Another Angel: Chapter 2

Author Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all for reading/reviewing the first chapter, and I even received a very thoughtful email. ) I'm excited that people actually like it. Here's the next chapter. Sorry it took so long. I had writer's block for the longest time, which is partially the reason why it's so short. But it's amazing what coffee can do for you. D Hope you all like it! --AzIce

Reina cautiously took his hand and he led her through the cellars, past the fifth cellar, through a twisted maze of corridors.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they passed the fifth cellar through a door that she never knew existed, into hallways that she had never seen.

"You took my hand," he said softly. "Trust me. I will not hurt you."

She trusted him. After all, he could have easily ambushed her in the dark, and yet he didn't, so she allowed him to lead her. He was patient, slowing down to her pace—her nightgown wasn't the most effective thing for quick, fast strides.

They ended up in a small cavern lit with a few candelabras. There were only meager furnishings, but before she looked more closely at the cavern, her eyes darted to the man who held her hand—the man whose face had been in shadow the entire time. But his back was to her, so she couldn't tell very much about him. Then, he finally turned to face her.

"Welcome," he said, but she barely paid attention to his words because she was staring at him. She couldn't help it. She didn't expect him to look like this. When she first heard him, he had been such a desolate, miserable person, but here he was, dressed as well as any other man on the street, even if he was wearing rather dark colors. There was no hint of the grief-stricken, pitiable man from before except a slight redness around his eyes. However, there was a rather strange white mask covering the right side of his face. But she didn't give the mask much thought. She was still amazed by his calm and collected composure, a striking difference from earlier.

"I console a sorrowful man, only to find that he is the Phantom of the Opera," Reina said in wonder. "Never did I dream that he was a real man. It is an honor to meet you, monsieur. I brought some bread, meat and cheese. I'm sorry; it was all that I could find." The first remark was a half pun. The Phantom of the Opera was something common in all the Opera Houses—a fable told by the older girls to the younger ones to scare them. And accidents were regularly blamed on the 'imaginary' Phantom as well.

He smiled slightly at the girl's worry over him. "Do not be troubled about something as petty as that. It will suffice. So, now that you know who I am, do you despise me? Do you hate me for who, for what, I am?"

"No." She spent no time to think about it—her response was immediate and confident. "One of the last lessons mother taught me was not to judge by a person's reputation—or their appearance for that matter. What really matters is what is inside your heart. And I trust you, monsieur. Perhaps it is the spirit of my mother telling me this. No matter who or what you may have been before, it doesn't matter to me."

He smiled for a second, amused at the girl's response. She was so innocent—perhaps even more innocent than Christine had been. Before her was a deformed, wretched murderer, and she didn't care at all. She so easily trusted him.

"Is there something wrong, monsieur?" she asked, confused.

"No," he replied. "You remind me of someone very dear to me." There was a kind, yet sad look on his face. He then changed the subject. "So, tell me about yourself. You live in the dormitories. Are you a ballerina?"

She nodded. "I'm in the chorus as well. But I'm no one special."

"Please, sing for me, if you don't mind."

She began to sing. It was from some opera that he didn't recognize, but the quality of her voice was excellent. Untrained, but excellent. Everything about this girl seem to remind him of Christine. They even looked about the same age. The slightest thought of Christine brought back all the melancholy and sadness he had felt before. The raging jealousy he had felt before had dwindled to embers, but he felt an immense sorrow within him because of her absence. But perhaps this girl could help him forget Christine. Maybe trying to pretend Christine never existed would be better than living with the anguishing knowledge that she had deserted her angel for another. He doubted he could love someone that devotedly again—he had given her his soul, but all he needed was a distraction so his mind wouldn't continually return to Christine. And a fresh, untrained voice was the perfect distraction.

"You have a gift for music," he observed. "Your voice is very beautiful. However, it is untrained. Let me guide you through the paths of music. I can teach you to be even better than La Sorelli. For I am the Angel of Music. I will guide you and guard you." It tore at him to say that, but it had to be done. It would be this girl that he would tutor now.

"An…angel of music?" she echoed. Then she smiled. "Perhaps you are my childhood in spirit. I lived with one of my father's friends for a short time after they died, before I came to the Opera house. He used to tell me stories of angels, and how my parents were with them. He said that my parents would send angels to watch over me. Maybe he was right.

"I will gladly accept any help you can give me, monsieur, though I doubt I could be as good as La Sorelli," she said in response to his offer.

In truth, she was slightly frightened of La Sorelli because of what had happened to her friend, but she also didn't want to say no to this man. The image of him in the dark, sobbing and the tears on his face reflecting in the candlelight, still lingered in her mind, and she didn't want to leave him. Even though he appeared to be fine, she knew that it could just be a mask. Something that emotionally moving would not go away in a matter of a few hours. She herself still occasionally lived in the dark days of her past—the murder of her parents and the suicide of her friends. But she made sure that no one saw that side of her anymore. When people were present, she locked that side of her away until she was alone again.

"Very well," he said. "I shall give you my gift for music. We will begin tomorrow. It is late now, and you should return to the dormitories if you want to make rehearsals in the morning. And do not search for me. I will come to you. Now come, let us return to the Opera house."

She nodded her head, and he led her again through the dark maze of corridors until they reached the bottom of the stairs where there was enough moonlight to guide her back to the dormitories.

"Goodnight, Reina," he said quietly in parting, still covered by the darkness. "Remember, tell no one of my presence here. I shall come to you tomorrow."

Ending Author Note: Somehow, I don't think this lives up to the previous chapter. But whether you like it or not, please tell me. So, I'm sorry if you all hate me now for writing this! But I'll continue anyway for the people who still want to read. Any plot ideas, comments, reviews, etc. are welcome! I think I have a basic plot setup already, but if there are any plot quirks you want to add, email me or leave a review, and I'll see what I can do. ) Well, until the next chapter, AzIce.