A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! Been busy.
The Toad, the Angel and the Devil
M Reyer sighed in exasperation. This was impossible. Oh, he had known peace when Carlotta was gone. Al least that girl Christine did not need to be taught to speak proper French.
"Once more, you all will please." Mme Giry said, her own voice strained.
The musicians struck their notes and-
"No, stop. Stop! This will not do! Girls, will you ever pay attention?"
M Reyer groaned. If this went on any longer, his head will burst. It was simply too much for his aging brain.
"Let's take it again from the last act."
The corrections went on for the next two hours, but the improvement was nowhere to be seen. Carlotta was as bad as ever, the dancers were a mess, and the orchestra seemed to be off by a number of scales. At least the chorus was getting somewhere. Not by much, but somewhere. Perhaps it was the fact that the ghost has not been bothering them. Nothing had been heard of him for the past two weeks. Though, the rumors were very much alive. And one did not have to be very smart to know what they were about. They all thought that the ghost was plotting something. Foolishness, what could the ghost be plotting and why? If there was a ghost indeed. Certainly, there were odd occurrences, but nothing to suggest they were done by a ghost. Ghost typically did not write little notes in red ink just to frighten the cast, did not have Punjab lassos hanging all over the place, and did not use trapdoors to move around. Yes, trapdoors. That was what gave the 'ghost' away. He also suspected Mme Giry knew this. The old lady was good at keeping information to herself, very smart. M Reyer wondered what else she knew but his thoughts were interrupted by her voice.
"M Reyer, would you please give Carlotta a few notes of the aura from Act Four?" she asked kindly. M Reyer nodded and played a few notes on his piano. Maybe whoever this Phantom was will come again and rescue them all.
There was no way around it. If he planned to get rid of Carlotta without killing her, he will have to be patient. But patience is something he had little of. Especially now, with the managers who were as stubborn as mules. They refused to obey him and make a joke out of him. And now that Carlotta was back, they were completely ignoring Christine's talents. If he could, he would make them a head shorter. But as it was, he also needed someone to keep the place running. Patience, all he needed was a little more patience. Just wait until the performance…
…The eve of the performance…
Carlotta was in her room preparing for the evening, her massive pink dress waiting by her side. She felt triumphant now that Christine has been put back in her place where she belonged. That girl was nothing but trouble for her. Tonight, she, Carlotta, will show to them all who was better. She will sing her lungs out if she had to. But she will prove that she was more skilled.
Carlotta smirked. After all, that Christine was nothing but a girl with dreams that were too big for her own good. She summoned her dressers and began to don on her wigs, make up and the enormous dress.
Christine on the other hand, did not have much to put on. She had a simple boyish outfit and little make up. It was easy to put on and did not require much time. She sighed. Perhaps everyone did like Carlotta better; perhaps she herself was not made to be a Prima Donna, despite of what her Angel said. Perhaps he even was just part of her imagination, although he seemed real enough. Things were becoming so complicating. No one has ever hated her, Christine was sure of it. She always worked hard to please everyone. Therefore, when Carlotta began to hate her, she was confused. She didn't know hate, she wasn't used to it, didn't understand it.
"Why do people hate?" Christine asked out loud.
What a strange question, though Erik. It was very unlike Christine to ask questions like that. Hate… the word had had no meaning for him, aside from the fact that everyone had it. There was unjustified hate, and then there was justified hate. Erik felt his was justified. He had reasons for hate, good reasons.
"Jealousy and misunderstanding." He replied.
Christine was accustomed to always have her Angel with her and thus was not surprised when he answered. Could Carlotta be jealous? But surely there was no need. It was probably misunderstanding, something that happened often.
"Will you play the violin for me?" she asked.
"Of course." replied the voice.
The music he played was soulful and somewhat sad. Christine finished as she hummed to the tune. Singing was something she couldn't keep from doing, it helped her to keep going.
Meg stood at the door, listening. There was violin music drifting out from Christine's room, and another voice, a man's voice. There was only one being in this entire Opera House who played violin so beautifully, an that was the Ghost. But that meant that He was… No, that wasn't possible, it couldn't be. Christine didn't even believe in Him! Yet still, there was the music. And the voice, it must belong to him too!
The music stopped and Meg heard Christine say "Thank you, Angel." Angel? Meg did not understand. But then it dawned on her. The Ghost! What if he was pretending to be the Angel in order to trick Christine? But then, he was also trying to make her famous, wasn't he? That means… he must-
The door opened and Christine practically ran into Meg.
