Chapter Twenty Five already! --tears--
Ethalas Tuath'an: Hmm, I do sound very arrogant and vain saying this, but I am pleased I thought up that link of Hector being Javert's son. I'm glad you found neat, too!
WashoopiCandi: Thanks so much for the review. And I do hate to admit, but there's not big fight in this chapter. Read on, though!
Carkeys: Glad you like it. Here's the next chapter!
AngelicFlutist: I'm glad you liked the costumes and their descriptions. I was afraid they were going to be deeply described and rather boring, so you just made my day by saying that! And no, I'm sorry, but I can't kill Hector for the reason you pointed out - he's the main villain!
PhantomLover05: --laughs evilly-- I mean, oh, yes - I'm terribly sorry for the cliffie!
LittleMollysheart: Well, hopefully this chapter can answer your questions.
HiddenOperaAngel: Ah, so many questions! But you should find your answers in this chapter! Thanks so much for the review!
Chapter Twenty Five: Vincent's Theory
Hector and Erik stared at each other with death glares while Hector tried to pry Erik's hand off his throat, but to no avail. Loralee watched in horror at Erik's sudden mood of murder. Anger, hatred, and coldness made his usually welcoming green eyes snap with flames and burn Hector into a state of unease.
"If I'd of known you were acquainted with Loralee before, Erik, I would have killed her right off the bat just for revenge on my father's death."
Erik's grip on Hector's throat got stronger and Hector gasped for air, clawing uselessly at Erik's hand.
"You will never touch Loralee again and I'll make sure of it right now."
Erik pulled out his punjab lasso and slipped it around Hector's neck before he could react. Loralee watched in horror as Hector fell to his knees, trying desperately to loosen the noose around his throat but Erik just pulled harder, killing Hector slow on purpose so that Hector could suffer.
Loralee couldn't stand it any more when Hector turned a deathly purple shade.
"Erik, no! Stop it! You don't have to become a murderer again! Please, just leave him alive. . . Don't kill. . . Please. . ."
Erik looked at Loralee who was now crying silently and looking at Erik with a mixture of fear and some other emotion he couldn't place.
"You want this man - this monster - to live?"
"Please, don't kill! You don't have to finish it like this! Just let him go and he should learn his lesson."
Erik looked at her, enraged at Hector, but finally loosened the noose around Hector's neck when Loralee laid her hand on his arm in form of a plea.
He gave one last tug on the noose making Hector faint from lack of air, but then took it off, coiling it up.
"Come on," he said, his voice coarse and deadly from his encounter with Hector. His hands still itched to feel the punjab around Javert's son's neck, but his love for Loralee outdid his lust for blood.
The way Loralee had looked at him with pure desperation and tears on her face made Erik's insides crumble and made him ashamed of his actions.
After putting away the punjab, Erik took Loralee's arm and hurried her off through the street's shadows, her blonde wig laying forgotten next to Hector's unconscious form.
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"Loralee! Erik! Are you all right?"
Erik had lead Loralee straight away to Madame Giry who ushered them into her room.
"Meg came running to me telling how Loralee was caught by Hector again. Were either of you hurt?"
Soon Erik and Loralee were being pushed down onto the sofa and given cups of tea. Madame Giry and Meg were rushing about, worried looks on their faces. Loralee would have been laughing at the sight if it weren't for her previous encounter. Erik was still gripping onto her arm protectively but she didn't try and get free even when it became tighter.
"We're fine, Madame Giry," Erik said, amusement evident in his voice, also, but it was still laden with hatred. "He didn't go far."
Madame Giry and Meg stopped rushing about at Erik's words. Madame Giry came forward and sat down across from them at this note.
"What do you mean didn't go too far?" she asked, eyeing Erik warily. Loralee spoke up.
"Hector dragged me into an alley way and then I told Meg to get to safety which she luckily did. I only received a punch to the stomach before Erik intercepted."
"Erik, if you killed him-"
Erik glared at Madame Giry making her quiet.
