IV
"Erik?" his name echoed through the silent chapel. It had been so long since Antoinette had visited him.
"Oui Madame?" he replied.
"Why don't you come out?" she asked irritably, "I do not enjoy having discussions with disembodied voices."
"No…that would be difficult to explain if someone caught you, wouldn't it?"
"Come out."
He gave an irritated grunt and opened the secret passage, it was not one he normally used and the door was sticky. He turned to face Antoinette and the slight amusement in his eyes left at her expression.
"Is something the matter, Madame?"
"You tell me."
Erik allowed a small smirk to spread across his face, "I have no idea what you are speaking of Madame."
"You like the new violinist?" she asked.
"Yes, yes," he replied with a vague wave of his hand, "he is quite talented from what I have heard. A great deal more skilled then that other one… Duchamp?"
"Oui, Duchamp," she snapped.
"You seem irritable today Madame, are you feeling alright? I have seen those rehearsals, they must be terribly stressful."
"They would be a great deal less stressful if everyone was not terrified that you might dislike one aspect or another."
Erik sighed and swished his cloak a couple of times. It was then that Antoinette knew her time with the infamous Opera Ghost was over. For being at least twenty-one she found him incredibly childish.
"If you are quite finished, Madame, I would like to take my leave. It is dangerous to remain out in the open for too long. Some day there may be someone bright enough to actually find me."
"Fine," Antoinette snapped, "go then, I care not. I have practise to get to and children to teach. But please, until the end of this performance, leave the theatre in peace."
"We shall see Madame," he rumbled, opening the passage again, "we shall see."
He wandered aimlessly through the passages and hidden halls of the Opera Populaire. Some days it could be terribly boring in the theatre, even with all the hellish racket of rehearsals and the endless movement of people from one place to another. With a bored sigh Erik finally turned and made his way back to the lake.
A group of ballet rats scurry past him, but they cannot see the dark form in the shadows. For a moment Erik considered allowing them a brief glimpse of the Phantom, it would keep them talking for days. But then he thought better of it, scaring little children hardly seemed fair…stagehands however, that could provide a bit of excitement.
"No, move that over here!" Jacques growled.
A younger man grumbled and dragged a prop tree across the hall. Erik recognized him, though he could not put a name to the face. It was amazing how many of the stagehands could end up in the cellars looking for props or dumping old ones.
"Come on, it isn't that heavy," Jacques snarled.
"You don't have to carry the damn thing," the boy grumbled under his breath.
Erik chuckled quietly, allowing the sound to carry from the shadows to the ears of the stagehands. The boy with the tree froze and looked around wildly.
"What now?" Jacques demanded.
"I-I thought I heard…never mind," he grabbed the tree and gave it a savage push causing one of the branches to break off.
"You may consider being more careful," Erik said silkily, throwing his voice so it seemed to echoed from the other side of the hall, "I will not be pleased if all of the props are destroyed."
"Who said that?" Jacques demanded, "Who's there?"
"No one," a voice whispered in his ear, then it laughed. A sharp mirthless laugh that seemed to chill his blood.
"It's the Ghost," the boy hissed.
"Be quiet Joseph," Jacques snapped, "don't be foolish!"
"But he isn't being foolish," the voice cautioned, this time coming from the shadows across the hall.
Erik made sure the passage was open before stepping forward, just enough so that his form and the white mask became visible. But not the left side of his face, that remained in shadow. A cruel smile twisted his lips as the colour drained from their faces and their eyes widened in terror. Erik grabbed the side of his cloak and gave an amazing swish of the cloak, turning on his heel as he did so and entering the hidden door.
"It-it was the Phantom," Joseph babbled.
Without another word both stagehands turned and ran from the hall. Sprinting as fast as their legs could carry them. Unaware of the amusement they had caused their resident ghost.
Erik had to admit that the rehearsals were starting to actually look and sound like an opera. The third trombone wasn't playing in key and one of the dancers was almost always off by one count, but it wasn't terrible, it wasn't good though. His stomach growled softly and he made a note to steal something from the kitchen within the next day.
"Enough," Monsieur Reyer groaned, "That is enough for the day, go, go now."
Erik chuckled quietly, obviously the conductor was as tired of listening to them play as he himself was. With a resigned sigh he got up from the seat in box five and made his way back through the theatre. If there was any time to complain about an aspect of the performance it would be now, just when the entire thing seemed possible to complete…perhaps he should get rid of that one dancer.
"Yes," he said to himself, "that would do nicely."
A cruel smirk crossed his features as he disappeared into the shadows. It was time for the Opera Ghost to make yet another 'appearance.'
So far I have only had one review on this story, I know that more then just one person has read it and I would be thrilled if I could get a few more reviews, some feedback of what you like and what you don't like. Until then, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. P.L.
