A/N: I changed the Prologue a little. I decided that to make it a little bit more Leroux oriented by changing Christine's appearance to blonde hair and blue eyes. But her reincarnation will be a brunette still. A little confusing, but you don't always have to be an exact double of your past life.
I finally seen Dear Frankie! I'm so happy! Gerard was so amazing in it! Such a sad movie… I love it! And if you haven't seen Corpse Bride yet do so. It's so funny. Thank you all for your reviews! Thanks to Megan as always for the lovely betaing. And here we have our Persian! Yea for Nadir!
Chapter 7- Curiosity and InvestigationsAs soon news broke out about Cat's wall, Jamie asked, "So now do you believe us Christine?"
Christine shrugged. "I'm sorry but this isn't going to change my mind. I mean, a message appearing by itself? That's impossible. She probably did it herself."
"Nh-uh! You have to see it for yourself," the young girl insisted eagerly. "It's unbelievable."
"Oh yeah someone carved a message on the wall. How unbelievable can you get?" Meg sarcastically remarked.
"Meg c'mon!" Jamie whined. "You of all people! Your mother…"
"My mother is superstitious. She believes in it, I know. But I don't. It's a story to scare children and we have plenty running about."
"I don't know Meg."
All three, startled, looked up as Stacey Carter came over. Her face was stark white, her eyes deeply troubled. "This isn't something to be taken lightly. Cat saw it being inscribed. It wasn't like she walked in and it was there. But she saw the letters being cut in. And no one was there!" She paused and stared at Christine with dawning apprehension. "He doesn't want Cat in the opera. That's why he did it. He must want you."
The brunette chuckled nervously. "Stacey… that's crazy. Be serious."
"I am Christine," Stacey replied, solemnly.
Jamie gasped. "Ohmygod! You're right! That's why there were no incidents when Christine came! He does want you to sing!"
"I don't know—" Christine began.
"Come on." Stacey grabbed one of her crutches and tugged her over to the dressing room. "M. de Chagny is right now calling the police so we have enough time to see it before it's closed off."
Meg and Jamie followed close behind as they reached Cat's room. She stopped outside to look at them. "I'm not going back in there. It's cursed. The work of Satan it is."
Christine's eyes widened. She never heard Stacey talked like that before and it was unnerving. Everyone here was terrified out of his or her minds when it came to the Phantom that she wondered perhaps she shouldn't laugh at the topic anymore. Not when the reactions were this strongly.
Swallowing hard, Christine went inside.
First glance, it appeared to be like any other dressing room. Cat's things were all over the place and she didn't see anything that would be considered "demonic take over". Until she turned around.
"Good Lord…" her voice trailed off.
"What?" Meg came bounding in and looked at where Christine gaped. "Mary and Joseph…" was Meg's reply.
Written across the wall in a haunting spidery hand was the chilling message:
CuRioSitY AlWaYs KilLs ThE CaT
Her mouth ran dry as she reread it. It had to be some sick prank. Christine stared hard as chills ran up and down her spine. She saw that handwriting before. She was sure of it.
"Christine?"
Meg interrupted her thoughts. Christine gazed at her friend, the color drained from her face.
"I've seen it before," the brunette whispered, her voice shaking towards the end. Meg stared wide-eyed at her in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I recognize it! Meg… I don't know how or why…"
Right before her eyes she saw herself opening a letter with her name on it in a sloppy childish hand. The paper inside was written in ink as red as blood—
Dearest Christine,
Do not fear. You shall be Marguerite. I'll make sure of it. Your Angel will make it all right and the city of Paris will be at your feet.
Your obedient servant
Christine closed her eyes shut and when they opened all of her anxiety came crashing down on her. She stumbled over to the nearest trashcan and threw up.
xxXXxx
"Did you see it Raoul? Did you see it!" screeched Cat.
"Cat please. I'm sure it was nothing more than a harmless prank." Raoul sighed as the Italian soprano walked around his office like a rocket stuck up her—
"A prank? A prank? Do you think implying that saying to my name is a prank?" she yelled, her eyes narrowing to slits. "Always. What the hell does that mean?"
Raoul opened his mouth to speak only to have her wave him off, returning to her vigorous pacing. "Someone wants me out that's obvious. But I'm not going. Whoever it is cannot scare me off like Maria."
