Lise stood stock-still, terrified, and watched as the Phantom scrawled a message on the wall of the dimly-lit tunnel in what seemed to be red paint—but she noticed how thinly it trickled down the wall and glistened on the floor with a deadly glow. It took her a moment to stop shaking at the sight and look up to read the message—but by then the Phantom was done, and he had taken her arm in a cold iron grip and was pulling her firmly along behind him. Even if she had had the strength to pull away, there was something about this man that would not allow her to disobey. She felt as if he had drained her of her will and her mind, so that she was not able to resist. Anything he asked of her, she knew she would have to do.
Lise let herself be pulled along, feeling a thick, chilling mist close in around her as they proceeded farther along the tunnel, which twisted and turned and had so many intersections and openings off the sides that Lise knew if she was alone, she'd never find her way out. It grew darker, and she noticed that the torches were growing dimmer, as if there was a switch that could operate them. Finally, in the last of what little light there was, Lise saw an open gate at the end of the labyrinth, and the Phantom was steering her towards it. He pulled her through, slamming it behind them, and Lise heard a grinding sound like a key in a lock—but as she jerked her head around, there was no-one there who could have possibly locked it. She shivered and suddenly felt much weaker, but she was ever aware of the Phantom's grip on her wrist.
The only light now was of the moon, filtering in through thin gutter slits far overhead. Lise realized they must be outside somewhere, but far underground. Lise felt a sudden, unexpected tug on her arm, and they veered left, leaving the moonlit path behind them. Now they climbed a long, winding set of stairs; so narrow that even tiny Lise had to turn to the side to mount them. She didn't even stop to think how the Phantom could fit up the stairs—she was still scared stiff.
After what seemed hours of climbing, they dashed up the last few stairs, Lise on cold, numb legs, through a creaky, rotting wooden door, and into—no, onto—a long, narrow sort of shelf. Lise looked around her, then down below her...and realized they were in the flies above the stage of the dark, vast, empty opera.
Exhausted, Christine was about to turn the little boat around and row back the way she had come when she finally saw the tall, wide iron gate stretching out before her. This site was sickeningly familiar to her: she had been here before many times, but it was so long ago...it was like traveling back into the past again. She shivered, remembering the one time she had known Erik to be seriously cruel: when he had given her that chilling choice, a life with him or Raoul's death...and with newfound determination to retrieve her precious daughter and sort out this horrifying affair once more, she rowed on, finally reaching the shore and clambering on all fours under the gate.
Christine felt a wave of nausea wash over her, overwhelmed by all the memories that this place brought back to her, and staggered for a moment: but she soon found her footing and carried on somewhat confidently—after all, she knew Erik's little hideout very well, even after all those years.
She had been about to reach for the lever on the wall which would open the side tunnel, when she heard a slight whimpering from the opposite end of the Phantom's lair. For a moment, she thought in horror that it might be Lise. She ran across—but then realized it was not her daughter. She recognized instead one of the maids at the Opera Populaire.
"Madame Da—I mean Madame de Chagny! Please, I beg of you, help me...this is the Phantom's doing...he has returned..."
Christine, relieved that the maid was not hurt (remembering Buquet's horrifying demise all that long time ago), rushed over and unbound her from the seat. "Listen to me—you must leave this place, and..." Christine thought for a moment of telling the maid, Sofie, to alert the managers—but she knew she had to deal with this on her own. Besides...she couldn't bring herself to betray Erik again. "Just—just return to your home, and tell no-one of this. Please."
The maid still looked frightened and bewildered. "But Madame...you mustn't go alone—I will tell Monsieur Firmin—I can help you—"
Christine grasped Sofie's shoulders. "Please, do as I say. Trust me. I have been—I know this place well. I shall remain safe. Just do as I say—"Christine gave her a gentle push towards the gate. "Quickly! He mustn't know I've let you go."
Nodding fearfully, the maid Sofie ducked under the gate and into the boat, and began rowing forcefully away.
Once reassured that the maid was safe and out of the way, Christine headed once again for the lever, moving more quickly this time. She had no time to lose—she knew deep down that Erik would never hurt his own daughter, but still...she had seen this man do terrible things; she had seen him kill...
"Monsieur Firmin, Monsieur André! She's gone! It is happening again ! Christine had fled again, no doubt to the Phantom's lair—don't you see his plan? Can't you see what he's doing?!"
Meg had burst into the managers' office, taking the two quite by surprise. "Meg—Madamoiselle Giry—we know the opera ghost is back again, we have all received notes—but the Vicomtesse de Chagny is safe in her room, no doubt sleeping off the evening's fright. The Phantom has not yet shown his face; we are working again on a plan to capture him." Proud of this little speech meant to reassure, Firmin strutted to the door, making a motion which clearly indicated that he wished Meg to leave.
"But Monsieur!" Meg knew she'd never win an audience with that pompous old geezer, and so she turned instead to André. "Don't you understand?—the Phantom of the Opera is here, again, just like last time—he will make us all submit to him again, and we'll be like his dolls, acting out what happened so long ago—"
"Madamoiselle, what are you rambling on about?" André interrupted airily. "Please, if you do not intend to make any sense when you speak, it is best to remain silent."
That was what really got Meg. The whole time she'd been a chorus girl, just a little meaningless ballerina, she'd been treated this way: just a little girl of no importance. She wasn't going to bear it any longer.
"Alright, if you gentlemen are going to sit back and let yourselves be put through all this again, be my guest. I, on the other hand, intend to stop this recurring nightmare before Christine ends up even worse off than last time!"
