Part II: Sahirat, tahdidat, and sukun -Taqatul
Author's note: I'm sorry about the typing errors in the last chapters. I wrote it at night and I must confess to a lack in proofreading. Therefore, I will be sure to re-read my fics much more carefully in the future. Lastly, I hope that you will forgive me for my lack of aptitude in the area of the Arabic language. I am only just beginning to familiarize myself with it. Your forgiveness, please.
Once again, the score of Don Juan Triumphant dazzled the musical world, however, this time it was played as an art and not as a trap. The costumes had been re-designed to allow for more comfort on the part of Christine and other members of the cast. The sets were elaborated on, and the entire musical ensemble practiced until the near point of exhaustion on their parts. Everything was perfected.
Carlotta and Piangi left the opera and were not a part of the performance. The former diva's role was given to a Polish chorus girl named Eugenia Boleslaw, and the Don was, of coursed, played by the new tenor, Phelan.
Phelan was an anomaly, in a positive sense of the word, amidst the opera. He kept to himself, never flaunting his great role the way other stars did -and heaven knows he had reasons to flaunt! Phelan was a genius. Not only could he sing in perfect tune as soon as he looked at a sheet of music, but his vocal range was unapproachable. He was not only a tenor, but also a baritone, alto, and bass. What was more, his amazingly versatile voice was filled with emotion, a quality lacking in Piangi. In fact, his whole being acted the part. His gray eyes burned, his face portrayed the character to perfection. It was almost frightening how excellently he performed. He and Christine seemed destined to become the shining stars of their generation.
The critics loved the new performance even more than they had loved the first one. If Piangi had brought tears to the crowds eyes, Phelan brought a deluge. Christine was every bit as stunning as on her first performance, and looked twice as lovely in her new costume. However, some of the exquisite beauty of her own talent seemed diminished when next to the overpowering tidal wave that Phelan brought to the stage. Everyone unanimously decided that he was Don Juan.
All was not well, however, despite the success of the show. The opera house was tense. Detectives prowled about the premises, asking questions and searching for the composer. Everyone wanted to know who had written the wonderful composition and if he would create another. However, no one, even the now chronically worried Christine, had seen the ghost. He seemed to have vanished; taking what serenity was left in the opera with him.
Christine was deeply troubled by the disappearance of her tutor and friend. What was more unnerving was the presence of the new tenor. Something about his gray unnerved her. He always seemed to be watching her, waiting for her to move. It seemed unnatural for him to have so brilliantly captured Erik's work so soon, as well. It was almost as if he had heard the opera before. Even the lyrics seemed second nature him. On top of all that, Phelan seemed to have appeared from no where. No one knew him, not even the critics, and he bore only his one name. The entire affair was eerie.
Christine accepted the applause at the final curtain halfheartedly, her mind elsewhere. She hurried off to her dressing room, hoping that Erik might have heard her sing. She rushed to the mirror, but it was as still as ice. She sighed unhappily and looked at her rose. The petals were dying...
A knock roused her from her thoughts. "Mademoiselle?" It was Phelan.
"Oui?" Christine said, opening the door.
Phelan, dressed all in black, smiled at her. She could not help but think that his teeth seemed unusually white.
"Hello," Christine said nervously. Why did he seem to disquieting now when he seemed quite normal when they have first met?
"Good day," the tenor bowed, "You performed magnificently!"
"As did you," Christine replied.
"I was wondering, mademoiselle," Phelan said, his accent rather more thick that normal, "if you would accompany me to a dinner?"
"Oh, I said that I would see Raoul tonight," Christine protested.
"That stuffy, starched aristocrat?" Phelan laughed, "You must be joking! Tell me, what is it you see in him, besides an overabundance of lace?"
"You're not being kind!" Christine said, "Raoul is a very good friend, they're much more to him that lace!"
Phelan laughed; he had a contagious laugh and soon Christine as smiling also.
"Come, my dear," Phelan said smoothly, "He can't keep you to himself, you know. Besides, I need to talk to you about something."
Christine sighed, "About what?"
"The missing composer," Phelan said coolly, studying his perfect nails.
