Opera Ghost

Chapter Eleven

When she woke up, all she could see was white. White all around her, and soft. She thought that she was floating on a cloud. Peering through narrow eyes, she still found it difficult to see, so again she had to rely on her other senses. She was lying on very soft pillows, likely made of simple cotton. She breathed it in and it smelt of chamomile and lavender, heavenly. She turned her nose in another direction, inhaling the air around her. It was moist, but clean. Her fingers felt around, coming in contact with soft satin. But her ears heard nothing around her. She finally managed to open her eyes all the way, even though it did no good. Her glasses were still missing.

Lazily she felt around the soft pillows until her hand grasped around a familiar shape. She breathed a sigh of relief as she slipped on blue framed glasses onto her nose. There was a noticeable scratch on one of the lenses but other than that no considerable damage. Jessalyn turned her head so it looked straight up, for her neck ached from leaning to the side. Jessalyn lifted up her hands to her face. A fresh new bandage rested across her left knuckles. She lifted up the cloth to see a collection of nasty scabs that has formed on her fingers. Jess also noticed another dressing on her right hand and could feel the blister growing under it. It stung like hell. They were all neat cut bandages secured with a skill hand, like the ones her stranger had given her before. She kept breathing in and out almost afraid of what had happened to her. Then she finally got the courage to sit up and look around her.

"Where I am?" She wondered aloud in awe. She had been placed in a large exotic looking bed complete with white sheets, comforter, and gauzy canopy hanging from the ceiling. She drew back the curtain to see what lay beyond. The room surrounding her was cozy to say the least. A large dresser, and bookshelf rested against opposite walls. A chaise was shoved in one corner. Two identical night stands painted white where placed on each side of the bed. On each rested a large porcelain vase, one vase was filled with pink and white roses. They're buds where still closed. The other vase had blood red roses, each one in full bloom. They looked just like to rose she had found in Box Five. Jessalyn rubbed her temples which throbbed from her aching head.

This couldn't be a dream. She ventured out of the bed, even though it warm, soft sheet and calming scent seemed to want to seduce back under the covers. She was thankful, at least she thought she was thankful, to discover she was still in her night clothes. But her jacket was missing and she couldn't spot it anywhere in the luxurious room. She went over the dressing table to look for it. The top was scattered with various beauty items, including brushes, combs, perfume bottles, and a basin fill with water with matching washcloth. She let her fingers dip into the warm water in the tub which was fresh. They all looked very antique yet clean. She looked at herself in the mirror. What a mess. But she didn't feel at all comfortable in using any of the amenities displayed before her to fix the problem. So she pinched her cheeks just to be sure she was awake, and used her fingers to brush her hair. Her slippers were gone to and the room really wasn't that warm.

She wandered about trying to find something to cover herself. On the chaise there was a beautiful white gown, expensive looking and very period. The sleeves hung at the side in ornate fashion decorated with lace and beading. Jess examined in disbelief. This was such a beautiful dress. But damn if she would were it to put it on just to go exploring in this strange place. She sighed and set it back down just as she had found it. Perhaps there was something more suitable in the closet that sat in one corner. The large oak closet was full of large vintage dresses, with trains and bustles. So much for simple attire. But her feet where freezing, so she rummaged through the closet drawers until finding a pair of slippers. She reluctantly put them on, then turned her attention to the ominous door on the other side of the room.

Jess stilled hope this was all a dream as she crept slowly over to the door. She rested her hand on the knob for a moment. She could have sworn that it had to be locked, but she paused to lean her ear against the door to listen. A muffled sound vibrated against an ear lobe in response. Pressing the knob down, it turned under the applied pressure. The door was unlocked. Without hesitation, she flung open the door.

A gasp escaped her lungs as the swell of low notes on a pipe organ flooded her ears. She was surrounded in an immense room lit by nothing but candles. Candles of all sizes, thin and thick and colors from white to yellow to red. They burned so bright that they made the dark painted room glow orange instead. Jess starred at the large ceiling above her, which look as if it were made of honeycomb. Or perhaps it more closely resembled the walls of a cave. The large room was furnished with many different objets. Large ornate rugs scattered on the floor, at least a dozen bookshelves all full, two wine racks, one upholstered recliner and matching couch with several wooden chairs placed else where in the room. But there was no organ in the room or any sign of the musician that played it. Next to where she stood was a table, scattered in sheet music. She picked up a piece, trying to read the scrawled out notes in a dark red ink. A piano took center stage in the arrangement and on the other side of the room, there where other two other doors. Jess listened carefully, that is where the noise was coming from. She headed towards it eagerly. But she had only made it half way across the room when the noise stopped suddenly, as if whoever was making it had heard her coming.