Meg knew the managers had no idea what had really happened to Christine, but it didn't matter: Meg wasn't going to let her friend get abducted by this monster yet again.
She stomped out of the room, fuming but determined. As she departed, Firmin looked to André. "Why, what happened last time?"
Christine had only just entered the tunnel when she saw the blood-red writing on the wall. The message read:
To the Vicomtesse,
Your— our— daughter is perfectly safe—as long as she is not afraid of heights...?
From yours truly,
Erik
Christine's blood boiled. The nerve! She knew exactly where he had taken Lise. After all, that was the very place that had inspired so many of the 'accidents' which had happened. It was like replaying a story, using those past events as clues.
She began to proceed down the tunnel but realized she did not know the way: if she were to get lost, she'd never find her way out. No, best to return the other way.
But as she crawled again under the gate, she remembered that Sofie had taken the boat back with her. Trembling, Christine realized she was truly running out of time. What now?
She stood for a moment, not knowing even in the slightest what she was to do. She certainly wasn't about to swim: the distance would fatigue her and if she got too tired, the heavy cloth of her dress could and would easily pull her under. And she dared not venture into Erik's labyrinth: she'd be lost for as long as it took Erik to realize it, and come down and find her; but by then she'd have no more reassurance of Lise's safety.
As she stood pondering her options in despair on the edge of the underground lake, she heard a soft, constant sound: water splashing against...there was something else on the shore a little further down. Venturing towards it, Christine perceived in joy a fair sized makeshift raft, and without pausing, she dragged it to the water, grabbed a pair of wooden planks, and 'rowed' away as best she could on the floating wood.
It seemed to take forever, but with this new glimmer of hope, Christine made it to the other side. She abandoned the raft and bounded towards the first tunnel, and soon had to put up a hand to shield her eyes from the sudden piercing light from the dressing room. Relieved to be back in a 'safe' place, she rushed down the hallway, and as she rounded a corner she almost ran right over Meg.
"Christine!" Meg cried, clasping her hands. "Where have you been?—You were there again, weren't you?! Oh, Christine, what has happened? Where are you going?" The worried words tumbled out of her mouth in a rush, tripping over each other.
"Meg, we haven't much time," Christine gasped hurriedly. "He has Lise in the theater—I must go to her—he is to propose a deal—"
Meg stared at her in horror, momentarily speechless. But she soon found her tongue. "Christine, no! You would willingly put yourself into his clutches again? Can't you see his trap?—You must, Christine, you must understand!" she cried, trying to hold her friend there.
"Come with me then!" Christine took hold of Meg's wrist and began to lead her along the hallway at a running pace. "He has Lise! My daughter—our daughter—I can't let her come to harm!"
Meg gave in. "Firmin refuses to believe me, he does not wish to help directly. As usual, he and André remain cowards. But I will not let you go into that danger alone...Christine—"
Christine stopped suddenly and turned, concerned at the tone of her dearest friend's voice. She detected an emotion she'd only heard back then when...when it had all happened. Just like it was happening again now.
Meg stared tearily into Christine's eyes. "You are the closest friend to my heart...all through that time long ago we were like sisters. Until the Phantom began to...began to make all these horrible things happen. I care about you so much, Christine...we all do. I don't want to lose you to him again—you can't imagine how very afraid I was then, I couldn't bear to see you fall so easily into his hypnotic grasp...he had you in the palm of his hand; you would have killed if he'd told you to do so!" Here Meg took a shaky breath, trying to keep her emotions in. "I watched you—as did Raoul—be taken prisoner of his times we waited in suspense for you to return once again from his lair, not knowing what he'd tricked you into believing that time. I remember distinctly one time, as the second round of threatening notes were read, with the Phantom's instructions for the opera he wrote with only you in mind—I remember you never wanted to do it, you didn't want anything to do with the plan to ensnare this terrifying, yet fascinating opera ghost...your Angel of Music, is how you referred to him the first time you confided in me about your secret tutor...But it was that time, when the notes were read, and the plan was formed, and they all tried to talk you into playing the lead in the plan: every hope rested on you; and in one rare moment of sobriety from the Phantom's elixir—his poison—you knew that those horrors would happen, and you realized for the first time what he'd done to you..."
Now Christine's pale porcelain cheeks were wet with tears, too; upon remembering every detail of that horror-filled era of the Phantom of the Opera. And such an era was beginning again.
But as torn as Christine was by Meg's loving heart, Christine knew she'd always known, after the mysterious disappearance of the Phantom, her precious Angel of Music, that there would have to be one last encounter...one last 'point of no return' to settle the score, so that there would be no wish to return at all. And while Christine knew she'd have to face Erik again to reach a temporary agreement, she knew that this meeting would not be the last. Christine knew the Phantom would come up with another proposal, another opera of his, which would end in yet another unforgettable end that would leave both he and Christine on the raw end of the deal.
Christine held Meg's hand to her face, and for a fleeting moment wished to simply give up and bawl, and have Meg comfort her and reassure her that there was no Phantom, no Erik; just the distant dream of that Angel of Music her father promised her so long ago...that was all Christine had wanted in the beginning: an Angel of Music to sing songs in her head. She had just wanted to be another Little Lotte, dreaming of an angel. Dreaming of music: her passion, the fire that kept her dreams alive...never had she dreamed of straying so far from that path, from that desire. A simple child's wish. Now it had turned into a vulnerable woman's nightmare.
"Meg," Christine whispered, trying suppress the tremors running through her, "please, now is not the time to worry. This meeting with him will not be my last—I will come out of this one alive. Save your worries for the true point of no return. The Phantom will not let me go so easily this time..."
