The Phantom of the Opera: Chapter 4
Disclaimer: DC Comics owns "Teen Titans." Gaston Leroux owns the original story of "The Phantom of the Opera." Andrew Lloyd Webber owns the musical version. I own whatever I write/create. Don't steal and don't sue.
A/N: If some original characters in this story confuse you, please refer to my story "Book of Demons" for more information about them.
Everything in the Paris Opera House was dark and quiet. The subscribers had gone home, and all those who lived within the massive walls were in their rooms or in the dormitories. Terra and Bumblebee were the only two out of the dormitories, and only because they had remembered to fetch Starfire from her dressing room.
They had nearly forgotten to go to their friend in all the hubbub and celebration in the dormitories. It was only when they were about to change to go to bed that Bumblebee found the key to the dressing room in her dress pocket. They had scurried down to the dressing rooms as quickly as they could, frantic to finish their task before Chaos learned of their forgetfulness.
Out of habit and courtesy to Starfire, they had knocked on the door first. Figuring that the young woman was asleep, they had tried to unlock the door. Whatever fear the two ballet dancers had carried about punishment was replaced instantly with terror when they found that the door was unlocked. Starfire was nowhere to be found in the room that they believed had been locked from the outside.
Bumblebee and Terra searched the entire room a total of four times, and grew more and more frightened with each passing moment. When they found nothing, they looked to each other and agreed silently of what they would do.
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There was no knocking. The two young women simply burst through the unlocked door, running immediately to Chaos. She sat, still fully dressed save for her bare feet, curled in a chair beneath a gas lamp, a thick book laying open in her lap. Terra and Bumblebee launched into a breathless, unintelligible spewing of jumbled words, gesticulating wildly and bouncing on their feet. Chaos looked at them, blinking at the rapid-fire speech that even she could not decipher. After a moment, she closed her book with a loud snap. The sound stopped the talking.
"Deep breaths," Chaos murmured. Dumbfounded on all accounts, Terra and Bumblebee did as they were told. As they sucked in deep breaths, Chaos stood up, laying the book in the chair. She smiled slightly, crossing her arms. "You're acting as if you've seen the Opera Ghost. What's wrong?"
"Starfire's—missing," Terra wheezed. The smile fell from Chaos's face instantly. She put her hands on their shoulders, looking them in the eye.
"You're certain she's not in her dressing room?" she asked.
"We looked four times," Bumblebee said desperately. "Under the desk, under the chair, behind all the curtains and flowers—everything! Starfire's not there!"
"She might have been kidnapped!" Terra said. "The door wasn't locked when we got there!"
"I didn't lock the door," Chaos murmured.
"Then why did you give us the key?" Bumblebee demanded.
"To remind you to get her," the black-haired woman replied. The wry chastisement made blushes appear on the young women's faces. Worry, however, drove the redness from their cheeks and made them look up from their feet.
"Starfire's still missing, though!" Terra protested. "We need to find her—or make up a search party—or something! What if she was taken by the Opera Ghost?" Chaos laughed.
"The Opera Ghost has no reason to take Starfire," she said reassuringly.
"All she wants is Box Five and her salary," a sleepy voice remarked. Terra and Bumblebee turned quickly to find a gray-haired woman in a dark red sleeping dress sitting up from a pile of cushions and blankets on the floor next to the bed. She yawned, covering her mouth while looking at the two ballet dancers with red eyes identical to Chaos's.
"Madame Kali!" the duo said in unison, blushes returning to their faces. "We're sorry that we woke you!" Kali waved the apology away, yawning again.
"She's right," Chaos sighed, shrugging. "Starfire is fine, I'm sure. She'd have made a hell of a ruckus if someone had tried to kidnap her. I'd bet that she took a nap, and then went for a walk. You both know how lightly she sleeps. If she's not in her bed or dressing room tomorrow morning, then we'll worry. Starfire's fine. Now go on—to the dormitories with you. We've got rehearsal tomorrow, and the last thing we need is for our two best dancers to start falling out of step because they didn't sleep."
Terra and Bumblebee nodded, growing reassured. They bade their teacher and Kali goodnight, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind them. As they hurried back toward the dormitories, they shared a confused look. Rumors were vicious little things that flew through the Paris Opera House like rabid bats. It seemed that every person employed once had a rumor spread about him or her, and there were no exceptions of who would fall prey.