"Cat could you please sit down?" Raoul ordered impatiently. "Look, I just hung up with the police. Then when they get here we'll try to get this settled. But for now you need to calm down."
Falling down, she hugged herself tightly. "Raoul, I think we need to think of the possible suspects. I believe Christine Dawson—"
"For once can you leave her name out?" Raoul barked, standing up abruptly. Angrily, he pushed himself back into his seat, glaring at his ex-girlfriend. "She's not out to get you. Why do you blame her?"
"Duh the lead!" Cat retorted. "She thinks I'm to blame for her ankle being broken."
Raoul groaned. "For Pete's sake, no! Cat quit behaving like a spoiled brat and grow up. This is not the wonder years anymore. If you both cannot act civil to one another then I'll have to take action, got it? I will not have two singers go at each other's throat over some silly misunderstanding."
"It wouldn't be going on if you haven't hired her!" Cat snapped.
"What? Oh not go pinning this on me. You left with your cousin. No one forced you to walk out that door, family honor or not. You made your choice. You decided to go. If you wanted that part so damn much than you should have stayed! I'm sure Maria wouldn't be that upset with you."
"You don't know her like I do de Chagny!" Cat glowered. "Maria has a horrible grudge and she could turn the whole family on me with a snap of her finger. Would you want me to be abandoned by my family? But how would you know? You hate yours and good riddens I suppose."
Raoul clenched his fists but didn't move. He would not let her get to him. His family was his business and not some snobbish rich singer. "You're insufferable you know that?"
Cat snorted. "I've been called worse. Good day Raoul."
She stood up and stormed out of the office while bumping into Adele. The ballet mistress watched her hurried out before entering to find a disgruntled owner.
"What is it Adele?" he questioned bitterly.
"I'm going to pretend the last few minutes didn't happen so I expect some manners sir," Adele stated firmly. "Now, I'm here about Signora's room. I believe it would be wise if you boot her out and let Mlle Dawson take over."
"Adele her ankle is broken, if you haven't noticed," Raoul responded agitated. "I'm sure you're not that senile, at least not yet."
Adele scowled but did not bother chastising him for lack of respect. Going through a fight with Cat could make anymore forget who they are and who they're around.
"M. de Chagny, I know. But her cast is coming off next week. Surely we don't need a Marguerite until then. We'll go over the scenes that's she not in."
"It's not just that Adele. You want to know the people's reaction when Philip told them who our new star was? Astonishment! They were not willing to attend the opera if we had some fresh singer from America. They want someone they know will make the show great. That's because they know Cat's back. Perhaps if she never did we might have some interest viewers for Mlle Dawson. They would have taken a risk, but not now. Not when Catarina Giovanni made her unexpected debut. It's the goddamn politics."
"So?" Adele persisted. "If they were willing to continue to go before Signora Giovanni, then couldn't they accept that there are better singers in the world other than her? That maybe this Christine Dawson could be the highlight for the season?"
"It's not easy Adele," Raoul muttered, shaking his head slowly. "I hired her only until we had an 'official' lead soprano. Though I didn't expect it to be so soon and especially it being Cat."
"What?" the older woman was flabbergasted. "If you don't want Signora then fire her! What's the point of still keeping her? And what of Dawson?"
"She knew the fine print before taking the part!" Raoul exclaimed. "I don't want to lose her Adele, so don't for a second think that I have no regards for her. She… both has until opening day, which isn't going to be for a couple of months. Anything could happen."
"Yes," Adele agreed. "And you and I both know what might happen in that time."
"Adele…"
"Sir, this is no laughing matter. You're too smart to know that by now. Please forget the critics, forget the people, and listen to what you know is right. We never had any problems before concerning him when we did what he wanted, and we still won't if you give the role back to Christine."
"I made up my mind Adele. I think it's about time that we get over this silly ghost and focus on today. Superstitions are overrated, sorry, but I'm through with that running my theatre. We're all civilized adults capable of controlling our lives without our fears doing it for us. And nothing will change my mind. I assure you."
Adele interlaced her fingers in her hands, sighing. "I hope that you're right Monsieur," she whispered.
xxXXxx
By the time Raoul and Adele's meeting concluded, the police arrived. Everyone was being questioned; no one was to be left out.
