Chapter 11
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When Christine arrived at the de Changy estate she noticed a strange presence in the air. The wind seemed to have an unusual quality to it, one that she could not describe, and macabre little shadows danced over the lawn. She walked quickly to the door and knocked. A maid opened it.
"Hello, what it is?" the maid barked.
"Madame, you know me, I'm Christine Daae," Christine replied.
"Never heard the name," the maid answered. She heaved as sigh that made her boney ribs tremble. "Well, come in anyway," she said, "No use your sitting out here like a bowl of giblets after Christmas."
Christine followed the maid. Something was defiantly wrong. After all, that maid knew her very well.
Inside the de Changy mansion everything became worse. What had happened to the nice, floral wall-paper that had once been in the little hall? The hall was now covered in a striped blue paper. And, what had become of the painting of the four children on a picnic? That was Raoul's favorite painting, and it had been replaced with dreadful picture of a dead elephant and a hunter. Even the portrait of Admiral Changy de la Roche seemed to watch her as she walked. The hall seemed very long, much longer than it should have been, and it was not lighted.
Finally, when they had almost reached the final bend in the hall, just before the parlor room, Christine froze. Where once there had been the de Changy coat of arms and a few family portraits there now were dozens upon dozens of stuffed owls.
"Why did you stop?" the maid asked, harshly.
"It's just, well, why are there all these stuffed owls?" Christine replied.
"Stuffed owls?" the maid exclaimed, "There's aren't any stuffed owls! It's bad luck to kill an owl, twice bad luck to display the body, and no witch in Christendom will leave you be if you stuff an owl. Humph, stuffed owls, what in the world will they think of next?"
"But, ma'am," Christine pressed, "Then what are those?"
"They aren't stuffed," the old woman replied.
Immediately each of the many owls turned too look at Christine, their eyes shimmering in the darkness. With hoots and screeches, the owls lifted their wings and began to swarm about the poor girl.
Christine had never been frightened of owls. Once, her father had brought her home and injured owlet, which she had raised until it was old enough to live on its own. She had always had a fondness for the night-birds. However, even the greatest owl enthusiast does not enjoy being attacked by dozens of angry talons and beaks. Christine wasn't even the greatest owl enthusiast.
"Help!" she cried, screaming in pain as another bird bit her hard on the arm.
"What am I supposed to do?" the maid asked helplessly.
Christine's earsplitting screams filled the house once more as a particularly nasty bird took hold of a lock of her hair and began to pull on it. Christine fumbled for her pocket scissors and severed the lock. Then she pulled her shawl over her head and retreated to a dark corner of the hall. The owls continued to fly in circles around the place where she stood.
"Careful!" the old maid exclaimed, "You'll upset the bats!"
The word 'bats' was like a stab in the chest. For, if there was one thing in the world that Christine hated, it was a bat. She gave a loud yelp and shot up into the air. Immediately a score of bats flew screeching out from the corner.
"Bats!" Christine sobbed, "Bats! Big, ugly bats!" Christine grabbed the first thing that she could lay her hands on, an ugly statuette of a troll that was sitting on a coffee table that had once harbored an angle figurine, and she swung it with all her might. Thwatp. The statue collided with the head of a bat, dropping it dead on the floor. At once, all of the owls and bats returned to their former places, as if in shock.
The maid turned on Christine with murder in her eyes. Before the girl realized what was happening, the maid swung her fist and struck Christine a blow to the nose. Blood squirted down her face and she gave a yelp of pain.
"You're the worst guest I've ever seen!" the maid shouted, "I'll have you thrown out!"
Christine glared at the woman. "I am a good friend to the Viscount de Changy, and I intend to report you! I'll tell Raoul and he'll have you thrown out! You'll get rid of your owls and your horrible bats, you'll put back the nice, floral wallpaper, you'll get rid of that dreadful troll statue and picture of the elephant and put back the things that should be there, and you'll fix whatever is wrong with the Admiral's portrait, and you'll put back the coat of arms and the de Changy pictures, and you'll light some candles!" Christine shuddered and added, "And you'll light a fire, it's freezing here!
The maid cackled, and administered another brutal blow to Christine's face. "Don't you think you can talk to me like that, missy!"
"I can talk to a horrible old maid however I like," Christine said between sobs as she nursed her bloodied nose and now blackened eye. "I'll have you locked up!"
"You'll have me locked up?" the maid asked, sneering, "Don't you even know who I am?"
Christine was very frightened by this point and simply shook her head.
"I am a witch!" The maid laughed. She took hold of Christine's arm and pulled her towards the parlor. She suddenly stopped. "Oh, and by the way," she said wickedly, "your foppish love is far, far away by now."
"What?" Christine cried.
"Yes, what a pity," the witch replied, "Of course you can help him."
"How? I'll do anything!" Christine exclaimed, wishing that her voice actually sounded as if she would be willing to do anything.
"You must reveal a certain piece of information," the witch stated.
"I will!" Christine promise, "I will!"
"Then, tell me the location of a certain phantom," a voice replied. Christine turned and saw Phelan step out from the parlor.
La-ra-la! It's that a dandy way to end a chapter? REVIEW ME! Heh-heh-heh. Oh, good, angst is up soon! Angst! Happy, little angst!
