XVIII
"Angel?" Christine's little voice trembled with excitement as she waited for a reply.
"Yes child?" Erik replied, trying to hide the exhaustion in his own voice.
"You're there," she replied.
"Always," he replied and stifled a yawn. True she wouldn't be able to see it, but if she heard him yawn she might wonder, "Do you remember the scales I taught you yesterday?"
"Uh huh, of course."
"Then sing them for me."
She did so and Erik found that it took all of his effort to keep from falling asleep; she had nearly perfect pitch, something strange for someone so young. When she finished she looked around the chapel expectantly and when he said nothing right away she bobbed up and down nervously.
"Very good," Erik said, pulling himself out of his waking sleep, "why don't you…"
"Yes?" she asked eagerly.
"Sing a song that you know," he finished stupidly.
"Alright," she replied eagerly, "which one?"
"Do you remember the song you were singing the day I came to you? Sing that one."
She nodded her head again and began to sing in her perfect little voice. Well, it was not perfect, not yet, but he would make sure that it would become the perfect voice. With a sigh he leaned against the wall of the passage and listened, allowing the song to lull him into a half wakeful state.
"Was that good Angel?"
"Yes, it was fairly good. But when you sing try standing up a bit straighter…"
Meg scuttled through the opera house in search of Christine. Her friend had disappeared and it was almost time for supper. So she sifted her way through the cast backstage and looked everywhere she could imagine her friend to be, she wasn't in any of those places, not even the best hiding places for games.
"Christine!" she called.
"Meg," Christine said and covered her friend's eyes with her hands, "here I am."
"Where were you, I looked all over the place."
"I was in the chapel…praying," she replied haltingly. If she told Meg about her Angel then he wouldn't come back and she couldn't do that.
"Well it's supper and maman will be angry if we're late."
"Uh oh," Christine gasped, "Hurry Meg!"
Giggling the two girls ran back through the theatre, nearly knocking over a dancer on their way. No one wanted to make Antoinette angry, she was very strict with her dancers and was even more so on the night of a performance.
"Madame," a dancer asked, "how much longer until the curtain call?"
"Very soon, go and finish warming up…and retie your ribbons!" she called irritably, "ah, Monsieur Lefevre, a good turn out no?"
"Yes, quite a good turn out. I'm glad and no note."
"No…there wasn't was there?"
"Are you feeling alright Madame?"
"Fine Monsieur, please go on, the performance is to start very soon."
He nodded and strode off to find his own seat. Antoinette took the moment to lean against the nearest wall, sometimes it was worse not to hear from Erik than to have no idea what was forming in his mind. He had been angry, furious and she knew that. The question was what would he do with that fury?
"Madame!"
"I will be right there," she sighed, and made her way to where a small group of dancer were standing.
Over the next few days Antoinette avoided the dark corridors of the theatre and made a habit of staying close to at least one other resident of the theatre when possible. Something she had learned over the years was that Erik's temper was not something to be taken lightly. He had sprained her wrist once when they were younger because of a simple disagreement, she did not know what he would do now, though it seemed as if he were going to do nothing.
"Christine where are you going?" Antoinette asked. The child had taken to going off by herself in the evenings.
"To the chapel," she replied sheepishly, " to pray for papa."
"My dear, you need not go every night."
"But I want to," she whined, "please Madame."
"Fine, but not tomorrow. I want you to be in the dormitories with the other girls. Is that understood?"
She nodded her head, though Antoinette figured that she might not have. Little children didn't seem to understand the dangers of the theatre, even without a ghost. Props could fall, tools could be left on the floor to trip on, you could even get lost in the vast theatre, it had happened many times before.
"May I go now Madame?"
"Oui, but hurry back."
She nodded furiously and ran off in the direction of the chapel. Antoinette smiled, at least she seemed happy, she often hummed wherever she went and spoke with more of the girls in her class.
"Madame Giry?" a stagehand inquired.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Uh, Monsieur Lefevre would like to speak with you."
"Very well, thank you monsieur."
"Not at Madame, have a good night."
She knocked on the door and Monsieur Lefevre quickly called for her to come in. He was sitting at his desk mulling over a pile of papers, no doubt important to the maintenance of the theatre and barely looked up upon her entering.
"You sent for me Monsieur?"
"Ah yes, Madame Giry I did indeed," he replied, frowning at the paper in front of him, "please sit, sit, don't stand on my account."