Christine still felt ill to her stomach as she left the room before it came overrun with investigators. The handwriting left an imprint in her mind along with the quick flash of her vision. Desperately she wanted to believe it as an atrocious fluke. Maybe it could still be a joke… though a voice in her head was saying otherwise. Both incidences couldn't be related. It couldn't.
She was busy telling herself that even as she was called into M. de Chagny's office.
Taking a seat she looked straight across at the detective in charge of the investigation.
He appeared to be in his middle ages, dark-skinned and short curly dark hair. His eyes were a deep shade of brown that held a pensive and patronizing nature. That was enhanced with his suave charcoal suit and perfect tie.
His scrutinizing stare didn't help much to ease her discomfort as the dark irises roved down to her cast ankle, comprehension flickering in those eyes. The look was completely covered up as he nodded to an officer standing by the door to close it.
Christine turned around to see him leave and swallowed hard. She felt like a kid all over again being sent to the principal's office. She never was a troublemaker but having to go down there for any reason was like being put on death roll. And she knew she had no reason to be nervous, but her body had a mind of its own.
"Mlle Christine Dawson I presume," the detective spoke, his Eastern accent rolling off his tongue with clarity. "My name is Detective Nasir Kanye."
She nodded; her hands shook slightly as she placed them in her lap.
"I'm sure you already know what has taken place by now. News travels fast around here," he continued, those piercing dark eyes not once breaking their contact, as he flipped out his notebook.
"Yes it does." Christine could feel the bile beginning to rise in her throat. Running off to the bathroom wasn't going to help her position in the matter. Surely Cat had already informed the authorities about her.
"Mlle Dawson, I understand that there's a little rife between you and Signora Giovanni."
"I guess you could say so," Christine answered, holding the immense need to flee for the nearest bin or something. "We're not on the best of terms."
"Yes M. de Chagny and Signora had told me so. Now Mlle Dawson I'm not here to point fingers and throw out accusations, got it? I want to get to the bottom of this and clear up this mess. You're new to here so I'm going to be straightforward. This isn't the first time I been called down here to investigate strange messages and so forth. This has happened even before you showed up, but it doesn't completely rule you out in being a possible suspect. I need to get all the information before I can make some unsuspecting drop-ins and calls." He grinned at her.
"Now, to start off, M. de Chagny had told me of the accident you had with the backdrop. I'm terribly sorry it happened."
"Yes it was and thank you," Christine replied, shifting her weight. "Good news, I might be getting it off by the end of next week if all goes well."
"Good good," Detective Kanye murmured. "Could you tell me of your position here?"
"Before Signora Giovanni arrived I was asked to play Marguerite. After my ankle broke M. de Chagny thought it was best if I were to be the understudy while Signora Giovanni took over."
"You seem to be taking this very well," Kanye remarked.
"Not really," she confessed. "I'm upset but I'm getting use to it. M. de Chagny has been running the Garnier for some time so he has better knowledge of how he wants to cast his performers. If he wants Signora Giovanni then I have to respect that decision."
"That's very big of you Mademoiselle," he commented. Christine grinned sheepishly.
"Mlle Dawson, where were you the other night?"
"I was at Mlle Garrison's apartment. I'm living with her while Faust runs through."
"Uh-huh, can she verify this?"
Christine nodded. "I was watching the rehearsals and afterwards we went out to dinner and then to the apartment."
"All right…" He scribbled some notes down. "By the looks of it, it sounds likes you have a pretty secured alibi. Now I don't want you to be alarmed Mademoiselle, but you do understand that there could be a possible motive."
"I understand sir."
"This is the tough question. Do you know of anyone who would do this? Say someone who might hold a grudge against Signora Giovanni?"
Christine chewed on her bottom lip. She wasn't here that long enough to know someone who would, but everyone didn't like her. Anyone could be liable, yet she couldn't picture anyone doing this. "No," she said.
"But do you think the 'Phantom' that lives here would?"
She started. "W-why would you ask?"
He shrugged. "Procedures miss. Whenever I'm sent here the Phantom is always the top perpetrator. Just asking the usual routine questions."
"Oh."
"Do you believe in him then?" he asked.
"No," she answered firmly, almost reassuring herself of her beliefs. "No." But what about the other day? Someone was in the kitchen with you. Someone not solid.
She shook her curls, to rid herself of her thoughts. "No Detective."
