I sank down on the bed nearest to me and studied the paper in my hands.
"What is he talking about?" CJ asked, slightly indignant.
I held up the paper and pointed to the large, bold headline about the Opera Ghost. She sat next to me on the bed in order to study the paper better. I felt the wave of awkwardness sweep through me as she sat by me again, but there were more pressing things on my mind.
"Why would Dumas think you would know anything about this," CJ asked as she scanned the article, "Did you work at the opera once?"
"In a way," I responded, "I was the Opera Ghost,"
"You pretended to haunt the opera?"
"Yes, and it worked fairly well, until," I shook my head, I would tell her the whole story, but at the moment I wanted to concentrate on the article, "Wait, I will tell you in a moment," CJ looked impatient, but I could not worry about that.
The article read as follows:
This morning Opera offices report that there was another disappearance after the Friday night's production. Mademoiselle Rebecca Duval, another member of the ballet, has not been seen since the final act of the opera. Her disappearance correlates with the strange vanishings of four other ballerinas.
"Erik," I ignored CJ,
The first record of a disappearance at the opera is of course that of Madame Christine de Chagny, who vanished from stage; however that was explained by the arrest of her kidnapper, none other than the man who clamed to be the 'Opera Ghost.' These recent disappearances are so similar, that with no other explanation in sight, they have opera members crying 'the ghost is back!'
"Erik,"
The 'ghost' is referring to the above mentioned man who once crept into the caverns beneath the opera and terrorized the cast and crew, and eventually kidnapped Madame de Chagny. However, this man was arrested and executed, leaving members of the Paris Opera to wonder if this time, the 'ghost' could be real.
"Erik,"
When questioned, managers stated that they have no reason to believe the 'ghost' has returned and that they are sure the police will find a reasonable explanation for the mysterious vanishings. However, not all cast and crew members share in this optimism. Many have threatened quitting their posts in order to find safer employment. At this point, police have refused to comment formally on the state of the investigation.
"Erik!" I was finished so I finally looked up,
"Yes?" I asked, this whole situation had taken me off guard and I was still reeling a bit.
CJ looked exasperatedly at me, "Are you going to explain, anything? Like maybe this Opera Ghost affair?"
I sighed, "I told you, I was the Opera Ghost,"
"But how is that possible, you are not a ghost,"
"Congratulations on figuring that out,"
"Remember when I told you not to try to be amusing?" CJ narrowed her eyes at me, but she was smiling,
"No," I said, "However, if you want to hear about the Opera,"
"Yes tell me," she interrupted,
"I am trying,"
"Go ahead,"
"Alright," I began, "I was hiding from some men who had followed me from Persia to Paris when I came upon the opera. I was underneath the structure; everyone knows there are caverns underneath it, but I do not think anyone had ever really bothered to explore them. It is a giant maze down there; and I made it my home. I realized I could stay there forever without having to face the world again. Then I heard the music. I made a habit of going up to watch the performances. I realized I could get them to leave a box open for my, and even pay me,"
"How did you do that?" CJ interrupted again,
"Would you be quiet so I can explain?"
"Sorry, I won't say another word," CJ closed her mouth,
"I don't believe you for a second," However, CJ remained silent, so I started again,
"Alright, what was I saying?" I asked,
"You were going to tell me how you made them pay you and leave you an open box," CJ responded and I smiled;
"I knew you would not last more than a moment being quiet,"
"Damn you!" she cried in a mock indignant voice, "You tricked me!"
"Not very hard to do,"
"I will get you back, know that," she said seriously to me; however any threat her serious voice could have posed was ruined by the wry smile on her face,
"I will sleep with one eye open,"
"You better," CJ threatened, "Now, the story please,"
I nodded, "I wrote notes to the managers of the opera, and stated what I wished. If my demands were not met, I would make their life at the opera very difficult. Dropping things, cutting ropes, and various other acts. As I said, it worked quite well, for a time,"
"So who is Christine? It was the name you used when we killed Monsieur Wollstonecraft, and then Dumas threatened to kill someone named Christine, and there was a Christine in the newspaper article, who is she?" CJ stared at me,
"She is the reason I am here and not still below the opera," CJ waited for me to continue, "I first saw her years ago; she was so lonely when she first arrived at the opera, she reminded me of myself. I taught her to sing, and I fell in love with her; and she fell in love with my voice. I told her I was her Angel of Music, and she loved her Angel," my voice took on a wistful tone as I spoke of my Christine.
