She was able to lose her mother due to the younger ballet girls' need for motherly care. It was nearly midnight and past their bedtime. They would need their rest because the next morning's practice would not be kind. Now that she had some free time, she wanted to find Christine to make sure that she was all right. She had been as white as a ghost when Meg had last left her.

As she walked to Carlotta's dressing room she was suddenly stopped by a rather disheveled looking Vicomte.

"Mademoiselle! Please, I need your help." He said frantically as he approached her.

Meg looked about her for a moment but realized the hallways were deserted. "What can I do for you, monsieur?"

"It's Christine. I was supposed to take her to supper, but when she did not meet me at my carriage I came back to get her. The door is locked!" He pointed to the door handle behind him.

Meg suppressed a chuckle. "Perhaps she was only requiring some privacy…"

"I heard voices! I begged her to open the door, and then I no longer heard them! It was as if she disappeared!"

Now she could no longer hold back a laugh. "Please forgive me, monsieur, but disappear? That is highly unlikely!"

"Then explain why she has not met me at my carriage!" His worry was turning into anger. Meg had to make sure she played her cards right if she wished to keep her job.

Her face became serious again before she answered. "She was not well earlier, monsieur. She might have been too tired and went to bed."

The expression on the Vicomte's face relaxed a little, but the frown remained. "But the voices…"

Meg laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you both are tired. You should go home and rest."

She slowly guided him away from the dressing room to a back stage exit where he would meet his carriage.

"Maybe I shall…but, will you tell her that I would like to speak with her when she awakens?"

"Of course. Goodnight, monsieur."

Once the door was closed and locked, Meg made her way back to the dressing room. She rattled the handle but it was indeed locked. What was Christine hiding in there? Her mother kept a spare ring of keys, so she quickly made her way down some stairs to her mother's room.

When she entered the hallway again she realized how terribly dark it was. She hated the dark. Everything bad happened when the lights went out. Bizarre images were created in restless minds, violent and frightening images. Then again, the only thing people in this opera house feared was the ghost. She supposed he was a thing to be afraid of. He could appear in front of anyone at any given time. The white mask that adorned the right side of his face was incredibly intimidating. He even threatened to kill should anyone disobey his orders, and the way he killed would be long and torturous for his victim. Yes, the Phantom was most definitely a menacing character.

Meg fit the key into the lock and turned the handle slowly, trying to prevent any loud clanking noises. When she walked into the room it was nearly pitch black save for a dim light coming from the mirror.

"Christine?" she called softly, but no answer came. She set the keys on the vanity and glanced apprehensively behind her to make sure no one had followed. She then went over to the mirror. That was odd…it was open…

She slid the glass door wider and was welcomed to a damp, stone hallway. Meg knew from past experiences and rumors, that there were many trap doors and secret passage ways that had been built into the opera house long ago. She had the unfortunate experience of being too curious when she was younger, and wandered down one of these passage ways, only to turn back shrieking when she was welcomed by a hungry pack of rats.

She stepped into the corridor and examined the mirror through the other side. It was entirely transparent. This new knowledge unnerved her. Were all the mirrors in this opera house see through? She turned and continued down the hall silently cursing herself for still wearing her ballet slippers. Her mother would kill her if she dirtied them. Meg hunched her shoulders a bit, dodging the tangles of the spider webs.

She could feel her heart beating rapidly. Suddenly, she heard squeaking and jumped back with a gasp as she passed some scurrying rats. Should she turn back? But where did this tunnel lead? 'No doubt to him…'

Just when she was beginning to regain her courage, a hand plopped down on her shoulder. Meg spun around, grasping her racing heart, only to be faced with her stern looking mother. Madame Giry took her hand and tried to drag her out, but her anger got the better of her, and she pulled her hand away.

"What are you hiding from me? I know he's down there! Why can't I go to him?" Meg said, staring agitatedly at her.

"You can not just 'drop by' whenever you feel like it, Meg! He has every right to his own privacy!"

"His privacy is to be respected and yet we deserve none?"

Madame Giry frowned. "What are you talking about, child?"

Meg indicated the mirror at the end of the hallway and her mother sighed.

"He is a grown man. I can't tell him how to live his life…this is none of our business. It is late, and you need your rest."

This time she offered her hand to her daughter and Meg took it without protest. She loved her mother dearly, it just seemed that sometimes she forgot she had only one blood daughter.

When they reached the ballet dormitories, they could hear the drunken voice of Joseph Buquet.

"Will that bastard ever learn to keep out of here?" Madame Giry whispered.

"His skin is like yellow parchment; his nose is no more than a black hole on his wretched face." He rambled in his scariest voice.

The ballet girls, dressed in their night shifts, had gathered around him, their faces aghast with fear and loathing. Two older dancers, who had clearly come back from a late night, dared to walk past him as he pulled out his makeshift lasso.

"Those who are not on their guard will be caught with his magical lasso." He laughed evilly, roping one of the girls and pulling her to him, attempting to kiss her.

Meg took the opportunity to pass and stood in front of her bed, although she became hesitant to undress when Buquet made a glance her way. Madame Giry immediately put an end to the matter. She pulled the girl from his grasp and ushered off, taking the rope from her waist.

"Those who speak of what they know," she warned all the attentive girls, "find too late that prudent silence is wise." Buquet held his head high, doing his best not to fear the woman who stood before him.

"Joseph Buquet, you would do well to hold that filthy tongue of yours."

"What will you do about it, woman?" he teased. To his surprise, his cheek was met with a harsh slap before she threw the rope around his neck.

"Keep your hand at the level of your eyes." She pushed the end of the rope close enough to almost cut off his breathing when he placed his hand up to stop her. The ballet girls became dead silent. "Now get out."

Buquet removed the rope from his neck, his eyes focusing elsewhere. "Goodnight ladies." He said turning to the girls and giving a dramatic bow, and turned to leave.

Now that he was gone, Meg began to undress out of the constricting dance costume.

"To bed, all of you! You were a disgrace tonight! In the morning you will practice as you have never practiced before!" Madame Giry exclaimed before she went to dim the gaslights.

The girls groaned silently and positioned themselves under their covers for a short, uneasy night's rest…

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