Chapter Thirty-four - The Edge of The Fire

The first screams moved slowly through the audience.

His mask and dark wig were gone, his ravaged face was revealed to them. But he seemed oblivious to them.

His eyes remained on Christine, the stunned pain in them as exposed as his marred features.

Meg heard herself scream…not in horror at seeing his face again, but in shock at the cruelty of Christine's action.

The disbelief faded from his eyes, but the pain did not even as they darkened with anger.

He drew a knife from the jacket of his Don Juan costume. For a second, it reflected the lurid red draperies of the set, making it look as if it had already been bloodied.

No…no! He won't…he can't…not even after what she has done….

But, as she saw the blade flash in the glow of the stage lights, Meg remember Buquet's twitching corpse hurtling down onto that same stage.

The gendarmes in the theatre surged forward from their stations, seeking a clear aim at him.

Erik lunged forward, slicing through one of the thick ropes that formed part of the Don Juan set. Severed, it snapped and whipped like a snake as he seized Christine.

There was a strange rattling sound above the audience…

Then Erik and Christine were gone, plunging, down through a trapdoor in the walkway, down into that ring of false flames in the center of the stage.

Meg shook off the gendarme's hand and ran forward to the edge of the fire, saw the floor within the circle had opened into an abyss that seemed to go straight into the lowest depths of the Opera Populaire.

From high above them, beyond the painted dome of the auditorium there was an ominous sound, the roar of a heavy chain snapping through the timbers of the ceiling at the great chandelier began to plummet.

Meg saw it only for an instant, a bright and massive storm of shimmering crystals and light careening down towards the stage.

She leapt backward, falling once before scrambling to her mother's side.

The sickening crash of the chandelier against the stage, the sudden roar of flames as the gas ignited and the sets burst into flame drowned out the terrified cries of the audience.

In the crowded passage behind the stage, they collided with the Vicomte de Chagny.

"Where did he take her," demanded, "where did they go?"

Madame Giry hesitated for a second, glancing once at her daughter.

"Tell me, please," he said, grabbing the ballet mistress by the arm, "where did that monster take my bride?"

Madame Giry shook off the Vicomte's arm.

"Very well, I will take you to him. But, remember Buquet and keep your hand at the level of your eyes."

"I'll go with you," Meg called to them as her mother hurried the Vicomte towards the stairs to the dressing rooms.

Madame Giry looked back at her daughter for a moment.

"No, ma petite!"

And she raised her finger to her lips in a gesture that Raoul de Chagny could not see.

At least she will not betray Erik.