"Wait, you told her you were…an angel?" CJ furrowed her brow,
"Yes," I said, coming partially out of my dreamlike state,
"And she believed you?"
"Yes, of course," I said irritated, something in CJ's voice suggested she thought my love story was a bit ridiculous,
"Was she daft?" CJ asked bluntly
"No!" I cried angrily, "Yes was perfect!"
"She thought an angel was talking to her, you know, I knew a man who thought God was talking to him, of course, he was as crazy as they come…"
"Don't call her crazy!" I said angrily, "I love her!"
CJ blinked, and her voice softened a bit, "That is why you kidnapped her?"
"Yes,"
"So…" CJ paused uncertainly, "What…um…happened?"
"Raoul de Chagny stole her away from me," I said crossly, I knew it was not entirely true, but it was how I felt,
"How did he do that?"
"Well, you must understand, Christine thought she was in love with him, but she was wrong, she couldn't love him, she just thought she did," I said sadly,
"Why did she think she was?"
"Because he was her childhood friend, she thought she would be better off with him and I let her go because at the moment it was true," I shook my head, "But I can change," I could hear the wild desperateness in my voice, "I can be better for her, I can be worthy of her, and when she sees that I will get her back,"
CJ just shook her head at me, "You really believe that?"
I said nothing; I knew I was being outlandish in thinking I could win back Christine, but I could not help it, her voice was still in my head.
"Alright," CJ sighed, "So, someone else is taking over your job as resident Opera Ghost?"
"So it seems," I said, glad the conversation had turned away from Christine. It was painful for me to talk about her.
"Do you have any idea who is doing this?"
I shrugged, "I have no idea,"
"So why did Dumas want your opinion?"
"If he believes who ever is responsible for the disappearances is hiding under the opera; I know that area best," I trailed off,
"So what you are saying is that by this time tomorrow you and I will be in the caverns of the opera searching, for what? Five ballerinas and a madman?"
"I suppose so,"
"Can't wait," CJ said dryly, and she moved to the other bed and lay down, "What do you think of our new home here?" She asked me suddenly,
I had still been concentrating on the paper in my hands and the story it told when she asked me, and I shook myself out of my Christine induced daze, "I guess it is slightly better than the basement," I said looking around.
Truthfully I had not really looked carefully at the room; it was now covered with lengthening shadows as night approached. The room was small, the two beds CJ and I now occupied where inches apart. However, it was less dingy; it was a slight improvement.
"Does it make you feel odd to think this was the room of the two men who died last night?" CJ asked bluntly,
"Yes," I admitted listlessly,
"Me to," CJ said in a similar tone, and then she yawned, "I hope I get the chance to take a bath tomorrow," she said offhandedly,
"You could use one," I said without thinking,
"You really are charming," CJ responded dryly, and then she closed her eyes.
In several minutes, her breathing slowed, and she rolled from her back to her side. Through the window streamed the misty white moonlight; illuminating parts of the room.
CJ was near to me; I could see her clearly. With her bright green eyes closed and her sarcastic voice silent, I would never have guessed she was the person she was. Sleeping, she just looked young, and alone. I had never noticed that about CJ; she was older than Christine, but she was still young; too young to be involved in all of this.
I looked down at the paper in my hands. It was my past, resurfacing. I wanted a part of my past to return to me; I wanted the part with Christine back. I did not want this part. This was the part I was glad to leave behind; the lonely, dark abyss beneath the opera. Now I had no choice. I was returning.
