Chapter Summary: Tallis and Serge arrive at the opera house to begin their search. They find the shattered mirror in a familiar dressing room and venture into the depths of the opera house. Xavier assaults both Raoul and Christine as he prepares to commit a last, desperate act. Arthur finds the horrors Xavier left behind him at Cote de Vallee and races back to Chagny with the news.
CHAPTER EIGHTY
The four black horses stood in the shadows of the side street, shadows within shadows, the only sign of their presence the occasional puff of misty cloud floating into the still night from an impatient snort. Behind these silent sentinels sat a man dressed in clothing that was as equally as dark as the coats of the horses. He sat atop a black coach; reins held lightly in his hands all the control that was needed to keep well-trained, powerful horses in place. The man was as still and as silent as those horses as he waited for the two people in the carriage to exit and go about their business in the deepening darkness of a winter evening. He had known the man inside the carriage since he had been a small lad clinging to the hand of his elegant mother during family visits to Paris and he was not acquainted with the young woman. Yet what went on between those who employed him and whatever girl could be found on any given Paris street corner was none of his business. If the young man wanted to show this girl the ruined opera house – and perhaps a little more – was none of his business. He was treated well and paid even better. The coach driver saw nothing, knew nothing and said nothing; although, he did feel the coach on its springs as first one person and then another exited. The driver turned slightly to look down into a young man's face.
"Two hours," Serge told the man atop the coach. "I doubt there will be any questions as to why you are waiting on such a street but I trust you to know what to say."
"Aye," the driver nodded, his eyes quickly flicking to the woman completely covered by a dark cloak. He wondered briefly what was under that cloak, what she looked like. He had seen the women who he had driven to private assignations and each of them had been exquisitely beautiful. Yet there was something about the way this woman carried herself that led the driver to think this was no mere assignation. "Two hours," he repeated and lightly tapped the reins on the backs of his team. The coach began to move off and the driver hoped the young man knew what it was he was getting himself into.
Serge knew perfectly well what he was doing' from the time he was old enough to remember, he had never made a decision without considering all the consequences. Serge was quiet, polite, a gentleman and a thinker – he was a product of his upbringing. Now, he turned to the woman who waited hidden in the long, reaching shadows of the burned-out opera house and, for a moment, it seemed to Serge that the ghosts of the opera house were reaching for them. And he thought again; perhaps, it was just one ghost of the opera house. "Are you ready, Tallis?" Serge asked as he walked to her side.
The head beneath the hooded cloak nodded. "Yes," came the whispered reply.
"No matter what we may find?" Serge needed to be sure. He had read the stories in the newspapers, heard the gossip from his own family and was aware of just what it was that might meet them. Serge knew that there was the possibility that neither of them would walk out once they had entered the opera house. And should they walk out, he knew that only the two them may walk out; perhaps, only Tallis would be leaving. He just needed to be sure before they placed their lives into God's hands.
"No matter the cost," Tallis told him, a hand slipping from beneath her cloak to rest lightly on Serge's arm. "And if there is a cost to pay this evening, I promise that you shall not pay it." Her thoughts had been the same as his. "You will walk out of this opera house tonight, even if I do not."
"We shall both leave," Serge said as he placed a gloved hand over the one resting upon his arm. He looked up at the moonless sky slowly beginning to twinkle with stars and turned back to Tallis. "Let us begin, shall we?" Serge asked as he guided Tallis through the entrance to had once been the stable area for the opera's animals and paused as he looked around.
"To the right," Tallis said, as she pictured Antoinette's map in her mind.
Serge and Tallis walked to the right, carefully sidestepping the debris that was still scattered about the courtyard. Antoinette had told them to use first try the stable courtyard entrance that led to the backstage because Monsieur Garnier had erected scaffolding all about the rest of the opera house as he continued his renovation and restoration of what had been destroyed. The stable yard would be the last thing to be restored and Antoinette reminded the two young people proceeding on such a dangerous mission that the yard was also being used as a dumping ground. She had also warned that that should they gain entrance through the stable yard doors that more than likely there would be scaffolding erected in the interior of the opera house, as well. Antoinette had urged caution at every turn and Serge and Tallis were taking her words to heart for to do otherwise would surely stop their quest before it had begun.
Man and woman stopped before the door that Antoinette had pointed out, Serge shaking his head, a hand reaching out to tug on the planks nailed over the entrance. "I think I can loosen these enough to pull them out," Serge said as he turned toward Tallis. "Please stand back."
