Thanks for the reviews everyone! I appreciate those who compliment the pace because sometimes I fear that the story moves a little slowly. After this chapter, things will begin to pick up quite a bit. I promise! (; Secondly, one major difference in this story will be Erik's domain. He's more like the Phantom of the East Coast than of just a specific building. And I do plan on giving him a fairly interesting past as well.
Read and Review! Please review!
"I know you are there," whispered the Iranian, turning the corner onto the next block. The street lights shone down upon the city, casting strange shadows across the buildings and pavement. Every once in a while, Nadir saw one of the dark shapes move out of the corner of his eye. "Still playing these games, my friend? Why don't you show yourself?"
He received no response. A feeling of something between anger and fear surged through him. Nadir felt like a small animal being stalked by a predator, knowing that no matter which direction he took, he would not be safe.
"Where is that poor man? Could you at least tell me where the body is, so that poor wife of his can have some peace?"
Silence.
The anger overtook the terror. "Damn it, Erik! Show yourself!"
Two teenage girls gave him nervous glances as they quickly passed by. Nadir shook his head in self-disgust, knowing that he must look like a lunatic, raving to himself on the middle of a dark street.
"What are you doing, Erik?" he asked quietly, once no one else was around. "If you plan to kill me, why not do it and get it over with? I'm not going anywhere."
Silence.
Nadir sighed and entered a restaurant. "Well, my friend. I guess our little game continues."
"Pour one cup of boiling water into rice mixture. Let sit for five minutes." Christine read the instructions on the cardboard box aloud, wishing she had enough money in her wallet to order out for a pizza. She stared down at the meal with distaste, beginning to lose her appetite at the sight of the powdery grains. Without a car, shopping was nearly impossible. Mrs. Valerius occasionally had groceries delivered to the house, but they were bought on credit and under her guardian's name.
Christine sighed, knowing that she could not go on like this much longer. She had already taken a lot of time off from work after the accident, and her unpaid leave certainly wasn't helping her money troubles. With dismay, she knew she would have to ask for Mrs. Valerius's help... or risk starving to death.
Picking up the small pot of boiling water by the handle, Christine attempted to pour it into the mixture. She let out a short yelp of pain as some of the water splashed out and scalded her lower arm. Rushing to the sink, she began to run cold water over the small burn, wondering how she would ever survive on her own if she couldn't even cook a prepackaged meal.
Once the burn was soothed, the tired blonde began to wipe her hands off on an old dishcloth. The phone suddenly rang out from behind her, and Christine grabbed the receiver with a damp hand. Mrs. Valerius was supposed to be getting back her new test results soon, though the doctors had said very little so far. Christine was becoming more anxious as each day passed.
"Hello?" she answered, trying to maintain a steady voice.
"Ms. Christine Daae?" came an unfamiliar woman's voice on the other end.
"This is she."
"Hi. I'm calling from the offices of the performance theatre about your audition one week ago."
"Yeah," she replied with disinterest, already knowing the part was not hers.
"You've been chosen to be the understudy for the role of Magnolia. Congratulations. If for some reason the lead role can't perform, you'll take over. Of course, you will be required to attend rehearsals and learn the lines. I'm calling to confirm your acceptance of the role.
Christine blinked several times in disbelief. She'd done terribly at the audition and could see so in the eyes of Mr. Reyer as he quickly dismissed her. "Are you sure?" she questioned dumbly. "I only tried out once, and I...I wasn't even aware that there were understudies."
"I don't have any idea how casting decisions are made. As for understudies, this performance is expected to have a fairly large audience. I imagine that a cancellation would be devastating to the charity and all those involved. Do you accept the position, Ms. Daae?"
"I...yes, of course," choked out Christine, still in shock. "Thank you so much!"
"Rehearsals begin next Tuesday, at which time you will be given more information."
"Okay! Thank you again!"
"You're welcome. Goodbye."
Christine hung up the phone and leaned against the counter, feeling as though she were in some spectacular dream. Perhaps she hadn't made the role, but she had been the second best there! A feeling of pure elation overtook her, and she forgot all of her earlier troubles for a moment. After turning off the stove, she did a little twirl in the kitchen before heading back to the living room.
She would have to call Meg! And Mrs. Valerius would be proud of her. And maybe...maybe even her father was, too. Maybe he could see her!
Glancing out the window and into the night, Christine swore she saw two golden stars shining down from the sky. When she blinked, though, the little lights were gone.
She quickly made two wishes, for what else could they have been but a pair of beautiful shooting stars?
"This is so great!" exclaimed Meg with an enormous grin as they walked into the front entrance of the theatre. "I'm so glad you get to come with me to rehearsals. And it's almost like you're even in the play!"
"I know!" Christine replied with more vigor than usual. Her normally calm blue eyes seemed to sparkle with energy, and her face held a genuine smile. "I was so shocked when they phoned me. The secretary, or whoever she was, probably thinks I'm a complete idiot."
"I'm sure she doesn't think that." Meg sighed and changed the subject. "My mother has been fuming all morning."
"Why?" Christine questioned, seeing with relief that Mrs. Giry was already far ahead of them. "What happened?"
"She was trying to tell them how to run things...like she always does," replied Meg, still grinning. "One of the directors finally told Mom that her assistance wouldn't be needed with the play. He told her that she could help with seating, if she wanted to. She was so angry when she got home!"
"I bet! What did she do?"
Meg laughed. "That's the funny part! She actually took them up on their offer. I guess Mom thinks that she can still find a way to control things, even if she is only an usher."
