IAR: Agh, incredibly sorry for not updating sooner. I've been having troubles lately with friends and stuff, so it's kept me preoccupied. Don't worry; we're all keen and peachy now, so this story will go on. :D
Wow. I mean. WOW. Holy crap. I got a flood of reviews! XD I want to thank ALL of you for reviewing. And, yes, everyone shalt get their plushies as promised, but they have to review again to ask for the style. :D They come in three different styles: White-Ruffly Shirt Goodness, Red Death Hotness, and Don Juan Mystery.
And. Lykomg. I have to give a big shout-out to mah partner in crime, Dene, who practically betas this for me, and help me cut down on my Author's Notes. Much love!
Meh. Too many reviews to answer. So let's just get on with the chapter, hmm?
Note: There are more weird POV switching and flashbacks in this chapter, so don't review about it, 'kay? I know what I'm doing. n-n Oh, and no one was my beta for this chapter, and I proofread terribly, so excuse any horrible grammar, please. XP
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"Christine? Christine, are you here?" Meg called out fearfully, tiptoeing into the theater with her keys jingling at her side.
She didn't know why she was frightened; she practically lived there! She spent most of her time practicing with her mother, and her mum was always there. Ever since the opening day, Meg had grown to love it, even if she had never met the owner. Amelia Giry was on speaking terms with him as far as she knew, so hopefully she was welcomed during the off-hours. Especially at five o'clock in the morning.
- - -
What a little twit, Mr. Devereux thought with a sneer as he watched from the balcony above the doorway as a petite blonde he knew as Meg Giry crept into his theater, thinking she can get away with it. Trespassers can easily be taken care of…
His thoughts wandered back to Christine. He remembered spying as she walked in, when she tripped over the carpet, giggled when she saw her handprint in the thick dust, her grace while she danced along the stage, the pure sweet nectar that was her voice rang in his ears. When she fainted as he knelt over her…
- - -
After she had passed out, his hand roamed freely about her face. His eyes were wide open with shock and desire at how beautiful she was. He traced over her features slowly, going over her eyelids that were covered in a light coat of black eye shadow, the cheeks that were porcelain but flushed from hearing his clapping, and the chin that was rounded perfectly. But his hand froze as it touched her lips. Her breathing was slow and steady, wrapping his gloved fingers in pleasurable warmth.
Coming to his senses, his hand left her face but trailed down her neck and stopped at a gold chain that hung around it. It was being pulled down by a charm of some sort that was hidden away under the light shirt she was wearing. Hesitantly, he tugged on the chain and a heart shaped locket emerged from under the fabric, and he fiddled with it until it opened.
There were two pictures inside- one of a beautiful woman a few years older than him that seemed almost identical to the girl that wore the trinket, and the other of a handsome young man that held love and adoration in his eyes. Mr. Devereux's eyes turned into dangerous slits, and he spat a curse at the boy under his breath for his good looks.
Turning back to the woman's picture, he realized that she and the girl could have been twins if it hadn't been for the eyes. The girl's, he had noticed earlier, were so dark of a brown that you could barely notice the pupils; however, on the other hand, the woman's were lighter and more playful. He still had no idea who the woman could be, so he shut the locket and placed it gently back on her upper chest.
As the girl felt a cold, hard substance touch her skin, she moaned and shifted slightly. He stood quickly and froze; eyes wide open again with fear. Suddenly she stopped and smiled contentedly in her unconscious state, starting to breath evenly again.
He still stood over her and wondered what he should do. It wouldn't be necessary to call an ambulance, he was sure, since she only fainted. Sighing nervously, he knelt down and did what he thought was best. He gently snaked his arms under her back and lifted her, which was rather easy, to his delight. But he couldn't suppress a shiver at the feeling of her smooth skin resting against his rough arms after he had rolled up the sleeves of his white silken shirt.
