A/N: Thank you, reviewers, as few as you are!
RaeRobRocks--Thanks! And, er, if you read my first AN, the girls ARE real...but sorry to tell you, their mysterious haunt is not. As far as I know. glances around nervously. And one of them is me, just so you know, so you want to hang out with me! YAY!
Christine4Ever86--I don't speak much French, but MERCI!
Marykate65--Much appreciated...although you didn't REALLY need to send an apology paragraph...
Waiting for 3 reviews before I post again...and don't forget my other story!
Chapter 2—The Phantom of the Opera
When Ari opened her locker the next morning, she dropped her things in shock. Her hand shaking, she drew out the perfect rose, and heard her name behind her. She turned to see Stella, holding an identical flower. Both were tied with black velvet ribbons.
"Did you…" Stella said dazedly.
"I have no idea—what the…?" Ari replied, just as confused. The bell rang then, and Ari placed the rose carefully back in her locker before gathering her things to go to algebra.
i
They stayed together all day, almost out of fright. They returned to the school that night for a chorus concert that Ari was in and Stella wanted to attend. After the concert, Stella realized that she had forgotten something in her locker. Ari followed her. It was very late, and they were tired. Instead of going back the way they came, Stella suggested they take the shortcut through the basement stairs. The instant the door shut behind them, they heard that bodiless voice again.
"I am your Angel of Music! Come to your Angel of Music!"
Their things fell from their arms. They could tell that the voice seemed to be coming from the wall beneath the stairs. They moved toward it, their voices combined and trembling.
"Angel, we hear you! Speak, we listen!
Stay by our sides, guide us!
Angel, our souls were weak, forgive us!
Enter at last, master!"
And the Angel of Music replied.
"Flattering girls, you shall know me, see why in shadow I hide!
Walk in my voice's direction—I am here, inside!"
A hidden panel in the wall slid open, and there stood a living, breathing, singing mirror of the Phantom of the Opera. Their legs carried them to him, and he held out black-gloved hands.
"Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to us your glory!
Angel of Music, hide no longer! Come to us, strange Angel!"
He beckoned gently, his voice tantalizing.
"I am your Angel of Music! Come to your Angel of Music!
I am your Angel of Music! Come to your Angel of Music!"
i
"In sleep he sang to us, in dreams he came,
That voice which calls to us and speaks our names."
The song left Ari and Stella's throats automatically. They each held one of his hands, and he led them down and down, farther below the earth than they knew someone could survive. The three passed through dark corridors, and when it was his turn to sing, his voice echoed, entrancing.
"Sing once again, my girls, your strange duet!
My power over you grows stronger yet!"
They emerged from the tunnels to an underground lake. Just like in the movie, foggy mist drifted over it and there was a black, wooden gondola docked nearby. He went to it, pulling the girls gently behind him.
"We are the mask you wear!"
"It's me they hear!"
He helped Ari into the boat first, then Stella, before he got in himself and took up the pole. He pushed the boat along to the beat of the song.
"Sing, my Angels!" he said, commanding them to begin their complex vocalization. They seemed to sing without any will power, and they hit the highest note perfectly.
The boat approached a metal gate, which rose as they got nearer. They entered the Phantom's lair. It was lit by thousands of candles—some even emerged from the lake itself. The boat bumped gently into the rock shore, and he stepped out, removing his cape with a swirl. He helped the two girls exit after him, still humming a haunting melody. He stared into their eyes before he let go of their hands and walked away to climb a short staircase. He pulled back a huge cloth and revealed the workings of a pipe organ that took up nearly the whole wall. He sat gracefully and began to play passionately some music that had never before been heard by the living.
Stella drifted around, propelled by the music, discovering a collage of sketches and paintings of the two of them on another wall. Ari had followed him and stood near him, hovering. She stretched out a gentle hand to touch his shoulder, and his playing faded into nothing. He rose and turned to her, taking her arm and leading her over to a red curtain. With one hand on her back, he drew the curtain back, revealing two incredibly lifelike replicas of Ari and Stella.
Ari's legs gave out, and she collapsed into her Angel's arms. He smiled slightly and lifted her. He carried her to another room, where there were twin swan-shaped beds. He carefully placed the girl in one of them and pulled a silk tassel that released a black lace curtain. Casting one last look at her, he returned to the organ and his other protégée.
He found Stella standing by his music stand, reaching for the partial score of his latest work—"Don Juan Returns." She was just about to touch its edge when his black glove intervened, snatching it away. He turned away from her, keeping the music out of her view with his body.
"I am sorry, but it is unfinished. There is some music so terrible that it consumes all who approach it."
Stella was shaken—she opened her mouth without knowing why, but he covered it with his fingers.
"It's all right, I am here." He pulled his hand back and tucked the score away more safely.
"Angel?"
"Please, call me Erik."
"Erik—where is Ari?"
"She collapsed, so I put her to bed." He gestured toward the bedroom.
"That is impossible!" Stella said. She sidestepped Erik and ran in the direction he had indicated. She found her friend within, sleeping. Her appearance was as beautiful as if she had been dead, but Stella saw her chest move with her steady breath. She felt Erik's hands on her shoulders, and they moved down her arms until they rested on her hips. His touch made her shiver.
"It's so unlike her. Why did she collapse?" she asked.
"Here—I'll show you." Erik took her by the elbow and led her back out to see the imitations. She wasn't shocked, only surprised at how good the workmanship was.
"Did you make these yourself?"
"Yes, I did."
"You are a wonderful artist, Erik."
"My dear, your work puts mine to shame."
"You flatter me!"
"It is true. You are the wonderful artist, Stella."
Embarrassed, she moved away from him. She marveled at the way the place she stood in resembled the lair of the movie and musical. Was it possible? Could Erik be really the Phantom of the Opera? No, that would be impossible!
His hand touched the nape of her neck. "Sing for me, Angel," he whispered.
"I cannot sing!" she said desperately.
"You are wrong. You may be delicate on the outside, Stella, but you conceal emotions that some never dream of. You never let anyone else see your inner self, but when you are alone in your home, all of your anger and depression comes out into your song. When I hear you sing, you sound like an angel wishing for heaven. I weep when you sing."
"Why…wait a moment, how do you see me at home?"
"In the construction of your house, your father employed me as an architect and designer. I believe you know of the secret doors in your closet, the guest room, the attic, and your sister's room?"
"Yes."
"I made those for your mother—and you."
"You have been spying on me?"
"Not spying—observing." Stella shook her head in disbelief. Erik led her to the organ and ran one hand down her back before he began to play the song "Learn to be Lonely."
"Sing, my Angel of Music!" he said. She did—she sang with passion and loneliness, emotion and perfection far beyond her years. She could hardly begin to think where she got the strength to sing that way. It left her breathless. Erik sighed deeply when she had finished.
"The last time I heard someone sing that way was when Christine Daaé sang as Elissa in La Carlotta's place."
"I couldn't do it without your help," she replied. Somewhere, a clock chimed ten. Where had the time gone? Erik stood and put a hand on Stella's arm.
"You must go to sleep," he said and led her back into the bedroom. He drew her over to the second swan bed and she lowered into it without resistance. Her eyes closed.
"Goodnight, Erik," she sighed.
He brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Goodnight."
i
A/N: Ah, the wonders of the Music of the Night...and the wonders of a READER POLL! Here it is: Do you fair readers think that I should post a prequal and sequal to "The True Opera Ghost"? (Hopefully you will R&R it and THEN give me your opinion!) Merci beauceaup. sp?... :)