"Or maybe she likes to be involved with the stage," replied Christine, feeling some need to defend Mrs. Giry. Though she was a stern woman, she did seem to want what was best for her daughter.
"Maybe," said Meg with a shrug of her shoulders. "Oh. Here we are!" She veered left out of the corridor and into a room. Christine followed.
"It's kind of small," murmured Christine, looking around. The room contained a couple of chairs, a blackboard with notes scrawled onto it, and several desks-looking more like a classroom than anything else. A large number of other people her age loitered inside, conversing in small groups or sitting on the floor with their scripts in hand. She recognized one or two of them as Meg's friends but most were unfamiliar.
"I think they're just going to explain things today," Meg said, gazing around. "None of the actors from New York are here yet, and I doubt we're going to start today. They want to talk to the amateur performers and set crew." The brunette glanced to the left and nudged Christine's arm. "That's Charlotte Gregory over there in the corner...the one from our university who got the lead role. She's going to be the one thing about this that isn't so fun."
Christine glanced over at the moderately attractive dark-haired girl. Charlotte was currently gazing down at her painted nails with a bored expression, every once in a while muttering something to the girl beside her. Christine started to say something to Meg, but the chitchat suddenly quieted, and she saw that an older man had entered the room.
Running a hand through his graying hair, he adjusted his thick-framed glasses and looked down at his notes before speaking. "Good evening, everyone," he began, still staring at his papers. "My name is Arthur Remy. I don't have a lot of time tonight, but I wanted to give you the schedules and basic scripts, maybe answer a few questions." He quickly passed out several printouts to everyone in the room and waited for the noise of rustling paper to die down. "Let's see. Rehearsals are only Tuesdays and Thursdays at first. They'll become more frequent as we get closer to opening night. Set designers can kind of plan their own schedules but keep me up to date. Don't go over the assigned budget, please..."
The nervous man continued to go through the odds and ends of the play, his monotonous voice causing some of the people to yawn and frequently check their watches. Mr. Remy seemed more concerned with schedules and finances than the performance itself, and Christine felt some of her earlier excitement fade away. She hadn't realized that there were so many technical details involved.
"I don't think I can come in every Thursday," Charlotte finally interrupted, looking even more bored. "I have several appointments on Thursdays. It shouldn't matter, though. I already know most of the lines."
Mr. Remy shot her an irritated glance. "Yes...well. It's required that you attend most rehearsals so that you are able to interact with the cast. Surely you can make arrangements."
Charlotte gave a loud sigh. "I guess. When do the real actors get here?"
"Everyone in here is a real actor or actress, Ms. Gregory. If you mean the guest actors from New York, they'll get here in about two weeks." He took a deep breath and checked his own watch. "I guess that's enough for now. Any more questions before we get out of here?" Christine timidly raised her hand. "Yes?"
"I'm the understudy for Magnolia, and I was wondering how well I should learn everything. I mean...I'll need to practice singing and reading lines. Will I rehearse at all?"
Mr. Remy hesitated. A strange look crossed his wrinkled face. "Let's not worry about that now," he finally replied in a gentle tone. "Hopefully nothing will happen to our lead."
"It won't," said Charlotte, staring directly at Christine. "Anyway, can we leave now?"
"Yes," replied Mr. Remy, eagerly. "Feel free to go!" Everyone quickly shuffled their way out, murmuring to one another about the upcoming performance. Several girls were complaining about the drive to the theater, obviously living outside the city. A couple of the guys were already discussing set designs. Christine and Meg lagged several yards behind.
"You were right about Charlotte," whispered Christine, as they walked down the hall. "I think she already hates me."
"She hates everybody. Even the professors get tired of her in class. But she's talented so no one ever does anything about her attitude." Meg sighed. "You have to ignore her."
"I'll try. I hate having enemies, though. So far, I've managed not to make many."
Meg smiled. "That's because you hardly talk to anyone! You don't take risks."
"I..." Christine eyes suddenly widened, and she stopped in the middle of the hall. "Oh, Meg! I left my purse back in the room. I don't know how! It was right next to me!"
"Don't worry, Christine. It's probably still there. I need to speak with some of the other girls, anyway. Meet you at the front in five minutes?"
"Sure," replied Christine with a wave, quickly making her way back down the hall before she lost what little money she had. She struggled for a moment to remember exactly what room it had been in, looking left and right down the empty corridors. Every white door looked exactly the same, and many of the lights had been turned off as people headed home for the evening.
Finally, Christine found what she thought to be the correct room and opened the door. With dismay, she immediately saw that it contained an array of wooden cabinets and some pieces of scenery painted to look like mountains. She grunted in frustration and started to turn back around. Her purse was probably stolen by now, anyhow, and she didn't like the feeling of being the only one left in the building.
Then she heard it.
"Christine."
She froze and gripped the doorframe at the sound of her name, her heart skipping a beat as she looked around for the source of the strange whisper. Had she imagined it? Seeing nothing but quiet darkness, she began to turn back around again.
"Christine Daae."
There was no mistaking it this time. "Hello?" Christine shakily murmured, continuing to back up to the doorway. "Is someone there?"
"Have you misplaced something?" It almost seemed to mock her with the question, and she now realized that the voice, though unusual, was not entirely unfamiliar.
"Who's there? I can't see you!" A panic began to rise in her throat.
"Just a friend, Christine. And, as I once told you, seeing me would do you no good."