"No, I did not kill him. I would have dearly liked to, but Loralee stopped me."
"Thank the heavens you were with him, Loralee," Madame Giry said to Loralee, a sigh of relief coming out of her mouth. Erik then turned to Loralee.
"I forgot about that punch. How's your stomach?"
Loralee raised her hand that had been clutching where he punched her and showed him a faint stain of blood on it.
"He reopened the bottom of the cut."
Anger flashed through Erik's eyes, yet they turned soft and caring when he looked into Loralee's eyes.
"Madame Giry, fetch some water and bandages."
Madame Giry nodded at Erik's request and hurried Meg off to get some water while she found some spare cloth for bandages. Erik looked at where he could see the blood seeping through the dress after laying her down on Meg's bed.
"I think I'll leave them to take care of you seeing that the wound is somewhere I shouldn't work with."
Loralee looked down and noticed what he meant. To mend the newly open wound would mean she'd have to take off her dress. She giggled much to Erik's surprise.
"I guess so. Such a thoughtful gentleman, Erik," she said, laying her head back down on the pillow and staring at the wooden ceiling. "It's not that bad, though. Just stings."
"You've already lost enough blood on Hector's account and I can't bare to see you lose any more," was all that Erik said before lifting her hand to his mouth and kissing it. After laying her hand back down, he left the room.
Loralee could hear Erik and Madame Giry converse in the other room, Erik telling her how to stitch up the wound, but her thoughts were else where.
Erik had just kissed her. Even though it was on the back of her hand it amazed her. She thought it almost impossible for Erik to kiss after seeing him in such murderous moods or crying out his love for Christine, but the chaste kiss on her hand showed her otherwise. Loralee soon giggled like a school girl silently to herself at Erik's kiss and smiled sheepishly up at the ceiling, her hand tingling where Erik's lips had just been.
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About two hours later, the opened wound now healing again with the stitches and cleaning, Meg came to Loralee with a dress from her room.
"I thought it might be more comfortable for you to wear a clean and unstained dress around the Opera Populaire," she explained as she helped Loralee tighten up her corset, not as tight as usual so as to let the cut feel more comfortable.
Once in the casual dark green dress, Loralee put her hair up in the normal tight bun. Half way through putting it up, Madame Giry came in.
"Erik's back in his home and had told me to remind you where the switch on your mirror is just in case you need an escape route from Monsieur Badeau."
Loralee laughed slightly as she put another pin in her hair.
"Oh, he also told me to convince you to leave your hair down. He hates it up in a bun."
Rolling her eyes, Loralee turned to Madame Giry.
"Don't tell me you're taking his side on this argument."
"Argument?" Madame Giry asked, eyebrows raised.
"Yes, argument. Ever since one of our beginning encounters he told me I shouldn't but my hair up in a bun and we argued a little. We've had that argument a couple of times before in the past."
"I see. . . Well, you might want to put it down to keep Erik off your back."
"Fine," Loralee sighed, taking out the pins. "It's the only argument he wins against me. I actually rather like it down."
"I'm sure Vincent Badeau would, also."
Loralee's eyes widened in the mirror.
"Oh god, then I'll have to wear it up! He only knows me with my hair up and it might be-"
Loralee's sentence was disrupted by Meg knocking on the door.
"Come in," Madame Giry said. Meg poked her head in and looked over at Loralee, amusement twinkling in her eyes.
"Someone by the name of Monsieur Vincent Badeau is looking for his beautiful love," she said teasingly to Loralee who just threw a pin at her friend's now giggling form.
"I swear that when I see Erik. . ." Loralee mumbled before taking the package that now contained her bloody dress and masquerade costume and going out to Vincent.
Madame Giry had been correct.
When Loralee exited Madame Giry's room and came into the hallway where Vincent was waiting, his jaw dropped at the sight of her with her hair down.
"My dear Mademoiselle McLay, what occasion calls for such a sight of you with your hair down?"
Obviously Vincent thought she was wearing it down for him.