Tallis took two steps backward and waited, watching.
Serge drew a deep breath and placed his gloved hands upon the first plank, setting feet firmly in place. He tugged and twisted and slowly but surely the board began to pull away from the fire and water damaged wood into which it had been nailed. When it came off in his hands, Serge staggered backward for an instant, feeling a small hand reaching for his back to steady him. Serge turned around to smile his thanks at Tallis and returned to the door and the next board. Each of the four boards that came away caused Serge to stagger backward a few steps and each time he found that same small hand there to steady his back and prevent him from falling. As he placed a hand on the knob, leaning into the door, preparing to force it open, Serge thought what a loss it would be were they to fail in their quest this night and Tallis should keep her promise to spend her life in silent contemplation. He knew that Tallis had too much to quietly offer the world for such an event to come to pass, to even be contemplated!
"Shall we?" Serge asked with a slight grin as he turned toward Tallis for a brief moment. He could barely see her nod. Serge turned back to the door, turning the rusty knob as he leaned all his weight against the wood.
And nearly fell into the opera house as the door gave way.
"Are you all right?" Tallis worried as she reached for Serge.
"Quite fine," Serge said as he straightened his posture and brushed off the small debris that had settled upon his clothes. "I think that is something," he said as nodded at the now open door, "of which we shall have to be quite careful as we proceed, yes?" He took Tallis' hand.
"Yes," Tallis replied as she allowed Serge to lead her into the inner darkness of the opera house. She waited as Serge closed the door behind them, careful to not close it all the way, leaving an escape for either one or both of them.
"Follow carefully in my footsteps," Serge told Tallis as they began to walk into the opera house. Serge watched his feet as he placed one foot in front of the other, always testing the floorboards. He would raise his head and look around after each footfall, searching for debris that may come tumbling down from above, stopping their search before it had even begun. Serge finally stopped in a large open area, turning his head to look to the left. "That must be the stage," he said.
Tallis followed his gaze. In the darkness she could see a huge shadowy object lying in the floor, beams littering the floor of what must at one time have been the stage. Tallis thought she saw broken chairs beyond the edge of the stage but she could only spare a moment for a glance, other matters – weightier, life-changing matters – were demanding her attention. Tallis slipped the edges of her cloak over her shoulders, revealing the lantern she had concealed beneath.
"Hold this," Serge said as he handed her the map he had withdrawn from beneath his own coat, taking the lantern and lighting it. The glowing light from the lantern formed a circle about Tallis and Serge, holding back the all-encompassing dark of the opera house even as Saint Michael's flaming sword held back the darkness of Hell. "We go to the right, yes?" Serge asked as Tallis studied the map she held in her hands.
Tallis nodded and once again took Serge's hand, walking with him down a long corridor, the lantern light granting them a clearer, safer pathway. Tallis slowly counted the doors on the right side of the corridor even as she studiously followed in Serge's footsteps. "This one," she said softly as she reached 'ten', pausing in her walk and forcing Serge to do the same.
"Let me," Serge told her as he looked at the door and looked down, knowing that a few stairs had once stood before the entry that was raised above the floor far beyond any normal door. He handed Tallis the lantern and reached up, turning the knob and finding this door relatively easy to open. Serge reached down with his hands, feeling about the floor just beyond the threshold, before grabbing onto either side of the doorway and lifting himself up. He turned back to Tallis. "Hand me the map and lantern please," he said and placed them in the room before reaching down and lifting Tallis up.
"So this was it," Tallis said softly as she gazed about the ruins of the dressing room. A frown crossed her face. "Typical of him to watch from the shadows."
"Have a care, Fraulein," Serge warned her, "for we do not know what ears may lurk in those shadows."
"I do not care," Tallis said rather angrily and sighed. "No, I do care." Her voice lowered to a barely breathed whisper. "Damn him anyway; I do care."
Serge nodded at a large frame that once held a long since gone mirror only sharp shards of silvery glass remaining in the charred wood. "Is that it?" he asked
"Yes," Tallis told him. "We must go through there and into whatever lies beyond if I am ever to find Erik."
"Through the Gates of Hell, then." Serge took her hand and could feel it trembling. "Do not worry, Tallis; I shall be your Virgil."
Tallis turned a questioning gaze toward Serge. "Pardon?"
