A/N: I'm so glad that I have new people reading this and I hope you continue to do so. The rating for this story starts to kick in and will throughout the rest. Happy Halloween everyone! Please don't forget to review!
Chapter 9- Completely SpellboundDead… dead… dear Lord she was dead…
Blood. Thick dark crimson pooled around the former soprano, flesh pale and yellowish. The scent of death floated around the hidden passage behind the mirror, blocking the senses. Christine grabbed the edge of the entryway, holding onto it for dear life, the image forever imprinted in her brain. Closing her eyes tightly, she saw the body through her lids, her own self wracking with sobs and apprehension.
Lying on the cold wooden boards, Catarina Giovanni's throat was torn open, the white and red skeleton peeking from the skin and muscle. Dotting across her pale pink blouse was a tiny trail of scarlet drops and down the ivory arm to her palm where her essence, her soul laid. Her nails, coated with bright red, and fingers dug into of what had been her larynx, her voice box.
But was worse… her face… so peaceful and mystified. Her round, olive-green irises glowed with childlike wonder, her natural ruby lips parted in reverence, a tiny lift of the corners in adoration…
Everything became dizzy, the white lights streaming through Christine's eyes, a shout from behind intertwining with the gruesome sight. Before she fell, an impassive, omnipotent voice whispered, "I did this for you…"
xxXXxx
"Oh my God! Dead?" Heather exclaimed, shock seeping through the phone.
No wonder Jamie had gone into hysterics. If she lived to be hundred, this was one sight Christine could never forget.
She closed her eyes, as the horrid image replayed once more in her mind.
No film or real-life dramas on television could have prepared Christine for Cat's remains. And she wasn't the type to grow ill from any sight of blood. The details of what happened afterwards were vague, but Meg informed her she had fainted and the coroners removed the body just when she was coming to. Christine couldn't remember her interview with the paramedics or the ride home with Meg. She had crawled away into a distant world, where the past events didn't exist. Cat was alive and bossing anyone who dared cross her path. Everything was normal nothing was out of place.
That had been a few days ago and Christine was slowly coming together with the startling reality. All rehearsals were canceled, despite the approaching opening night, as the police swept through the theatre for any hints that would lead them to the reasoning behind this heinous crime. As ill luck had it, nothing could be found and any causes were ruled out, leaving only suicide. And how dramatic it would be for a Prima Donna to exit with the removal of her most treasured prize?
"Yes," Christine replied quietly, squeezing her eyes, willing the queasiness to settle down. "Heather I cannot even describe it! It was something out of a Stephen King novel or one of your horror movies."
Heather whistled on the other line. "Lordy! So what did the police say?"
"It could be a possible suicide, but it doesn't make any sense! Cat had no reason to kill herself and if only you saw the look on her face… it was creepy. No one committing suicide could look that placid when they're about to die."
"You think someone killed the bitch?"
Christine's mouth fell open in surprise. "Heather! I know she's not Mother Theresa but she of all people didn't deserve that."
Her friend sighed. "You're right, sorry. But when you told me what happened to your ankle and how she practically humped the owner to get the role really pissed me off. If I were there I would give her a piece of my mind."
"Don't doubt you would," Christine smiled timidly. "But yeah I believed someone killed her. I mean wouldn't she have left a suicide note or something explaining why she was going to do herself in?"
"Uh-huh, from what I gather from Cops yes." Heather paused. "So then what happened? I mean, before you wigged out."
"I don't know," she confessed. "All I remember seeing was her blood and then it goes blank. I'm not sure, but I think I heard something before fainting."
"Like what?"
"Something," Christine said, furrowing her brow in concentration. "I've been trying to think of what it was, but I know it gave me the jeepers creepers. Damn, I wish I can remember!"
"So, uh, how's everyone else hanging?"
"Well, you can imagine the uproar this caused. Cat's family wants to sue big time, but Raoul's brother was able to convince them that legal action wasn't going to make her come back, plus it's not fault. Cat stayed after when everyone was gone and somehow someone must have broken in, killed her, and fled without a single trace. Raoul had promised them they would do whatever they can with their resources to find out who did this. Though it's pointless if you ask me. If the police couldn't find anything, then they won't either."
"Do they think it was murder too?"
"The only ones who do are Raoul and Detective Kanye, who's working the case. There apparently has been a history of this kind of action occurring even before Raoul bought the Garnier. But those deaths weren't violent like this. The victims were found strangled to death, not their larynxes torn out."
