Sorry this took so long. Very tired. I need a caffeine snap. I promise that there will be fight in this chapter. REALLY. Here goes:

Ch. 6: confrontation

Chris had been very subdued at practice for the past week, and Meg was concerned. He was usually shy, but lively. Now he just stared at the floor, looking as if he wished he were elsewhere. She had attempted to lift him out of his funk with jokes and morsels of stolen sweet, but he just passed them up. Not only did he look worried, he looked as if he had lost sleep. Ever since Joseph Buquet's murder, he looked paler than ever. This surprised Meg. She knew that he was not close to the man, disagreeing with his endeavors to seduce his chorus girl friends.

After the bouts of sprained ankles and shrieks from Madame Giry, Meg stayed behind to speak with her mother. The elder Giry was dusting rosin off her dress while her pupils filed begrudgingly out the door. " Mama?" She said, avoiding her fellows as they vacated the studio. " Yes dear?" her mother's mood had cleared up tremendously. " I have a question, Mother," She fiddled with a tress of her blonde hair as she searched for the words, " about Chris. He has been like a brother to me for as long as I can remember, and I am worried about him. He has been acting strangely since Buquet was killed." Her mother stroked a nonexistent beard as she contemplated her statement. " Well, I know that he has spoken of an Angel of Music since he was young. People seem to believe that the murder was the work of the phantom. I think poor Chris has some reality to face." She tapped her cane against the wall as Meg thought about this. She let out a gasp. " Y-you mean that the phantom is Chris's tutor? And didn't know it until Buquet was murdered? How could that man trick anybody like that?"

Madame Giry chuckled. " The phantom is a she, my dear." Despite the weight of the situation, she let out an inward sigh of relief. For a while, she had been questioning the possibility of the tights and roses going to Chris's head.

She was preparing to leave with this new information in mind, when her mother caught her by the wrist. " You mustn't meddle, child, if you value you life." She warned, releasing Meg. The girl shivered at this warning, making haste for the door.

Riley nervously straightened her collar as she made her way to Chris's dressing room. It was the night of the performance of Faust, so the journey to the room was not an easy one. Cast members, orchestra members, and fans alike wound their way back and forth through the narrow hallway. Chorus girls warmed up at the bar, while the dancing boys nervously checked their costumes for tears. There were even horses in the mix, spooked to death by all the activity. When she finally made it to the door, she had discovered her wallet of money gone. Oh well, it had only housed a handkerchief anyway.

Knocking quietly, Riley entered to find Chris making some last minute adjustments on his dancing shoes. " Hello" she greeted warmly, embracing Chris reassuringly. " Don't fret, you will do well. I believe in you." She looked in the mirror, playfully fixing a stubborn lock of Chris's hair. His reflection was worrisome. His skin looked sallow and unhealthy, and his hand was shaking. Frowning, she took his chin in her hand, looking him in the eye. " Do well for me." And, in that moment of comfort, she kissed his lightly on his mouth. Her lips lingered on his, then leaving as Chris was called to the stage. She whispered in his ear, " I will see you tonight, at midnight." Riley squeezed his hand, leaving the awestruck Chris with his companions. He felt a lot stronger, the tingle of her kiss still living on his lips, like a fine wine. He triumphantly jammed on his helmet, strutting onstage at cue. Riley's parting remark had haunted him, but unfortunately, he was not the only one that it haunted. Erika had been at her listening post. So, she thought with malice glittering in her eyes, I guess this will have to be done the old-fashioned way. With a swish of her black cloak, she had bolted from her hiding place to the balcony, where she would watch the performance and stew up a plan to dispose of this Riley character.

Chris finished his solo with the final note of vibrato, his voice filling the theater. A wave of applause swept over the young star, swelling to roaring proportions. He bowed from the stage, the opera over. The chorus girls followed him, cheering and tossing sweets and other unmentionables at him. The stage crew applauded him graciously, the replacement for Buquet giving him a thumbs-up. His dressing room never seemed so comforting. Although he greatly enjoyed singing, he did not think himself fit for a celebrity status.

Hours after the performance, after everybody had vacated or gone to bed, Riley stalked down the corridor with a candle in hand, making her way to Chris's dressing room. She had changed from her Gala attire to a slinky green frock that was made of finest spun silk. An emerald choker dressed her throat, sparkling in the candlelight. Although she was excited t be seeing Chris, the dark halls spooked her a bit. After that Buquet character was found strangled to death, the deserted opera house seemed a bit foreboding.

She was about halfway there when a cold stroke of metal ran across the back of her neck. The woman whirled around, her heart rate through the roof. A slender figure clad in all black had a fine silver sword pressed to her jugular. The person wore a mask that screened half of her face. The girl in the mask smiled. Riley tried her best to keep her cool. This was not just some crazed chorus girl. This was the murderer of Joseph Buquet, the Phantom of the Opera.

" Good evening, mademoiselle Riley. Fine evening, isn't it?" The phantom seemed to be mocking her. Riley asked in her calmest voice, " What do you want?" The phantom chuckled. " Chris. But I'll settle for you neck." She drew a spare sword out of her cummerbund, tossing it to Riley. Her opponent eagerly grabbed the weapon, grinning as she fingered its edge. This specter had no idea what she had gotten herself into. Riley had been an expert swordsman for many years.

The phantom girl grinned, and then took a vicious swipe at Riley, narrowly missing her stomach. Riley bared her teeth, returning the shot. They crossed blades, Erika shoving Riley to the floor. With her opponent's blade raided over her head, Riley rolled over, leaping to her feet. The phantom yawned, clearly unimpressed, and then blew out Riley's candle. Both of the women were cast into total blackness. Erika, of course, had the advantage, having lived in the dark for years. Her eyes were like a cat's. They even glowed yellow in the dark. Riley kept backing up from those two yellow orbs, tripping over a rosin box. A searing pain suddenly cut her stomach. Even though she couldn't see anything, she felt warm blood gush fro the shallow wound. A merciless laughter rang out in the dark. Erika took her enemy's sword, stowing it back into her cummerbund. " You see," Erika poked fun at Riley as she writhed in pain, " Beating the phantom is like catching a cloud. It cannot be done!" She laughed evilly. Riley heard something like a vial being uncorked. A rag was suddenly forced under her nose. A dreamy state of confusion settled over her mind like a cloud. Somewhere, in a distant place, she heard the phantom jeer, " Pleasant dreams, old bean." The laugh of the ghostly girl echoed in her mind until unconsciousness overtook her.