Chapter Five: Done In
What lay behind the mask? I woke to a cold and bleak dawn, just laying there and pondering the question. I think I'd accepted the fact that he wanted to remain hidden because maybe I didn't really want to know. But now, for some reason, I did want to know. I shook my head to myself. It was really best that I didn't ask. My big mouth had already landed me with all sorts of trouble.
Footsteps downstairs let me know that the girls were rounding up for rehearsals. I'd have to get up soon. Glancing over at the window now, I expected to see a note. But there was nothing there—just an empty space. For some reason, the fact that that space was empty hurt me more than anything. I walked over to the window and ran fingers along the dust-free table, venturing a gaze to the window. It was snowing. I vaguely wondered if there were any churches around here (besides the chapel downstairs of course). It had probably been months since I last went to confession… what did I have to confess though?
Pulling from the wintry visage, I changed into one of my dancing outfits and hooked my shoes over my hand, moving out into the hall and descending the staircase. I was tired for some reason and the soft recall of dancing with Erik played in the back of my mind. Were there other things I didn't know about him? I was fairly convinced that he was the opera ghost, but I wondered if he had actually committed the murders that were recorded in the theater's log. He seemed dangerous… but not in the sense that he would kill. Then again, perhaps I was mistaken. Perhaps I was allowing myself to feel something for him, when in fact I should have ignored any form of emotional contact.
As soon as I saw James waiting for me in the hall, I thought immediately that the day just couldn't get any worse. "Good morning, Mademoiselle," he greeted. Flashing him a death-glare, I muttered a similar greeting and started for the theater. Rehearsals weren't starting for another half-hour at least, but if I could surround myself with people of remote intelligence, perhaps there was hope of increasing the light of my mood. "Did you sleep well?" He pressed. This man clearly was not going to take a hint.
"Yes. I slept fine. Now do yourself a favor and go have a cup of coffee," I responded. He started to say something else but I cut him off, "By yourself." He looked disappointed before moving off. I rolled my eyes and went into the theater where a few girls were already assembling. "Where's Carlotta?" I asked them.
"Not here yet," one of the girls replied, "Why? Are you looking for her?"
"No, I just like to know where my prey is so I can keep an eye on it," I answered stubbornly, eyeing the theater. The girls giggled. Smirking slightly, I looked around the stage as if it were interesting. My eyes followed the lines of the dust-lined planks until there was a horizontal disruption. I approached, focusing in on what appeared to be a large square, though I admit, it was very well hidden. I assumed it must have been a trapdoor for stage productions so I said nothing, shrugging it off.
"Ah, you are here on time, little serpent!" Came an annoying voice from the back of the theater. Rolling my eyes, I turned around to see Carlotta approaching, looking exceptionally spruced and fluffed. Her 'servants' walked just behind her, carrying her equally fluffed dog.
"Good morning Carlotta," I called with mock-cheer. "You ignorant poodle…" I muttered under my breath. Luckily, no one heard. I turned back around and looked at the trapdoor again. God, if I knew how to work that, I would have all too much fun with Miss Ignoramus… (Behind me, she was making a fuss over her 'doggy' and rolling 'r''s all-too extravagantly).
The orchestra was filing in with exhausted looks by now, Monsieur Reyer setting up his music stand and practicing a few little baton waves. It was rather amusing. Soon, everyone else was present (so I thought) and the director tapped his clipboard impatiently.
"All right good people. Is everything quite ready for the Act One run-through?" He asked.
"Non, monsieur!" Called a chorus girl from the back, "Monsieur Delacrois is not here!"
"Ah, he was not feeling too well last night…" The director commented. I frowned and said nothing. Something didn't feel right… "Oh well… James! James shall fill in for him today." Oh great, I thought. Clearly I was wrong in thinking that today couldn't get any worse. "Do you know the choreography all right, boy?"
"Of course," James answered in his haughty voice. Someone needed to throw something at him… I was just glad that the farewell sequence was in act three, so contact would be at a minimum.
Halfway through Act one, Madame Giry came running in, looking incredibly un-nerved. She went over to Monsieur Reyer and whispered something. His face also turned to fear. The director went over and spoke with them as well. I watched from the side of the stage, as it wasn't my turn to do anything. Suddenly, the music ceased and the director hopped up on stage, looking around at us all.