Some rumors would die off mere minutes or hours after conception; they were too outlandish or absurd to stand up to even the most gullible of the young girls. Other rumors lingered, eventually becoming more than simple gossip. The most obvious example was that of the Phantom of the Opera. It endured because there were so many obvious hints of truth in it. The accidents that befell those that crossed the Phantom were not false, and often had many eyewitnesses to back up the belief that the mysterious woman—Phantom or not—was real.
There was another rumor that skirted the edge of accepted near-reality, and it was as just old as the rumor of the Phantom. It was whispered that there was far more to the relationship of Mesdames Kei "Chaos" Dolan and Kali than mere friendship. Kali ran the box office for the Paris Opera House with an efficiency and talent that belied her meager, miserable pay. She had joined the Opera House around the same time as Chaos, having been graciously recommended by the ballet instructor. Due to the fact that her pay was not nearly enough to pay for both lodging and necessities, Chaos had asked the then-manager Slade to allow her friend to live with her in her private quarters.
The rumor was based almost entirely off of the fact that the two women lived together. The title of "Madame" was not afforded to them by marriage. It was a mark of respect and courtesy, and—despite their youthfulness—no one believed they could rightfully be called "Mademoiselle." The only other scant hints that the rumor fed from were bright smiles and long looks—nothing absolutely concrete. Terra and Bumblebee were almost inclined to believe the rumor, but having seen Kali not sleeping in the single bed in the room confused them. Despite their confusion, they liked both women, and decided to dismiss the thought for the night.
When the door had clicked shut, Chaos locked it. She stood with her hand on the doorknob for a long moment, staring at nothing. After a moment, Kali yawned once more and stood up. She padded quietly to Chaos and put her hand against her back. Chaos turned about and lifted Kali into her arms, carrying the other woman back to the bed and laying her in it. As she strode away to turn off the gas lamp, she chuckled softly.
"You're good at getting out of bed when the door opens," she murmured. Kali sighed and wrapped herself in the blanket on the bed.
"I still don't know why I have to be good at it," she whispered. Chaos turned off the gas lamp, smiling faintly as she twisted the valve closed.
"Wait and hope, love," she said gently. "Wait and hope." She turned about and walked back to the bed through the darkness, lying down and holding Kali to her. While Kali slipped back into sleep, Chaos remained awake, thinking of two simple words: "Little blackbird."
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Starfire opened her eyes, yawning kittenishly. She sat up and looked about, unable to summon any fright when she found that she was not in her dormitory bed. For a moment, she simply sat in the bed, growing joy pulling her lips to a smile. The knowledge that her Angel of Music had actually rescued her was a wonderful thing to wake up to. The door to the room was open, with light and faint sound reaching her. She stood up and walked out of the room, following the sound through the hallways.
A door that she had not noticed the previous night in the parlor was ajar, and the sound grew stronger as she drew closer. Starfire stopped and listened to the music that was being played. It was unlike any she had heard before, and it was phenomenal. She stepped close to the door and pushed it open as quietly as she could.
A grand piano stood in the center of the room. Piles of books and stacks of paper were spread all around. From what Starfire could tell, the books were all about music: theory, instructions on how to play certain instruments or songs, and history. The papers were covered with haphazard scribbles that looked like attempted and abandoned compositions.
Raven sat at the piano, playing furiously. She paused only to scratch down the notes she had played, occasionally lingering to look over what she had already written. Starfire gazed at her, enthralled. The jacket of her suit was folded and sat next to her on the bench. Her white dress shirt and black slacks were rumpled as if she had slept in them—or hadn't slept at all. Her long hair had fallen over her shoulders, and she only moved it away when she paused to write.
"Good morning, Starfire." The young woman started as Raven put down the pencil she had been using with a snap.
"Good morning," she replied. "Did—did I interrupt you?" Raven picked up her jacket and pulled it on, smoothing out creases with sweeps of her long-fingered hands.
"Yes and no," she said. "I was in the middle of my work, but—for you?" She turned about and stood, giving Starfire a warm smile. "It can wait." Starfire flushed prettily and bowed her head, anxiously fingering the hem of the cloak she was still wearing. She lifted the cloak slightly, looking at it without seeing it. When she finally did see the indigo cloth, she gasped softly.