"O-okay," Kanye mumbled. He glanced briefly at her and smiled. "Thank you for your time Mlle Dawson. If you should recall anything that might be helpful, here's my number to my office." He paused to hand her his card. "And I hope your ankle heals."
"Thank you Detective, good-bye."
"Good-bye Mademoiselle," Kanye called as the door shut behind her.
xxXXxx
Meg later found Christine in the hall outside her dressing room, sitting with her legs outstretched.
"You okay?" Meg inquired, kneeling next to her.
"To be honest, I had better," Christine admitted. "I never had been questioned by the police before. So it was kind of scary, especially since I seem plausible for this to happen."
Meg smiled. "Don't let this get to you. You, I, and just about everyone even M. de Chagny knows you would never threaten Cat. She's to full of herself and she knows you're the better between the two of you. It's obvious."
"Thanks Meg." Christine felt a little better. "Do you think Detective Kanye would find out who did this?"
The blonde did a little roll with her shoulder. "Hard to say. This is Garnier, we're full of secrets and scandals."
Christine laughed. "That's for sure."
"But of course Jamie is telling him right now the Phantom was responsible. She's too predictable."
Christine had to agree.
Then Meg suddenly asked her the thing she dreaded. "So mind telling me what happened back there this morning? I never saw you freak out before."
The brunette blushed. "I-it's hard to explain."
"What's hard to explain? You said you recognized it and surely that had to be some useful information to the police—" Meg's blue eyes widened as Christine embarrassingly looked away. "No… no you didn't! Christine!" She hit her arm hard. "Why didn't you?"
"Ow Meg," Christine cried, rubbing her arm.
"That was for your stupidity! Don't you know if you know something that could be vital to tell the police!"
Christine glared at her. "I know that! But Meg it's not like I know for certain."
"So?" The blonde was livid.
"Look, I said I recognized it, yes. But I don't know how or why. I just did."
Meg snorted. "Yeah. C'mon Christine you're hiding something from me, spill it!"
"I-I can't," she whispered brokenly. It killed her that she couldn't confide in Meg, but it was the only thing to do. She couldn't risk telling another person only for it to be thrown in her face. Meg would never do that. You know that. You knew that when you two met.
"I'm sorry Meg. My head hurts and I would really like to lie down for a spell."
Meg regarded her strangely before nodding. "Fine. There's a couch in Maman's office, you can use. But don't think I'm letting you off so easily."
Meg grabbed Christine's hands and helped her up. "It's this way." Meg led her a little ways past the "Death Crossing" and turned down a narrow hall. It was short, leaving only one door on the left side near the end.
Meg knocked once before entering, with Christine trailing behind. "Isn't this--?"
"Yeah. But don't worry. This is the only room the 'Phantom' allows us to use."
I hope so. I would hate to know what he uses a ballet mistress's office for, Christine thought.
It was indeed Adele's office. Everything was neat and tidy, nothing displaced or out of order. On the bulletin board were ribbons and pictures of Adele and Meg dancing and a few trophies gracing the office.
Christine wandered around, noticing several of the awards had Adele's name on them. She certainly was an accomplished dancer, she thought.
"Welcome to my mother's world of ballet. Where pain is inevitable and honor is prestigious," Meg joked, her lips curling into a wry grin. "Maman loves to dance. So did I but unfortunately I'm not much of a dancer anymore."
Christine lightly tapped a plaque on the wall, turning to Meg with interest gleaming in her doe brown eyes. "What do you mean?"
She motioned to her knees. "I injured them pretty badly when I was younger. I can do some minor steps, but nothing that requires too much effort. I hate it Christine. I missed wearing those ridiculous exposed dresses and twirling on my toes to the music. Now you understand why I can be a little harsh to Stacey."
Christine chuckled softly. "At least you can still do some dancing."
"Yeah," the blonde said, gazing longingly at the pictures. Facing Christine with a faint smile, Meg told her, "Basically you will have this to yourself. I'll just let Maman know you're in here resting."
"Okay." Christine paused and walked over to the table in the corner. "Who's that?" She asked as she picked up a small dark frame that held a black and white photo of a young girl.
Meg stepped closer to her, taking the photo from her. "That'll be my great-great-great grandmother. Antoinette Giry, the one who started it all you could say. She was the first ballet mistress here and this room was her home."
"Cool." With an impressed look, Christine nodded for her to continue.