"Oh, Meg, you frightened me! What were you doing here?"
"I- I came to get you." Meg replied lamely. "Were you playing the violin?" she asked and immediately wished she hadn't. Christine stopped dead in her tracks.
"The violin?"
"I could have just imagined it…" Meg said, knowing full well that she didn't sound very convincing.
"What else did you hear?"
"Just, somebody else. Talking." It was no use lying, Christine knew that she was listening at the door. Might as well tell the entire truth.
"Are you sure?"
Meg nodded. "Come on, Christine. We'll be late for rehearsals." she urged.
This was strange, thought Christine as Meg dragged her along. She wasn't the only one who heard the Angel's voice. Maybe he was a special kind of Angel. Was that possible?
During the rehearsal, Christine had trouble concentrating. Her mind was occupied with other thoughts and she ended up tripping more than once over her own feet. Mme Giry was not exactly thrilled but patiently helped Christine. But the end of the day though, they were all ready.
The crowd was bustling, the seats were being filled, and M Firmin and M Andre sat in Box Five, preparing to enjoy a sold out Opera.
"Every single ticket sold, Andre!" Firmin exclaimed. "Every single one!"
"And no sign of the ghost!"
"Not a single bloody spot!"
"What a two peaceful weeks!"
"Did I not tell you that it was all just a joke, Andre?"
"Indeed you have. And now you have proven yourself right!"
Firmin grinned. Nothing pleased him more than knowing that he was right.
The curtain rose and the Opera began. The first act was uneventful and overall, according to the managers, successful. Carlotta was at her best, the dancing was superb, the chorus was enchanting, and the orchestra exceeded all bounds. Everything was perfect. Then Firmin noticed a few red drops fall from the flies. Thankfully, they didn't land on anyone's head and the audience apparently didn't see it. Was Buquet painting again? Few more fell to the stage.
Damn, thought Erik as he watched the paint drip onto the stage. He didn't notice the bucket until he tripped over it. Then it took all his will power to prevent himself from kicking it. He felt lucky enough that the thing didn't fall down as a whole. That would have ruined his entire plan.
Erik took out a handkerchief and wiped the paint off his shoes and then placed it over the paint on the walk. When it stopped dripping, he continued on his way to his Bow Five which he knew was occupied by the managers. It was a perfect plan, he thought. One which required practically no work on his part. And if there were any…accidents, well, then, it wasn't his fault. Erik smiled; he will have his way no matter the cost or consequences.
The paint stopped dripping and Firmin settle back, thinking that Buquet must have taken care of the problem. Something still felt wrong though. What would he be doing up there with paint?
Then things did begin to go wrong. The orchestra went first. Strings began to break and the notes sounded awful. Firmin could just imagine M Reyer's horrified expression. His own was probably no better.
The situation worsened when suddenly, out of the blue, Carlotta croaked. Its effect was instantaneous. The audience went silent, the dancing stopped and the time slowed as everyone stared incredulously at the Diva. She was petrified. Carlotta tried to sing again, but issued another croak. Someone in the audience laughed and others soon followed. Tears were streaming down Carlotta's face as she continued to sing, unable to stop herself, with Piangi beside her, trying to console the poor Prima donna. Firmin hid his face. What a tragedy! He couldn't face it, couldn't bare it! What an embarrassment! A stronger and louder laughter filled the auditorium and suddenly it began to shake. Everyone automatically glanced up at the enormous chandelier. Someone screamed and it began its descend down. Panic swept the crowd and the cast was frozen on the stage. People ran and scrambled out of the way, pushing and yelling.
Christine watched the chandelier's descent in fascination. She had never seen anything like this. It was so frighteningly strange that she was unable to move. Someone shouted her name, but she paid no attention. Fear began to overtake her as she realized that it was moving right at her.
Erik watched with horror the chandelier as it moved toward Christine. For God's sake, Christine, move! he pleaded silently.
The chandelier was moving closer and closer, and still Christine couldn't do anything. She heard Meg's terrified voice and commotion out in the audience, but her body did not respond to her brain's warning to move.
Christine, please…!
Her body moved an inch and before she could move any further, the chandelier crashed in front of her.
Christine!
The shards of glass flew in all directions, some into Christine's body. She let out a small scream and collapsed to the floor, bleeding and unconscious.
The lights went out and panic spread like wildfire. When they came back on, Christine was gone.
