Chapter Two: In the Absence of Fear
I woke early to an impenetrable darkness that had settled into the room. Rising slowly, I tried to recall the vast fog-laden portions of my dreaming, and yet found that I could not remember. I moved to the window and opened the shades to find the note I had written last night, gone. I looked around the floor as if it had possibly fluttered off with a draft, but it was indeed missing. I wasn't very alone in this room.
Glancing almost darkly across the floor towards a thin stream of light that tinkered in from the hall, I put on my robe and opened the door to an uncanny silence. Shifting down the hall, I descended the stairs to a small makeshift sitting room where Mademoiselle Duprey made silent conversation with Madame Giry over a note on the small table. They looked up as I entered and Mademoiselle Duprey hid the note quickly, as if I had not seen it.
"What's the matter?" I asked. Madame Giry's face was completely shadowed. Mademoiselle Duprey did not look at me.
"Child, you've made it very far," Mademoiselle Duprey started in a shaky voice, "But I fear that my part is over." I was astonished. Moving over to the table, I looked her in the eyes, and I saw something I'd never seen on that woman's face before: fear.
"Mademoiselle…?" I began. I was silenced by Madame Giry, who stood almost abruptly.
"For the safety of your instructor, you will be placed in my care," Madame Giry stated.
"Safety?" I was truly puzzled. Mademoiselle Duprey nodded gravely.
"I seem to have forgotten why I left the Opera Populaire in the first place," Mademoiselle Duprey answered.
"Mademoiselle, I do not yet have a role!" I protested.
"You do," Madame Giry stated. She pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me. It was a copy of the cast list, and I had been placed in the third most important role as Alice. I looked up at both of them with a desperate expression.
"Please, Mademoiselle! You have been like a mother to me!" I pleaded.
"Yes. And the mother bird has raised a fine chick. It's time you went out on your own, my little Faye. You've always yearned for independence. Now you can have it. I have secured you a position in this place and you will be watched over." Mademoiselle Duprey rose rigidly, "It will be no other way."
I could feel tears coming to my eyes as I glanced despondently between the two of them. Both exhibited grayed faces, devoid of any type of warmth and I vaguely wondered what I'd been expecting. I didn't want to be alone in this strange New World. I suddenly felt as though I was being pulled away from all I'd known and thrust into the abyss with no cause to distinguish dream from reality.
I was like a fish out of water and all at once I tugged at Mademoiselle Duprey's sleeve, much like a child. "Please, do not go!" I whimpered. A stern look overcame her countenance and she jerked away, slapping my face lightly—once on either side. I gasped, looking at her.
"You are not a little girl. You are a woman. I expect no less," she stated warningly. She flashed Madame Giry a look. "Take care of her," she said, "See that she stays out of trouble. No wandering about in dark places."
"Of course," Madame Giry said, taking hold of me by the shoulders. I wanted to scream after my mentor. She'd been every inspiration to me. But there was some darker force at work here and as she left the place, the note she'd hidden dropped from her hand and fluttered to the floor. I quickly covered it with a foot, noting that it had the same seal as had been present on the one I had received last night. Madame Giry did not notice.
So once I'd composed myself, I snatched up the parchment and returned to my room to find proper day wear. Choreography for "Zampa" would take place today. Once in the confines of my staying quarters again, I looked at the broken seal and opened the note. It was the same handwriting from the other night. My heart skipped a beat.
'Mademoiselle Duprey,
We meet again. I admit I wish the circumstances were a bit more proper, but at this stands my current proposition. You will leave Miss Lavonne to my care, for now only I can coach her to perfection. If you choose to ignore this letter, your next meeting will be with the line you have dared to cross.
O.G.'
I stared at the note with wide eyes. What had seemed like a polite writer to me the other night had now turned into a mysterious stalker of sorts. I rose quickly, rushing to the window in time to see the carriage pull away with Mademoiselle Duprey. I knew it was the last time that I'd see her.
For now, I was on my own. And I had made up my mind to officially refuse this new 'teacher' that had made his appearance only through paper and ink. Narrowing my eyes, I stuffed the letter away resolvedly and changed.
Rehearsals were difficult in the respect that this woman Carlotta (the alleged and designated 'Diva' of this theater group) seemed to think that the show was about her. Thus she expected the choreography to be geared around her character, Camille. I found myself rolling my eyes more than once at her character's absurdity and was secretly glad that I was endorsed with the role of destroying her lover in the opera. She also seemed to look down upon me, even though I was of equal importance as a plot driver, for which I was utterly resentful. I wasn't even sure what they found to be so great about her anyway…
Evening found me collapsing exhaustedly on my bed, my feet hurting entirely too much. As I cast a sidelong glance across the room, I saw a note awaiting me by the window. I rose slowly and traversed the floorboards, picking up the letter and opening it.