"Rehearsals are cancelled. Please return to your dormitories and do not come out until instructed otherwise," he announced. A murmur went through those on stage before they all exchanged glances and filed off the stage. I didn't follow and walked straight over to Madame Giry.
"What happened?" I asked.
"It's none of your business, Mademoiselle," she said evenly, glaring at me.
"If it's important enough to cancel rehearsals, then trust me, it is my business," I answered haughtily, eyeing her.
"There's been a murder," stated the director, "Go to your room, Miss Lavonne. It's for your safety." My eyebrows went up.
"Monsieur Delacrois?" I asked. They exchanged glances, before Madame Giry took my arm and led me off to the dormitory. Once we were out of earshot of the directors, I stopped her and looked at her face. There was a suspicion growing in my mind. It hurt terribly to think that it might be true, but I had to know. "Where is he?" I asked.
"Monsieur Delacrois?" She inquired. I shook my head and gave her a dark glance. Her eyes widened.
"No, Mademoiselle. I cannot tell you where he dwells," she stated, "Go to your room. I will say no more." She shuffled off and I watched listlessly. Shaking my head, I moved away from the dormitories, ducking behind a corner as James went flying by.
"Mademoiselles!" He called to the chorus girls, "I found out what it is! Monsieur Delacrois has been killed!" The amount of horror that took his voice had me interested momentarily and I listened. "Strangled to death they say!" The girls whispered in terrified voices before they all retreated under the call of Madame Giry. Shaking my head, I swiftly headed back to the theater, circling around through the back and ducking down behind the last row of seats.
The orchestra had cleared out by now, and the directors were finishing the last extinguishing of the lights. They exited the theater, leaving it in complete darkness, except for one candle that served as some kind of emergency light. I breathed and approached the stage, picking up the candle and looking around cautiously. Everything seemed to creak warningly under my feet but I pressed on.
I looked around the trapdoor suspiciously but decided it wouldn't take me where I wanted to go. I found myself climbing the ladder (with one hand), the candle balanced precariously in my hand as I moved around on the catwalk deftly. As I was a dancer, it wasn't terribly hard. My eyes fell almost immediately upon a door in the wall. Assuming that it couldn't possibly lead anywhere important, I opened it and stepped inside. There was a single corridor that branched off into more and after wandering it for a few minutes, I found that I was relatively lost.
All of the doors opened into more passages—except for one. This one was locked though. Growling in frustration at the impediment, I whisked out my dagger and fiddled with the lock. It was a little more complicated than the one placed on the theater archives, but it eventually gave way. Hot wax dripped onto my hand and I grimaced under the pain before shrugging it off as if it were unimportant.
The dim light of the candle revealed a twisted staircase that descended further and further into darkness. Taking a breath, I closed the door behind me and started down the stairs. They never seemed to end. I must have been several levels below the opera house before I reached a narrow corridor that led to a wider set of stairs. I kept looking about suspiciously. I did not feel alone. But I knew that I was.
I stepped into water. Raising my brows, I held up the candle. It revealed a long passage of knee-deep water that veered off to both the left and right. I took another breath and moved onward, sloshing through the water and glancing in both directions at the end. The shallower path was to my left… Shrugging philosophically, I started in that direction until I felt the floor beneath me shift. I hesitated, as there was a distinct creaking that ran through the walls. Then there was a rushing sound. Raising my candle cautiously, I was made aware of an enormous wall of water rushing at me. Before I could run, I was forced down into the raging torrents and I went barreling towards the right passageway, popping up occasionally to peer into darkness, gasping for breath. I thought my journey would never end, and I would end up drowning.
Then, all of a sudden, the wave that contained me went running through a dry passage and I was dumped into an underground lake. Rising from the flurry of water, I gasped for air and looked up. This place was lit. I swam towards an evident shore and pulled myself atop the stone, catching my breath. When I looked up, I saw an array of candles, an ancient-looking organ, and several entrances that were guarded by thick, velvet drapes. No one appeared to be home. Was I dreaming?
