the performance and fled the theater. Some commented about their concern regarding the steadiness of the overhead chandelier.
My mind was spinning with confusion and hurt.
Why had Erik flaunted his presence in front of everyone? Why had he been up there on the catwalk, risking his life when he had promised me he would take care? How many more promises was he intending to break?
And what about Christine? She still loved him. I was sure of it. She may flatter herself with false virtue and fidelity to her husband…but she still fantasized that the Phantom would come for her. I could hear it in her trembling voice and see it in her longing eyes. Oh, why had I ever agreed to let her remain in this opera?
Be a professional, I lectured myself. There is a reason why women are so disregarded in the arts. Because they let their feelings get in the way. I resolved to not think about love any longer. I needed to separate my emotions from my business…just like a man would...
Even so, I had to find Erik and talk sense into him. He was just upsetting everybody with his childish antics!
The overture had ended.
As the strains of the Song of the Beast began, I entered Box Five.
The curtain of the box was drawn, hiding the audience and stage from view. Odd, perhaps the police had done that to prevent any more Phantom sightings in this particular spot.
I saw no signs of Erik. Not that I had expected him to return here. But it seemed like this was as good a place as any to start searching for him.
I noticed a woman sitting in one of the chairs.
Suddenly, the door behind me shut!
I spun about as I heard the turning of a lock.
Who had locked me in here?
Why was the curtain closed?
And why was that woman sitting there so still, not reacting to the closed door nor to the curtain?
I inched closer towards her.
As I moved to her side, I saw that she was not a woman at all but a lifelike doll. Just like the one that Erik had made of Christine.
Except this doll was not of Christine...
It was of me!
My heart raced and I bit my hand to keep from screaming at the grotesque sight.
The horrid doll had a skull for a head with a wig matching my exact hair color. She was wearing the dress of Aphrodite that I had worn at the gala. In her lap was a red rose. And scrawled in bright red letters across her chest were the words: "PHANTOM'S WHORE".
Most frightening of all, she had a Punjab Lasso tied tightly around her neck...
I tasted blood. Numbly, I looked at my hand and realized that I had bit down so hard that I had cut myself.
Suddenly I felt a blow to the back of my head and collapsed...
Smelling salts wrenched me back to consciousness.
I saw the face of Madame Giry before me. She did not appear as stern as usual. Her long dark hair flowed about her shoulders. She was in a gray cotton nightgown which made her seem almost maternal.
"Mademoiselle DuBois, are you alright, dear?"
For a moment, I could not recall what had happened, but the ache of my head reminded me quickly enough. I was lying back on some sort of settee with a blanket over me.
"Do not sit up too fast. You have taken quite a blow."
"Where am I?"
I looked about.
I was in a small living room, not too much larger than my room at the boarding house of Mme. Gavraux. There were lots of costumes flung about, toe shoes, dancing tights, paintings of dancers…a small painting of Meg Giry in a tutu...
"Is this your home?"
"I am afraid so. When I found you unconscious in Box Five, I feared so for your safety that I brought you here. I did not know what else to do. I also disposed of that horrid doll," Giry explained. "Mon Dieu, we need no more tales like that at the Paris Opera House!"
When I remembered the doll, I almost wished that I were still unconscious rather than face reality. Nothing seemed to make any sense.
"Who would have done such a horrid thing?" I asked.
"Do you not know, Mademoiselle?"
I did not care for her tone nor what she was implying. This woman knew nothing about me. Absolutely nothing.
"The opera?" I asked, still trying to understand what had happened to me. "What about the opera?"
"I imagine that it is over by now, Mademoiselle."
"I must go back to the Opera House," I murmured.
"You cannot do that..."
"Of course I can!" I snapped. "I must find…"
I stopped and cursed myself silently, covering my hand with my mouth. I was about to confide to Madame Giry that I must find my husband. Was I trying to get him killed?
"My opera has been performed there after all!" I continued, trying to cover my near slip. "I want to know how things went."
"Erik will not be there, Mademoiselle."
I could only stare at her, eyes wide with shock.
"How do you know of…Erik?"
"I have been known him for some time."
"Then you know that, despite what you saw, he would never hurt me?"
Madame Giry reached over to hold my hand. I flinched at her touch.
"I wish I could give you words of assurance, Mademoiselle. But where that man is concerned, no one is completely safe…not even those who have tried to protect him. He is beyond help or redemption. I have seen too much of his madness over the years. There have been too many 'accidents. And, yes, I have seen him murder with my own eyes."
I swallowed in an effort to dislodge the lump in my throat. If only my head were not pounding so...
"You have seen him…murder?"
She nodded sadly.