'Miss Lavonne,
I think you will find the circumstances to permit my lessons much more simple with your old instructor gone. Your first lesson will be at ten 'o' clock sharp this evening in the theater. Be there or expect consequences.
Your new teacher.'
I could feel tears of rage welling up in my eyes at the insanity of it all and I ripped the note in half. "Oh I'll be there," I whispered, reaching under my bed and drawing out my rapier. "And your consequences can meet mine."
I loosely tied my red curls back from my burning green eyes with a ribbon, dressed quite informally in boots, breeches, a shift, corset, and a robe. Shortly before ten, I descended the spiral staircase deftly, trying not to make it obvious that I was armed. Lucky for me, no one seemed to be around except for Madame Giry, who was taking a nap in a chair nearby. I moved silently towards the theater, which was shrouded in darkness.
Moving almost fearlessly onto the stage, I noted a few candles that still burned in the orchestra pit. My green eyes sought the shadows for my apparent 'teacher' but I was greeted with no sound nor figure. Relaxing my shoulders a bit, I squinted out into the audience and could have sworn I had seen a moving shadow, but there was no accompanying ruffle of fabric.
"I see you got my note," a booming voice alerted me. It sounded soft, and yet came from all directions. My head swerved to find the source, but it was all around me.
"Among other things," I answered dryly.
"Then we shan't waste a moment. Let us start your lesson—"
"You can start by explaining to me why you sent my former instructor away, and who you think are," I interrupted ignorantly, keeping my stance upon the stage rigid. There was a hesitance.
"Why my dear. I had thought you would be happy to move onto a teacher that can give you experience beyond what you've learned from Mademoiselle Duprey," the voice said almost soothingly. My fingers closed around the hilt of my rapier at that, eyes narrowed and flashing.
"I did not come here to learn things from a bodiless voice. I came here for answers," I jetted. There was silence on the air again. I felt alone in the darkness but I stood my ground, regaining some of the confidence from my childhood. When I had to defend myself, I would do so.
"Do you think it wise, girl, to toy with the things you know not?" The voice sneered. I shuddered slightly at the tone the voice had taken on before absolving my fear once again.
"Who's toying, Monsieur?" I asked. I heard a flutter of fabric and footsteps behind me. In a whirl, my rapier was out and I had turned to face who-ever waited in the shadows. The figure paused. "Now are you going to give me a reason or shall I give you a reason?" I asked darkly, my eyes centered on the bare silhouette of the form.
"Witty woman," he breathed, "That attitude will get you nothing in the world of the theater." It was a statement I would not take lightly. He rounded me and I followed him until he stood in front of the bare light of the candles, dark and menacing. I backed up a step from his empowering shadow. My fingers trembled a bit around the hilt of my sword as a shadow cast itself across his face, revealing a mask. This was no ordinary man. And I'd certainly angered him beyond my actual intent.
I lowered my weapon, keeping my eyes focused on him. "Who are you and what do you want from me?" I asked cautiously.
"Well first of all, I'd appreciate it if my student did not unsuspectingly pull weapons on me, because I caution you, I could do far worse to you," His tone was almost bored but with warning. I gritted my teeth and narrowed my eyes at him. "Second of all, I'd deeply appreciate it if you would not snap like an alligator."
"I'm an independent woman. I shall do as I wish," I retorted.
"Don't make me change your mind." His tone was even and warning. I stood my ground.
"I'm not afraid of a faceless shadow," I spat. The insult drew more of a reaction than I had expected as the figure lunged at me, drawing his own rapier. I crossed blades easily, but with a surprised face and a gasp escaping me.
"Well it's good to see that it's not merely for show, m'lady," he said angrily, pulling his blade from mine and advancing once again.
"Those who carry swords do not carry them for the purpose of intimidation," I answered coldly, meeting his blow expertly and moving him back from my stance, closer to the lights.
"That is well, seeing as how there is nothing intimidating about a woman with a sword," he retorted, his blade slashing dangerously close to my shoulder. I pushed him back towards the edge of the stage, which he seemed to dance precariously along. The ribbon had flown loose from my hair, releasing a wild mop of curls that kept getting in the way.
"There is nothing intimidating about a speaking shadow," I answered roguishly.
"You try my patience," he said almost lazily, hooking my rapier and thrusting it halfway across the stage. I watched the glint of the metal die away in the shadows as the figure before me stilled almost gracefully. With a steady whipping sound, he sheathed his weapon and retrieved mine, holding it for the time. "Now, perhaps, little tiger, we can try lessons again," he stated, moving away with my sword. I caught my breath, glaring after his retreating shadow.