"He was a guide through the depths of Hell," Serge told her, lightly squeezing her hand. "And you shall be Beatrice, the Light of Heaven that guides man to eternal salvation."
"I would be happy just to lead one man back into my arms," Tallis sighed before following Serge and disappearing into the never ending corridors that stretched beyond the mirror Erik had once used to watch Christine.
And –at that very moment – the one-time object of Erik's passion and desire was facing her own blackness, feeling Death closing in about her as her lungs screamed for air that could not come through a nose and mouth closed by the hand of a madman. Still, through the buzzing in her ears, Christine could hear her husband's voice calling out for her from a great distance. She longed to warn him away, to scream for him to go for help, to run, to flee but no sounds would come, only the silent tears that slipped from her cheeks.
"Christine?" Raoul asked again as he stood in the open doorway, holding onto the handle to steady himself. He looked at the open doors that led to the balcony. "Why?" he wondered as he stared at them, his gaze turning to the fireplace. "Damn old dampers," Raoul muttered as he caught the stinging odor of smoke. "I guess she forgot to close the doors." Raoul walked into the room, toward the open doors, beyond the edge of the door that opened onto the hallway.
"It was not your wife who forgot to close the doors," a voice said from behind him.
Raoul turned around. "Xavier?" Raoul asked, the puzzled look on his face turning into one of shock as he heard the loud gasp for air from his wife as Christine slid down the wall, both hands reaching for their child. The shock quickly turned to anger as he turned to the man standing before Christine. "What on earth have you done to my wife…" he began angrily and paused, his eyes going wide as he noticed the jewelry about Xavier's neck. "My cross," Raoul breathed. "That was taken from me the day that…" His eyes closed and slowly reopened, a light of a memory beginning to glow in them. "It was you. That day they drugged me. I thought it was a dream. I thought …" Raoul would never have a chance to finish that sentence.
Xavier's hands shot out, grabbing Raoul by the shoulders, whirling him around and thrusting him, face first, into the bricks surrounding the fireplace. Raoul, still recovering from his ordeal and slowly regaining his strength was unable to resist the assault under which he suddenly found himself. He hit the wall of bricks hard and fell to the floor, dots swirling before his eyes, a trickle of blood beginning to flow from a laceration just beneath his cheekbone. Raoul felt strong hands grip him by the shoulders. "You were never meant to return," Xavier hissed in his ear. "There shall be no escape for you or your family this time," Xavier finished before flinging Raoul across the room.
Raoul's knees collided with a heavy wooden table and he sagged to the floor, unable to speak through the pain being telegraphed from every portion of his body. Yet he could hear the deep, desperate gasps for air that were coming from behind him. The thought that Christine and his child were in danger stirred something in Raoul that he had thought he lost and, ignoring the pain and his blurred vision, Raoul used the table to steady himself as he rose to his feet. "Christine!" he screamed. "Run!"
At Raoul's desperate plea to his wife, Xavier crossed the room and quietly closed the door, turning the key in the lock and moving back across the room to throw the key through the open doors and over the balcony into the night beyond. Xavier spared a brief glance at Christine who was on her hands and knees, still gasping for air as she struggled to rise; he could manage her. There would be no way she would be able to resist what he would do to her and he turned his attention back to Raoul. "You can still get to your feet, I see," Xavier snarled at Raoul as he grabbed Raoul by his shirt, lifting him from the floor. "I do not know who is the better fighter," Xavier smiled coldly at Raoul, "you or your charming wife!"
Raoul suddenly found himself flying through the air, over the table he had previously landed against, to fall flat on his back near the open doors to the balcony, his breath coming out of him in a large whoosh. The thought of his wife and child in peril, needing his love and protection, was the motivation that drove Raoul to roll to his side, struggling to get to his hands and knees, struggling to rise to his feet. He needed to place himself between Christine and the unknown stranger locked in the room with them. He needed to keep Xavier's attention on him, no matter the consequences to himself. Raoul knew he would gladly give his own life to save the lives of his family; he would never get to his feet.
"Stay down, damn you!" Xavier ordered as he slammed booted foot down on Raoul's back causing Raoul to fall back to the carpeted floor. He was leaning over, his hands reaching for Raoul's neck when suddenly Xavier found himself under attack.
"Get off of him!" Christine shouted as she threw herself at Xavier's back, her hands reaching for his face, nails clawing at skin, desperately reaching to claw at eyes. "Leave him alone!"
