VI. Talking in Riddles
Currently, life was so exciting that Meg could have squeaked with glee at the mere thought of what was going to happen. She was allowed to accompany Raoul and the Phantom! Down into the cellars! And to fight some wicked gypsies! What an adventure!
And both men were so handsome… She really envied Christine.
Now she was being silly again. Almost falling over herself with excitement at a pair of good-looking men! But maybe they were worth falling over herself, especially the Phantom.
Again dressed in the Phantom's clothes, only that this time it was a black shirt she sported, she beamed at her own reflection in the mirror. Splendid! Those clothes made it all a lot more exciting than it was anyway.
And it actually was the same shirt he had worn yesterday, and it had not been washed yet. Somehow that carried a most indecent feeling which made part of her mind tingle with twisted delight, while the other part was sighing wearily over its counterpart's horrible girlishness.
She practiced a few experimental swipes at an imaginary enemy, then decided to ask for a weapon again. She would be well protected, of course, but with a weapon, maybe even with that marvellous skull-hilted sabre again, she would feel even better.
She wondered what exactly the plan was. Certainly not just killing a few gypsies? However, that would be quite exciting enough already.
Heavens, what was she thinking there? Considering killing people an exciting thing? She was almost shocked at herself, but only almost.
The Phantom's bad influence, no doubt. She grinned. After all, one couldn't say no to a nice bad influence… especially if it had blue eyes and curls at the back of the head.
She wondered if he would ask her out any time soon, and she wondered how she would react. Should she accept?
Could she? And what would her mother have to say to it?
All useless musings, she thought, since the Phantom probably never thought of asking out anyone – except Christine, maybe.
The world was highly unfair.
But maybe it was better for her own good.
Oh, how she hated her own good!
Suppressing a sigh, she joined her mother and the Phantom in her mother's tiny living room. That feeling of closeness between those two was… unsettling. She had never realized how close they really were. Not that she truly knew, but when they were together, it seemed so… natural. Natural? She did not really know how to describe it. And when they both were sitting there in silence, like they were doing now, it was no awkward silence, as it might have been with someone her mother knew less well.
But before she could direct a word at either of them, Christine came slipping in, all in black and in a man's clothes just as well. Adorned as she was, she looked even slimmer and paler, so very fragile suddenly, as if doomed to be shattered by the next gust of wind. Yet still, her smile was radiant, or maybe even more so, when seeing her that way. "Has Raoul returned yet?"
Of course, her first question was about her fiancé. They were so much in love, those two, like a pair of love-doves tenderly prodding each other with their beaks. They always reminded Meg of those gentle birds. Heavens, this was just so romantic! Meg wished to find a husband like Raoul one day.
Or… no, she would not look at the Phantom again now, or he would catch her gawking once more. As if it was her fault that he had nice legs, and that he was displaying them quite openly, in those tight-fitting trousers of his!
Or that he was wearing his shirt, black like the girls', hanging open a little bit too far, for that matter.
Indecent jerk, Meg thought, and almost burst into giggles at the mere sound of it.
Surely not something that could be thought of Raoul… or could it?
"Not yet", her mother replied to Christine's question. "But he will be there soon, no doubt of it."
Connecting this reply with what question had just been going through her head, Meg had to stifle a giggle once again.
"With a funny hat, I'm afraid", the Phantom muttered.
"A funny hat?" Meg and Christine looked at each other, realized they had spoken at precisely the same time, and giggled. Finally Meg could giggle without arousing suspicion!
The Phantom shrugged, not looking at either of them. "There was that huge feathered thing he wanted to try on yesterday."
The girls exchanged a glance, then giggled anew. Imagining Raoul wearing a gigantic bonnet decorated with feathers was just too funny. "How did it work out, you two together?" Meg asked curiously, once she had more or less gotten over her attack of mirth.
The Phantom shrugged again, obviously not in the mood to say much. Once more, he seemed distant, and if not exactly cold, then certainly cool, cool and reserved, the impression enhanced by the black mask covering his face from his forehead down to his upper lip. How had it really worked out, him and Raoul together? Of course, she had heard Raoul's side of it, and Raoul had told them that the Phantom had almost been friendly, even if in a very gruff way.
And that he had saved his life not only once, but two times.
Good God, he must love Christine very much to protect his rival like that!
"Erik…", Christine began, and both Meg and her mother looked at her in surprise. That she could speak to him as calmly as she was currently doing, after all that had occurred between them… Her friend was stronger than she had expected, Meg thought with pride. "Erik, look at me."
Meg held her breath as the Phantom slowly turned his head to regard his beloved. His expression was calm just as well, so calm that it almost seemed frozen. This was what he had looked like when he had sent her away, after killing Lionel, after that awkward, but – at least seen from a little distance – immensely comical encounter involving the grating in the ceiling and the boat which had gotten away. Yes, this was what he had looked like, one moment laughing with her, then the next cold and frozen. His eyes seemed to hold none of their usual fire, but were nothing but bright blue ice now.
