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Chapter 8: Erik the Phantom
Cat woke up with a jump. With her head pounding she looked around the dim litted room. She was in a new surrounding, laying upon a swan bed while bathing in the lights of candles all around her. Beside her, she saw a music box with a monkey playing the very tune she had been humming since she was a child.
A stinging pain hit her left side while Cat tried to move but two strong hands held her to the bed until the pain subsided.
"The water in you swallowed caused preassure to your left lung and thus causing a rib to crack. I advise that you not move for a while," a comforting male voice spoke.
Cat could not reply as she starred into the face of her savior. A handsome man with the top half of his face covered with a black mask, his voice soft and velvet, a hint of a scottish accent perhaps but it was nonetheless intoxicating.(I know this is her father but hey, I will admitt that even my father is handsome!)
"You're him! The Phantom of the Opera," Cat croaked with her sore voice. The was a hint of hurt that ran across this man's face.
"Do you remember me so little Christine?" he asked gently. Cat blinked and shook her head.
"What? You think I'm Christine?" Cat asked and let out a heartily laugh. "Oh yes, that's priceless. Can't say I blame you since it seems a lot of people have thought that since I arrived here."
"You are not Christine?" he asked, disappointment was in his voice.
Cat shook her head. "No. I just arrived here from the Americas with my mother. The Vicomte de Chagny took me on a tour of-" she said.
"You are a friend of the Vicomte?" the Phantom asked in rage.
"On some terms!" Cat stated defending herself in an anger tone. "He was being generous to show me around the Opera House! I was suppose to meet Meg before-" she gasped loudly. "Oh no, Meg is going to wonder where I am then tell my mom who is going to kill the Vicomte!"
"That would be best for all of us," the Phantom mumbled.
Cat completely ignored his words and tried to get up but his arms immediantly held her down. "Let me go! I have to go back!" she yelled.
The Phantom held a good grip as she struggled against him. "You will not be going anywhere. Tresspasser or not, I can not let you harm yourself farther in your condition," he said.
"But what about Meg?"Cat asked as she calmed down.
"I will send word to Meg Giry of your condition and all will be well but I cannot let you leave this way," the Phantom stated.
"You know Meg Giry? Oh, of course! You also knew her mother!" Cat stated.
"Indeed. Her mother and I are close friends. Now rest and please do not fret, no harm will befall you, even if you are a friend of the Vicomte," the Phantom reassured her. He got off the bed and began to walk out of the room.
"Cat," she stated quickly, catching his attention. "My friend's call me Cat. Thank you for saving my life..." she trailed off in her words as she watched him turn around to face her.
"Eric," he said before feeling confident to leave the room.
Cat fell asleep peacefully while Eric began to play his music once again. His music was like a cover of dreams that gently shifted over and across her body very lightly.
As fast as she fell asleep, she was awake once again, looking at the strange monkey playing the symbols.
"How are you feeling?" Eric asked as he entered the room and noticed that she was awake.
"Trying to be nice?" Cat asked. From the stories she had heard about this ghost, he wasn't a pleasent guy. "That isn't like the Phantom."
"The Phantom died long ago," Eric stated coldly. "I am merely concerned with my guest."
Cat sighed. "I'm fine. My throat's a little sore but other then that and the cracked rib, I feel fine," Cat said.
Eric nodded and moved to the side of the bed. The black mask still covering the top half of his face.
"Why do you not wear the white mask which you are so famously known for?" Cat asked, knowing that the answer lay in her jacket pocket on the chair behind him.
"I'm afriad a gang of actors and actresses stole it from my home along with some of my paintings and belongings," Eric admitted.
"But do you ever wish you could have it back, just for old time-sakes?" Cat asked in a teasing voice. Perhaps she could befriend this ghost afterall.
"What are you playing at child?" Eric asked in an irritated tone.
"The name's Cat, remember? Don't go calling me child, nor kid, or anything like that," Cat ordered. She then let out a heavy sigh. "Look, I might be stuck here for a few days and I think it will be a lot faster if we just agree to a friendship now before we start banging heads together."