"Oh!" she said. "I fell asleep in your cloak! I'm sorry—here!" She started to unfasten the broach, but Raven strode forward and stilled her fumbling attempts with a soft hand.
"Keep it for now," Raven murmured. "It's the best thing until I return."
"But where are you going?" Starfire asked. Raven smiled at her.
"I know that you'd like to stay in your pajamas all day," she said, "but you should still be properly dressed around a person—a stranger like me."
"You're hardly a stranger," Starfire giggled. "But if you insist, we can go—"
"No!" The grip Raven had on her hands tightened for a moment, but loosened just as quickly. Her voice was fierce, and the intensity of her gaze stopped Starfire immediately. "No. You need to stay here."
"Why?" Gentleness was a weakness that only Starfire could stir in Raven. It was the softness of her confused voice and the sweetness of her innocent gaze that made the masked woman swallow hard and answer while staring at the floor.
"They'll take you from me if they see you," she muttered. "Please—I don't want you to go." She looked up at the light touch to her cheek she felt through her mask. Starfire smiled comfortingly at her, and it was one of the most beautiful things Raven had ever seen.
"I will not go," she said simply. "I'll wait for you to return." The relief that her words brought about was almost tangible. Raven's eyes softened, and a small smile spread on the part of her face that was not covered by the mask. She took Starfire's hand and kissed her fingers. Starfire blushed a soft rose, and Raven was grateful for her mask for the first time in her life. It had been an impulsive, intimate gesture, and she knew that the blush she wore at that moment would look strange indeed on a face such as hers.
"I won't be long," she murmured. She started away quickly, pausing only to savor holding Starfire's soft hand for a while longer. Starfire followed her out of the music room and into the parlor, but Raven was far faster. She vanished beyond another door, Starfire only seeing the edge of her jacket as she whipped round a corner. The young singer stood staring at the door, slowly sitting down in the soft chair without moving her eyes. She stared at the door five minutes more before her attention suddenly shifted to the fingers Raven had kissed. The time she spent looking at her fingers and recalling the warmth and softness of Raven's lips was far longer and far more enjoyable.
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Jinx's fury had not abated. She had fully expected Starfire to fail spectacularly, having cackled viciously when Mammoth told her that the girl would replace her for Hannibal. She had been one of those present when Starfire first sang all those years ago. She had tormented the girl afterwards, imitating a cat's howls and screeches for days on end. It was one of her greatest pleasures to mock Starfire, and so she indulged in it almost every time she saw the young woman.
It was a surprise, to say the least, when she read the newspapers the day after the premiere gala. Every paper in Paris had at least once article extolling the incredible performance of the previously unheard-of soprano. The reviews were all of the highest rating, and there were short biography pieces on the singer. Critics were unanimous in praising Starfire, and some of their articles forced a beet-violet color onto Jinx's face. They had stated that they were tired of Jinx's hackneyed acting and were glad for the respite from her voice.
Jinx sat in her ornate canopied bed, papers strewn about her. Her breakfast—the finest chocolates and wine—had been thrown against a far wall. It remained there, as her servants were too frightened to enter her room, and Malchior considered cleaning the mess to be beneath him. He simply stood by the bed with his mouth closed.
"That—little—witch!" Jinx sputtered for the fifth time in as many minutes. "How could this have happened? Who taught her? It's not possible—no one is better than me!"
"No one," Malchior agreed quietly. He only interjected when he thought prudent. Over the years, he had learned that agreeing with Jinx at the proper time would keep him in her good graces. As he watched her fling herself into a rage, he knew that his place was in said graces. Jinx sat glaring at the newspapers, studying the articles she had furiously torn from the pages.
"What did Mammoth say the next production would be?" she asked.
"Il Muto," Malchior replied. "He seemed confident that you would retain your place as the countess if you return to the Opera House." Just as he had learned when to speak, Malchior had learned what to say. His simple statement was more than enough for Jinx to leap out of the bed. She rushed about, shrieking orders to her servants to fetch her finest dress and jewels, as well as to prepare a carriage for herself and Malchior. Everything she commanded was done at top speed, and the two opera singers were on their way before thirty minutes had passed.
The most immediate plan that Jinx had crafted was to demand her "rightful" place as the countess in the upcoming opera. Malchior tempered the scheme by suggesting that she act courteous and to gently inform the new managers that the countess was a difficult role.
