Echoes of the Opera

By Good Lady Grace

Chapter 2

The Young Angel

Now Adelaide was seventeen and beautiful. She was about the age to be married and Erik knew she could have any man she wanted. He even encouraged her to leave him and settle down. But Adelaide refused. "Papa, who will take care of you if I am gone?" she said on one of these occasions. "No, you need me here so here is where I shall stay".

So life continued for the Phantom of the Opera and his young Angel of Music. They kept a low profile, not wanting to risk the anger of the people again. Adelaide was the only one to traversed the Opera Populaire in plain sight. If she kept her head low, she could go any where without suspicion. She often wandered about with Meg on theses occasions. Meg Giry had grown into a lovely young woman and married a wealthy man. Her husband had died four years after their marriage so Meg had returned to the Opera and taken her mother's old job of ballet teacher. She had brought her young son, Roger, with her and Roger and Adelaide soon became friends. Roger and Meg were the only ones who entered the sanctuary at all. They brought news and any needed goods with them. They offered company and comfort, happiness and hope that maybe, one day, Erik and Adelaide would be excepted in the world. It was this hope that lead The Phantom and his daughter through they're years without Christine. It was this hope that gave them strong spirits. It was this hope that bonded them together as father and daughter. However, hope is easily shattered.
One day, Adelaide was returning from ballet lessons with Meg. She entered the sanctuary, but did not see her father any where. She frowned and walked quietly into her father's bed room, an action that was followed by a piercing scream. Erik was lying on the bed, his face white and cold, his eyes opened in terror. Adelaide stumbled over to him, tears streaming down her face. Clutched in her father's icy grip was a note bound in a red ribbon. Adelaide opened it with shaking hands

Dear Adelaide,
Your father is not dead, no matter how much he may look it. He is cursed. It is a curse that will kill him in one week, unless you do all that I command. Do not try to find me, for these words that I write are my final on earth. Death is a small price to pay to rid the earth of that horrible monster you call father. A letter containing your next instructions shall come to you after you have completed a task, of which there are four. I suggest that you work quickly. Do give my regards to Marguerite Giry.
Your obedient servant,
Raoul de Chagny