"Strangled? Basically anyone who died there had something happen to their necks. Christine, are you sure you still want to sing there? I think it might be better if you…"
"No Heather. I'm not thinking of leaving. I made a promise and signed a contract. Even if I did want to leave, I can't, and you know that."
"But surely hunkie French would understand and relieve you from your contract," Heather insisted.
"The answer's no Hea. I'm staying put," Christine said firmly. "Besides," she added slowly. "Raoul's been taking her death hard. I know he wants justice, but I feel bad that he won't be able to."
"Why?"
"Cat and him were involved awhile back."
"WHAT!"
"My reaction exactly but it ended pretty ugly. He proposed and she threw it back in his face. She never loved him like he did her."
"Yikes, I see what you mean. Hey, look on the bright side, here's your chance to snag him."
"Heather—" she began.
"Christine," the exasperation evident in her tone. "Listen, you have been with no one for three years. Don't you think it's time you do something? You sound like you're totally digging this eye-candy Frenchman and he obviously likes you too. So go for it. What do you have to lose?"
"My self respect or job," Christine answered flatly.
"But…"
"But if he asks I'll consider, happy?"
"Immeasurably. Despite the disasters taking place, how's the visions?"
"Worse than ever. I'm having a hard time sleeping and it's," she admitted. "And I've been having nightmares about Cat. In every one I hear this man with this captivating voice singing, lulling Cat somewhere in darkness."
"Like Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, or Tom Jones captivating?"
"Try all three combined plus the huskiness of Gerard Butler and you got your man."
The line went quiet and Christine swore she could hear water running in the background. "Damn… is that the same man from your visions?"
"Yes," Christine responded without hesitation. "It sounds like him, though I haven't seen him in these nightmares, unlike the visions. Heather it's too coincidental that the man I dreamed of as a little girl had something to do with Cat's death. It's only memories from a past life! A very scary past life, but still. I haven't dreamt of him in years and now's he back."
"Has he done anything to you in your dreams?"
"No. Not that I can remember. But I know he's there. I sense him Heather. In the darkness of my dreams I know he's there, watching… waiting."
Wait watching? No… it couldn't be. For crissakes I think I'm losing my mind!
"Waiting for what?" Heather's question interrupted her thoughts.
"I'm not sure. But something."
At that moment, Meg came walking in with a loud greeting.
Christine waved to her and quickly said, "I'll talk to you later Heather. Bye."
"But Chris—"
Christine hung up and scooted over to the kitchen where the aroma of Chinese wafted the entire room. She took a deep inhale of the hot food and grinned. "Smells good."
"I hope you don't mind Chinese for dinner," Meg told her, going to the cupboards for some plates. "Talking to Heather?"
"Hmm? Oh yes. Yes I was." Christine took her plate, sat down, and began to open the containers. The steam from the fried rice shot out as she scooped some of out.
"Did you tell her of the recent tragic events?"
"Yeah. She thinks I should go home," Christine said as she placed a forkful of egg roll into her mouth.
"You're not going to right?" Meg asked, pleading falling in her voice.
Christine swallowed and grinned. "Nope. Not getting rid of me that easy. I'm sticking this one out through and through. Besides my contract is made of steel. Even if I wanted too—"
"Yeah but Raoul would if you asked."
"Meg!" Christine cried as the blonde winked suggestively. "Not you too!"
She giggled. "I'm teasing with you but I'm glad you're not running. I guess you weren't kidding when you said you were dedicated."
The brunette let out a sly smirk. "Told you. Hey, I was wondering, how's your mother faring? I know she was terribly distraught over what happened…"
"Well, if you meant she stopped the robotic religious functions, then no. It's scary actually. I never saw her behave like that not since when my Papa died. That was the first time I saw her break down in sobs and go to church everyday, praying nonstop. Now… I'm not sure what she has running through that head of hers. I caught her earlier today going pass it's domain and blessing it with her crucifix. I swore I heard her mumble something about demons and angels. She won't talk to me, which is nothing out of the ordinary, and she's been uptight, as you know with everyone. I don't like it Christine, not one bit."
"Have you tried talking to her about it? Maybe if you bring the topic up she'll open up to you," Christine suggested, taking a sip of her water.
Meg sighed and slouched. "It's not that simple, dear. My mother isn't like other mothers I can tell you that right now. I bet yours wouldn't scare you to death with all sorts of tales about specters and what they do to naughty children. Mine made sure I was fully aware of the Opera Ghost and his ways. Scared the living daylights out of me too. She said if I wasn't paying attention to where I go the Phantom would catch me with his magical lasso, otherwise known as the Punjab lasso."