"I'm wearing it down against my will because my dear friend likes it better this way."
"Well I can see why. You look absolutely breath taking with it down."
Loralee wondered if Erik thought the same thing and got a bit red in the cheeks from the thought. Vincent seeing her faint blush thought he had flattered her and took her arm in his, leading her off down the hall.
"I can take you to your room, if you'd like."
There was no stopping him now. He was already walking her there.
"I suppose that would be nice," she sighed out.
They walked in an uncomfortable silence until they were outside of her room. She turned to face Vincent and for the first time noticed how nervous he looked about something. Loralee had a feeling that it had something to do with the Masquerade.
"Is something the matter, Monsieur?"
"Well, I guess there's a question I've been wanting to ask you."
"What is it?" Loralee asked, putting on a fake confused look.
"I was just wondering if I could have the honor of going to the Masquerade with you this Saturday," he said, seeming quite relieved and relaxed after he managed to say what was on his mind. Loralee couldn't help but smile faintly.
"Oh, Monsieur, I'm terribly sorry."
Yes, terribly sorry my foot! she thought, trying to bit back her grin. I'm happier than ever now that I'm going with Erik.
She snapped out of her thoughts and looked up to Vincent who had a disappointed look fogging his once happy face.
"I'm already going with someone else," she said, watching with a glee she loved and hated as Vincent's happy face was completely drowned in disappointment.
"Oh, well, I'm sorry to have bothered you then, Mademoiselle. I had hoped I would have the honor but now I guess I shall go by myself."
Loralee couldn't help but feel sorry Vincent.
"Who are you going with, may I ask?" Vincent said suddenly.
"My friend," she said, speaking the truth in some ways.
"You've never told me who this friend is, Mademoiselle. Perhaps I would know him. What's his name?"
Loralee remembered what Erik and her had thought up for his occupation, so she explained to Vincent about her friend smoothly.
"His name is Erik Belmont. I'm not sure you would know him because he's visiting from Italy. He works there as an architect."
Vincent shook his head. He didn't know the man she was talking about, but had a suspicion of who it was. That man he had seen her walking with down the hallway of the Opera House the other day seemed to be very close to her. He remembered how he was wearing the white mask and knew who it had been Loralee was talking to.
The legendary Phantom of the Opera.
"I'm afraid I don't know him," Vincent lied. "May I at least know what you are going as so I may be able to talk to you?"
"I suppose so," Loralee said to him, not finding any excuse. "I'm going in a costume with flames and darkness as the theme. My friend is going in something familiar. It should be easy to spot us."
"Thank you, Mademoiselle. I shall look forward to seeing you there."
"Good bye, then!" Loralee said, slipping into her room.
Vincent determined to get his answer on whether or not she's going with the Phantom, walked down the hall so she could hear his footsteps disappear but then rushed back up to it silently, hiding in the shadows outside of the door.
She never came out.
He was about to suspect his theory wrong and made to leave but stopped when he heard something click in her room. There was the unmistakable sound of something gliding open on a metal frame and then a faint chuckle of a manly voice accompanying a girl's soft giggles. Vincent pressed his ear to the door to hear what they were saying. Sure enough, Beth's voice faintly reached his ears.
"I hate you, Erik."
The manly chuckle sounded out again before the owner's voice spoke out, low and almost ethereal, music vibrating in it's core. Vincent's mouth sagged open slightly at the power and beauty in it.
"Hate me? What occasion calls for such strong words, Mademoiselle?"
"You made me wear my hair down because you knew that Vincent would like it that way!"
"That was hardly the reason why, but now that I think about it, the interaction between the two of you with your hair down must have been entertaining."
"Just move aside so I can enter, please?"
Vincent listened as two silent people moved about, their voices disappearing after something glided shut in a soft moan of metal. Vincent stayed there, leaning against Beth's door, until he regained his sanity, straightened his clothes and walked off down he hall, his greatest fears proved true.
Beth McLay's so called friend was indeed the Phantom of the Opera.