He was restraining himself, she knew. He was building up a wall around himself which he thought was necessary, so he would not harm whom he held dear.
He was doing it for Christine's sake, and no one would ever see the pain it caused him.
As their eyes met, Christine held his gaze. However small and fragile she seemed, she would not bow her head. "I want you two to get along with each other. It's not as difficult as you always pretend. I want you two to be friends."
The Phantom's expression remained as it was, of the same icy calm, yet very briefly, his lips twitched with disdain. Christine was asking the impossible, Meg thought. How could Raoul and the Phantom ever be friends? Of course, she understood Christine's request, but was it not too much to ask?
"Erik, I mean it", Christine insisted. "Please?"
He sighed softly, holding her gaze, and for a fraction of a second Meg thought to see his lips move noiselessly.
Christine's eyes widened, but only very slightly, then they narrowed.
The Phantom frowned in return.
Christine's mouth shifted into a petulant little sulk.
The Phantom's lips formed a cultivated little grin.
And precisely then, Raoul entered. He wore black like the rest of them, from his boots to his gloves, and had his hair bound back in a ponytail with a ribbon. Meg thought it looked rather nice, especially the ponytail. Somehow, it made her want to squeal with delight. Yes, and tug at it. "Good morning again", Raoul said brightly. "Gaston and the others are already waiting outside."
"What took you so long?" the Phantom inquired, his one visible eyebrow raised very slightly.
Raoul shrugged and grinned. "Finding a shirt really my size, I reckon", he grinned. "And I found none really, so I had to take a bit longer, you see. But it was worth going back home for."
The Phantom rolled his eyes at him.
Raoul snickered and stuck out his tongue.
This produced another giggling fit in both Meg and Christine, and the Phantom rolled his eyes again, as did Meg's mother.
"Right, well…" Raoul grinned apologetically. "Shall we be going, then?"
There came a knock at the door, and Gaston peeked in. "Excuse me, my Lord Phantom, but there's a man who says he would like to speak to you. Two men, actually."
The Phantom frowned. "Did he give any name?"
"No, my Lord. But I know him, my Lord, him and the other. They have some strange foreign names, but I can't remember them right now. They helped us to get away from the Lost Ones, my Lord."
Too much calling him Lord, Meg thought; her mother said it only inflated his head unnecessarily. At least he had stopped looking so horribly smug when someone called him so. He was still looking smug now, but at least not horribly so. But maybe Meg was just getting used to it.
The Phantom turned to her mother, who nodded. "Send them in, then", he commanded.
Gaston disappeared, then appeared again, opening the door fully and admitting a pair of fair-haired men, even with what might pass for a hint of a bow. He would make a good lackey, that man. He knew how to do it. And with that open, honest face… Meg guessed that he might be even more to a lord than just a servant. Gaston was a man one could trust, it seemed, and who would not betray his master's confidence.
She wondered if the Phantom was going to accept his services.
But then her attention turned to the two men, both remaining close to the door, which Gaston now shut and stood with his back against it, as if guarding it. The pair of them seemed vaguely familiar; she assumed she had seen them before, though not paid them attention much. From what Gaston had said, they had probably been down there, in that vast-seeming hall with the cherubs at the entrance, when she and Christine and Raoul had saved the Phantom. They were not the same age; one appeared to be around forty, while the other was in his early twenties at the most. The younger kept himself at the shoulder of the older, which somehow suggested that they might be related, even though they were not that strikingly similar in appearance. True, they both had blond hair and blue eyes, but that was where the likeness ended already.
There was one thing she could be certain of, though: Those two were no gypsies.
And the younger man was even pleasant to look at.
"I extend my greetings to you, Lord of these halls." What was that strange accent in the older man's voice? From his looks, he need not have been a foreigner.
The Phantom mustered them with an expression impossible to read, though Meg was quite sure it carried suspicion. Without any more interlude, he came straight to business. "What is it Aeternus wants?"
The younger man looked at the older then, and Meg detected surprise in his gaze, as well as disapproval, but his companion did not answer it, but frowned instead, then made a dismissive gesture to the other, almost not noticeable. The younger man frowned in turn and muttered something to himself quietly, but did not object in any way. "What is it he wants?" the older of the two repeated, and Meg wondered whether this was for some obscure rhetorical reason or just to win time. "He is eager to see another twist of fate, he informs me."
It seemed that the Phantom was not sure what to make of this answer straight away, but, quite contrary to what Meg would have done, he did not inquire after the sense in it directly. "Well said, Lászlo", he commented instead, wryly, "yet you do not tell us for what reason Aeternus has shown interest in these dealings. A reason of his own, I trust?"
The man – Lászlo? How did the Phantom know? – nodded to this. "My liege-lord bids me deliver a message."
"Let us hear it, then." There was the slightest hint of sarcasm in the Phantom's voice.