The hormonally driven instincts of a woman to protect husband and child were for a moment no match for Xavier. He felt the skin on his face raked, welts rising, as fingernails scraped down his flesh over and over. He felt knees pounding at his hips, feet kicking at his legs and all the time the screaming in his ear.
"Raoul! Get up! God, get up!" Christine pleaded as once again she fought in her own way to draw a madman's attention from the man she loved. "Raoul, please! Get out of here!"
Xavier finally regained his composure and footing and whirled on Christine, backhanding her across the face, causing her to stumble toward a nearby sofa. Christine put out her hands as she fell, protecting her frantic child from the blow that would surely follow. "You little bitch!" Xavier hissed as he grabbed Christine about the throat with both hands, pulling her to her feet before she could finish falling.
"Christine," Raoul coughed, as he struggled to his hands and feet. He reached out for a nearby chair, using it to steady himself as he rose to his knees. "Oh God, Christine!" Raoul breathed at the sight that met his eyes.
Xavier had one arm about Christine's neck, the other wrapped about her body just at the top of her swollen belly, Christine's hands pulling at the arm around her neck. Xavier was dragging a struggling Christine toward the open doors and the balcony beyond, stopping each time Christine would kick out at him to tighten the grip about her neck, lifting her off her feet and cutting off her air supply. As Christine would grow quiet again, Xavier would continue to drag her closer and closer to the balustrade and the open air over its edge.
"Let her go!" Raoul pleaded as he began to rise to his feet. "Do what you want with me but … please! … I beg of you! … let them go!" His eyes turned to his wife who was once again gasping for air. "Christine …"
"Stay on your knees!" Xavier warned Raoul, as he tightened his grip about Christine's throat. "I have all ready done what I want with you!" His other hand reached down to run slowly over the swell beneath Christine's gown. "Now I shall do what I want to your family!"
"Raoul," Christine squeaked as she sought and found his face through the tears that blurred her eyes. "I love you." She gasped for a breath. "We love you."
"I love you," Raoul replied, unable to keep the tears from his voice. "I love you both."
"How touching," Xavier said, as he turned toward the balustrade, Christine still in his arms. He gave one last look back at Raoul who was rising to his feet, his hands outstretched. "Say goodbye to your family," Xavier said as he leaned Christine over the edge of the balustrade.
"No!" Raoul screamed.
The word "no" was also being screamed but it was being screamed silently in the mind of the man who raced his horse through the darkness. "No. No. No." echoed with each thudding hoof beat, each pounding heartbeat. His mind tried to wrap itself about what had recently been seen, been discovered and he found he could not do it. He could not fathom such deception for it was not in his makeup. Yes, he had spent a lifetime learning to say the words that needed to be heard but those who always heard those words knew he was just saying what they wanted him to say. But a lifetime of outright lies, of well-hidden cruelty, of a madness that was so carefully hidden beneath the veneer of friendship was something his mind just could not understand. Perhaps, he was too honest, perhaps he was not jaded enough, perhaps he had not lost his belief in the inherent goodness of mankind; yet, Arthur was no longer sure. After what he had seen upon arriving at Cote de Vallee, Arthur was no longer sure of much…
Arthur's suspicions were first aroused when Monique had not arrived with Xavier. Yet it had seemed a plausible explanation that she would not wish to expose two expectant mothers to any germs she may have been carrying. Arthur had an uneasy feeling but accepted the gracious excuse that Xavier produced and had kept a wary eye on Xavier throughout the afternoon tea. His uneasy feeling had begun to grow with each tick of the clock toward twilight for Henri had promised to return before the shadows lengthened. Arthur had finally gone to Philippe and willingly lied for the first time in his life.
"I think Henri may have gotten distracted from the errand I sent him on," Arthur had whispered to Philippe as he had taken his friend and employer to a quiet corner of the noisy, family-filled room. "I think I should go after him."
There was an angry glint in Philippe's eyes. "I think you should," he replied. "And when you find him, drag him back here and put him in my study." Philippe frowned. "Lock him in there if you must! I do not want him wriggling his way out of my anger this time!"
Arthur merely nodded, knowing that should Henri and Didier be correct, Philippe's anger and disappointment would go far beyond the reaction to any mere family betrayal.
"Where is Arthur going?" Arthur heard Xavier say as he left the room.