"Many years ago. I was just a little dancer in the chorus back then. My first glimpse of him will burn inside my mind for the rest of my days. He was locked up in a cage as if he were an animal...on display as a freak in a traveling sideshow run by gypsies. The 'Devil's Child' he was called."
I covered my mouth as I remembered his nightmare that night at the inn. His agonized cries...his pleas for mercy...
Oh, God! I had no idea that he had truly suffered such a fate!
Tears came to my eyes.
"Yes, I had felt much the same way at the sight of him, Mademoiselle. If only I had not attended that night with those foolish girls from dancing class…" Her voice trembled as she looked away from me. "It is too terrible to speak of."
"Please continue, Madame Giry...I must know...you must tell me..." I pleaded.
"There were many special effects during the show, representing the burning fires of hell and such. An old gypsy man went into a long speech, describing as how this was the child of Satan himself. Then came the time when the poor creature was to remove the burlap sack from his head.
"I could see his eyes through two holes which had been torn through the cloth. To my horror, he had been staring straight at me. In those days, I suppose I was rather pretty. Perhaps he liked the look of me. But I could not bear the sight of his intense gaze, especially knowing that soon he would take off that sack, revealing God knew what. I wanted to leave but I knew that I would suffer the ridicule of my friends for doing so. Thus I remained, staring back at him, unblinking. Yet he must have sensed my fear for he refused to remove the sack, even when he was ordered repeatedly to do so.
"After some time, the gypsy pulled out a whip. The reactions of the audience were varied. Some laughed and pointed. Others made lewd remarks. Many of my friends screamed as the boy's naked back was whipped so viciously that the floor of the cage was slick with blood. I remember screaming myself, begging the boy to take the sack off. But he would not.
"Once he had finally collapsed in a heap, the show had ended. I was about to leave with my friends when I realized that I had left one of my ribbons behind at the show. Perhaps it was foolish of me, but I feared the wrath of my mother more than that thing in the cage.
"That was when I was witness to the atrocity.
"The old man swore at the boy, kicking him in the ribs repeatedly. Then suddenly the boy leapt at his throat, choking his captor until he was dead.
"I had felt responsible. If I had not been there, perhaps he would have shown himself...and he would not have been so viciously whipped…and he would not have murdered that man. A pair of keys had fallen on the ground just outside of the cage. As if in a dream, I picked them up. The boy's eyes burned into my own, pleading for the salvation only I could give him. I could not resist those sad mismatched eyes. I unlocked the cage door and then ran for my life back to my friends…and far away from the Devil's Child."
At Madame Giry's sad tale, I yearned for Erik to be at my side. I wanted to hold him and promise that he would never be hurt so again...not while I had breath in my body.
"Surely, you cannot hold that crime against him, Madame Giry," I reasoned. "It was self-defense! He could have been beaten to death by that man! Damn, I would have killed him myself! I wish that I could now!"
"But, alas, Mademoiselle, that was only the beginning of the violence..."
Seated upon her rocking chair across the room, Madame Giry continued.
"Many years had passed. Somehow, I had managed to banish those suffering eyes from my mind. Life continued on. I had fallen in love, married, was both a mother and a widow…I was besieged with so many difficulties, raising little Meg on my own, that my days mainly consisted of struggling for us both to survive. It was not until I had been promoted as Ballet Master at the Opera House that I could breathe freely again.
"A few years ago, I was again fated to cross paths with Erik.. I recall the evening well. It was after a performance of 'Hannibal', almost three years ago. I was alone, staying late in the rehearsal room, working out the intricate steps of one of the dances I had created...when a man, masked and cloaked in darkness, appeared before me.
"There was no need for an introduction. I recognized those mismatched eyes right away.
"I fought like a wildcat as I tried to escape him, but he was too strong for me. Holding me captive with my hair clenched in his fist, he promised that I would not be harmed if I would aid him in a few simple requests. I did not dare deny him anything.
"At first, I was only to send notes to the manager, requesting that he was to be paid a 'salary'. Then I was to arrange for his seating at Box Five during the operas. At the time, I saw no harm in it. The Opera Populaire was not hurting for money. La Carlotta was at the peak of her career. The seats were constantly filled. They could afford to pay for his existence.
"But then he saw Christine...
"She had been a dancer in the chorus. Always a sad child, mourning her father constantly, she spoke little and smiled less. He only wanted me to send her little notes at first...little complements. The notes turned into suggestions on how she could improve. The suggestions turned into arranged meetings. The meetings turned into lessons.
"At first, I was horrified. I felt as if I were being forced to procure a prostitute for him. Yet, as I observed Christine, she seemed well. In fact, her disposition changed miraculously from her association with him. Her dancing and singing improved markedly. The pale thin girl with the haunted eyes became a vibrant and attractive woman right before my eyes. He must have noticed the change as well...
