Opera Ghost
Chapter Twenty-Five

Jess had managed to escape the police by the skin of her teeth. They didn't know the backstage hallways as well as she did. Tears of anger started to leak from her eyes as she thought of all those looks of horror on the faces of those she had passed, seeing all the blood on her. She got back to her room and locked the door. Just to be certain, she threw a chair against it, wedging the back of it under the doorknob. She stood panting, letting her bloody hand press against the door to leave behind a red stain. She could see her reflection in the mirror, blood spilled all over her. She could feel it dripping down her thighs and between her breasts. It was all over her hands. How could there have been so much blood?

Perhaps she had been in so much shock she hadn't seen the true extent of Ambler's wounds. She couldn't take it anymore and flung her long black shirt off. It made a wet slapping sound as it fell to the floor. There was no time to wash. No time for anything except to find Claudine. She was certain Erik had taken her and was intending to kill her. Unless Jess could stop him. She had no flashlight so she once again had to rely on the light of a candle. It was ironic that the candles Erik had left in her room were aiding her in his downfall. She grabbed a thick pillar candle and a box of matches, making her way to the mirror, and then through it. She discovered all she really needed to open the mirror was a good hard shove in the right place. Besides, it wasn't as if Erik had locked to mirror to prevent Jessalyn from returning to him.

Once again within the walls of the opera, Jess moved swiftly down the stairs Erik had fashioned. Down the same stairs Erik had lead her on their first chase down into the third cellar. She reached the storage area, walking beside the wall opposite the trap door that could lead some unfortunate into Erik's torture chamber.

She tried not to gag from the stench of the blood. Suddenly she heard a crash above her. It was muffled but from the impact and the vibration, Jess could tell it had to be something large. The sound of glass breaking fell like rain upon her ears to be quickly to be replaced by wails of agony. Jess fell to her knees, setting down the candle and covering her ears.

Oh God. Where were Tony and Dan? Are they okay? Where is Dan?

She sat there for a moment. She would have to be concerned about her friends later. There was one live she could save now. She had to move on.

They had barely escaped into the basement of the opera, when they heard the chandelier crash above them. Dan put a hand against the rapid beating of his heart. He had never ran that fast in his life. Delauney had led them to a maintenance entrance into the cellars. Before they descended, he handed Dan and Tony large flashlights from a utility closet and picked up a lantern for himself. Then in the light of the lantern, Dan saw Delauney remove a small handgun from an inside jacket-pocket and carefully load the bullets, letting the deadly pieces of metal slide through his fingers and into the barrel with precision.

"What's that for?" Tony asked coldly.

Delauney looked up at him and sighed. "You'll understand in a while," he offered, turning his lantern and walking into the darkness. Dan rushed after him.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to understand now," he demanded. Delauney turned swiftly towards him and Dan flinched, fearing the older and larger man would lash out at him.

"Gentlemen, I've known about the Opera Ghost for some time now. In fact, I found out when I first took this job about eleven years ago," he replied calmly.

"What?" Tony asked, his mouth hanging open in surprise. Delauney motioned for them to follow him down into the cellars and continued.

"I thought it was all just a story too. A myth, but then I noticed things about my new employees after a while. They acted as if they were walking on eggshells, as if trying to avoid something, or someone. I didn't believe in any ghost or superstitions that the theatre people held, not until I got the notes. There were the usual demands for a private box and a salary. I dismissed it thinking it was a joke, until a large sum of money was stolen from the safe in my office one night. I came in the following morning to see that the lock on the door had not been tampered with, but that skilled hands had simply cracked open the safe and taken the money. No forcible entry was evident. Naturally, I wanted to call in the police, but I called up the former manager first to ask his advice. I was furious and wanted to catch the prankster, but he assured me this was no one playing tricks. He said that if I brought in law enforcement to investigate, I would surely up end with causalities on my hands."

"You're joking, right?" Dan laughed in disbelief. Delauney did not share in his laughter.

"I wish I were joking. So, some fancy bookkeeping and a few white lies kept everyone happy. Things were quiet until I had to hire Monsieur Ambler for a partner. I told him about our situation and he was at once determined to rid us of our phantom. I tried to discourage him, warning him of the consequences, but he would hear nothing of it. He sold Box Five which immediately caused so many problems that I finally had to shut it down. You see Box Five has been under renovations for the last two years. Ambler even sent a squad of officers down into the cellars to track down the Phantom. That little venture left three men dead, strangled by the Punjab noose," he explained grimly.

"Sir have you actually seen the Phantom?" Dan asked shakily.

"Many times. First as a shadow running through the opera late at night, then clearer. The last time I saw him, he was staring at me through the mirror in Mlle. Greene's room, and yes, that room did indeed belong to Christine Daaé all those years ago. He was a black figure, towering over me with two yellow eyes and then he was gone. Then your request came, M. Payne. I wanted to dismiss it, but Ambler saw it as an opportunity and was determined to have you come here. He thought you could bring the phantom out of hiding and rid us of our problems."

"Well that surely wasn't my intention, sir." Daniel informed him as they made their way into the third cellar. "I just wanted to finally find proof that the Opera Ghost existed. I had no idea that he was still alive. Why didn't you want us to come to Paris?" Dan inquired, still upset.

"Because I didn't want anyone to get hurt!" the manager snapped back. "He killed three trained police detectives! There is no telling what he could have done to young, unprepared students like you. I'm tired of covering up deaths that occur in the opera. I can't stand the guilt anymore," Delauney sighed. "Like I said, I just didn't want anyone to get hurt."

More screams from the aftermath of the chandelier crash echoed down into the cellars. "It's a little too late for that," Tony commented dryly.

