(A/N: Yeah, I know, I haven't updated in like… 6 days. Sorry! I've had stuff for choir filling up my time this past week, and I could only update once. And yeah, I chose to update Crimson Rose, because I had updated this one last, and it was that one's turn. Sorry!
Oh, and for whoever asked, after debating it for a while I decided that The Phantom of the Opera itself does NOT exist in this world… After all, it would be an amazing coincidence that there was a Meg Giry, a Christine Daae, and a Raoul de Chagny… and they all just happen to be following part of the storyline of "Phantom." Lol, no, that was WAY too much of a coincidence. Thank you for asking!)
Chapter Five: The Note
After she had practiced singing at Raoul's home for about an hour, Christine told her old friend that she had to leave.
Raoul didn't appear very happy about this. "But… perhaps you could practice singing for a little while more? I mean, it's not that late…"
"It's 9:00…that's late enough for me. I need to get back to my apartment and finish my essay for History of Art."
Raoul sighed. "Okay, then. Would you be interested in going out to eat tomorrow night, though?"
Christine perked up, and then frowned. "Oh, I'd love to, but…"
"But?"
"Tomorrow is a Saturday, and I work on Saturday evenings. But Sunday would work!" she added hastily as Raoul's face fell. He brightened slightly at that, and nodded.
"Sunday then? It's a date." He smiled, and then caught his slip up. "Well, only if you want to consider it a date, of course. It could just be…dinner…"
Christine covered a smile, and then kissed him quickly on the cheek. "It's a date." Then she hurried out of the door.
xxxxx
On her way home, Christine let her mind wander. She had been doing really well on her song, and she had hated to stop when she was making a breakthrough. Still, she didn't want to stay at Raoul's any later than she already had—Meg would tease her mercilessly. Therefore she had been forced to feed Raoul a lie about an essay for History of Art.
It seemed a shame to waste her free time, and she knew she wouldn't get anything done at home. However, where could she go this late?
Instantly her mind answered her. The little church…of course. Christine hesitantly pushed that thought away. They might be having a sermon tonight, after all.
A sermon? Not this late.
Christine fought with herself like this for a while, but eventually had to admit that she had no reason to avoid going back to the church. She was making such good progress with her song, and there was no point in refusing a great opportunity to practice it.
Therefore, when she reached the fork in the road, she took the left bend.
xxxxx
After making sure that the door was locked, Erik crossed his room and went over to the bookshelf. His fingers slid down the side of it until they connected with a catch in the wood. He pressed down on it, and the bookshelf slid aside, revealing a passageway that led down into absolute darkness.
Erik didn't bother to take a light—he knew this passageway like the back of his hand. He stepped into the shadows and pressed another button on the wall, which shifted the bookshelf back into place, and concealed the passageway.
There were only four people in the world that knew of the passageway, and only two who knew how to work it. Mariette and Jacques, being his head servants and the only two people he really confided in, both knew the passageway was there. They just didn't know how to operate it.
One of the two who knew how the secret hallway functioned was, of course, Erik. The only other person who knew, (and not by Erik's choice, but by his own prying) was an Iraqi immigrant named Nadir. Erik hadn't seen Nadir in years, however. Nadir had been his one true friend for a time…both of them were outcasts to the normal world. Erik had been disfigured at birth, and Nadir was from a country that was pretty much distrusted in that time.
Erik pushed this out of his mind as he reached a door that blended right into the wall. To the untrained eye, it appeared to be a dead end. He felt along the wall until his fingers found the slight crevice in the rock.
The stone door swung open without so much as a creak, and the lights for the secret room automatically switched on.
This room was Erik's favorite room in his entire house. This was saying something, too, as his house consisted of nearly 200 different rooms. It was full of shelves lined with musical instruments and, opposite from the entryway, there was his prize possession. A great organ, polished to perfection, was built into the side of the wall.
Erik walked over to it and gently ran his hands down the keys. Music was his only love, his only true joy in life. That was one of many reasons why Carmelita offended him so much—usually Broadway wasn't too bad…but she made it completely horrible.
