Chapter eleven
The heat in the theater was stifling. Behind the curtain several of the choir members were feeling faint. However it was not all because of the heat… the Phantom of the Opera's box had been sold, now there would be hell to pay. Frightened cast members traveling in groups for safety made their way to their places on the stage. Diana dressed and applied the makeup for her costume within the relative safety of her dressing room, worry gnawing away at her. Erik wasn't well. After the incident with Jonathan, she had found him leaning against the other side of her mirror, He had been shaking slightly, and his breathing had been ragged… She had kept him with her that night. Listening to his strained breaths as he slept, fear that she was going to loose him haunting her thoughts. He had seemed slightly better in the morning, but he was still so weak… Diana shook her head. Whatever the problem was, she would make sure she did all she could… A nagging sense. She looked about, but there was no one there.

The past few days had been awful, the entire opera house trapped in a state of suspended terror. The Viscount, "Roul", and the Persian, "Daroga", had been seen disappearing almost right through the walls, rumor was they were in league with the ghost. Diana knew that they were on the same side, while she and her own brother were for the first time in their lives, not. Peter and Jonathan were inseparable; she had not even been able to speak to her brother since the incident! Diana sighed, it felt like she was going against the entire world by herself, was this how Erik felt?

The door slid open and Madam Giry poked her head in. "Diana? Oh good, I was hoping you would be in here." Diana smiled, "What is it Madam Giry?" A note emerged from the ballet mistress's sleeve, with a smile she handed it over. "he has sent this to you." Diana took the note and placed it on her desk. "I wish I could stay longer, but I have to get back to my post." She turned to leave. "Madam Giry, do you think the phantom will reveal himself?" Madam Giry paused, then sighed. "I hope not Diana, I truly hope not."

"The stage is set, the cards are down. It's your move now Phantom…" I look over the stage, the boxes… everything is going as planned. Peter is restless, I can tell. He has the look about him of a trapped animal. "Are you sure about this Jonathan? I think we should call the police and tell them about this…" I hear myself scoff, "Don't be a fool Peter, the police can do nothing to help us, they've tried before." He doesn't seem to be listening to me, his attention is elsewhere... on the stage below us?

"What is bothering you my friend? You look petrified." His expression turns graven. "Will Diana and the others be safe? We're practically begging this madman to do something to them!" I smile, he's right of course, this would be a perfect opportunity for some kind of disaster involving the cast. Have I underestimated my enemy? No, his fight is with me. "Don't worry about the cast, his battle is not with them." Peter shakes his head and sighs, "I still don't like this…" I hear myself laughing, no, he doesn't like this at all…

From bellow us in the orchestra pit a cry rings out, with flying steps Peter runs over to see what's wrong. I shake my head chuckling, yes ghost, now it shall be war between us. Yet this time, dark friend; disaster… will be yours.

The curtain is raised for the first act, several members of the audience gasp at the elaborate scenery and costumes. In Box Seven Roul reclined, trying to appear at ease. Inside however he was trembling with tension. "What will you do Phantom, will someone die tonight?" Diana was in good voice, but she was holding back… Roul smiled. "...So you only sing with your full heart to him, such devotion in a young woman. You were blessed Erik." A chuckle from behind him catches his attention, I watched as he blinks. "Erik..?"

I come out of the shadows. He is relieved to see me, without a doubt he thought I was out killing someone. "You seem surprised to see me Viscount, am I intruding?" Roul blinks, then realizing my meaning, gets to his feet and offers me the other chair. I comply silently, my eyes remaining on Diana. This puzzles me still… how this came about. I don't trust people, it's a trick of the trade, 'and a preference'. But I have grown accustomed to him all too quickly. "What brings you to my box?" He hears my annoyed snarl and looks away. "Well, I would be watching the performance from my normal seat in Box Five, however it seems to be otherwise occupied."

He nods slightly, his eyes following mine. "She sings only for you, it's obvious." The swell in the orchestra's notes reaches a high point as Diana/ Aieda and Pevarntori/ Radamase meet, their eyes locking together. For a moment, a deep regret wells up inside of me, we could do that together… and bring all of Paris to its knees! If it only wasn't for my… I clear my thoughts. What's done is done, this is what life willed to be. Who am I to question now that life has given me her? "Perhaps you're right Viscount, I am blessed." I lean back into the chair, Pain! Why am I in pain? I flinch against it, one hand grasping my chest. For a moment it's hard to suck in air. I cough into my hand, relieved to feel most of the pressure lift. "…Erik, are you well?" I raise my eyes; the Viscount looks down at me, his expression appalled. "Yes, well enough, it comes and goes." He nods, but his eyes continue to watch me sparingly for the rest of the act.