"What!" Christine gaped, "Tell me!"
"Nah, nah, nah!" he said, shaking a slender finger at her, "Not unless we go to dinner."
"What will I said to Raoul?" Christine asked helplessly.
"Say I invited you," he said, "Cheerio!" The tall, dark form of the tenor slipped out the door, "Our rendezvous is in the foyer!" he called.
"Christine pulled out a plain, green dress. She did not want Raoul to think that she was involved with the somewhat disturbing Phelan in a romantic way. She put on the dress and her cloak. She tied her hair back with a ribbon and slipped a watch into her pocket. Another knock came from the door.
"Who is it?" Christine asked.
"Eugenia," the heavily accented voice replied.
Christine opened the door and embraced the girl. The two kissed on either cheek and smiled. Eugenia had always been a kind girl and had been Christine and Meg's companion when they were both in the chorus.
"Eugenia," Christine said, "you did wonderfully today!"
"You did beautiful!" the Polish girl lisped.
Christine blushed and smiled, "Well, did you enjoy your first part?"
"Oh, yes!" Eugenia replied, "I did not think I would get a part, because of my accent."
"Oh, don't be silly!" Christine giggled, "Phelan has an accent and Carlotta had a horrible accent!"
"No, no, bring-a me doggy!" Eugenia said, imitating the former diva.
"Speaking of Phelan, I'm to meet him in the foyer," Christine said.
"Oh!" Eugenia cried, grinning.
"Just to talk some things over," Christine added hastily. Her friend's giddy smile fell.
"Still," Eugenia said, "You are meeting him."
Christine shrugged.
"Everything wonderful happens to you, and you don't even appreciate it!"
"Oh, hardly!" Christine replied.
"Are you really friends with the composer that they are looking for?" Eugenia asked.
Christine paused, "Yes, you could say that."
"Oh! What is he like?"
"Eugenia, you really are a pest!" Christine teased, "But I'll confide in you later, Phelan is probably waiting for me and I still have to explain to Raoul why I won't be coming to his home for supper."
Christine wondered out into the halls. Soon she came upon Raoul, who was coming to meet her.
"Raoul, I..." Christine began.
"I know already!" Raoul snapped, "I met Phelan in the foyer. ' Oh, sir, your friend and I are going to supper. Cheerio.'"
"Oh..." Christine frowned, "It's not what you think."
"What am I to think? You've never been true to me, not even once!" Raoul's normally pallid face was beat red.
"Raoul, he said he had something to talk to me about," Christine said indignantly, "In fact, I'm sure you would be welcome to come with us."
Raoul looked at Christine inquisitively, "What does he want to talk to you about?"
"Erik," Christine said breathlessly.
"Erik? Good heavens, Christine! Phelan isn't even from here, what could he possibly know about Erik? Can't you tell a trickster from an honest man? Are you that naive?"
"But what if..." Christine started.
"Wait! No, I will accept your invitation, Mlle. Daae," Raoul said curtly, "We'll show this foreign singer that cads are not accepted in French society, despite how some countries act!"
Christine link her arm through Raoul's and was happy that he was coming with her. Despite her feelings towards him about the Don Juan plot, she was glad that he was her friend.
"What's this then? Backing out on me?" Phelan asked as Christine and Raoul entered the foyer.
"I thought that my friend might want to hear what you have to say as well," Christine said innocently.
"Sorry, confidential," Phelan replied, "Good day and cheerio!"
"Wait a moment!" Raoul snapped, "If you think that you're going to lure Christine away, alone, without any protection from myself, you are insane!"
"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Phelan threw up his hands, "Is that it? Ah, I see!" The tenor rubbed his chin, "Very well, come along. I suppose you might be able to keep a secret."
Raoul scowled, "That would depend on what the secret is."
"It's a secret secret," Phelan answered, "The kind that you are not supposed to tell."
Raoul glanced at Christine. She shrugged and they accompanied Phelan out of the opera.
Ta-da! Odd, isn't it? Review and tell me what you think! Oh, and this isn't a C/other-guy fic. What do you think of Phelan? More importantly, anyone know why that's his name, what the name means, and what nationality he is?
