Chapter Forty Three: The Opera
"Do you like it?"
I stared at the gold chain with a beautiful cameo that was sitting in the box. Never did I see anything more beautiful in my life. "I-I love it! Holmes, I don't know what to say!"
He smiled and took the necklace and cameo out of the box. "Do you know who this is?" He asked, referring to the woman sculpted on the cameo.
I shook my head.
"It's Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom," he said, his fingers caressing the small picture of the goddess. He turned the cameo over and I gasped when I saw there was an inscription.
He read it aloud, and tears instantly welled in my eyes. I was forced to blink several times to keep them from spilling onto my cheeks. "M.S.: May Athena always guide your mind and heart, always helping you solve problems logically. S.H." When he finished reading, he opened the clasp and deftly put the chain around my neck. Once it was secured, he stepped back and admired it. "It suits you I think," he said with an affirmative nod of his head.
I hugged him tightly. "Thanks so much Holmes! I love it!"
He patted the top of my head and disengaged himself from my grasp. "I'm glad." He removed his pocket watch and consulted the time. "What the deuce is taking them so long? It is nearly six o'clock! If we do not leave soon, we will miss curtain."
I tried extremely hard not to laugh at his impatience. He went from being almost kind to ridiculously cold in a span of thirty seconds. He certainly was an interesting character.
"Watson! What the devil are you doing?"
"Sorry Holmes," Watson said, exiting our bedroom at the sound of his friend's voice. "Mademoiselle had a problem with her corset, but it's fine now."
If it had not been Watson speaking, I would have interpreted his statement a different way.
"Holmes did you see Mackenzie yet? Did you give her your gift?" Watson asked, oblivious to my presence.
"Yeah Doc, he did," I said placing a hand on his shoulder. "I don't know how to thank him."
Watson looked at the pendant and smiled. "Holmes this is absolutely splendid."
"Thank you old boy, now Mackenzie, if your friend is ready--"
"Yeah yeah I'm here!" Becky said entering the sitting room, pulling on her gloves. "I hate Victorian Era clothing with a passion!"
Her comment was ignored and Watson smiled at Becky and me in turn. "I daresay, my Mary will be quite jealous when she learns that I attended the opera in the company of two beautiful young ladies."
Holmes laughed at his friend's comment. "Watson, you are a helpless romantic! Let us go before we miss curtain."
I chuckled and Holmes opened the door, allowing us all to exit. We boarded a four wheeler which took us to the Paris Opera house.
"I've never attended an opera before," I said when our cab pulled to the curb of the Opera House.
Holmes raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Do they not have opera in the twenty-first century?"
"No, they do, I've just never seen one."
Holmes snorted in contempt. "If you've never attended an opera, you've never experienced culture."
"You will enjoy yourself," Watson said helping me down from the cab. "Come along dear."
I stayed close to the doctor as we threaded our way through the throng of theatre goers, who were there to see and be seen, rather than watch the action on the stage. Holmes bristled angrily when he realized the motives of several of the attendees.
"Opera should be attended for love of music, not for demonstrating social class to the world," he murmured hotly.
When we entered the grand foyer, it was ablaze with bright light glinting off the vast amount of diamonds adorned by Victorian ladies.
"Hello! Monsieur Holmes, Hello!" A voice said attracting out attention.
We turned around to see Monsieur Firmin Richard and his associated Armand Moncharmin threading their way toward us.
"Bonjour Messieurs," the detective said cordially.
"We are glad to see you accepted our invitation to attend this evenings' performance of Faust," Moncharmin said with a timid smile.
"It should be an enjoyable evening," Holmes said.
"Oui, La Carlotta is in top form this evening!" Richard said his voice dripping with pride.
"Oh, I am severely disappointed," I admitted honestly, "I had heard so much praise about Mademoiselle Daaé, I had hoped she might be playing Marguerite."
Richard glowered at my words and was about to say something when Monsieur Moncharmin interject smoothly. "You will enjoy La Carlotta's singing. She has not disappointed thus far."
Our conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a bell that indicated there was fifteen minutes before curtain.
"Monsieur Holmes, allow me to personally show you to your seats," Moncharmin said with an amiable smile.
"Certainly Monsieur. Come along Watson," Holmes said tugging his friend's sleeve.
We followed the manager up a side staircase and down a long corridor that contained several boxes. We stopped outside a box that was dead center on the grand tier.
"Box Five," Moncharmin said pulling apart the curtains, allowing us to enter. "Are you certain you want to watch from this box?"
Holmes nodded before any of us could protest. "Yes Monsieur, this will be fine."
"In that case, enjoy Faust and hopefully I will see you during intermission." With that the manager left, leaving the four of us in the so-called haunted box.
"Holmes, you seriously think it's safe to be in the ghost's box?" I asked, sitting on one of the chairs.
"I'm not certain of how wise the decision is," Watson said sitting next to me, "but Holmes feels this is the only way to learn something more about our antagonist."
"That is correct old boy," Holmes said sitting on my other side. He removed his opera glasses from the recesses of his tuxedo jacket and used them to scan the audience. "The de Chagnys are opposite us," he observed. "The young viscount appears anxious."