"If you wish it," he replied.
"I would, very much," Cat said smiling then holding out her hand. He gratiously accepted and shook her hand. She looked to the chair behind him and pointed to her cloak. "Can you hand me my cloak, please?"
He nodded and handed her what she asked for. Cat eagerly searched through her pockets. Slowly, she revealed to him the white mask. He jumped back in suprise. Handing it to him, she smiled as he turned and replaced the black mask with the old white one.
"That's a lot better," Cat said.
"Wherever did you find this?" Eric asked, still in disbelief it was now back on his face.
"Let's just say I have a few connections of my own," Cat said.
"Thank you," Eric said.
"You're welcome. You play beautiful music. That's how I got down here, you know, I followed you're music. Anyway, did you write the new opera the company is preforming?" she asked.
He shook his head. "I have not written an Opera for many years. I despise the Vicomte and his offspring Delilah," Eric admitted angerily.
"Yeah, well, that was obvious," Cat said. "I'm sorry you didn't get Christine but you can't always have everything you want. Otherwise you'll be spoiled." She paused for a few moments. "Do you still love Christine?"
Eric did not respond for a long time but then nodded his head yes to Cat's suprise. "I cannot just stop my love for her, it's like asking me not to breathe," he said.
Cat sighed at his romantic qoute. "Would you mind if I asked you a personal question?" Cat asked.
Eric reached up and caressed the mask he wore. "You returned to me my diginity, I owe you," he answered.
"Ok, even after Christine was married, did you two...you know...have an affair?" Cat asked.
Eric sat for a moment in thought. "I can only recall one affair together after the Vicomte returned home drunk and raped Christine. She told me she had no where else to go and so I welcomed her. His rape made a child that ended up losing a battle of her own. I pity the child, even though she was the Vicomte's. I immagine she would be a replica of her mother in spirit as well as voice," he said.
"She must have been devestated," Cat stated.
"Indeed. She went into a depression that still holds her to this day. She refuses to believe my existance now, and has never contacted me again," Eric said.
"I'm sorry. She did seem rather weird when we met," Cat admitted.
"You two met?" he asked.
"Yes but she kept starring at me," Cat said.
"I can see why," Eric said. "I too thought you were Christine so how could she not see that as well. You could be a splitting image of her."
"No. I can't even sing well, let alone be Prima Dona. The only thing I am good at is playing and writing music much like yourself," Cat said.
"Anyone can sing if they put their mind to it," Eric said. He noticed that Cat's face was interested in the Monkey music box he made as a child.
"I'm sorry. I know the tune this plays," Cat said and began to hum the tune to him.
"Masquerade. Paper faces on parade.Masquerade. Hide your face so the world will never find you." Eric sang. "I made the lyrics up as I got older."
"Maybe I heard it from my mother back home," Cat said.
"You say you came from the Americas?" Eric asked.
"Yes but my mother told me I was born in here in Paris. I came to this Opera House just to see a part of my heritage," Cat said.
"I was born in Scottland until a band of gypies captured me and brought me here to Paris for amusement," Eric said.
"How horrible! But look at what you've built here. You compose beautiful music, you've made a fantasy home, hey, you don't have to deal with taxes, and you have gained some friends. If you ask me, the night is your companion and solitude your guide but that doesn't mean you'll spend forever here," Cat said.
Eric then began to bob his head up and down. He smiled at Cat." You Cat, are a genius!" he said standing up.
"Tell me something I don't know," Cat agreed. "Why?"
"How would you like to help me make a new Opera?" he asked.
"Ok, but what if I can't get out of bed?" she questioned back.
He moved over to the bed and picked her up bridal style in his arm, taking her out of the room and over to his organ where he sat her down.
"In return for helping me make this Opera, I will personally give you singing lessons," Eric said.
"So, you really think there's hope for me?" Cat asked.
"I can qurantee it," Eric replied.
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