The singer's mouth dropped in astonishment. "Your mother said that to you!"
"Oh yes, me and the other ballet girls. Worked too as you can imagined. But as I grew older the stories didn't have their usual affect over me and rationality kicked in and no more belief in the Phantom. Those years of innocence and naivety have set sail for good. Can't say the same for the other simpletons who still believed in the stories."
"But what about now? Couldn't there even be the slightest chance that…?"
"No." Meg shook her head. "It was the first time for both of us to see a dead body so we weren't in our right minds of logic. Let them spread what they want. He doesn't exist."
It wasn't the little slip of "he" that Christine noticed, but the normal skepticism that would accompany Meg's façade when she talked about the ghost wasn't there.
xxXXxx
Trapped.
There was no escape. No matter which way she went there was a wall and door.
Locked.
Frenzy panic gripped her in its ugly talons as the harsh reality that this was her life… her decision that led to her straight to the flaming depths of Hell.
No! It cannot be this! I have to get out of here! Angel! Were her despairing thoughts as she grasped the doorknob, twisting and turning, praying for it to give and open.
"No!" she cried in frustration as the bolt kept her in place. Slamming her small fist into the panel, her anguished flowed through.
"Let me out! Someone please help!" she began screaming at the top of her lungs, hoping that a compassionate servant would answer her plea.
But no help arrived. She was stuck. Alone and scared. Like the pitiful creature she had become.
You deserve it. If only you had stayed…For the third time that night Christine woke. Breathing heavily, she ran a fist through her hair as she stared disturbingly up at the ceiling. Why can't you leave me alone! She yelled in her head. You're supposed to be gone for good!
Frustrated from the lack of sleep, Christine got up and paced furiously in her room trying to get her thoughts in order.
I hate this. No matter how hard I try I keep getting these bloody visions! I never had a problem until I came here. Am I cursed? No, that's silly. But it doesn't explain why I'm getting them and here of all places with an opera house with a haunted history and a possible killer Casper on the loose. Great. Just my luck.
She sat on the edge of her bed and lie down. Maybe I should go home. At least I know I would get some sleep when I have work the next day. And there's no murders taking place by supernatural beings. Perhaps it would be better if I talk to Raoul. He'll understand that I can't handle this anymore. I mean I got into an accident resulting by breaking my ankle and the once former understudy goes missing and turns up dead. Then I'll take the next flight out to New York, eat a tub of ice cream with Heather, and be in bed by ten without any disturbances. Yeah…
What are you talking about leaving? So bad things happened, accidents do occur often. And it was a slight mishap about Cat. She probably got herself into some trouble that no one knew of and she paid the piper. No ghost killed her. It's completely irrational. The dead hurting the living? That's only in movies. This is real life. What about the good things that did happen? You made friends with Meg, who's a nice girl and fun to be around. And don't forget little Jamie and Stacey. The preppy girl is beginning to thaw out and warm up to you. You two are actually getting along! And what about Adele? Underneath the hardcore armor, she's really nice and easy to talk to. Plus there's Raoul. He's handsome, single, French, and you guys have so much in common! Would you really leave all of this behind?
"No. I guess not," she whispered, reasoning to herself. "But what if there's another accident? What if I'm the next to suddenly disappear?"
No you won't. You know that so why even try it as an excuse? No harm would come to you. He will never allow it.
"But who is he?" she pondered aloud. "I don't know that for certain. And what if he does hurt me unintentionally, then what? I'm doomed when I could have been safe back home."
But he won't ever. And you are home. This is where you belong. This is where you must live to sing. Sing for him and anything you desire will be yours. He will do anything to give you happiness.
"Happiness…" Christine closed her eyes and sighed. "I do want to be happy but could this be wrong? How do I know any of this?" She reopened her eyes and then scowled. "And here I am talking and thinking to myself. I'm losing my mind from all of this talk of the Phantom. He was a poor lonely man who was dealt a bad card in life. He's gone for good so why am I even thinking of him?"