A thought crossed his mind. Why could he feel her skin when she was wearing a top? Still kneeling down, he gently turned her over to see that the back of the shirt she was wearing had ripped after she had backed up into a sharp piece of scenery. His eyes widened at the sight of her flawless skin, and without warning, one of his arms shot from beneath her and laid its gloved hand in the center.
Blinking with fascination, he slithered one of his fingers along her back several times. Again, the girl shifted and moaned with what seemed like pleasure. Mr. Devereux licked his dry lips and gently turned her back over, cradled her in his arms again, stood up slowly, and started towards backstage.
"Erik?"
His hold on the girl tightening, he halted and stood still as he heard footsteps coming towards him.
"Erik Devereux! How long has it been? Eight years?"
Erik answered through clenched teeth, "Obviously not long enough, Daroga."
A hearty laugh echoed throughout the theater and he winced slightly, not turning around.
"What are you doing here, Khan? After I strictly told you never to contact me again? Especially while I'm attending to someone else's needs." Erik said coolly while turning slightly so the other man couldn't see the load he was holding. That seemed to put the guest in awe.
"Someone else's needs? And who is this 'someone' that you speak of, Erik?" He asked curiously, a smirk playing across his face.
Erik's eyes closed in exasperation and annoyance as he replied, "Someone that would be certainly glad to be rid of you if they were conscious, I'm sure."
"Oh, really? Is that so? Well, I'm sure that this 'someone' is here in the theater with you, are they not?" The Daroga asked innocently enough, peering around in mock searching.
Erik sighed with frustration as he realized the man wouldn't give up. He whirled around so quickly the girl's arms flailed in the air.
His eyes fell on a man that was grinning madly with perfectly aligned white teeth which contrasted immensely with his rich burnt sienna skin tone. He was a few inches shorter than Erik, but incredibly slender with pitch black slicked back hair. Dressed in dress clothes, Erik laughed to himself on the drastic change of wardrobe from his usual robe like attire with a violet turban to this.
"And what do I owe to such an…unpleasant surprise visitor?" Erik asked airily, trying to ignore the fact that he held a knocked out teenaged girl in his arms.
Nadir Khan's eyes widened at the limp, pale form in his friend's arms. He looked from her to Erik and back again several times before answering the question:
"In town. Just wanted to drop by and say hello. Heard from Amelia that you were down here-"his hand waved amiably in the air so as to gesture the theater-"and decided to see how my old college buddy was doing!"
Erik sneered at the excuse.
"I should've known she would have told you. I can't get any trust from anyone anymore, can I?" He said angrily. Nadir blinked and his eyes fell on the girl.
"And she is-?"
"That 'someone' I told you about!" Erik spat fiercely.
Nadir, still being more than ten feet away from him, walked forward slowly and circled the two, rubbing his chin in consideration.
Erik rolled his eyes and stood still, waiting for the right moment to drop the girl and pounce on the unsuspecting victim with his lasso.
"How exactly did she faint?" The vulture man asked, stopping at Erik's left side where her head lay over his arm.
His eyes darted to the investigating Daroga who was now feeling the girl's wrist for a pulse.
"What, do you think I hit her over the head with a prop?" He shot back, eyes still glued to him.
"It's a possibility." Nadir shrugged, dropping her wrist and circling the man and girl again.
Erik gaped at him and nearly dropped the girl, about to snatch his Punjab from the depths of his cloak.
"No need to get hasty, Devereux," he stuttered, holding his hands up in surrender at the sight of the hate in the man's eyes, "I'm just trying to figure out what happened."
But his eyes didn't soften and Nadir chuckled nervously, pulling at his collar.
"Have it your way then, Daroga," Erik said sarcastically and began to advance on the man, the girl still in his arms.
The Daroga backed up slowly until he reached the edge of the stage where the orchestra pit began a few feet below.
An evil smirk crossed Erik's face as Nadir stumbled and found balance again, teetering on the edge.
