Labyrinth and Leroux
Chapter 2: The Maze of Mirrors
When the tour buses pulled up to the opera house that night, the writers were met with a bit of a shock. The Masquerade was already in full swing. Costumed guests could be seen twirling around inside. The music bled out into the street. The writers all craned their necks to get a better look.
"Hey what's going on? I thought this was a private party just for us?" Matilda huffed in a fury partly out of her own disgust, but also out of disgust for Sarah who had said she hated parties with strangers. One of the conference organizers picked up the bus speaker and addressed the writers.
"Ladies and gentleman, we were told late this afternoon by the Palais Garnier that another group has paid to join ours. The opera house was not willing to have two separate balls, so I'm afraid that you will have some company. Rest assured that it is a very big building and that there is plenty of room for you all."
There was quite a bit of grumbling up and down the aisle, but they had already come this far. They shouldn't have to miss their own ball. The various writers groups exited their buses and entered the opera house.
It was like a scene right out of Gaston Leroux's novel. The opera house was bathed in a beautiful yellowy light. Costumed revelers jutted through the corridors. Masked waiters greeted guests with champagne. Sarah was having trouble adjusting to the black mask that covered the upper-half of her face and quickly took it off. She was still fairing better than Matilda buckling under the weight of her Brunhilde helmet.
Sarah broke away from the writers almost immediately so she could go explore the opera house. Every alcove seemed to be filled with costumed men and women well on their way to being drunk. With each new corner turned, Sarah began to imagine scenes from Leroux's book. La Carlotta croaking on stage. The chandelier crashing. It was becoming so vivid to her. So real.
"No! Stop thinking like that' she reprimanded herself 'It's just a book. It's not real."
Sarah's imagination was getting the better of her and she didn't like it. Perhaps her wandering the opera house alone wasn't such a good idea after all. Sarah made her way back towards the bustle of the party. She looked down towards the grand staircase where an announcement was being made by a middle aged Frenchman in a tuxedo.
"Ladies and Gentlemen your attention please. We have a treat for you this evening. In honor of the Phantom Erik, we have built a special attraction for you. A Maze of Mirrors. Do not be afraid. It is quite simple and quite harmless. All who enter will simply enter a ballroom area we have set up for you. If you will please follow me."
The costumed writers followed the man towards what looked to be simply a mirrored wall. He gestured towards two men who looked like stagehands to begin the show. With a tug of a few levers the mirrors began to turn on pivots. The impenetrable mirrored wall began to move in segments, spinning and shifting into a maze. The crowd applauded. The mirrors continued to shift until they finally reached their final stopping point. Each mirror lined up to create several long hallways leading into a ballroom. The mirrors locked into place. The crowd cheered.
"Merci.' the Frenchman continued 'we are so pleased you enjoy this display. Do not worry, the mirrors will stay locked in this position so you may enter the ballroom with little frustration. Come in at your leisure. There is a live band."
Sarah stood back as the other writers eagerly sprinted through the mirrored corridors into the ballroom. She wasn't really in a dancing sort of a mood, but at the same rate she didn't want to wander alone in the hallways pretending she was in Leroux's book. Matilda waddled past her giggling and entered a mirrored hallway. Inspired by the other woman's fearlessness Sarah decided to follow.
The mirrored hallway Sarah chose hadn't locked in perfectly into alignment. The mirrors were offset just enough that her reflection broke and refracted making a kaleidoscope effect. The effect made her dizzy and she stumbled to get to the other side.
Sarah came out the other end unharmed into a whirling mass of dancers. The spinning did not help her dizziness and she had to find a chair to sit down in. She held her head in her hands. Out of the corner of her eye she recognized some of her fellow writers. She lifted her head and sat back. Yes some of the writers were grouped in small huddles, but mostly the room was populated with guests from the other party. They were costumed and masked as well, but seemed to be following some different sort of theme. They did not wear the random opera costumes as the writers did. These guests had similar costumes that complimented each other. They were of Venetian influence. Each guest wore a grotesque looking mask. The masks reminded Sarah of something. What was it, she thought to herself. They were almost…goblin-like.
"Knock it off Sarah. This is not Jareth's ball. This is Paris. This is real. Stop imagining things" she mumbled to herself.
Sarah saw a group of writers moving back towards the mirrored entrances. She looked around. All the other writers must have had the same thought. They were out numbered by these Venetian folks and wanted to find their own corner of the opera house to congregate in. They were promised a private party. No sense in mingling with these people. Sarah was one of the last remaining of her party in the ballroom. Sarah got up and walked back towards the mirrors. As she did, she caught her first glimpse of him. A head of spiked hair the color of wheat hunting his prey. He was still searching for her, no doubt expecting her to wear the white dress as she had done years ago. Sarah went from a walk to a sprint. It was her biggest mistake. Jareth saw her black hair bouncing towards the mirrors.
"Sarah…I wouldn't do that if I were you" he growled at her.
Sarah looked back. His cruel eyes met hers. It was real. He was here. This wasn't her imagination. She had to make a run for it. Sarah hiked up her skirt and sprinted towards the mirrors.