"For in time, his demands became more unusual. He enlisted my aid in creating a trick mirror in Christine's dressing room. When I realized his intent to spirit her away down into the bowels of the Paris Opera House, I would not agree to be a party to his depravity. My daughter, Meg, is not so much younger than Christine. The thought of him taking such a young girl down alone into the depths of hell where no one could hear her screams made me ill.
"That was when I learned of his other side, of his capacity for pure evil when he was crossed. He had threatened to kill Meg if I did not follow orders. I had no choice but to aid him with her defilement.
"As Christine's career heightened, so did his lust for her. When she fell in love with the Vicomte, Erik had become insane with jealousy. His adored student had been stolen from him; and he would exact his price in fear and blood, murdering again and again."
I covered my ears, but Madame Giry pulled my hands away, forcing me to listen.
"You must face facts, child. What happened tonight is simply more of the same. You are marked to be another senseless victim. Do you think old Joseph Buquet deserved to die? Or Piangi, who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or those innocent bystanders who got struck down by the chandelier?"
I shook my head.
"Madame Giry, do you still run these 'errands' for him?"
"Yes, of a different sort now."
"Then I imagine you must know how things have changed...what I am to Erik..."
She lowered her eyes, embarrassed at my admission.
"I do not want to make you uncomfortable by telling you this, Madame Giry," I continued. "But in Erik's defense, I feel I must. While I admit that your stories of him are chilling, they are stories of the past. Life has changed for him now. He is no longer alone. I am to be his wife."
Madame Giry closed her eyes with remorse and took a deep breath.
"It so breaks my heart to have to say these things to you, my child...but I am older than you. And I have seen much of life."
She folded her hands in her lap, speaking softly, burrowing her eyes into mine as if she would pry open my soul.
"Despite his evil and ugliness, he is also very seductive. Even I was prey to it...that night when I loosed him from his cage. He wields his torment in such a way as to wrap a person's heart around his sleeve. Especially when that person has a tender heart...as you so obviously have, my dear. But when he wants something, he does not care who he hurts. He does not mind how many lies he has to tell. And, Mademoiselle, although you are talented and beautiful, although you are devoted to him, he loves Christine...and always will, I fear."
My heart wrenched at her words. I had suspected such countless times, even this very night. And yet to hear someone else say it somehow made it more true.
"I know how you must feel, Mademoiselle," Madame Giry persisted. "I had felt the same way. After all, I had only tried to help a poor soul in torment. And how was I repaid? By being blackmailed to do his bidding for years. You have tried to help him. And how has he repaid you? By scaring you half to death and leaving you alone to die of a head wound in Box Five, all in order to continue his pursuit of Christine."
Again I shook my head at her words.
"Even if he were through with me...even if he did not love me...he would not murder me."
"Dead men tell no tales, Mademoiselle. Do you really think he wants Christine to know about you?"
I had not thought of that.
Yet she did know because I had told her myself only an hour or two ago!
Then the thought crossed my mind that perhaps Erik knew of our conversation. After all, if there was a trick mirror in her dressing room...he could have been there...hearing every word of my damning confession to her of his promise to marry me.
I no longer wanted to think this way. And yet I could not help myself.
If Giry were right...if I had merely been a means to an end for him...if I truly meant nothing to him at all...Erik would be all the more likely to kill me because I had succeeded in coming between him and Christine. In my own way, I had been just as much of an impediment to him as Raoul de Chagny!
"My child, you paved a path for him right back to Christine. While using you to achieve his aims, he took your heart and smashed it to bits. Of course, you are confused and devastated. But you are young. You shall get past this."
The pounding in my head throbbed, making my eyes water as I doubled over in pain.
Madame Giry was at my side immediately.
"My dear, are you alright?"
"Yes, I am sure I shall be, Madame. It is simply the shock and strain of everything that has happened. Perhaps if I could have some tea or a glass of water?"
"Certainly, my dear."
Once she had left the room, I rose unsteadily to my feet, trying to ignore the waves of dizziness.
As the cool night air brushed my face, I raced through the maze of streets to find my way back to the Paris Opera House...and to Erik.
If I were racing to my own demise, so be it. I had to know the truth.
Author's Note: To avoid confusion, I must explain that I have not strictly followed the ALW movie in terms of the Giry/Erik history. I disagree with the interpretation that the Paris Opera House was the only place Erik had ever lived since the gypsy days nor do I believe that Giry helped to shelter him at the Paris Opera House. I prefer the Susan Kay "Phantom" version, which adds some adventure and travels to Erik's past. If you have not read this book, I highly recommend it as it is one of the best "Phantom" stories out there.