But that was impossible. She wasn't even making a sound, except for now in the silence her heart began to beat faster and breathing became more harsh and rapid. She heard a door slam, but her eyes were fixed on the only two entrances in the room and she had seen nothing move. Or maybe it had come from behind her. Now she was terrified and wanted to do nothing more than return back to the room. But as she backed up, she bumped into something solid. She gasped and turned around.

A tall man in black stood only a few inches in front of her. Acting on instinct, she ran away stumbling over a couch and fell into its awaiting cushions. She sat back stunned, looking up at him. He had seemed to appear out of nowhere, and stood there watching her. He towered over her and almost appeared to be floating. He was dressed in black dress slacks, and an elegant double-breasted jacket with tails. A full white dress shirt poked from under the lapels covering up to his neck. Over one arm which he had next to his hip, rested what appeared to be a thin white robe of some sort. His hair was worn long, falling over his forehead and down his neck, matching the same ebony shade of his attire. But on his face rested the strangest accessory of them all. A black mask, probably made of leather covered most of his face, only revealing his lower jaw, chin, and mouth, all of those features strong and angled. Around the holes for the eyes, where thin lines of painted gold. He had noticed that her gaze had focused onto the eyes of the mask, so he closed them exposing soft, dark lids. Then suddenly he opened them again and her heart skipped a beat as orbs of mesmerizing slate blue focused on her body and face.

"Forgive me." He said softly. "I didn't mean to startle you so." His voice. She knew it. It belonged to her mysterious stranger who had rescued and cared for her. That rich melodic voice that even a simple sentence overflowed with grace and elegance. Jessalyn could feel her stomach knot at the realization. But she didn't want to show that she was really afraid of him, so she pushed herself up off the couch and tried to stand firmly on her own feet.

But when she opened her mouth to speak, but it seemed every word had run dry. She just should there, her body shaking from the cold, starring at the floor. He extended his arm which the robe rested on. "You must be cold. Here, this is for you." He started to move to put the garment over her, but Jessalyn was quicker, holding up her hand.

"No thank . . . you. I'm fine." She managed weakly. He ignored her, circling around her like a hawk and in one swift movement draped the dressing gown over her shoulders like a blanket. Jess examined the delicate lace of or the garments with her fingers. Then he finished, facing her again. His gaze held her like a statue.

"I hope you slept well, Mademoiselle Greene." He stated simply. Jess looked down at her hands, the new bandages. It all made sense and at the same time, it made none.

"It was you. You were the one who rescued me that night. Who took care of my wounds?" He moved closer, only few feet in front of her and nodded slowly. Shock dawned on her face. "You killed that man! I saw you kill him."

His head snapped sharply at her comment and she could see a bright flash in his eyes. "Would you rather have been raped by him instead? Would you have preferred that?" His comforting voice vanished to be replaced by a tone of malice and anger. He took another step toward her and Jess in turn to another step back.

"No." She whispered, her head hung low.

"I had to protect you."

"But I don't know you." She protested, taking many more steps back until she was almost at a wall, cornered

"You called for help and I was the only one who answered. What greater friend could you have than I?" He counterpointed gracefully. He was so close now that she could smell the scent of his cologne and feel his breath on her skin. She kept her hand crossed in front of her chest as he approached.

"But who are you?" She demanded, making a desperate grab for the mask on his face. His hand both shot up and snatched hers mid air. His grip was strong, stronger than he may have realized. He starred at her hard as she struggled. He bent his head low.

"Forgive me." He whispered suddenly, letting go of her but at the same time letting one of his hands reached out and touch her face. Jessalyn gave a gasp and closed her eyes when his skin touched hers. The bottom of his palm rested against her chin and his fingers extended deep into her hair, caressing it. He had half of her head cradled in his hand. And yet for all size and strength, the fingertips that touched her were soft and smooth.

But cold.