Jareth spun a crystal ball in his hands and threw it past her nearly hitting her in the head. It rolled into a mirrored corridor and triggered the mirrors to move on their pivots once again. The Maze of Mirrors began to form. They crystal bounced back and forth against the shifting mirrors reflecting Jareth's magic throughout the opera house. All he wanted was to stop Sarah from leaving his ball. He did not know what his magic was about to unleash.
Sarah panicked as the mirrors turned around her. With nothing but her own reflection surrounding her she couldn't sense which way was forward and which was back. She heard the crystal clink against the mirrors. She followed the sound in the vain hoping it was moving away from Jareth and not back towards him. She had a fifty-fifty chance. Sarah slid past the last mirror just as it aligned into the impenetrable wall. She looked around. It was the opera house. She had made it out. Sarah kept on running. A sensible person would have run right out the front door, but Sarah didn't have all her senses at the moment. All she knew is that HE was here.
Sarah ran up the grand staircase looking for a place to hide and figure out what she was going to do next. She passed an odd looking pair of party guests. A woman younger and more petite than herself was dressed as a black domino. Following two steps behind her was a young man dressed as a white domino. What struck Sarah as odd that two people who were clearly meant to be a couple weren't walking side by side. No time to ponder.
Sarah continued to dash through the hallway looking over her shoulder for Jareth. As she looked back she slammed hard into a man stalking the hallway. Sarah turned her head forward.
"Dammit Jareth you sneaky bastard… " Sarah began.
It wasn't Jareth. Standing before her was a man dressed all in scarlet. He wore a huge hat with feathers on top of a death's head. An immense red-velvet cloak trailed behind. Sarah took a step back.
"I'm so sorry sir. I thought you were someone else. I didn't mean to crash into you. I wasn't watching where I was going."
The man said nothing.
Sarah paused not knowing what to say next. Instead she started at him. He wasn't dressed in the Venetian style of Jareth's ball. This man was dressed as something else. He was dressed as the Red Death. He was dressed like The Phantom of the Opera. Sarah had never been so happy to see someone in her whole life. It was one of the other silly writers. She was safe. She was in the real world. She smiled widely at the Phantom.
"You're the Phantom of the Opera! That's wonderful. I'm sure you're the hit of the party. I'm sorry for bumping into you. I hope I didn't ruin your costume. My name is Sarah Williams. I'm in writing group four. What group are you in?"
The Phantom stared at her.
"Oh…in character I take it. Oooookaaay. Well…I'll just be on my way then. Sorry again to bump into you like that."
A bony hand gripped her wrist hard as she tried to walk away. Sarah detached his hand forcefully.
"Hands off buster! I've already got one creep stalking me at this party. I don't need another one." Sarah stormed off into the dark of the hallway.
Erik was taken aback momentarily by the brash young woman. He should have punished her for her clumsiness, but she disarmed him with her smile. She called him "The Phantom of the Opera." She treated him as if he was a familiar friend. She carried herself almost like a man. Strong, bold and confident. No…not like a man…like a diva. Sarah Williams, a name he would not soon forget.
Erik receded into the shadows of his opera house. He was to make his grand entrance into the crushroom to scare the guests, but needed a moment to absorb his encounter with the dark haired woman. She was costumed, but the costume genuinely shocked him. It was a replica of one of his own sketches for Don Juan Triumphant. No one but he had seen them. It could not be a coincidence, it was too perfect and too much of his own mind. How on earth could she be wearing his creation when it had not yet been created?
Erik moved in the shadows and turned his gaze down towards the grand staircase. There was something in the air. Something was not quite right in his opera house. He felt that he really ought to be in the crushroom at this very moment scaring the Masqueraders, but he held back. It was if the story he should be living in had changed. It was if the fate he was originally doomed to meet had been cheated and a new path lay wide before him.
Below him Erik saw lights moving and shifting. He recognized the effect. It was light reflecting and refracting off of mirrors. He took a closer look. Indeed there seemed to be some sort of maze of mirrors shifting below him. How dare someone set-up a mirror trick in his opera house? He watched and waited. The mirrors shifted into alignment.
From out them came perhaps the vainest most foppish looking Masquerader Erik had ever seen. The man had long blonde spiked hair and strange upswept eyebrows. He wore a cropped velvet coat over bluish breeches that were as tight as humanly possible. They looked as if they were simply ballet tights. The man wore leather riding boots and carried a cane to complete the outfit. Erik thought he would never see a man that would rival the boy Raoul's vanity, but this peacock had just taken the Vicomte's crown.
The man below him raised his hands and made a crystal ball appear from out of thin air. It was a clever trick; even Erik had to admit to that. The man below turned and threw the crystal at the mirrors. The Maze of Mirrors shattered into a rain of soap bubbles that floated through the entryway. The Masqueraders near the scene clapped at the display. Jareth gave them a flourished bow.
Erik had seen quite enough. Whomever this man was he was clearly here to undermine his domain over the opera house. It took very little to make and enemy of the Phantom. The brazen magician below him had just declared war.