Satisfied, Erik began to explain.
"…I started clapping for her, and she started searching for where it was coming from. She became overwhelmed, fell back, backed into the scenery, and fainted as I stood over her," he finished nonchalantly, eyeing Nadir the whole time, who was stroking his chin again in thought.
"And the ripped shirt?" He asked, glancing down at the girl's shoulder where the sleeves of her top were falling down.
"Torn by the scenery," Erik replied, also chancing a look at the angel that lay in his arms, still unconscious.
"I see…" Nadir said, seeming convinced. Erik's hand still twitched for his lasso, but he controlled his temper.
Awkward silence filtered between them until the Daroga finally said, "I guess I should be heading back to the hotel. Be sure to get her home safely, alright?"
Nodding absently, Erik watched as Nadir walked quickly off the stage and out of the theater, looking back only once before walking out the doors.
His eyes found their way back to the figure in his arms again.
"Now, who exactly are you? An angel? A goddess?" He whispered down at her, brushing a few fallen locks of brown hair from her face.
Gently placing her back on the stage, he searched for a wallet. Admittedly, he searched her incredibly slowly so as to savor the touches. To his dismay, it wasn't on her. He stood up and glanced around desperately. His eyes fell on a bright red bag that sat on the far end of the stage. He walked over, picked it up, and strode back to the figure again and began looking.
After a few minutes, he discovered a leather wallet at the bottom of the bag and opened it. It didn't hold much; a library card, about fifty dollars in cash, a debit card…He pulled out the last card and smiled to himself. The girl was looking up at him and grinning widely in her driver's license photo. Scanning the card, he found her name.
"Christine Daaé…" Erik whispered softly, gazing down at the beauty before him.
She stirred and grunted at the sound of her name. Frantically, Erik picked her up again and ran backstage to the hidden staircase that led to the two levels of housing that were below the theater and cellars.
And, for once, he felt excited that he was to have company.
- - -
Erik sighed from his spot on the balcony. The girl had been searching for more than fifteen minutes and every attempt failed. She let out a scream of exasperation and plopped down in one of the front seats, burying her head in her hands. He couldn't help but smirk in amusement.
Standing up, he stalked out of the door and hesitated at the curtain that he usually climbed down to the floor. Someone was crying.
- - -
Meg sobbed into her hands desperately. Where was Christine? She had searched behind props, under them, in the orchestra, the boxes. It was useless.
"Christine Antoinette Daaé! Get out here right now or I swear I'll never talk to you again!" She cried, looking up for a brief moment from her hands. No answer.
Falling forward out of her chair, Meg resumed her sobbing on the lush carpet. Her head shot up instantly when she heard a low, beautiful male voice booming, "Your friend is safe. There is no need for bawling, Miss Giry."
Shaking, she stood and gazed around the giant theater, trying to locate the owner of the voice.
"W-who are you? And where's Christine?" She demanded fiercely, sounding braver then she felt.
A loud chuckle erupted throughout the room.
"To some, a man. But to most…" the voice trailed off. Meg cleared her throat and spoke up again.
"But to most…what?" she asked, curiosity flooding her mind.
Sighing sadly, the voice replied, "To others…I am nothing but a monster in Hell."
Meg blinked as the atmosphere changed and the room felt empty.
"Hello? Where is Christine?" She cried angrily.
Silence.
Crying out in frustration, Meg stormed over to the front doors and swung them open easily. Taking one look back, she left in a rush of tears and screams, still calling out to Christine.
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Okay. Well. That's chapter five for you. Hehe, thought it would be Madame Giry calling for Erik, didn't you? I'm tricky. :D And I know Erik seems a bit perverted in this chapter, but he's just fascinated, because he had never been that close to a woman before. 'Kay? 'Kay. n-n;;
Damn Writer's Block. The next chapter probably won't be up for a while…Sorry, guys. / But feel free to review with ideas for it!
You know what to do! Review!