She could help but shiver as he moved his hand up the side of her cheek. She dared to open her eyes to see him starring at her, more stunned than she appeared to be. He drew his hand away as if he had been brunt. "You . . . you never let me touch you before. Not like that." His voice was softy and more desperate sounding now, like a child. "Why now?"

She swallowed hard still not able to look him in the eye. "Because I still think this is all a dream, and that I'll wake up soon." Was all she could offer. His hands flew back to her face, one on each side. He pinched her cheek slightly but effective enough to make her jump.

"Trust me, my dear you are not dreaming." He whispered into her ear.

Jess stood back, as if waiting on the edge, almost certain that he would try and force a kiss on her. But endless seconds passed and nothing happened, and Jessalyn found that she actually savored his well-placed caresses. "Then may I pretend I'm still dreaming, even though you claim all of this to be true."

"As you wish my lady."

Snap out of it! Jess opened her eyes as if she had been under a spell. She wasn't dreaming so why was she acting like this? She pulled away from his embrace, trying to run away but not sure where she would go.

"Leave me alone. Who are you?" she demanded once more.

He stood there, coyly flashing her a grin. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked. She wasn't going to play this game with him. He was toying with her.

"Your name . . . Monsieur le Fantome?" she breathed.

"So, you do believe." His eyes held her captivated, and she couldn't pull away from their gaze.

She breathed slowly trying to regain her calm as best she could. "This farce, this shame. No you are just trying to scare me, scare us away." She said firmly, managing to move away so as not to be trapped between the wall and him. Her hands curled into fists as she displayed them proudly at him. "But it appears I am your prisoner, so it seems I have no choice but to believe it." He turned away quickly, and Jess feared he would lash out at her. Yet he stood calm and composed.

"So I assume then . . . you don't love me." He stated simply, his back still turned away from her.

Jess couldn't believe her ears. What was this? Was he serious? "Love you? I barely know you!" She increased the distance from him by a couple more yards. He chuckled under his breath.

"Haven't you figured it out by now? Haven't my clues been sufficient enough to jog your memory?" Facing her again, he saw the confused look on her face. "No, I suppose you haven't." He whispered harshly. He reached into the folds of his jacket and withdrew a small brown book. A familiar one.

"You! You were the one who left that book in my room. And you left the flower in Box Five! And everything else. It was all you!" God, this couldn't be happening. "What the hell do you want from me?" she cried.

"To remember." He replied coldly, his voice full of frustration." He took the book, trusting it at her. "But not this, not this rubbish!" In anger he threw the book down, its already frail spine cracking. "Remember us Christine, remember what we had."

Christine. Jessalyn's mind raced. There were only two explanations. One she was in the clutches of a maniac and an elaborate con man, who had conducted this entire hoax, or she was in the presence of the real, human Phantom of the Opera.

It couldn't be true. This is not real. It's impossible. She kept repeating to herself over and over again.

"It's true Christine. It all is." He echoed as if he had read her mind.

"No, I'm not Christine. My name is Jessalyn, Jessalyn!" she shouted back her voice cracking with defiance. She felt as if she would go mad if he called her Christine one more time. But he moved closer, trapping her again not physically this time but mentally. None of her words of protest seemed to stop or slow him down.

"Believe me, trust me, love me . . . " he murmured like a seductive chant. "I'll give you everything."

"NO!" she shouted. "I don't believe in you. I don't believe in you!" Tears spilled from her face. Feeling the weight of his body against hers, hoax or not sure, for she could feel him as if he surrounded her. The masked stranger leaned his head down, burying his face in her hair. His lips almost touching her ears. Everyone of Jessalyn's nerves stood on end.

"I believe in you." He stated in a low shaky whisper. Jess lost it, her knees giving way under her. Her body shivered all over, goose bumps stood at attention on her arms and legs. She could feel his hands holding her arms tight. Light headiness started to take over though she tried desperately to fight it. His forehead was now pressed on her own, as he towered over to address her. "It is you Christine. You have changed so much over all these years. Back then you behaved no lest than an innocent child, afraid of my voice, and my touch. But you have grown into a strong woman. Now we have much more in common. You could say we are kindred spirits."

Jessalyn was frozen. Everything inside her screamed to slap him, push him away and run as far away she could. But she couldn't, not while this desperate man clung to her like a child. She wasn't quiet sure but she thought she saw tears flowing from beneath his mask. "God, I'm sorry. Really I am." She pleaded in a vain attempt. "But I'm not the person you think I am." She struggled to have them both stand up straighter. Daringly she cupped his chin in her hand, looking him straight in the eye.

