Chapter Twelve

The next week was torture for Leah. They had begun practicing for their last ballet of the year, yet she did not even know which one they were to perform. There were not many main parts to the ballet, and Leah was back in the chorus again.

Jim had not spoken to her since that one morning, nor did he even look in her direction when they were in the same room. Leah felt her heart break a little more every time she looked at him. She wished she could do something, say something, but the Phantom's note resurfaced in her mind every time. 'I will cut their throats…" She would resolutely close her mouth on her apologies and turn away.

Leah was moping along one night, slowly making her way back to her room. Supper was over and Madame Giry had no chores for the chorus girls to do, so they had some free time. Leah planned on going back to her room and lying around until tomorrow came along. It had been over a week since Jim had last spoken to her, and she felt his absence painfully. Victor had left her alone as well, though that did not hurt her quite as much.

Leah heard footsteps behind her, breaking into her depressed thoughts. She walked a little quicker and headed down a different hallway, a detour to her room. The footsteps followed her and Leah almost smacked herself. She had left a wide, open, well-lit hallway for one a lot smaller and a lot darker. Leah cursed herself, thinking that if things did not get better soon she might end up hurt or dead, all because she was not paying attention.

The footsteps quickened and Leah fought down a surge of sharp fear. She sped up and was almost running down the long hallway. She felt another stab of fear when she realized that she had no idea where she was.

A large hand dropped onto her shoulder and she would have screamed, but the other hand clapped itself over her mouth. Leah struggled in vain for a moment and fell still when the hand tightened on her shoulder painfully.

"Stop it Leah! It is just me," Leah recognized Victors voice and wanted to bite the hand that was cutting off her air.

Victor let go of her and Leah practically jumped away from him, her heart still beating rapidly. "Victor!" She gasped. "Say something next time! Don't just sneak up on me like that."

"Sorry Leah," he said in a hushed voice. "But I had to speak to you." He looked up and down the long dark hallway. "I don't think there is anybody around."

"Did Angie tell you anything?" Leah asked.

"Yes," Victor replied.

"Then you know that I cannot risk it. Terrible things will happen if I am seen talking with you," Leah felt tears welling up in her eyes and she blinked furiously to keep them down.

"There is nobody here Leah, we are safe, it is alright," Victor said, trying to comfort her.

Leah shook her head. "No Victor," she said. "We are not safe, he might be here, he might be anywhere. You have to go, you have to leave me, now! Please Victor!" She said, her tears now falling freely.

Victor took Leah by the shoulders and hugged her to him. "Shh, Leah it's alright. Please don't cry," He rubbed his hand lightly down her back. She let him comfort her for a moment before pulling away, wiping her face.

"I will be alright if you stay away from me. I do not want you to get hurt," she said.

Victor nodded reluctantly and bent to kiss her cheek. "I won't be able to stay away for long, you know that." He smiled sadly, and turned, slowly walking away from her.

Leah watched him go, leaning against the wall. Fresh tears poured down her cheeks and she cried until she was empty once more.

Some time later, her eyes dry and her throat sore, she pushed herself away from the door and managed to find her room uneventfully. She unlocked the door and looked up long enough to know that nothing was there.

Leah threw herself onto her bed, wrapping the blanket around herself. She fell asleep quickly, exhausted from her greatly draining emotions.


Without the strong wine in her system, Leah slept lightly and woke at her usual time the next morning. She yawned and stretched, shivering at the cold morning air above her blankets. She got out of bed and sluggishly got dressed, silently thanking whoever had made their uniforms. The clothing was thick and warm and Leah's teeth soon stopped their chattering. She walked to the smaller room, wanting to clean up and get the sleep taste out of her mouth.

As Leah came out of the bathing chamber, she casually glanced over to the side of her room. Her sight was locked onto the small table by the mirror. Usually it stood bare, with nothing atop it. Now there was a single black rose lying on the glossy wood.

Today was going to be a bad day.


And a bad day it was. The cook was having problems with his ovens, resulting in breakfast that was half burned, half still cold. After an unsatisfying meal, they went on to practice. Leah, along with the rest of the girls, was feeling sluggish and slow, mostly due to the continuing bad weather outside. Madame Giry's temper was thin and had to use her stick more often than normal. At one point during the day Angie and another girl collided and fell, Angie twisting her ankle painfully.

After that, Madame Giry had given up on them, cursing and telling them to take the rest of the day off to shake loose whatever it was that was ruining their practice. Leah helped Angie limp to the Opera's small medic room and bound her ankle tightly in a wide strip of bandage.

Leah took her friend to the dormitory, Angie wanted to just lie down and rest until her ankle felt better. Leah promised to check in on her later and left the dark-haired dancer to sleep.

Leah wandered through the halls, not wanting to go back to her room. It was bad enough she spent all night there alone, she did not want to have to spend her days there as well. Besides, it was cold in her room.