The fact that such furnishings existed in a cave was beyond me, and it looked surreal. Nearby was a rather interesting-looking boat. Rising from my flat position, I glanced around the place. Was this where Erik lived? If so, I felt completely uncomfortable. Such an arrangement gave him every advantage in the world over me. I ventured over to the organ, regardless, and looked upon a very complex-looking piece of music. It was all carefully hand-written, the accompanying words printed neatly below it. Shifting my gaze, I saw a large stack of parchment, several bottles of ink (some empty, some full, some half-full…), two quills, a metal gourd of wax resting over a flame, and a handled stamp. Picking up the stamp, I saw the same skull that had appeared on all of my notes. Yes, this was where Erik lived… or at least worked. I shuddered with the chill of the air and carefully replaced the stamp.
Walking across the place, I peered behind various drapes and found that they either led to more rooms of similar décor, or passages. Then suddenly I heard footsteps. I panicked and quickly ducked into one of the passageways, allowing myself only a crack to keep an eye on whoever was approaching. It was, as I suspected, Erik. A rope was coiled about his left shoulder and he paused, looking around. Dropping the coil near his organ, he shed his cape and jacket. His gaze shot back up and looked directly at me. I didn't move. He took his rapier from a nearby stand and slowly began to approach where I had hidden.
I had two options. Allow myself to be discovered, or run. I chose the latter rather quickly, and took off silently along the passageway. I barely saw where I was going, but suddenly I came to a glass panel that looked in on what appeared to be a dressing room. Gripping the handle breathlessly, I opened it and threw myself into the dressing room, closing the 'door' behind me. Panting raggedly, I looked around the room and back at the path I'd just come from. It was a mirror. Oh God, this man was sick!
I left that dressing room in a flourish, heading straight up to my room. At the foot of the spiral staircase sat James and I almost groaned at the mere sight of him. He was everywhere. He raised a brow and rose. "Why are you all wet?" He asked. I snapped.
Gripping him by the collar, I threw him against the wall, gritting my teeth as I met the surprise in his eyes. "There's a murderer on the loose, and you ask me why I'm wet? Don't you even care what happened? Perhaps I just escaped a life or death situation, and you have the nerve to ask me why I'm wet?"
"All right!" He started defensively, pushing at my arms. My arms didn't budge but I dropped him and glowered. "What happened?" He asked. I raised my brows at his rather terrified expression.
"I fell into a river. And it was raining." I stated dryly, before jerking past him and moving into my room grumpily. "Pompous imbecile," I muttered under my breath, slamming the door and lighting a candle. Still no note. Why did I want a note so badly? This just kept confirming my suspicions over and over, and I really didn't want to believe what I was thinking. In fact, I currently wanted to convince myself that everything that had happened so far was some wild dream of mine that just never ended, and someday, I would wake up. Just before I died, that is.
I changed out of my soaked clothes into a pale green dancing gown. Taking out my rapier, I slipped its sheath through my rapier frog and found a belt to put it on. I was taking no chances tonight. Looking over at my small grandfather clock, I determined that I had a half-hour before 'lessons.' Growling to myself, I decided that I would go wait for my teacher. I loaded up a bag with some spare candles, taking one into my hand, and tossing my dagger into the bag as well (for good luck). Shouldering my bag, I hooked my dance shoes over my wrist, holding the candle with the same hand as I moved resolutely down the stairs once again.
James raised a brow at me at the foot of my stairs. "Are we in a war?" He asked sardonically.
"Can't be too careful," I replied dryly, moving past him.
"Pardon me, Mademoiselle, but with a killer on the loose, don't you think it would be safer to use the practice room?" He inquired, stepping into my path.
"Get out of my way, or you will sorely regret you ever tried to enter my life." I stated carefully, my eyes flashing at him. He paused before moving aside. Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I passed him swiftly and headed off to the theater. Perhaps I was being a little touchy with Mister James… but then again, he kept up his nosiness and aggravated me to no ends, so perhaps he deserved his treatment. Regardless, I was really beyond caring at this point.