He returned her gaze with a weak smile that both surprised and chilled her. His sad eyes drifted up and down her body. "You . . . you aren't wearing the dress I laid out for you. Why not?" he asked disappointed. Jess was glad finally to have him back away once more, relishing in the few inches of space she had acquired.

"I'm not to fit to wear such fine things." She said.

"But it's for you. All of this." He pointed to the door of the room. "Everything in that room is yours." He explained eccentrically. "And everything here in my domain is here for your pleasure. Even I, and my talents exist only to serve you." He reached out to hold her hand. "Doesn't it please you?"

Jess was growing more confused and uncomfortable with each passing moment she was in his presences, but she struggled to not let any of it show. But this man, who ever he claimed to be, was very intent on keeping her. "I'm sure it's all very nice, but for now I just want to leave. My friends must be worried about me . . . " she tried to reason with him.

"No, you can't leave." He pulled on her hand tighter leading her to one of the high- backed chairs for her to sit on. He looked down on her in bewildered fascination. "Why would you want to leave me?" he asked bending down on one knee humbly. By this point, Jess didn't know what to say anymore, so she only sat there her mouth open slightly. "We can stay here and make beautiful music, all day and night. Just like we used to Christine. Wouldn't that make you happy?" He went to the piano, shuffling through the many sheets of music that were scattered about on the surface. Jessalyn sighed in confusion.

"Please, I'm not Christine." She whispered.

He blew her off, tinkering with some cords on the keyboard. "Enough talk, sing for me." He commanded. Jessalyn stood back up on her feet.

"No, I can't." She lied in protest. He turned to her in disbelief.

"Sing for me Christine. Like you use too." He asked again. "Please . . . " Defiantly she bit her upper lip in a pout, not ready to open her mouth even if Mozart requested her too. He stopped playing and walked over to her. She could see the hurt and betrayal in his eyes. She questioned what action he would take against her now. He dare not strike her, she was ready to defend off any attack as she remained alert. "Do you have any idea how long I've waited to find you? You came back to after all this time, why do you want to leave me now?" The pain in his voice was almost suffocating. He acted as if her simple request to return to safety and familiarity were killing him. She held up her hands in a defensive gesture.

"Please I don't want to hurt you sir, really. And I don't want to cause you any more trouble. So if you would just let me go, I promise not to disturb you ever again." She told him.

"Disturb me?" he laughed. "By all means disturb me! You don't seem to understand. You acted as if you don't care! I don't want you to leave. If you leave, you'll forget."

Jessalyn now started to think differently. Perhaps she could calm him, reason with his tortured mind. She only had to use the right word and not show that she was afraid or intimated of him. "No, you're wrong." She started off slowly, speaking in a mellow tone as if trying to calm an animal. "I don't think I could forget you. In fact I'd like to thank you. I don't think I can even express it right . . . but you saved me. I owe you my life twice now."

Share with me one love one lifetime . . .

Now Jess had regretted what she had just said. "Yes it was the least I could do for even putting you so near to danger." He boldly stepped forward, took her hand and bent to kiss to it. A shock went through her body as his soft firm lips came in contact with the top of her knuckles. Jessalyn's mind couldn't even comprehend why this stranger had such a powerful effect on her. She desperately tried to mask any reactions. But the smile he displayed let her know that her emotions had betrayed her. Again he pulled her close. Jess allowed this, for even though she felt uncomfortable, she also sensed no danger with him. If he had wanted to harm her, he would have done so long ago.

"No, you couldn't forget me. You came back to me didn't you?" he murmured. "In a way you never left me." His words disturb her. She wasn't sure how far this had gone, was this really just an illusion. "I hope you honor your promise, mademoiselle."

"You have my word." She offered. He nodded then ran his fingers through her hair for another moment. He mouthed the word 'Christine'. Jessalyn wanted to be repulsed by his touch, she wanted to push him away. But she felt no such emotion of terror or disgust. Only love and pity. Jess now wondered if she had indeed let this go to far? How much had she let herself slip into this fantasy he had created? How much of her mind had started to believe this dangerous game?

Our games of make-believe are at an end . . .