The curtain soon falls on Act One, and I make my way into the shadows. Another stab in my chest. I hiss slightly, falling back to allow a group to move past me. The sting remains, sore and tight. Damn it all! Several of the audience members are grumbling, their noise draws me back to myself. Curious, I move closer to listen.

"Well, so far I am yet to see a ghost!"

"I paid good money to attend this production, so I want what he promised!"

The muttering grew louder, "He had better deliver what he promised soon or I'm going to get my money back!"

…Anger boiled up inside of me, what is wrong with these people! One of the finest voices in the world is onstage performing for them! Yet all they can think about is a stupid ghost story! My teeth tightly clenched, my fists flexed. This isn't right. There is no reason Diana should be wasting her time performing for these idiots. "Besides that, this is the poorest rendition of Aieda I've ever seen! The roles are far beyond the ability's of the cast!" …That was it. My temper, my terrible temper was baited. Adrenaline dulled the pain, and one hand strayed to the noose at my waist. I'd had enough of this.

"You are poor judges of fine Art! Society Pigs! "

At first they didn't move, their mouths hanging agape in shock from my hell filled voice. Then a panic took hold of there bodies, with terrified cries all fled the scene. I laugh, can't help it, really, have you ever seen rich people run? They don't, they trip over their feet like their own shoe-ware has turned against them. The laugh came out choked, fatigue washed threw my muscles, my legs grow weak. I try to take a calming breath, can't, my chest won't expand.

That wheezing sound, is that me? Air, I need… I feel myself loosing focus on the room around me, the floor suddenly rushes up. A jarring impact, but a cough escapes me and I draw in breath swiftly. Gasping like a fish out of water, that's how I must look. The fall must have jarred me enough to inhale. Silently I curse myself… trying to focus my senses that are still reeling in darkness. If someone finds me here before I recover… Strong hands under my arms pull me to my feet. I barely recognize Daroga's face through the shadow surrounding me … I can't… I…I can'… "Daroga… …"

The dim glow of a lone candle lit the room. Diana pulled the wet cloth from the bowl and ran it gently across Erik's forehead. He stirred slightly, a shallow moan escaping his throat. "Has he come round yet mademoiselle?" Diana shook her head, "No, not yet Daroga, what happened to him? He seems so…" a soft stirring drew their attention back to Erik's form. "I'll explain everything to you when I can, I promise. Just tell me when he wakes." Diana nodded. He stirred again, weakly as if to pull away. The heat ran down from his face to his neck. She placed a rag over his throat and unbuttoned the first several buttons on his shirt. The heat was here as well… gently, she wiped the cloth over the numerous scars that crossed his upper chest and shoulders. They were deep, these scars… what could have formed them? There were some signs that they might have become infected before they healed, some of them had in their time been crudely stitched…

There was so much about Erik's past that she still didn't know, who had done this to him? The suffering these wounds must have caused… she shuddered. "…who did this to you Erik?" His form stirred lightly under her hand, his eyes fluttered weakly. "Erik, you can do it, wake up now…" Despite her encouragement his form relaxed once again. She sighed, his gentle breaths calming her despite herself. "One day you will tell me."

I watch quietly as Diana watches over Erik, her determination to stay with him, despite the fact that the rest of the cast will whisper… she is a rare woman. With some amusement I recline in the nearby chair, it seems that interesting people attract interesting people! Allowing my eyes to wander once more I notice a cabinet in the kitchen hanging slightly ajar, my brow furrows in amazement. I know Erik, he's as close to a perfectionist when it comes to (anything) as any man I've ever met. And these tendencies had strayed rather analy into his housekeeping. To have a drawer so obviously open, it's not like him… rising from my seat I walk over to close it. I fear he's rubbed his habits off on me…

I suddenly catch myself chuckling, no. If that was the case, I would be living down here to! "And there's no way I'm going to do that." As I reach out to close the drawer something falls at my feet. With growing worry I lift it from the floor, my hands shaking. "Oh Erik… no… you said you quit…" Dropping the needle I grab the cabinet drawers, slam them open… and stare in silence. I had thought that Erik no longer had a need for the morphine, I had been so sure… "Is it any wonder you're having these attacks? My God Erik… don't you realize this stuff is killing you? This is all my fault…"

The bag of powder seems to gloat at me, I should have known better… how did I ever get the foolish idea that he could quit on his own! "I've just been fooling myself, I should have made more of an effort…" This… this just brings back memories… I was the one who had introduced him to it, after all. Back in Persia…

The sultan of Persia's court, Persia, 1849

I paced outside the Court magician's room, to anyone walking by I probably appeared anxious. Erik had been acting differently these past several weeks. His already short temper had been straining at its bonds, and the fact that this pleased the young sultan did not escape my interest. I paused outside the door and contemplated knocking… my mind once more straying to the scene taking place outside. Several prisoners were being dragged into the main courtyard, there faces white with fear. They were all armed, they had that right at least, and mind you, prisoners don't have rights in Persia. The poor fools were here because they had accepted a gamble.