I entered the theater, whistling in a chipper fashion as I set about lighting candles on the stage, until it was fairly well lit. Putting my bag down nearby, I sat, dropping my shoes and sprawling out. Sighing, I closed my eyes and listened for opening doors and footsteps. Thoughts raced through my head about Monsieur Erik. I needed to know more about the man and the monster. He felt. He couldn't be that much of a cold-blooded killer… could he? Or, judging by his dance abilities, perhaps he was merely an excellent actor. No, that couldn't be so… I'd seen the pain in his eyes. I'd felt his pain…
"What were you doing in my lair?" Came the booming voice. My eyes opened immediately and I looked up to see Erik standing over me, looking completely furious. My eyes flashed as I brought myself to my feet and looked at him evenly. He was practically trembling with his rage.
"Why did you kill Monsieur Delacrois?" I jetted back. He took a step at me, his eyes flashing. I matched his actions and moved away from him. He set his jaw and looked at me sternly, circling now. "Or perhaps you'd first like to explain why you have a viewing window into a lady's dressing room?" The fire in his eyes increased. I knew I was badly instigating, but I couldn't stop now. "Or why you haven't written me all day? Or why you're really such an outcast?" He snarled and lunged at me, rapier drawn. I drew mine and met his slash, moving him back across the stage.
He paused, circling again. "Since when did you care?" He asked, his glower centering on me. I couldn't bring myself to be intimidated.
"You can't just kill people you don't like!" I insisted, glaring at him.
"I set an example so that my demands are met," he growled, lifting his blade again.
"Your demands? How selfish are you?" I cried incredulously. He lunged again and I found myself engaged in a heated mess of flying limbs and glinting metal. This time, he pushed me back and I took a few steps away to ensure safe distance. Catching my breath, I continued to glare at him.
"Who told you where my home was?" He demanded, advancing on me again. I continued stepping back to regain my breath. He shoved me mercilessly against a backstage wall, gripping me by the throat, an intensely enraged expression practically glued to his face. I gasped as the force of his hand crushed around my neck.
"No one told me!" I choked, "I found it on my own!" Lifting my blade almost weakly, I took a swipe at him and nearly slashed his shoulder. He dropped me abruptly and crossed the blade, angling my wrist to the side. Regaining my bearings, I flashed him an expression. "Your little kitten got curious," I stated blandly, taking my other hand to the hilt and shoving his blade up and over. I leapt into the air and threw a flying kick at his stomach, sending him backwards. He stumbled, caught completely off guard by the move. But he didn't fall over. He cracked his shoulders and flashed me another intense glare. "So are you going to kill me too? 'Make an example' of me?" I shot, advancing on him sturdily.
"It's not a bad idea!" He sneered, moving into offensive and crossing my rapier with a nearly ear-shattering clang. I slid my blade over his, crossing from the upside and forcing it down towards the ground. He resisted and pulled out of the lock, moving to circle me again.
"So what's stopping you?" I growled, "I've been nothing but trouble to you." He didn't answer, his expression boiling at me from across the short distance that separated us now. I caught my breath, my chest heaving. He suddenly advanced swiftly and hooked my hilt, yanking the weapon from my hand. But his own grip slipped and both blades went rolling off towards the back of the stage. He glared at me as if it were my fault, his gloved hands curling into claw-like structures and lunging for my neck. I grabbed his hands but fell back as he came toppling onto me.
I wrestled him off, only to flip atop him and try to pin his wrists to the stage. He doubled back and shoved me to the side, straddling my waist with an annoyed growl. My fingers curled around his desperately, forcing his arms up. He shoved my wrists down, pinning them almost triumphantly at my sides. He hesitated, catching his breath and looking down into my eyes. There was a long pause as I tensed and writhed under his grip, before relaxing. I looked at him smugly.
"What are you looking at, Opera Ghost?" I asked casually, before thrusting my forehead into his chest at just the right angle, knocking the wind out of him. He gasped, his grip faltering as I flipped atop him again and looked down into his surprised eyes with a victorious smirk. I pinned his wrists over his head and caught my breath again. My mouth stretched back into a frown as I looked at him. He shut his eyes for a moment, gasping. He looked like he was thinking. His eyes flickered back open and he unhooked his arms from my grasp, grabbing my forearms and throwing me over his head. I flew through the air and landed flat on my back with a deafening smack. "Ow…" I whimpered, squinting. Erik didn't move. We both lay there on our backs, gasping for air.