Erik pushed Carmelita from his mind and sank down onto the bench in front of the organ, took a deep breath, and began to play.
His eyes closed as he lost himself in the music.
An hour later he was rudely interrupted by Jacques's voice over the intercom. Erik struck a discord on the piano and whirled around to glare at it. He had forgotten to turn it off before he began.
"Sir?" Jacques's voice asked again.
"Yes, Jacques?" Erik asked through gritted teeth, trying to tell himself it wasn't his servant's fault.
"Sir, do you happen to know anyone who owns a small, second-hand, light blue Honda with a small dent on the right side?"
Erik frowned. "No. Why?"
"It's turning up on the surveillance cameras."
He stood and pushed the bench back from the organ, walking calmly over to the intercom. "Where, Jacques?"
There was a pause and Erik heard his servant cross back over to the video screens to watch. Then he returned.
"West side, on the very edges of your property. In fact, I don't think it's on your property at all… It doesn't look like it's going to turn this way, only that it's passing. I just thought I'd tell you—we don't get people near here often, except on Sundays."
As Jacques said "Except on Sundays" Something clicked. "Jacques, does it happen to be heading towards the small church just off my far western border?"
There was another pause. "Well…yes, actually, now that I'm looking…it does seem to be heading towards the church. Why?"
"Thank you Jacques, that will be all."
Erik switched off the intercom and quickly crossed over to the hidden door. He wasn't about to miss a chance to hear Ms. Daae sing. If anyone deserved to be on Broadway, it was she…
Suddenly Erik smiled, a plan forming in his mind.
xxxxx
Christine slowed to a stop and opened the door to her car. She leaned over and grabbed her music from the passenger seat, and then stepped out, locking the door behind her.
The night was dark, the clouds covering the moon and stars. A faint breeze blew through the surrounding trees, making Christine shiver. She wished she had brought a jacket, but there was no time and no point in going back to her apartment now.
Christine shivered and hugged her music to herself, trying to block out the chill. What was it about this place?
Slowly she pulled the heavy door to the church open, and then stepped inside. It closed with a bang behind her, making her jump. For a moment she was in complete darkness, and she had to fumble for the light. As she searched for it, she dropped her music, which scattered in different directions across the floor.
Christine sighed. This was not a good start. She didn't bother to attempt to pick up her music in the darkness, as the effort would obviously be fruitless. Instead, she continued to scramble for the light.
It took her an entire ten minutes to find it, and when she did she sighed in relief. Upon turning to pick up her music, however, she found that it wasn't there. Slowly, she brought her eyes up to the podium.
There was her music, in a neat pile, sitting innocently on top.
Christine felt the color drain from her face, and was tempted to leave right there and then. She took a calming breath, however, and walked over to the podium. There was no such thing as ghosts, she knew that. The wind must have…blown the papers up onto the podium…into a neat stack…in order…through closed doors… Right. That was it. It had to be.
Christine didn't dwell on this thought, as she knew it was preposterous. Still, there was no other explanation. She hadn't heard anyone else enter the church…and besides, how could they have picked up her papers in the dark?
Christine closed her eyes for a moment to gather her scattered thoughts. Then she looked down at page one of her music, and began to sing. She completely skipped warm-ups…after all, she had just been practicing over at Raoul's, and was warmed-up enough.
To her delight, she did even better than usual. When she ran through it another time, she did better still yet.
Overjoyed with her success, Christine didn't notice the hours slip passed.
Finally, she glanced down at her watch. Her eyes widened as she took in the time—11:30. Christine sighed. Meg would never believe that she had left Raoul's house to go practice in an abandoned church for two and a half hours.
Christine swayed slightly. She hadn't realized until now how tired she was! She gathered up her things and turned to go.
Suddenly, however, something caught her eye.
A small slip of paper—or was it an envelope?—fluttered down from the rafters. Christine's eyes watched its progress, fascinated, until it hit the floor. Without thinking she crossed over to it and picked it up. She nearly dropped it again when she saw the seal…
It was a skull, done in blood red wax…
(A/N: Thank you for reading! PLEASE review! ((puppy eyes)) )