"It would be better for Starfire to rest her voice," he explained to her. "The role of the pageboy is silent—she wouldn't strain herself, and she's played the part before. It would be the best choice." He saw the cruel smirk that spread on her face and allowed himself a small smile of his own.
When they arrived at the Paris Opera House, Jinx was fully prepared for the task. She and Malchior stepped down from their carriage and swept up the stairs to the front doors. As they were wont to do, they made a grand entrance, Malchior throwing open the doors and Jinx strutting inside. For once, their entrance went unnoticed.
The stagehands, resident actors and actresses, and almost all others employed at the Opera House were scurrying here and there. They shouted wildly to each other, ignoring Jinx and Malchior completely. Despite his powerful tenor's voice, Malchior's indignant cries to acquire attention were lost amidst the noise. It was only when a young man staggered through the doors did someone stop from their frantic hustle and bustle and draw near.
"Vicomte!" Beast Boy and Cyborg rushed from the cloud of workers and hurried to the young man. He stopped alongside Jinx and Malchior, clutching something in one hand and tenderly rubbing the back of his head with the other.
"Vicomte!" Beast Boy cried again. "You were seen near the dressing rooms last night—have you seen Mademoiselle Starfire?"
"No," the young man snarled. "And according to this note from your dance instructor, I'm not supposed to 'bother' her ever again."
"Madame Dolan?" Beast Boy asked. Robin held out the crumpled piece of paper to Cyborg. The older man read the note quickly, eyes sweeping over the scrawled words on white paper. He shook his head after a moment, handing the paper back to Robin.
"Madame Dolan's handwriting is much better than that," he said. "What on earth makes you think that she would send you such a note?"
"She threatened my person last night," Robin replied. "I had plans with Mademoiselle Starfire, and she threatened to forcibly remove me from the Opera House if I didn't leave." He rubbed the back of his head with a groan, closing his eyes as he winced.
"What's wrong?" Beast Boy asked.
"Nothing," Robin snapped. He would not admit to his drunkenness of the night before, and he would not admit that he believed that he had seen a demon in his flat. The only thing he cared for was his reputation, and speaking the truth would only damage it. "What are you going to do about Dolan?"
"We will see to this matter later," Cyborg answered. "For now, learning the whereabouts of Mademoiselle Starfire take a higher priority."
"She's missing?" Malchior demanded. The three other men turned and stared at Malchior and Jinx.
"Ah, Mademoiselle Jinx!" Beast Boy said genially. "Monsieur Malchior! It's so good of you to be here!" Jinx smiled at him, but the smile reverted to a scowl when he said, "We need all the help we can get to find Mademoiselle Starfire!" Jinx coughed demurely, forcing the smile to return.
"And—why—is there such a need to find her?" she asked.
"Mademoiselle, she is to be the countess in Il Muto!" Beast Boy replied. "Rehearsal needs to begin!" Jinx's face tightened, and the smile frozen there became that much more ugly.
"But Messieurs!" she protested in a falsely confused voice. "You don't need to make such a fuss of find Starfire! You have someone to play the countess already!"
"Who?" The confusion in Beast Boy's voice was genuine, and he did not notice Jinx's hands tighten as if they were round his throat.
"Mademoiselle Jinx is very well-versed in the role," Malchior said. "She hasn't suddenly disappeared. It seems to me that she would be a perfect choice." Beast Boy and Cyborg looked first at Jinx, and then to each other. They turned away from the others, putting their heads close and speaking in soft whispers.
"Should we?" Beast Boy asked.
"If Starfire's not found, our rehearsals will be thrown completely off schedule," Cyborg replied. "And we need to bring Jinx back—Monsieur le Blood is upset without his prima donna to tend to."
"So we are?" Cyborg nodded slightly, the small frown on his face betraying him.
"Yes. We have to." They turned back to the others, smiling brightly at Jinx.
"Mademoiselle—would you be kind enough to grace us with yourself as the countess?" Cyborg asked.
"You would not rather have your precious Starfire?" Jinx inquired, the picture of a wounded artist.
"Mademoiselle, no," Beast Boy said. "The world wants you."