He grasped her hand again, more forcefully this time than before, as he began to lead her

across the room. "Come then we must return you to your 'friends'. They, as you said, must be missing you." He said harshly.

Angel of Music, you deceived me. I gave my mind blindly . . .

He guided her through the rest of his home, which he kept mostly in the dark. He knew strangers and thieves had a difficult time finding entrances and exits in the dark, passages he knew by memory. Her fleeting figure, dressed in white always managed to stay a few steps behind him. Her pale face, bright hair and flashing eyes stood out crystal clear to his well-tunned gaze.

If only he could tell her, how beautiful she looked to him. How with her every step, it felt as she were stepping on his fragile heart. And her every cold and frighten look, ripped him apart inside. He took her to the boat that laid beyond his front door, gently letting her in and started to row away without another word. She starred back at his house in wild fascination.

"That wasn't there before." She whispered. "I stood on that very spot, on my hands and knees even, but that place was not there before." She started to exclaim in shock.

He bowed his head. "Mademoiselle, our eyes can be deceiving. If would do you better if you learned never to trust them." He offered. She curled her legs up to her chest, looking around frighten and confused. Her eyes and face spoke her every thought as she saw the water beneath them as well as the drops falling from above. "I suppose you are wondering why I live like this? Why I prefer to dwell here?" he asked, interrupting her private train of thought. "I can tell you that part of the reason is my own personal choice, while the other is out of necessity." She turned her head away from him, and he could catch the reflection of a single tear falling down her face.

What did he have to do to make her see the truth? To make her remember.

In silence he guided her across the lake and through the winding cellars of the opera. He was amazed how she and her friends had managed to find the lake in the first place and how they managed to escape. He also was started that she had actually followed him in the dead of night, and worst managed to fall in the torture chamber. But he was certain Jessalyn Greene was Christine, she had finally returned after all these years, now matter how much she had changed.

They finally reached the entrance behind the mirror. She starred into the thick frosted glass, seeing how clearly still one could gaze onto the other side. She shuddered and shook her head. Yes he had watched her many times through the mirror, but it was never out of perversion, only protection. He had sung to her, just like he did when Christine believed him to be her angel. And yet she still did not believe him. He opened the mirror as both of them stepped through.

She looked so tired that she might faint and she limped to the bed. He offered a hand to help her, but she refused him. His mind was torn apart on what to do with her. Part of him wanted to keep her with him forever, and cursed himself for being so foolish as to let her go away from his intimate protection now, after he had waited so long. But he also knew how much of a hold he had on her. She wouldn't betray him.

She turned to face him. He bowed his head to her. "I'll take my leave mademoiselle, for now." He pulled off his silver and onyx ring from his pinkie finger, holding out his hers. "This is for you, as a reminder." He stated and slipped it on her index finger.

A knock came at the door. "Jess are you there?" came a voice from the other side. She looked shock and turned to him. Silently he pulled his gaze away from her, even though it tore him apart inside whenever she was out of his sight, and headed back toward the mirror. "No, wait!" she called. He could detect the disappointment at his departure. "Thank you, for understanding and honoring your request. I don't know how else I can . . . "

He held a finger to his lips. "Ssshhh, never mind for now. Jessalyn, take comfort that Erik will always be with you, whenever you need protection. Au revoir, mademoiselle." He retreated behind the mirror. Yet he stayed for a moment to watch her.

"I'm coming, just a moment." She replied. She discarded the dressing gown, and pulled on a pair of pants over her other clothes, before answering the door. That rude boy was on the other side, his foot stilled bandaged even though he displayed little signs on injury now. That meant now that he was back on his feet, he would be down wandering around in the cellars where he didn't belong. He walked across to embrace her, and Erik's blood boiled at that thought of him touching her, and now he was torturing himself by watching this.

"Jessalyn, where did you go? I work up this morning, and you were gone, and I haven't seen you all this afternoon." He asked impatiently.

"Oh, you were sleeping so soundly, that I thought I get up early and do some site seeing. That's all." She lied cleverly. He smiled behind the glass. Yes he was certain now that she wouldn't breathe a word of his whereabouts to her companions.

"Oh, well if that's where you were . . . I'm just glad your back." He stammered. "Well me and Tony were going shopping. We have to find something to wear to the Masquerade."

He nodded, pondering in a detailed manner what he would do next, as he watched them both leave the room.

Yes the Masquerade was coming soon . . .