"Anyways, supposedly she was the Phantom's confidante. There were rumors about this when the managers fired her, thinking she was the Phantom. During one of the performances, the chandelier fell, landing on top of her replacement. After that incident, Antoinette was given back her job. According to the Phantom's orders. Since then she never was bothered."
"It sounds like the Phantom was boss around here."
Meg laughed. "He ruled here! He promised Antoinette because of her loyal services her daughter (my great-great grandmother) would become Empress. Well, that didn't happen. She ended up as an Baroness, but it's still a good status."
"So what happen?" Christine asked.
"Her children that's what. She had a couple of daughters wanting to dance and one of them ran off to join the theatre. Her family, since then, always had a role in the arts. My 'rich' relatives and my family aren't on the best of terms and frankly I don't care. I don't like them at all. I met them when I was younger and they were so horrible to my mother and I! They looked down on us as if we were dirt, especially Maman since she was a single parent. My father left us when I was baby," Meg explained, her blue eyes taking on a distant gaze. "I never met him. And I doubt I'll ever will."
"Meg, I had no idea. I'm so sorry!" Christine sympathetically placed a hand on her shoulder.
"It's okay, honestly," Meg said, smiling softly. "Well, I should also tell you that my great-great grandmother was good friends with M. de Chagny's great-great grandmother."
"Really?"
Meg nodded eagerly. "Unofficially Christine Daae was adopted by my ancestors. After she married the Vicomte, their ties broke off sadly."
"Why?"
Meg shrugged. "I'm not altogether sure. It's odd when you look at it. Marguerite and Christine were tight and then whish! No more. I think it was about their lives in general. At the time, mine was still a dancer after his were married and it wasn't until a few years later when mine married. But yet they didn't keep in contact. Strange, huh?"
Christine slightly nod her head. "Yeah it is." The brunette crossed her crutches over so she could hold herself. The temperature in the room lowered a notch, but Meg didn't seem to pay it any heed.
"We have some of my great-great grandmother's diaries. I never read them, but my mother has. She said there was a slight chance that Christine Daae had feelings for the Phantom. He nurtured her voice unlike anything a mortal has ever heard, and there were some signs of an attraction for him from her." Meg shook her head. "Yet she still wed the Vicomte."
"T-then what happened to him?" Christine shivered. Meg looked in her direction, raising an eyebrow. "Are you cold?"
"A-a little," Christine admitted with a shaky grin.
"Hmm, might be the AC. Well, no one knows for sure what happened to him. In the diaries, the Phantom died of a broken heart, at least that's what Antoinette believed and Marguerite wrote. It makes sense really, since he loved Christine Daae so much it bordered on the lines of intense obsession."
"The poor man," Christine murmured. The cold drifted a little, allowing Christine to relax comfortably. "Did he have a name?"
"I don't know if he did. Probably, but the ones who knew are dead now. I'm surprised that Jamie didn't tell you about his appearance. He was a deformed genius, forced to live underground. He wrote an opera but it was never finished. My family tried searching for it but no luck. He might have destroyed it after Christine left or the sands of time withered it away."
Meg turned towards her. "Guess I kind of brought the mood down. It's tragic, I know, but there's no ghosts haunting here. And I don't care what people say or think. The Phantom's gone, never coming back. There's no use in looking back at the past. What's done was done."
"Right." What's done was done. Too bad it ended so horribly.
"I should let you be. I'll come back when rehearsals are over."
Christine didn't bother to say good-bye and silently went over to the settee and collapsed. She had a general idea of what life he must have led. Birth defects at the time were condemned by society and she pitied the unnamed Phantom. All he wanted probably was to be loved. And never experienced it.
Christine had plenty of love from family and her friends, that she couldn't even imagine living a life without some love in it. It must have been terrible for him.
Meg said he was boss here. He had orders and they were followed through. Could it even be possible? Could the Phantom carved that message? But why would he want me to sing?
She didn't think on it long enough. She fell fast asleep as a violin faintly played in the background.
xxXXxx
"Catarina…""Huh?" Cat drowsily lifted her head and glanced around. The singer had fallen asleep in front of her vanity. Groggy, she looked at her watch and groaned. A couple of hours passed since rehearsals were over. That meant Cat was alone again, with the exception of the janitors.
"Damnit," she muttered as she stretched her arms over her head. "You have to be kidding me."