Because you care… a dark voice whispered in her head. And he knows it. There's no need to be afraid. Embrace what your soul craves for, what your heart longs for. Sing and you shall find the euphoria you once felt on the stage when your parents were alive. Sing and he might bring them back to you. Sing for them and they'll answer. Sing for me…
"Yes," Christine murmured, shutting her eyes once more as the waves of exhaustion swept over her. "I'll sing…"
Yawning quite loudly Christine stretched out over the bed and allowed herself to drift into a deep slumber, while a pair of amber coals glowed brightly protectively overhead.
xxXXxx
A Week Later"Hey, I want to owe you another gratitude of thanks Phil. You're the man you know that? Uh-huh, okay, I'll talk to you later. Bye."
Raoul shut his cell phone and beamed. "I swear, Adele, that brother of mine is a lifesaver."
The older woman smirked knowingly. "Oh yes he is. I believe he has saved your hide more often than I can count."
"Yeah but those were minor details. This… this was huge. But at least it's over and a deal was settled with the Giovanni's. Seeing how the police are baffled and have no leads to go on, we're compensating by dedicating the opening night in Cat's honor and giving free seats to the family. I know we would be losing profit from those seats, but I don't care about the money. Their happy and the lawsuit has dropped."
"Four weeks," Adele said. "My dancers are finally getting it right and I pray to God that there will be no mess ups."
"I doubt it. You manage to pull the girls in before the curtain rises," Raoul told her. "Everything will be fine."
"Of course." She paused and studied her boss closely. After the ordeal Raoul's been handling the truth of Cat's death… almost well. He wasn't sulking or lamenting of what could have been like he did when she broke up with him. To an outsider, it would appear her death hadn't fazed him in the least bit. But she knew better. Raoul could try to disguise his feelings but those who knew him best could see right through him. And she could read him like a book.
"M. de Chagny, I'm going to be frank with you. I'm worried."
"Worried? Adele whatever for? Look we just went over how the show will—"
"It's not that sir," she interrupted. "Not everything has to relate to the opera or this theatre for me to be worried. Like most, I do have a life and I take special interest to those that I am close to."
"If it's about Meg, Adele," Raoul started, a bit embarrassed. "I'm not the guy to go to for advice with mother-daughter things."
"Oh for Pete's sake," Adele groaned. "I'm talking about you, not Megara! And why would there be a problem with my daughter? She can talk to me about anything and I'll listen. I hope for your sake you're not implying that I have problems with Meg all the time."
Raoul suck in his breath and shook his head. "Of course not, madam. I wouldn't—didn't mean to imply… what I mean is that…"
She raised her hand to quiet him as they passed the doors of the auditorium. "Forget it Monsieur and please don't ever call me 'madam'. You know how I hate formalities."
"Yes, of course. Sorry Adele."
She laughed. "Men. What I was getting at was about Signora Giovanni."
"Oh."
"You're taking this awfully well and I can't help but be concern."
Raoul mumbled something unintelligible and forced a weary grin. "Adele, I miss her. I know we had ended on rough terms but a part of me will miss what we had shared and question why this happened. Yeah Cat wasn't the greatest but I did love her. I still do, maybe not as much as I did before, but I do care for her."
"You sound like you're trying to convince yourself," Adele pointed out to the young man.
Raoul scoffed at the idea. "That's preposterous Adele. I loved Cat, I did propose didn't I?"
"Yes but love isn't always what we think. Perhaps at one point you did love Signora that you did want her as your wife, but would it have honestly worked out? You knew how she was before you were dating and you're not the type to go off and have flings. She could have never committed to you, you know that yet when it was over you were mourning over the ideal of what she could have become if she let you change her for the best. You fell in love with the Signora you created in your head and not the actual person Monsieur."
"I can't believe I'm hearing this," Raoul growled. "Why would you even say this?"
"Because I know you," she replied straightforwardly. "And I noticed how you admire Mlle Dawson from afar, even if you're to thick-headed to recognize it. You won't allow yourself to move on."
"Must we discuss my love life now?" Raoul hissed, his voice dropping a few notches so no one could overhear. "I know how I feel. I don't need anyone to tell me."
"Yes you do," Adele snapped, her tone once maternal now growing authoritative and rough. "I may be in my prime, sir, but I'm not blind, senile, or a fool. If you knew this then you would have noticed how she looks towards you with favor and adoration. She's young, and yes a bit naïve, but she's intelligent and a remarkable young woman to have come this far. She lost her parents to unfortunate deaths and she continued to live on in their memories through her voice. If you don't do anything you will live to regret that decision for not daring to chance another relationship. You cannot hide from your feelings, M. de Chagny. It's unnatural and I believe you're behaving like a fool for having a petty woman such as Signora Giovanni holding you back from meeting an incredible brilliant woman who will make you happy. The choice is yours to make and if you decide to wallow in your fear of intimacy from a lousy feline then so be it. Don't go crawling to me whining about your loneliness."