She went up to her attic room and stood near the window, watching the snow blow through the streets. Paris was lovely in the winter, the sleepy buildings covered with a blanket of snow, soft grey smoke drifting from their snow covered chimneys. The streets still had a thin covering of white and hardly any carriages were about. She spent hours at that window, forgetting about dinner and continued to stare out the window until the sky was dark and the stars were twinkling.

Leah heard the faint sound of voices drifting up from the other side of the room, snapping her out of her trance-like vigil. Curious, she picked her way over, avoiding the crates and boxes. The voices were coming from the chimney, from one of the office rooms downstairs. Leah pressed her ear against the warm brick and thought she recognized Madame Giry. Leah closed her eyes, trying to distinguish the words.

"…all day." A low male voice was saying.

"What do you mean he has been gone all day?" Madame Giry asked, her tone angry. "Do you mean gone as in missing or gone as in he went to the city all day?"

"Gone as in missing, Madame," the voice was quiet and Leah pushed her ear harder against the chimney.

"When was the last time anybody saw Victor?" Madame Giry asked.

"Late last night Madame," The man said and Leah moved away from the chimney, her hand over her mouth.

Victor missing? Last night? Victor had sought out Leah late last night, and she had a strong feeling that she had been the last one to see him. No, not the last one, Leah changed her mind. He had been there, the Phantom had seen them in the hallway the night before.

Leah reached the door before she had even realized she had moved. She almost ran down the many stairs and started to look for the hallway they had been in before.

It took her nearly an hour, but she eventually found it. It was just as dark as it was the night before, and just as creepy. Leah walked swiftly, pausing in the soft pools of light from the dim lanterns. The hallway went on for a long time, and Leah thought that she had better turn around. Victor was not here.

At the thought of him, her tears returned, but did not fall. It was her fault, she had not warned him well enough. And now look, the Phantom had him wherever it was that evil man dwelled. Leah pushed away her self-pity and started thinking about where else the Phantom might have taken Victor.

She was near the end of the hall now, she could see the wall ahead of her. She stood in the last spot of light and peered into the darkness. She could not see anything but the outline of the door. Until she heard breathing, that is.

Leah's heart leapt into her throat and she bit back a cry. The breathing was ragged and laboured, coming from the dark patch near the wall.

"V-victor?" Leah whispered. "Victor is that you?"

The unseen figure did not respond, only carried on breathing harshly. Leah took a hesitant step forward, unsure of what to do. The shape moaned weakly and Leah was sure that it was a male's voice. She took another step, trying to peer through the darkness. She thought she could make out the person now, a darker lump lying on the ground.

Leah decided that it was safe enough, the man was either unconscious or the next thing to it. She remained next to the wall, practically sliding along in until she reached the man's feet. In the poor light, she saw that he was on his side, his cloak wrapped around him like a blanket, hiding his face.

Leah rubbed her damp palms on her skirt and carefully stepped around him. She reached down and touched his arm gently. When he did not move, she grabbed his arm with both hands and gently pulled him over to lie on his back. He groaned when she moved him and Leah winced at the pain in his voice. She pulled at the hood on the cloak, and even in the dim light, knew it was who she was looking for.

"Victor!" She barely recognized him, his face was a mass of bruises and lumps, dark stains on his face in the low light. She began to yell for help, hoping someone would hear her. She could not lift his weight, nor did she want to leave him alone here. She spoke to him in between her cries for help, repeating the same kind of soothing things over and over again.

"It is alright Victor, you're going to be okay. I am here, everything is going to be fine."

Eventually somebody heard her and came running. A stretcher was then brought, along with extra lanterns and some pain relief medicine. The candlelight fell on Victor's unconscious face and Leah almost cried out. Somebody had beaten him so severely but so skilfully, that there was not a drop of blood. Otherwise, his face looked as if a horse had run over him. Twice.

Somebody handed Leah a small glass vial and she gently raised Victor's head and opened his mouth. The pain potion smelled strong, but she poured the whole thing into his mouth and massaged his throat to force it down. Then two strong men carefully lifted him while one slid the stretched underneath him

They carried him to the medic room, shouting for somebody to fetch the doctor. Leah trailed behind them, not sure of what else to do. Soon enough the doctor called her, to help him like a nurse, he asked. They gently removed Victor's cloak and boots, and his outer clothing. Soon enough he was in a thin pair of pants and no shirt, Leah was glad he was unconscious or else the both of them would have been embarrassed.

But Leah's embarrassment was quickly forgotten. The bruises extended down Victor's chest and arms, all the way down to his bare feet. There was not one patch of skin that was not black, blue or red.

"What kind of monster could do this…?" The doctor whispered.

Leah shook her head, but she was sure she knew who.

They applied salves and cold compresses to his damaged skin and little by little, poured a stronger medicine down his throat. They bandaged his broken ribs tightly, and inspected one of his hands that was badly crushed, but still, not bleeding.