Her jaded eyes glared through the mirror at the wall where the message still stood out. It had been left there for almost a week now. Someone was supposed to have it fixed, but so far the person has yet to do so. And Cat, irritated, confronted Raoul only to have his door slam in front of her face. The nerve of him, she scowled to herself. No one shuts out Catarina Giovanni!
She was also frustrated that the Detective Kanye didn't order for Christine Dawson's arrest. She told the police she knew that American twit had something to do with it, but there wasn't enough substantial evidence against her. There were plenty of witnesses to speak out on Dawson's side. Damn fools. They have no idea I was doing them a favor. I'm the Prima Donna here not that foolish child!
Cat huffed as she stood abruptly. "No one can stop me from singing! Not her and not some Phantom!"
She nod once at her reflection, smirking. "I'll get rid of her somehow. Even if I have to stage another accident to do so, I will."
The Italian soprano turned on her feet and only managed a few steps when she stopped cold. She nervously looked around. Stupid. You're alone. Shrugging, Cat took another step towards her car when she heard a soft voice calling her name.
Startled, Cat turned around. "Who's there?" That voice had been too near. Her eyes keenly scanned the dressing room. Nothing. But she could have sworn someone had to be in here. "If this is some kind of joke it's not funny!"
When no response came, Cat hurried over to the door just as goosebumps poke up on her arms. Gulping hard, Cat reached towards the handle, her hand slightly shaking as she pulled it open. A gust of cool air greeted Cat but she ignored the chill and went out.
"Hello? Is anyone there?" Taking tentative steps, Cat proceeded to move down the hall, checking behind her to see if there was another person nearby. "Brolin? Is that you?"
"Catarina…."
She froze. "H-hello?" she squeaked quietly. "Brolin? It's not funny."
"Brolin's not here…" was the eerie reply. "Who could it be?"Cat whipped her head to the side to find darkness engulfing the corridors. One by one the lights were going out.
Heart racing, Cat turned forward and quickened her pace. "It's in your head. It's in your head. Someone is playing a trick on you."
A sinister chuckle echoed the empty halls causing Cat to move faster. "No one there. No one there," she chanted, as she turned abruptly. From the corner of her jaded eye, she thought she saw a figure dart by.
Snapping her head to the front, Cat hurried. The heels from her shoes resounding as she broke out into a run. Faster she went until when she thought she should have been at the entrance. Glancing at her surroundings, Cat panicked.
Death Crossing! Her mind screamed. The Phantom's domain! Taking a deep breath, she forced her thoughts to get in order. Okay, you took a wrong turn somewhere for you to end up here. Now go back. No one's going to hurt you; it's only some fool thinking he's outsmarting you. Show you're not afraid.
Forcing a brave façade, Cat retraced her steps only to come back to the hex hallway. By now most of the lights were off and Cat couldn't find anyone. The theatre was deserted. Well, almost…
"Dawson. She planned this!" Cat sneered. "She thinks she can scare me! I'll show that slut that no one messes with Catarina and get away with it!"
Once those words left her mouth, a violin began to fill the silence. Any further insults died out as she listened intently to the wordless melody. Closing her eyes, Cat felt a tingling sensation start in her belly and quickly spread through her limbs. The music was… intoxicating. Never had she heard anything so sensual before as the notes seemingly caressed her like an experienced lover. It knew where to descend to make her burn with desire. And then a voice! An achingly beautiful baritone, whispered huskily in her ear.
"Cat… Cat… come to me…"She closed her eyes, the haunting tune washing over her, arousing such deep emotions she never knew existed to rise. The pitch grew louder, though so gently like a lullaby. The music was pulling her, gripping her as involuntarily her feet moved towards it.
It was so beautiful and so warm. Cat never felt so free before as the mysterious voice continued to enrapture and seduce her with his playing.
"Heaven," she murmured.
"And it's for you… come and you'll live for eternity…""Mine," she whispered.
She drifted to the end where the violin was coming from, a heavenly glow outlining the cracks around the door. Magically, the door opened for her, revealing its glorious splendor as the light poured at her feet.
"Come and live!""Yes!" Cat gasped in fervor as she stepped inside, the door slamming behind.
Sealed tight, laughter wailed in the darkness crying,
"Curiosity always kills the cat!"
TBC…