"What is it you wanted Monsieur?" she queried as she sat in the chair opposite him.
"What is it I wanted?" he repeated, "I don't thin I even know at the moment…have you received any notes from our friend?"
"No, and if I had you would know."
"I see, I however have. Quite strange actually, I found it in my pocket after last night's performance. How do you think it got there?"
"I do not know Monsieur, the ghost must have put it there."
"I guess so, a little unnerving hmm, that he could slip a note into my pocket with me noticing or anyone seeing him?"
"Oui," she replied heavily, Erik had many talents and it seemed that pick pocketing was among them, or at least reverse pick pocketing, "what does it say Monsieur?"
"Nothing that I can make sense of," he grumbled, "he wrote the entire thing backwards."
"Backwards Monsieur?"
"Yes, backwards. I guess our ghost wanted to have a little fun with us."
"You have not been able to read it?"
"No!"
"May I see the note monsieur?"
Monsieur Lefevre shoved the small piece of paper across the desk. Antoinette raised her eyebrows, Erik had indeed written the note in reverse. With a small chuckle she stood up and found the small mirror that hung on the walls. Holding the note up so it was reflected there she read it.
"He gives his compliments on the performance of Norma and is pleased that you took his advice with the most recent performances. If you would like he will allow you to choose the next opera without interference…well he seems in a good mood."
"Sometimes that frightens me more," Monsieur Lefevre, sighed, "at least when he is cross we can expect small disasters. When he is in a good mood it always feels like the calm before the storm."
"Enjoy the calm," Antoinette advised, "for it may not last very long."
"You may go now Antoinette, thank you for your time and good night."
"Good night Monsieur."
She couldn't help but feel for the man, he always seemed so calm and confident in front of the theatre and at the galas. Behind the scenes he was under constant stress, pressured by the theatre's patrons and a second shadow that refused to leave him alone.
The peace lasted for nearly two more weeks, two weeks of notes that did nothing but praise the performances and offer small suggestions. No threats and only a brief reminder of his salary. Antoinette found it quite amazing that nothing had happened.
"One and two and three," Antoinette counted, "very good little ones, Meg stop that. Lulu, please pay attention." She hit her cane on the ground the grab their attention and each of the girls snapped their heads around to look at her.
"Madame, can we stop now?" Lulu asked once they had finished the exercise, "I'm tired."
"We are finished for the day, but I expect you all to do the stretches I have taught you, otherwise you will hurt yourselves."
"Yes Madame," came the chorus of answers.
"Very good."
She made her way through the theatre with the intention to go out for the afternoon. She had given the older dancers the day off after all the rehearsals and performances, a time for them to shop in the city among other things.
"Madame," the voice reached her ears as little more then a whisper, but that whisper was enough to make her blood run cold.
She looked around to find the source of the voice; an empty hall was the only source she could think it to come from. Very carefully she made her way towards it.
"Not there," it taunted from over her shoulder, "try again Madame."
She raised her eyes and searched once again for the voice, but it was impossible to tell its origins. Erik was very talented when it came to throwing his voice.
"Giving up Madame?" the voice sneered, "come now…surely you can find me."
"Erik!" she hissed once she was sure no one else was around, "enough of this foolish game."
"You ruin all the fun Madame."
She could detect the frown in his voice, "What is it you want Phantom?"
"The Phantom wants you to deliver this…" a note fluttered to the ground at her feet, "enjoy your day, Madame."
Antoinette bent over and picked up the envelope. She could not help but think that their had been an edge of hurt in his voice when he had said phantom. With a sigh she opened the note.
"Madame Giry!" Monsieur Lefevre exclaimed when she entered his office, "what is it?"
"A note," she replied calmly, "the Ghost wishes for you to cancel the performance of Le Barbier de Séville."
"What? But we have already begun…why?"
"He does not say, just that it will be cancelled and instead the theatre will do a production of The Magic Flute."
"The Magic Flute?" he asked, rubbing his temples, "very well…go and find Monsieur Reyer, tell him about the change and…well did he send the scores?"
"He says that you will find the music in Box Five."
"Very well then, go get the music and tell Monsieur Reyer…oh he'll have a fit."
Antoinette nodded and made her way to Box Five, sure enough the music, bound in a leather folder, was sitting on the seat. She picked it up and made her way back through the theatre to find Monsieur Reyer. The poor man nearly had a fit when she told him the news.