The rules were simple enough, they had the right to attack alone, or in groups. They had their choice of weapons and could get quite creative with them. Lastly, they had the choice to fight the Court magician and perhaps win their freedom, or refuse to, and die in the chambers. The lock on the door turned and allowed me access. Erik was nowhere to be seen, so I sat on a cushion to wait. The Sultan saw Erik as nothing more than an animal… a rare species of jungle cat, perhaps. The smell of many bodies crowded into one small space reached my nose through the open window.

In truth, these fights had been going on for quite some time now. It had been going on since long before the young sultan had ordered me to search the world for Erik. Then it had been prisoners fighting prisoners. Since then however, the gruesome sport had evolved into this. "Where is he, he should be here by now…" I felt my worries starting to set in. "…Daroga, how long have you been here." Erik's eyes were pools of fire, even from where I was sitting I could see his frame trembling, was it with tension? With fear? "The sultan is waiting for you, we had better go." Erik snarled, his fist clenching so that I heard the bony knuckles crack. "When will enough blood have been shed to satisfy that fool? Already I have killed too many! So many that I've lost track!"

I drew back stunned, "I've had enough! I'm loosing my mind!" his fist shattered the table in front of him, shards of glass flew about the room, landing on the floor with a chiming sound. "Erik! Calm yourself!" A chair smashed into the wall and I feared that the noise would bring the guards running. "Are you trying to get us both killed!" His eyes met mine, a deep sense of terror embedded itself within my heart. Those weren't human eyes, they were dune eyes. They were the eyes of a stalking lion, Fiery and feral. "Do you know what's here that's worth living for!" His eyes glowed as his gaze turned to the window, "Why not die, we have no purpose worth life here! I don't fear death! But I'll tell you what I do fear Daroga, I fear damnation!" The passion behind his words sank into me. I could almost see it, those pictures from Europe showing the demon screaming revenge to the sky. And oh the wings, long and black, they did seem to suit him, fit him as he reared to scream.

"We cannot give up Erik, Allah will show us the way… I know our beliefs on these matters aren't the same, but I cannot believe you to be damned." Heart wrenching laughs echoed through the air. "I have been Damned from Birth Daroga! Fallen since I was spawned!" His voice was cracking with emotion, raw, too raw. What has pushed him this far! A thought crosses my mind. No, would he? Or did the sultan suggest it? Order it? "Erik! Have you been put on some kind of Drug?" He quiets, his eyes, a moment ago a burning forest, regarded me with deep confusion. "…If I may Daroga, what does that have to do with what we were discussing?"

My eyes must have been as big as wagon wheels. This is definitely not normal… his mood had gone from vicious to docile in seconds! Speak softly old boy, keep him calm… "Just a question, have you been put on a drug Erik?" He looked away, nodded, then moaned, clutching at his throat. "For…Forgive me Dar… gh!" He crumpled against the wall, choking it seemed. I was surprised at how quickly I reached his side. "Erik! Tell me quickly! What is the name of the Drug!" He was struggling for breath, unable to respond. I found myself unable to do anything to help him, my entire body shaking.

Slowly, his breaths evened out. His eyes locked with mine. He panted softly, "I didn't mean… to attack you like that Daroga… I didn't…" I nod, calm, keep it calm for both of you. "I know Erik, I know you didn't. It's the drug, tell me about the drug."

He nodded, breathed deep, but his answer still came out a sore whisper.

"…They call it hashish"

Paris, 1867 the Paris Opera house

I remember it all to well, hashish, as they had named it, was a dangerous drug, the effects it had had on Erik were devastating. That was a time when most of the drugs in Persia were considered harmless… we had been such fools. To save Erik from the painful death of hashish, I had him exposed to the more calming drug opium. However, Erik had feared that it might damage his voice, so we had searched for an alternative… we found morphine.

You would think two intelligent men like ourselves would have realized the danger, well, we didn't. Now, years later we fought his addiction together, or at least so I had thought. I shook my head. "Why Erik? Is this because of the manager?" I turned as a hand lay on my shoulder… Diana's emerald eyes locked with mine. "Daroga, please tell me the truth. Why is this happening? How long has this been going on?" I sigh and removed her hand from my shoulder.

"Perhaps it's time you heard the story."