Chapter Eighteen - To See Him Again
"Only," Christine had said, as she tucked the ring and chain back inside her frock, "you must not tell anyone. Not even your Maman."
Those words haunted Meg in the weeks to come. She knew very well why Christine wanted to keep her engagement to the Vicomte a secret. The girl was afraid for her childhood sweetheart, afraid that he would meet the same fate as Joseph Buquet if the Opera Ghost knew…
But there had been no sign of the Phantom in the aftermath of the Il Muto disaster. There were no notes, no demands, no mysteries accidents, no reports of a figure glimpsed in the shadows.
He's still here…silent, but still here…I know it.
There were times when Meg wanted to seek him out, to tell him that Christine was going to marry Raoul de Chagny.
It would be better for her if I told him, wouldn't it…he wouldn't have a chance to take his anger out on Christine if I told him first…and I don't think he'd hurt me…for my mother's sake…even if he did threaten me…
One morning, she even took her mother's keys and let herself into Carlotta's dressing room. She stood before the mirror, pressed her palms against it.
But perhaps he already knows…perhaps that's why he is silent now…perhaps he is dead…
She let her hands fall slack and took a single step back from the mirror.
You just want to see him again…that's all.
"What are you doing in my dressing room, you little tramp!"
Meg turned to see La Carlotta in the doorway, large and bright in a purple and green walking suit.
"You touch my things? Get out…get out!"
Meg quickly scampered from the room, eager to avoid a typical shrill tirade from the diva. Even as she darted back down the hall to return the key, she could hear La Carlotta raging at her hairdresser.
The Opera Ghost stood behind the mirror. He came there still, from time to time, hoping that Christine would be there.
Hoping that she would seek him out, that her promise of love to that damned fop was nothing more than a moment of fear…that she'd only panicked after Buquet's death.
She never came.
He watched as Meg Giry approached the mirror. For a second, it seemed she would open it.
What does that damned girl want with me?
She's like her mother isn't she…no real fear in her.
He saw her frown, undecided…but not afraid.
He leaned against the stone wall, feeling the cool comfort of it against his back.
He was tired…he had been working for days, his clothes and mask were smudge with ink. His hands and shoulders ached from endless hours at the organ.
If Christine should see him this way…would she understand he was giving her his soul?
He heard La Carlotta screaming at one of her lackeys. He had no interest in that woman and her tirades. He had humiliated her. That was enough.
He turned and followed the darkness home.