With that said, Adele Garrison turned on her heels and hurried off back to the stage. Raoul stood in the hall by himself, dumbfounded and awed. No one had ever spoken to him like that, not ever. Well, except his father when he announced his decision of purchasing the Garnier, but even then Raoul allowed his words to flow over him. He didn't need to listen to his old man, especially when he knew that this was what he wanted. Yet, Adele brought up the sensitive topic that he, himself, tried to keep locked away.
Yes, he knew he shouldn't let Cat run his life. Yes, he knew Christine was different. But he couldn't let his own damn pride get hurt again.
But that wasn't the only reason. There was more to it than what Adele said, and she hit pretty close to home. Raoul wasn't afraid to commit, like most men, in fact all he ever wanted in life was to find the right woman to spend the rest of his life with. But with Christine… he was terrified by his feelings.
Adele didn't know that he secretly attended every single rehearsal just to see Christine. Even when she couldn't practice because of her ankle, she would still go and he would watch her. Let it be from the wings, hidden by the props, or up in one of the private boxes. He was enchanted by her beauty and good nature. He couldn't stay away from her and that mortified him.
The situation became too dangerous when he started to notice the little, simple attributes about her. Like when she was amused, how her liquid hazel orbs would twinkle and her lips would quirk up at the corners. And when she would laugh, the sweetest sound would escape through her ruby lips! And when she was reading the script, she would bite her lower lip in deep concentration, one eyebrow would be raised while the other furrowed in her pensive stare.
Then he realized he needed to stay away. Try hard as he might, whenever rehearsals were going under, Raoul would still find himself passing the doors of the auditorium or the dressing room hall hoping to hear her laugh or her speaking to her friends.
But there was more. From the moment they met, there had been a feeling of familiarity. And when he started to pick up on her habits, there had been a rush of renewed attraction. It was almost that momentarily he forgotten about these minor details and once he remembered one the rest came flooding back to him. He inwardly knew that when Christine was sad, she cried. It didn't matter how silly the reason would be. She would.
That knowledge without seeing it firsthand was unsettling. How in the world did he know that? He tried to keep his distance from her and this time he did. Though Adele had to go and mention it.
He knew the older woman meant well. But this was eating him alive. Was Christine going through the same? Or was it him?
He never went through this with Cat. When Raoul fell in love with her it just happened. He looked at her one day and thought she was the one he would marry. And now… now when he looks at Christine there's something deep, wonderful that causes his heart to soar. Could this be what love feels? It must be there was no other explanation. Yet did she feel the same way?
Was Adele right when she said how Christine looks at him? Did she admire him? Okay, what if she did that doesn't mean she liked him. Or did she?
Raoul was growing tired of this guessing game. Maybe Adele was right. Maybe he should take the initiative and risk it. That way he won't regret it for the rest of his life. But then there's Cat.
The news of her death hit hard and he drowned his sorrows through vodka in his apartment. She was his first love and a part of him would always mourn for her. The funeral was tough but he couldn't stay as long as he would have liked because of her family. Philip had been there with him, and he was thankful for the company.
Though the truth of her mysterious death was still opened. The theatre had been swept clean for any evidence and strangely enough there still was nothing. Raoul was beginning to think that maybe… just maybe this wasn't what appeared to be.
Tremors crawled up his spine as he thought about how poor Jamie came upon Cat. She said she was somehow brought to the dressing room by a man's voice. It had been so ethereal and entrancing that Jamie followed willingly to the call. It was then the spell abruptly ended once she laid eyes on the body of the former Catarina.
Jamie couldn't have made this up. She was known for her wild tales, yes, but she had been terribly shaken over the encounter. No one could strongly react like this if it had been a ploy. They would have to be too good of an actor, and Jamie's skills were lacking.
It's nonsense, Raoul tried reasoning. It's crazy yet it makes sense. First Maria and now Cat. Would Christine be next?
He trembled. There were whispers of the Phantom supposedly favoring the soprano. It could be why his wrath had been evoked once Cat replaced her. He was telling Raoul something and he ignored the warnings. Adele had warned him about this before and looked at what happened. Perhaps this could have been avoided…
Can't look back now, he thought to his dismay. Besides if I did try Cat wouldn't listen. She never was bothered by him before so she wouldn't think he would now. Oh God what have I done?
But no one could give him an answer.
TBC…