"You're a murderer…" I whispered, closing my eyes and going slack. He carefully rose and brushed himself off, lifting his blade again.
"If it's any console, Monsieur Delacrois had a long-running police record. He was going to be found out and executed anyway," replied Erik. I opened my eyes and raised my brows, sitting up and looking back at him. He shrugged and moved off the stage into the shadowed rows. I sighed and stood up, picking up my blade and shaking my head. "It's still early in rehearsals. It shouldn't be too hard to find a replacement," he added.
"Why haven't you killed me?" I asked, no longer concerned with the Delacrois case. There was nothing I could do about it now. There was a long pause.
"Sing to me," He stated.
"What kind of answer is that?" I agonized, glaring through the darkness.
"Sing," he shot, a dangerous edge creeping back into his voice. I glowered before sheathing my weapon and centering myself. Relaxing, I hummed a few notes first, to release the tension that he'd built in me. "I'm waiting," he said impatiently. I blotted out his comment and started in on my song, keeping my eyes closed so that I could concentrate. When I finished, I opened my eyes and he was standing on the stage a few feet away, his back to me and his arms crossed. "That was beautiful," he said. I raised a brow.
"That's the nicest thing you've said to me all night," I responded, looking at him curiously. He whirled around.
"I don't tend to treat those who invade my home nicely," he hissed, closing the distance between us slowly.
"You've invaded my room almost every night, and I haven't complained," I replied, placing my hands on my hips, an eyebrow raised.
"That's different," he snapped, touching his nose to mine as though it would scare me. I didn't move, my eyes flashing him a doubtful expression.
"Well in a way, I didn't mean to actually invade your home. You see I was just exploring these passages and suddenly, when I decided to go left instead of right, I was nearly killed by a wall of water," I explained sarcastically. He growled and stood over me, drawing his rapier and placing its tip at the top of my corset.
"How did you survive that?" He asked in a low voice. My eyes drifted to the tip of his blade, which pressed threateningly at my chest. Looking back at his eyes, which burned with an intense fire, I narrowed mine.
"Sheer luck," I stated evenly, whipping out my blade and shoving his weapon away from me. I glared warningly at him. "If you touch me again, you will sorely regret it."
"Oh? Will I?" His eyebrows went up as he approached me fearlessly, his rapier glinting in the candlelight. He crossed my blade firmly and practically bent me over to the floor. I gasped in frustrated surprise, looking at him. "Let's make something perfectly clear, Mademoiselle Lavonne. You listen to me. I do not listen to you—that is of course, unless you are singing or unless I ask you to speak…" Pain was shooting up through my wrist into my shoulder and my knees gave out as I fell to the side. He released the pressure and put his blade at my throat. "Do we have an understanding?" I shook my head stubbornly and he snarled, slicing the surface of my shoulder. I screeched and looked down to see a slow line of blood seeping into the fabric of my dress. I looked back at him fearfully. "Now, do we have an understanding?" He pressed, still leaning over me. I finally nodded and he drew away with a satisfied smirk. With a flip of his cape, he headed off stage. "You are dismissed." He vanished.
I quickly gathered my things and scrambled off. I nearly ran over James. "Are you all right?" He asked, eyeing my shoulder and meeting my eyes. He reached out to touch me and I slapped his hand.
"I'm fine," I grimaced, moving past him.
"Faye, did you see him?" He asked, gently taking hold of my waist and turning me to face him.
"See who?" I asked almost blindly.
"The murderer," he said, looking at me imploringly. Breathlessly, I sought his eyes, an almost tender expression on my face. My lips moved to answer, but nothing came. The edges of the room were swirling about in a glamorous vortex of white and black.
"Oh God…" I whispered, closing my eyes against the vision and opening them again to a fading corridor. My limbs went numb and I fell right towards James. The last thing I remembered was being caught sturdily by his arms and shifted as my entire line of vision faded to black.
A/N: I spent a lot of work on this chapter. With that, I say: R. AND. R. e.e