Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera was originally written by Gaston Leroux or something like that, and I in no way shape, fashion, or form own his characters or the captivating music created by the man who did such a splendid job on Cats The musical…you get the picture.
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Part IV of the Phantom of the Opera II
The candelabras on the wall had long tapers that remained unlit down the long expanse. Meg found herself wishing she had brought the matches or a taper of her own. As she continued walking on and on, sounds slowly began floating her way, and she finally discovered what was down below floor two.
As Meg climbed down the serpentine cobbled path, she saw out of the corner of her eye dark figures shoveling coals into huge colossal furnaces. They carried huge forks, and were covered in black soot. The red heat from the fire gave them a demonic glow that sent shivers down Meg's body. They paid no attention to her as she scurried out of their view and down past the long wide tunnel that opened up into the entrance of Rue Scribe, the vast lake that covered so much of underground Paris.
There was a large metal gate that reached high above Meg's outreached arm. A formidable looking locked keyhole was all that separated Meg from a small docked boat. With a groan she tapped the gate, and glanced around wryly. "This is the end of this adventure for me," she murmured and turned around. Her heart beat thundered in her chest as she prayed for a miracle. Her black lace gown trailed the wet ground sadly after her, until it caught on a little protruding nail.
Meg was there crouched on the ground in an instant, realizing that this nail was severely misplaced, and that it must be a latch. She examined it for a moment, and then pushed it down. Nothing happened until she twisted it sharply to her right, and then in a heartbeat, found herself free falling down a musty tunnel heading for wherever the Phantom had destined. She closed her eyes and waited for her imminent fall.
When she shot out of the tunnel, she fell into a waist deep pool of water. The room she was in was dark, but underfoot, she felt tile, and she new she was somewhere near the Phantom's house. Her breath became short and ragged as she hoisted herself out, and shivering, climbed onto cracked slick tiling.
She walked with her hands touching the walls, for she was afraid of what tricks could be ahead. She was silently cursing herself for her curiosity, for how would she get out of here? She walked at a steady pace down the same tiled hall for an hour, with its curving and dipping down deeper, never stopping, always alert for trap doors or just doors of any sort.
After she felt on the verge of exhaustion, she came upon the end of the hallway, and there in front, a tall oak door barring her way. But this time, there was no lock. She pushed the door open, and as it groaned on its ill used hinges, light flooded into the hallway, illuminating her soaking body.
She remembered every detail as though she was there like on the day of the fire. The huge tapers alight with steady glowing flames, the little hallway with the small doors, each filled with furniture and expensive oddities. She remembered seeing the large black canopied bed with the lush red lace, and finally, the spot where the Phantom's organ had been. The room seemed empty without its presence. Her breath caught in her throat as she entered Erik's house.
A new boat was docked next to the tile that dipped into the water. It bobbed pleasantly in the chilly water, the little metal decorations on its exterior flashing in the candle filled room.
As meg walked through the house, she found herself staring at a wall filled with broken mirrors…on of the mirrors was half covered by a thick hanging drape, the other half was broken away and exposed a narrow passage way. Her memory clicked and the final piece of the puzzle fell into place.
"The angel sees…the angel knows, he watches you, Mademoiselle, wherever….you…go…"
Meg spun around and felt her knees nearly give way. The Phantom's cold voice filled the room, and in her horror she screamed. It was him, and there was no mistaking that voice, that for all its softness, for all its captivating beauty, was still male, and still quite deadly.
It was a mistake to come, her mind cried. The echo of the voice gradually faded away and Meg was left alone in the room that, for all its magical candles, was dark and dangerous. With no other option, she climbed into the dark passage way and began sprinting. If he can hear me, she thought, petrified, then he can hear this-
"I mean you no harm, E-Erik. I only wished to know if you,"-
There was a cold laugh, no really even a laugh at all, but a vicious hiss and it finned her very soul with an icy cold terror.
"Nobody can harm Erik…they have tried and failed. Oh yes, Meg Giry, I am still here. And I intend to make that quite obvious when it pleases me. I have nothing to hold me back now…I will take back what is mine."
Meg gave a half laugh, half cry, and began silently praying for a way out. Hail Mary full of grace the lord is with thee…Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now… As she chanted her Hail Mary's, she felt her mother's words reverberate in her head, "…take back what is yours…"
As Meg found herself turning and following the dank twisted path ahead of her, she heard a faint voice mutter, "This particular tunnel leads to the entrance of Rue Scribe. Best be quick mademoiselle, and get back to the opera before it gets too….dark."
Meg arrived back in her room when the moon was high overhead and when her gown was dripping and torn, raggedly covering her shivering frame. She stripped, changed, and when she fell on to her bed sobbing, her mind was torn and filled with a maelstrom of confused emotions. She knew she should warn everyone and leave, for this could not end very well at all.
The other parts were more complicated, as love usually is, and those involved her staying with Erik, or at least being a companion to him. …He always hated being alone, her mother had said.
And then there was Christine, whom she loved more than anyone else, and hated her more than it felt humanly possible. Christine had everything, she did not need Meg's company as well. Besides, she already had a wonderful husband, which was more than Meg could say.
She fell asleep in terrified dreams of a massive fire and Christine being tortured and crying out to her. The scariest part was, The Phantom was the one torturing Christine, and Meg was helpless to prevent it.
When Meg was dressed and refreshed in a dark blue satin dress, she made her way to the count's office in haste with a dire warning of the impending danger that Erik posed. She found him busy muttering directions to Jacques the stagehand as preparations were under way for The Phantom of the Opera.
"Monsieur, I must speak with you immediately…it's about the Opera Ghost. He's back."
Meg was seated across from the serious thin lipped count in a dim office shortly after she stole him away from his work. In his right hand, a handwritten copy of the play was glaring back at her. The count cleared his throat and stoked his mustache with his ring adorned left hand. "Meg…Meg…Meg," he said tiredly, gazing at her stark pale face with amusement and frustration. "I am too busy, much too busy for these cock and bull stories. The play must go as planned, and if this- Opera thing- has any qualms, then by all means, may he present them to me."
He gave his mustache a final stroke, and pushed the script towards her across the oak table. "You will play the love interest in the play, as planned, and if you have any qualms, then I can find someone else to do it."
Meg smiled at him, and nodded, while inside her head her conscious was screaming. "I will be honored to play Fillipa. Forgive me my paranoia. Its old nerves…the fire still haunts me. I suppose it was a-a prank played on me." She smiled back at him and held her opinion from his condescending glance.
The count smiled back, a phony annoyed look that told her that he could care less about the Opera Ghost as long as he was wealthy. "Well, we are quite aware that the fire was a result of electrical origins…you have nothing to fear now." But Meg knew in her heart that he was quite mistaken. If anything, she had more to fear, for the Phantom would be after blood now, revenge in its highest - not simply Christine's love. They were now at his mercy, and his mercy was very limited at best.
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