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Raven waited behind the wall, closing her eyes. It was a method to block out everything but sound, but she soon forgot about listening for movement. All she could think of was Starfire. The beautiful young woman's smile appeared behind her eyelids, and her incredible voice and laughter filled her ears. Raven leaned against the wall behind her, barely noticing the cold that quickly swept through her shirt and jacket from the stone.
Starfire was an absolute wonder. She was deceptively intelligent; no one looked beyond the simple things that she did. She was willful but kind. Raven had often seen her act as a peacemaker in quarrels between the other employees of the Opera House. Her personality was purely magnetic, innocence and wit combining with her beauty to create a woman that no man could resist.
It was little wonder that Raven had found herself unable to resist. She had arrived at the Opera House at the same time as Starfire. Though she was eleven years old and Starfire a mere five, she had been drawn to the girl. In her fervor to see Starfire as often as possible, she familiarized herself with the winding and complex labyrinth of the Opera House passageways within the span of a month. She had built up the small house in the underground lake with anything she could find. Old set pieces that were going to be discarded disappeared to create her home, and she even dared to leave the building to purchase more materials.
She had been seen her first year at the Opera House. A young woman had spotted her standing in a hallway and tried to speak with her. Raven had run away, slipping into one of the passages in the walls. When she found no trace of the person in the mask, the young woman had started shrieking about a ghost. Raven encouraged the rumors, appearing and disappearing in front of people whose word was considered trustworthy. She came to prefer certain people in the Opera House, but Starfire remained her favorite.
Slade had been a most agreeing man. He paid the salary she requested of him, and turned a blind eye to Kali's never selling Box Five. There were times when those in Raven's disfavor would fall victim to progressively harsher punishments, but Slade rarely did anything. He saw the logic behind the Opera Ghost's machinations and believed the notes she left for him that listed the person's transgressions. Raven was sad to see him leave.
She pulled herself from her thoughts and listened closely. She stood in a passage just beyond the wall of the dormitory Starfire lived in. The level of noise she had heard on her way up told her of a frantic search, and she was that much more grateful to Starfire's agreeing to stay behind. There had been loud noise in the dormitory that forced her to wait, but there was silence when she listened closely. Her hand started toward the lever that would swing open a false panel in the wall and allow her entrance into the room.
The door opened, and her hand froze. She leaned close to the false panel, relying on its thinner build to transmit sound more clearly. Holding her breath, she heard the footfalls of someone in boots. The person was moving with an easy, calm gait. Familiar with most every sound in the Opera House, Raven recognized the footsteps instantly. She listened as the person strode to a certain point and stopped.
Latches were undone and a trunk was opened. Every girl in the dormitory had a trunk in which to keep their personal belongings: clothes, baubles, and whatever else they chose to gather. Every trunk had its own sound. Some trunks required a few good blows before the latches would yield, and some trunks would barely open and required hard pushes that would produce frustrated noises from the girls.
Starfire's trunk, as Raven knew, had hinges that would give one squeal as the lid was opened. She heard that telltale squeal when the person opened the trunk. After a moment, she heard a large sheaf of paper being dropped on the ground and the rustling of cloth. Another moment passed, and something was taken from the trunk. Raven very nearly felt a surge of anger, wanting to burst into the room and demand to know what was going on.
She then heard the rustling of cloth. Whatever had been taken from the trunk was folded and put onto the bed Starfire slept in. The paper on the floor was picked up and laid atop the bed so gently that no spring squeaked. Another moment of rustling told of the person digging in a pocket and withdrawing a piece of paper. Footsteps soon started again, and the door opened and closed.
Raven waited until she could no longer hear the footsteps before pulling the lever. She crept through the opening into the dormitory, going immediately to Starfire's bed. A soft violet dress—one of Starfire's favorites—sat on the bed. The sheaf of papers sat next to it, and a half-folded piece of notepaper lay atop it. Raven picked up the note and unfolded it.
She's going to be the countess. Train her well.
Raven looked at the papers still on the bed, seeing that it was a script for Il Muto. She looked again at the note in her hand. Just as she recognized the footsteps from a moment earlier, she recognized the handwriting on the paper. Spirits lifted, she folded the note and carefully stowed it in her pocket. She gathered the dress and the script into her arms and went back through the wall. As the false panel swung shut behind her, Raven smiled, eternally grateful that she had allies within the Paris Opera House.
—to be continued—