"I will not sing for you," I interjected. There was a deadly hesitation and I immediately regretted what I'd said, biting my lip in personal reprimand.
"You will not sing for that which has secured you such an honorable position in such a competitive industry as the theater?" The voice questioned smoothly. He did not wait for me to answer. "I have offered you my services. I have been cordial, and you advance upon me with a sword as if I have threatened your life."
"You threatened my other teacher's life!" I spat, tears coming to my eyes.
"Mademoiselle Duprey knew she couldn't take you past auditions. She knew she was going to hand you over to me. There was no need to threaten her life," he answered coldly.
"So why did you?" I demanded.
"For reinforcement! A memory jolt! To be certain that she followed orders!" He stated angrily.
"Mademoiselle Duprey is a reasonable woman," I argued.
"And you're supposed to be!" He yelled. His booming voice silenced me and I stared down into the orchestra pit where he'd situated himself. He was toying with the hilt of my rapier, and the fact that he had it made me nervous. "People like you do not have futures in the theater. They argue with those of authority. You, are arguing with the top-most authority of the Paris Opera. Now, I give you one last chance before I start to threaten your life."
"I have no reason to listen to you lest you give me a name by which I can call you," I answered stubbornly.
"Erik," he stated, "Now, sing your scales my feisty little song-bird." I felt myself fuming with his words, but I had given him some sort of compromise, to which I was now bound. Almost painfully, I sang him a scale. "That was terrible," he said.
"I did not come here to be criticized by the likes of you!" I agonized, staring daggers down into the orchestra pit.
"I am the only one who will be honest with you. Now if you want something that sounds better and perhaps less direct, that was better than what Carlotta could ever do. Your voice is far too tense, my dear. Even when singing a scale, you must relax and let the notes flow," he said evenly.
"Example," I demanded. He let out a deep sigh and laughed almost remorsefully to himself.
"Mademoiselle Duprey sure knows how to pick them…" He muttered to himself.
"I beg your pardon?" I growled.
"Your scales." He spat. Turning around, I stomped my foot angrily and squirmed, a dissatisfied growl releasing itself from my throat. There was silence as I centered myself on the darkness, closing my eyes and thinking. Inspiration. Melody. Notes. Relax. "Deep breaths…" He whispered. His voice blended into my thoughts. I breathed softly and then released the notes with a graceful ease, trilling through the air. It was enchanting in a way, and after my rather forward display to him, I was rather surprised I could even dish this out. "Now…the aria…" he breathed.
I flowed into the piece after my scales, feeling completely relaxed and one with the stage. I felt as if a gentle breeze were surrounding me. It blew through my hair, tangling the already strewn curls and grazing my pale neck. The notes themselves clung to the air like divine angels, creating an invisible mist that spilled out around the darkness and myself. The notes went up.
"Sing," he whispered. The notes went up more.
"Sing," he demanded more firmly. His voice was in my ear. His fingers were greedily pulling at the base of my neck, another hand balancing my waist and forcing me to breathe deeply from my stomach. The notes swelled like a chorus of nightingales.
"Sing!" The words were whispered harshly in my ear and I ascended once more to that level that lay beyond what seemed physically possible. He released his grip on me, hands still hovering loosely. He was breathing on my neck, and ever I sang. I sang until the theater was left in nothing but the silence of the echoes that once were. He uttered something into my ear; something that did not register.
I was revived from the heat of my passionate vocals by the cold sensation of my sword hilt pressed into my hand. I was drowsy as I sheathed the weapon and moved to look where eyes should have been, but only darkness dwelt. "That's enough for tonight," he breathed almost sensually, "I expect the same tomorrow night. Same time, same place. If there are changes, I will say so in my next letter. Go, Miss Lavonne. Sleep bids you." He snapped his fingers and seemed to vanish, the candles flickering out.
I stood there alone in the darkness for a spell, just staring emotionlessly out into that abyss. Erik or the opera ghost? Or were they perhaps the same person? I wouldn't question it. Not yet anyway. He was the only one who had ever gotten me to sing like that… Even I could recognize when I'd done my best, and that was, decidedly, my best. I didn't want to be ungrateful in any way.
Somehow I found my way back to my room in the darkness, meeting no resistance from anyone. They had all wisely retired for the evening. Moving once again into my room, I glanced out the window into the lights of Paris once more. It almost made me miss the country—almost. I knew that the countryside was far too boring for my tastes and that I'd made a good choice in moving to Paris.
I changed my clothes and slipped into bed, looking around the room almost suspiciously. Was he watching me? I shook my head and chided myself for my fears, allowing myself to slip easily off into dreams. And there in those dark dreams, I danced with flames to enchanted music played by unseen hands; watched by eyes of darkness…and fire.
A/N: Yey two!!!! R and R. Your support is appreciated.