"Whoever did this," the doctor was saying to Leah. "Did not do it in the heat of the moment. This was not a passionate crime. It takes a lot of slow pressure to crush a man's hand like this, this was done over hours, not minutes." He shook his head angrily and they worked quickly to set his bones straight before bandaging it. Victor cried out in his drugged sleep while they were working, but they had to continue, Leah absently wiping tears off her face as they did so.

Almost an hour after they brought Victor into the room, he was fully bandaged and medicated. His breathing was steady now and he had stopped moaning. Leah wanted to sit with him for a while, but the doctor shooed her away, telling her to go rest. She could visit him tomorrow if she wished.

As soon as Leah left the room, she felt her fatigue crash down on her. Her eyes felt dry and she swallowed thickly, wanting nothing more than her drafty room and her wide bed.

She made it upstairs without even thinking about it and before she reached her room, saw somebody leaning against it, sitting on the floor. Leah frowned, not able to recognize the person from where she was. But she continued, too drained to be frightened again.

"Hello?" She called out.

The person raised its head and Leah saw that it was Angie, her eyes red from crying, crumpled paper stuck in her hands. Leah rushed over to her. Had the Phantom gotten to her too?

"Angie, are you alright?" Leah knelt beside her. "What's wrong?"

"It's my fault," Angie said thickly. "I heard what happened to Victor. And it's all my fault."

"Angie, what are you talking about?" Leah asked her. "What do you think you have done?"

"I did not warn him well enough," Angie wailed. "He did not think I was serious. He thought it was Jim who wanted him to stay away from you. And I didn't bother to correct him!" Angie's words dissolved into sobs and Leah pulled her friend against her shoulder.

As she was comforting her guilt-stricken friend, the last of Leah's fear disappeared, turning into white hot anger. Because of one man, one sick, twisted man, one friend was badly hurt, another was sobbing into her sweater, and Jim, oh Jim. Jim would not even look at her now. The Phantom. She felt nothing but hate for the monster she used to be terrified of.

Angie's tears began to dry and her sobbing faded into hiccups. She wiped her eyes absently with the paper in her hand, forgetting what they were. But Leah noticed it, and asked her about it.

"Oh," Angie said, her voice weak. "This. I…"

"Angie?"

"I took this from your room the night you had to clean for Carlotta," Angie whispered. Reluctantly she handed it over.

Leah smoother out the creases, the black writing putting more anger into her heart.

'You have been such a good girl, my sweet, I think I shall reward you. Soon.'

Fear tried to cloud Leah's mind, but she refused to let it. Reward me? She thought. And how soon was soon? She shook her head and pushed it out of her thoughts. Leah realized they had been sitting on the cold wooden floor for quite some time now. She stood up wincing at the stiffness in her legs, and pulled Angie to her feet. She unlocked the door and they went inside.

Angie sat down on Leah's bed while Leah set a small kettle on top of a coal brazier. She got out two mugs and her small packet of tea and waited for the water to boil. The tea was ready quickly and Leah brought the mugs over to where Angie was sitting. Angie was staring at something across the room, her face pale.

"Leah…" She whispered.

Leah followed her gaze. On top of her vanity table was an off-white card, the same kind as the one still in Leah's hand. Angie watched as Leah walked over to it, picked it up and read out loud.

'That, my pet, was just a warning. I am coming for you soon.'

Angie, confused, asked; "A warning? What does he mean?"

Leah blinked and sighed. "Victor. The warning was for Victor." She slowly crushed the note in her fist.

"Oh Leah what are we going to do? He is going to come after you again!"

Leah dropped the note and stepped on it. "I am not going anywhere," she said firmly. "He is coming for me, so he says? I will kill him before I let him take me anywhere…"

Angie shrank back at the look on Leah's face, absently thinking that she would not want to be the Phantom once he stepped foot in Leah's room.


Over the next few days, production had stilled almost to a stop. The snow had built up so much that it was near impossible for people to get in and out, and all those that did not live in the Opera House were not able to come in every day. Victor was still in the medic room and Carlotta refused to work until he was better. The managers were not able to get into the building, and had gotten those that did not live in the Opera working on clearing the doors and the pathway up to it.

Leah spent those days in a continuous rage. She spent hours with Victor, trying to make him more comfortable and aid the healing process. Every time she left that room, her mood was blacker than when she went in. Angie was not able to lift her friend's anger, no matter what she tried.

"Go talk to Jim," Angie said desperately, about four days after Victor's attack. "Surely by now he has heard what happened, and realized that I was telling the truth. Surely he will know that it was because of the Phantom and not Victor, that you warned him to stay away."

Leah paced the length of her room, and Angie almost got dizzy from watching her. Leah shook her head. "Jim will not believe me. He has not even looked my way since that day. Besides, he has not been here for days."

Pressure was building up inside her chest and Leah had no idea how to relieve it. She did not think she could handle any more of this tension. Victor was still hurt. Jim was still angry at her. And the Phantom had still not shown his face.

She felt like screaming.