"Chasing after Henri," Philippe told him. "And with any luck, he will be with Didier and we can lecture them both at the same time!"
"With any luck," Xavier replied as Arthur shut the door behind himself, the older man's words sending a chill up his spine.
The chill had not lessened as Arthur had approached Cote de Vallee, going down the front walk and finding the house completely dark, the front door wide open. Arthur had had the good sense to slip a loaded pistol into his jacket pocket and he pulled it out as he crossed the threshold, shutting the door behind him. He stood quietly at the bottom of the familiar staircase, listening to the silence, desperate to hear a sound, any sound. And finally it came to him and the voice sounded familiar. Arthur took the stairs two at a time, pausing momentarily at the top of the staircase, listening for the sound and turning left. He stopped in his tracks at what he saw.
Henri was seated on the carpet, his clothes clinging to him as if he had put them on directly from the wash. Didier lay on the floor before him, his head cradled in Henri's lap. It was Henri's voice that Arthur had heard.
"Do not die on me, Didier," Henri kept repeating. "Do not die on me!"
Arthur moved quickly to Henri's side, kneeling beside him. He reached out a hand to get Henri's attention and drew it back, stunned at how cold Henri was, how hard his body was shivering. "Henri?" Arthur tried. "What has happened?" Arthur was stunned at the blue tinge on Henri's face.
"Xavier pushed Didier down the attic stairs," Henri sobbed and turned his attention back to his friend, lightly running a hand over Didier's coppery hair. "When Didier regained consciousness, he tried to get to Monique because he knew Xavier would hurt her, as well." Henri shook his head. "But he could get no farther then this." Henri leaned forward slightly. "Do not die on me, Didier; please, do not die on me!"
Arthur grabbed Henri's shoulder. "I will send help!" he promised. "But where is Monique?" Arthur knew it would further destroy Philippe if anything happened to Monique. "You must tell me where she is!"
"At the other end of the hall," Henri whispered and sniffled back his tears. "Inspector Rousseau is with her."
"I will send help!" Arthur repeated emphatically and rose to his feet, sprinting down the hall. "Inspector!" he called out.
"In here!" came the reply.
Arthur burst through the broken doors at the end of the hall. "Oh my God," he breathed as he watched Inspector Rousseau walking Monique back and forth across the bedroom floor. "Is she all right?" Arthur wondered, taking note of the fact that Monique's feet dragged along the floor, her head lolling in every direction possible.
"I believe she will be," Inspector Rousseau told him. "I think we got to her in time but you must go for help! You must get back to Chagny first, though. I am certain that the Vicomte is in deadly peril this evening!" The inspector continued to give orders and Arthur knew how to follow orders. "Send someone from Chagny to the police station and send someone for a doctor! I will stay here and do what I can. Go!"
"Yes," was the only word Arthur replied as he ran from the room, to fly down the stairs and back onto his horse, his disbelief and fear spurring him onward, down familiar roads and back to Chagny.
As Arthur ran up the front stairs to Chagny, he could only hope he would be in time. He burst through the front door, leaving it open before him. He ignored the stunned valet as he ran down the hall, opening the doors to the huge parlor where Arthur knew the family would be found. All eyes turned to him as he clung to the door, desperately trying to get his breath.
"Arthur?" Philippe asked.
"Where is Xavier?" Arthur asked and coughed.
"Upstairs with Raoul and Christine," Philippe replied, the confused look on his face turning to one of worry. "Has something happened to Didier or Monique?" The worry deepened into fear. "Has something happened to Henri?"
"We have to get up there!" Arthur panted.
"We will," Philippe said as he began to cross the room to his friend's side. "Once you catch your breath, we will go upstairs."
Arthur let go of the door and grabbed Philippe's lapels. "You. Do. Not. Understand!" he spat and shook Philippe. "Xavier tried to kill Didier and Monique and Henri, Inspector Rousseau is with them now. We need to send help!"
"You do not know what you are saying!" Philippe interrupted, suddenly frightened by how still Arthur had become.
"Philippe, I do know what I am saying," Arthur said in a deadly earnest tone. "Xavier was the one who plotted everything! He was the one who was behind what happened to Raoul!"
There was a potent silence in the room as Arthur's words rang in the ears of all those present.
Philippe went white as a sheet. "And now he is up there – alone – with Raoul and Christine," he breathed.