Author´s note: I don´t know whether it is necessary to say so explicitely, but the Mme.Giry in this story is the woman from the musical, with some traces of Leroux. She doesn´t come from the movie, so she hasn´t saved Erik from anything. I just wanted to tell you this because it influences the relationship the two have.
Chapter Two
Terrified I wanted to shout, but at once a hand with long slim fingers pressed itself tightly over my mouth and nose. All I managed to get out were some choking sounds. The same voice that had spoken before said, now only inches away from my right ear: "I´ll release you if you promise not to scream.". I nodded frantically, and the hand vanished. Gasping for breath I relished in the feeling of air filling my lungs again.
Only then did I turn around, though I had already identified my visitor. "How did you know where I live, monsieur?", I asked. It was a simple question, yet one that held all the others at bay. What was the man the entire population of Paris was searching for doing in my living room? "I´d be a lousy ghost if I hadn´t even picked up the basic facts about the people working in my opera.", he stated. His words were oddly muffled, and I noticed that he held up his cloak to hide his face behind it. Apparently he hadn´t put his mask back on. "It´s not necessary to do that.", I said rather coldly. "I´ve seen you on stage tonight."
"I´ve been told that even once was enough to guarantee a lifetime of nightmares, and I do not wish to torture you with my appearance." To my own surprise I told him: "But this cannot be comfortable.". Why was I treating him like an ordinary guest? But it was true: It was quite warm in the room, and the idea of covering one´s face with a layer of fabric wasn´t very pleasant. "Why don´t you sit down next to me, and I look into the other direction?", I suggested. My surprise increased as he followed my instructions. He even took them literally, settling down next to me so closely that I could feel the coldness of his body. But I discovered soon that the choice of seat had a very rational reason: Like this the chances of me accidentally looking at him were small.
I watched the dancing flames of the candles, waiting for him to do something. Yet he seemed to be content simply sitting here. Minutes passed in absolute silence, and I felt myself growing restless. I still had no idea what had been going on in the cellars after I had left. "Why are you here, Monsieur le Fantome?", I finally addressed him. "How can you call me that?", he asked. I could hear him clearly now, which probably meant that he had lowered his cloak. "I´m neither a phantom nor a ghost. But apparently I´m not a man either. Or is this how your kind treats one of their own, madame?"
I was lost for words. The intention of this address hadn´t been to evoke such profound questions. "Before you haven´t told me what happened I cannot answer. And I didn´t mean to offend you with my choice of name. I just don´t… Do you have a name, monsieur?", I blurted out. A second later I realised that this had sounded even more stupid and insulting than my first remark. "Incidentally I had a name, yes. All human beings do, don´t they?" It was clear how much my tactless question had hurt him, and I swore to myself to be more careful in the future. I didn´t want to find myself in the centre of his fury all of a sudden.
"It´s Erik.", he added, almost as an afterthought. "And may I call you that?" It was amazing that I was actually excited about having got at least some kind of information from him. "Of course, madame.", he replied, returning to his manner of perfect politeness. Yet from the way he shifted in his seat, involuntarily moving against me, I could tell that it was merely superficial, meant to disguise his state of agitation. It didn´t work – even his brief digression hadn´t managed to distract me from what I wanted to know.
"I don´t think you´ve come to my house in the middle of the night on a day like this only to tell me your name. So… what has happened?", I asked stubbornly. A sudden suspicion made me inhale sharply. "Is… is there anything wrong with Meg?" "As far as I know she´s fine. She was among the lovely people who are doubtlessly just turning my house upside down. Picking over the bones…", he hissed scornfully. "Bones…", I repeated faintly. "You mean… someone died?"
"No, no!", he said quickly, and I released the breath I had been holding. "No one except me, that is.", he went on in a deadly calm voice. "I died the moment she left me with this… boy. How could she? He´ll never treat her well enough. He isn´t even capable of loving her like I do. He could have found somebody else. But Christine… she belongs to me. I should have killed him when I had the chance to. I was so close… She kissed me, Mme.Giry.", he suddenly addressed me. I had assumed he had forgotten I was there, so I was a little startled about his abrupt change of subject from killing to kissing. "Well… did you enjoy it?" It was the first question that occurred to me, and in a conversation with my daughter it might have even been appropriate.
"It was the worst moment of my life.", he answered in a whisper that made my body shiver uncomfortably. "But why-" "Because it was then that I understood she would go away! What other reason should she have had?" His voice changed yet again, becoming nearly dream-like, but incredibly sad at the same time. "For so many years my heart had been a block of ice. Then she came to warm it. I offered it to her as a present, a sign of my endless affection and undying love – and she threw it to the ground and trampled around on it till my heart, that tiny part of me which I had thought to be beautiful for some moments, was nothing but a bloody pulp."
I swallowed hard. His words touched me more than I could have imagined. If my chorus girls had seen me like that – their stern, unmerciful ballet teacher on the verge of tears because of the Opera Ghost´s story! Yet when the first tear made its way down my cheek it was stopped, caught by a bony finger that touched me cautiously, brushing against my cheek as softly as a feather.
"I don´t want your pity, madame. Don´t you dare cry!" His warning was less impressive than usual because of the small sounds he made while speaking. It took me a few seconds to identify them as the kind of noise one produced while desperately trying to hold back sobs. "Erik, can I…?" I neither finished the sentence nor waited for a reaction. I simply turned around to face him. My gaze was immediately drawn to the place where the sounds had come from, his mouth. Now he had actually stuffed his fist into it to prevent him from losing his composure. I gasped as I saw that he was gnawing on it so hard that there were traces of blood.
His eyes widened in shock when he noticed I was looking at him. Obviously he assumed that the gasp had been caused by his appearance. Only now did I take in his whole face. Maybe seeing it twice made it less frightening. Maybe my reaction while seeing him on stage had mainly mirrored the people around me uttering their disgust. Maybe the candlelight was more gentle than the full lighting in the opera. Whatever the reason was, his face didn´t make me feel appalled. I gave him a kind, warm-hearted smile, which was quite unusual for me.
I seized his wrist and pulled his hand out of his mouth. Bringing his fingers closer to my eyes I examined them, relieved to find nothing but a couple of superficial marks that would heal quickly. I was strangely reminded of looking at Meg´s knees when she had been younger. They had been permanently injured since she hadn´t been able to resist the temptation of running and climbing at every possible occasion. Wondering whether the same treatment would work in this case I kissed his knuckles, one after the other.
He snatched his hand away from he. I looked at him with a sheepish smile. "I was only trying to help.", I muttered. "By kissing me? By reminding me of this… this Judas kiss of hers?" He stared at me, his expression changing rapidly from indignant to utterly helpless. "I had never been kissed before, Mme.Giry.", he told me in a small voice. "Perhaps I had expected too much. How could I have had the idea that someone would show me affection like that? Not even my mother could…" "But kissing can also be different.", I said seriously. "Like this…" Hesitantly I brought my lips to his.