"He counsels you to bear in mind that what once was burned may yet burn again, and that old wounds can break open even if we do not remember them."
Meg had to admit to herself that she was utterly lost, and both Christine and Marie made the same impression. Raoul was frowning, while Xavier was gaping open-mouthed. He was a nice lad, really, but he had never been exactly bright. If the Phantom was irritated, he did not show it. "Anything more?"
"Yes, my Lord. Créon's greatest strength is also his weakness. And he draws his knowledge of you from memory mostly. Both can be used to advantage."
This time, the Phantom did not simply accept what he heard. Meg wondered why his eyes were ablaze so suddenly, why his teeth were bared. "What does he mean by memory?" he hissed. "I have not known Créon before, curse you all!"
Meg felt her mother shift beside her, and she saw how Raoul sought Christine's eyes, but Christine would not face her fiancé. What was it in her eyes? Sadness? Meg was not sure, but she instinctively felt that Christine was the only one apart from the Phantom himself who knew what hidden meaning lay in that one single word.
Lászlo backed away half a step, right into the dishevelled youth behind him, his hands raised in what probably was meant to be a soothing gesture. "I'm nothing but a messenger, my Lord! I merely repeat my liege-lord's words!"
Slowly, very slowly, the Phantom's features shifted back into his previous frozen expression, and his stance seemed a little more relaxed, but about that last observation Meg was not quite certain. He definitely still looked ready to throttle someone, if not break his neck straight away. "Get on with it, then", he growled.
Lászlo's fair-haired young companion was watching the Phantom warily, Meg noticed. Not exactly like one would watch a predator, but still… with a mixture of caution and respect. Or maybe more than respect? She could not say.
The young man realized she was looking at him and flashed her a bright, toothy grin. Meg grinned right back.
"One more thing, my Lord." It seemed that now Lászlo was in a greater hurry to deliver his message and be gone than before. "Créon is out currently, probably for the whole rest of the morning."
The Phantom nodded curtly. "I appreciate the information, but I can tell myself. His presence has lessened here." He caught Christine's slightly confused look and added, "It has become less tangible. I can feel he's away."
Even without his explanation, Meg would have known what he was talking about. After all, he had told her about it, hadn't he? "The threads of darkness", she murmured to herself.
She had spoken very softly, but not softly enough for the Phantom's sharp sense of hearing. He turned to face her, his gaze oddly… calculating. "Clever girl", he commented.
Meg felt herself blush slightly. Was he making fun of her, or had this just been a compliment?
Lászlo swallowed. "My liege-lord advises you to strike now", he continued, very softly and huskily suddenly, as if afraid to utter those words. "Swift and hard."
The Phantom nodded grimly. "Precisely what I will do."
Nearby, Raoul shifted his stance uneasily. "What's that man playing at?" he burst out, glaring at the pair of messengers. "Aeternus, I mean. What the bloody hell is he playing at?"
Lászlo held his gaze, but said nothing, while his young companion only scowled at the floor.
The Phantom silenced him with an impatient wave of his hand, and Raoul now directed his expression of anger at him instead. If the situation had not been so serious, Meg might have giggled at those two.
God, she was feeling so giggly somehow she might burst. Bu maybe this was just the excitement of the adventure lying ahead.
"Anything else?" the Phantom demanded.
Lászlo shook his head. "No, my Lord. We ask your leave to retreat."
"Granted." Everybody watched as Gaston opened the door for the two of them, who both bowed and backed out. Meg caught a last glimpse of the younger of them as he, beyond the threshold, turned and shook his hair out of his eyes. It was very slightly curly, she noticed, and quite fit to be tousled. How nice…
When Gaston had closed the door, the Phantom turned to Raoul. "I can't tell you exactly", he answered his previous question, "except that he is serving his own ends. There was no treason in those two servants' minds. Nonetheless, I do not trust Aeternus, and I would advise you all to do the same."
Raoul wrinkled his brow. "What kind of man would betray his master like that?" he mused, and from his expression it was clear that such a betrayal was a vile thing to him.
"A man who desires to take his place?" the Phantom suggested. "Gaston, alert the others. We are going."
"They are already waiting, my Lord Phantom."
They were going! Meg could practically feel her pulse quicken at the mere mention of this. They were going! Another great adventure had just begun. Of course she had been frightened yesterday, when running from those gypsy henchmen, but then she and Christine had been on their own. Now they wouldn't be.
And after all… it had went well yesterday, hadn't it? It had not been that bad.
At the door, the Phantom turned once again and reached toward his belt. "Here, kid. You'll be missing it."
As Raoul accepted his revolver back, they held each other's gaze for a moment. Still both their looks spoke of obvious dislike, but if Meg was not entirely wrong, there was something new now: a strange kind of grudging respect. Christine might be asking for too much, but maybe they might at least manage to get on more or less with each other. Maybe it would even work.
Regarding them both with an appraising look, Meg hoped so.