Claudine moaned, finally able to open her eyes. Her golden curls had fallen over her face and into her mouth. She went to move a hand to brush them away, but discovered she couldn't move. Her hands simply would not move. She went into a brief panic when she found that her hands had been tied behind her. She had been placed against a chair with her hands behind her back. Claudine looked around the room she had been placed in.

Her chair had been placed against a large grand piano with one solitary candle on its glossy top. The wax had dripped down like small spider webs slinking across the black surface. She gazed across the vast room. The ceiling was extremely high and gave a hint of its location from some of the honeycomb-like holes spattering the surface. Claudine could smell the dampness in the air. There was a large false mantle piece with an opening, but no fire inside. Above it was a portrait, a painting of a Victorian woman. Beautiful, with blond wavy hair and crystal blue eyes, and except for her smaller chin and lower forehead, the woman in the picture looked just like Jessalyn.

Then Claudine noticed something else. The shadow of a tall figure hunched over in a high backed chair, facing away from her. The light of the candles only cast his silhouette into the darkness and not much more than a pair of long hands curled in the air were visible, and then he let his chin rest on them. He heaved a sigh, a long low mournful sigh.

"Please, sir," she called out to him. She could feel her wrists beginning to bruise from the tightness of their bindings. He didn't answer. "Please sir, let me go," she pleaded again. Nothing.

She tugged at her wrists until she could feel them crack and bleed. She cried out in pain. "Monsieur, s'il vous plait!" she shouted in desperation. Her control broke then, and she burst into hopeless tears, slamming her feet against the floor. She tried to make as much noise as possible, almost tipping the chair over in her efforts, but he paid no attention to her. She finally gave up, letting her head slump down and sobbing in frustration. What was he going to do to her?

"I think I heard something in the lake," the man murmured. Claudine jerked her head up in shock. This man's voice was beautiful: majestic in his simple phrasing but still at the same time cold and menacing. He turned to face her and now Claudine could see him. She suppressed a gasp. His face was covered by a black mask, two malicious eyes glared yellow from deep inside the sockets. Thin, pale lips awaited her answer and a large velveteen robe covered his thin frame. He was bare-chested and his cold white muscles didn't appear…human. On the floor by his chair was a white dress shirt, crumpled and stained with blood.

Her lips trembled and her teeth chattered.

Le Fantome!

"No I didn't hear anything," she replied quickly, shaking her head. "What do you want with me?" she tried asking him, now that he had made verbal contact with her. He just stared back at her for a while, and Claudine finally shut her eyes once more, unable to look at his yellow demon-eyes anymore. He ignored her, tilting his head to listen to the noise. Claudine opened her eyes hesitantly to see him stand up. He grabbed his blood soaked shirt and slipped it back on before her.

"Yes, I believe I heard a noise coming from the lake," he repeated out loud dreamily. Then he strolled out of the room causally, but Claudine called out to him.

"Please, won't you let me go now? I don't want to…"

The slam of a door was the only answer she got. Again Claudine tried to free herself, but to no avail. She sighed. The last thing she had remembered was her hand slipping out of Jessalyn's in the darkness, and then someone had grabbed her right off her feet and carried her away before she had passed out. She looked down at her cream dress and saw the hem was tattered and dirty. It seemed impossible that she had been abducted. Yet here she was.

"No there is no phantom. There is no ghost. There is no Phantom of the Opera," she whispered under her breath, trying to keep hold of her sanity. Then there was a loud thud that seemed to come from behind the wall to the left of her, as if there was a room behind the wall and something had fallen and made a noise. Or someone. "Who's there?" she called out her voice shakily.

There was a pause followed by several grunts and moans. Then an uncertain voice.

"Claudine?"

Her gloomy outlook vanished. "Daniel? Is that you?" she cried back.

"Oh thank God it's you!" he exclaimed. She couldn't see him though, so if he was in the next room, why didn't he just come out.

"Where are you? What happened?"

There was a sigh and then the sound of something pounding hard glass. "I think we have some how fallen…into the torture chamber," he offered.

"Oh man, this sucks," came the voice of Tony by way of a response.

"How…Who is in there with you?" Claudine asked.

"Tony and M. Delauney. Is there something you can do to help?" he wondered out loud.

"I'm not sure…."

"No wait," he cut her off. "No not really, because from what I know, you can't see or find the door on your side." Claudine looked around as he explained; she could still only hear the sound of his voice.

"It's true, besides…."

"Let me guess. You've been tied up," he stated.

"Yes."

Another sigh of despair came from behind the wall. "I'd never thought I'd ever be in this situation."

"The man who took me was here just a moment ago, but he left. To investigate something in the lake," she informed them.

"Mademoiselle," came the calm voice of M. Delauney from the behind the wall. "What did he look like?"

Claudine shuddered. "Terrifying. He appeared quite mad, but he could come back at any moment."

"But he's not here now?" Dan asked

"We should be quiet." Tony suggested in a sing-song whisper.

Suddenly, there was a sound of a wet slap across the floor. The echo of a footstep reached her ears. "He's here. Go away Dan, please," she whispered loudly. She braced herself. More wet footsteps were heard, gaining speed as they came towards her.

"No I won't go," Dan replied.

"Shut up," Tony commanded

"Please," Claudine begged.

Hair that was not her own fell against Claudine's neck and dress, then a dripping hand stroked across her face, cold as ice and drenched with God-knew-what. Claudine screamed.

A/N: As some of you might know, this story got nominated for a Phan phiction Award. http/ is over and I don't think I won. It still an honor though and thanks to anyone who voted and all the new reviews.