"Yeah whatever," Becky interjected, sitting behind me. "I don't friggin care about the viscount; all I wanna know is when the hell this show is gonna start."
"In a few minutes Mademoiselle," Watson said to my impatient friend. "It will be worth the wait, I assure you."
Becky grumbled something unintelligible, but I paid her no mind, for at that moment the great chandelier dimmed and the first strains of the orchestra drifted up to our box, signaling the opera was about to begin.
The first act passed rather quickly and without incident, as did the second. At the conclusion of the second act, during Intermission, Watson roused my sleeping friend and suggested we go to the lobby for a drink. Needing to stretch my legs, after sitting for two hours in the cramped box, I quickly got up and walked down the stairs leading to the Grand Foyer.
I nearly lost my friends in the throng, but Watson's strong hand grasped by shoulder, steering me toward an opening in the crowd.
"I need a cigarette," Holmes said, removing his silver cigarette case. As he attempted to push past us, Monsieur Richard called to him from across the room. With a mild oath, the detective put the case away and turned to face the approaching management.
"Bon soir nos amis," Richard said, clutching a half-empty champagne glass in one of his hands. "How are you enjoying the performance?"
"We're enjoying it immensely," Holmes said with a slight smile.
"I say Monsieur Holmes; this is hardly a house with a curse upon it!" Richard said, glowing with drunken amusement.
"I hope it continues to stay that way Monsieur Richard," the detective said tightly.
"Has anything unusual occurred in Box Five?" Moncharmin asked.
I shook my head. "Non Monsieur, nothing unusual."
"So all is as it should be?"
"Oui, now if you will excuse me," Holmes said cordially.
"Certainly, we must go also. Au revoir!" The managers hurried away, talking merrily between them.
"I will meet you at our box," Holmes said attempting once again to get outside and have a smoke before the next act.
"Oh Monsieur Holmes!" The voice of Monsieur Raoul de Chagny stopped the detective in his tracks.
"Mon Dieu!" Holmes swore softly. He plastered a smile on his face to greet the viscount. "Hello Monsieur le Vicomte, le Comte."
"Hello," the count replied icily.
"Monsieur Holmes, are you enjoying yourself?"
"Oui."
"Monsieur le vicomte, you must be quite upset that Mademoiselle Daaé does not have a bigger role," I said, attempting to make some light conversation.
"It is nothing to grieve over," the count answered. "Perhaps if she stays off the stage, my brother will loose all interest in the chorus whore."
"Philippe!" Raoul said indignantly. He then turned to me and smiled apologetically. "Pardon-moi Mademoiselle Sterling. My brother has yet to understand my love for Christine. Yes, I am not pleased with the management's decision to cast La Carlotta as Marguerite."
"However Monsieur," Holmes said with weary charm, "Mademoiselle Daaé is extremely talented, even though she has a small role, her talent shines brightly."
Wow! That's deep for him! "I have to agree with my friend, Monsieur le Vicomte," I said.
The bell rang, signaling the third and final act was about to begin. We bid the de Chagnys farewell and made our way back to Box Five, Holmes swearing, angry that he was not able to put nicotine into his system.
The great chandelier dimmed, the orchestra began to play and act three of Faust began. Everything went smoothly until Carlotta began to sing the famous 'Jewel Song.' As soon as she sang the first few bars, a loud booming voice filled the entire opera house, attracting everyone's attention, including the actors and actresses on stage.
"I clearly instructed Box Five to remain empty!" The voice boomed.
I clutched Holmes's hand, in fear. "It's the Angel of Music."
"The Phantom of the Opera," he gently corrected.
At the sound of the voice, Christine paled; her body began to tremble with what I assume to be fear. "Angel? Angel is that you?" Her voice was filled with uncertainty.
"Silence you little toad!" Carlotta shrieked angrily.
"La Carlotta you have the roles reversed! It is you that is the toad, not Mademoiselle Daaé!" The Phantom said with a menacing laugh.
During this strange exchange, I glanced at Holmes; his grey eyes were transfixed on the stage, and burned with the intensity of fear, his face was deathly pale.
Carlotta attempted to ignore the Phantom's comment and continued to sing. "Ce n'est plus ton visage; c'est la fille d'un roi, c'est la fille d'un r-CROAK!" Suddenly a loud frog like sound issued from her throat. The croak was followed by maniacal laughter from le fantomé.
Carlotta attempted to continue to sing, but every time she opened her mouth nothing but croaking sounds would exit. She was forced to leave the stage in tears.
The only one who found the situation amusing was the Phantom. "Behold! She is singing to bring down the chandelier!" He laughed manically, his laughter chilling me to the very marrow of my bones.
All eyes rose to the chandelier, which was beginning to sway.
Suddenly, Holmes leapt to his feet, his voice, managing to override the few shouts of terror and general pandemonium. "Clear the floor! Everyone clear the floor!"
Suddenly, as though Holmes's words were the cue the chandelier was waiting for, it broke loose from its chain and began a wild free fall, stopping only when its massive weight crashed into the middle of the stalls. There was a great crescendo of shouts of pain and fear.
"Mon Dieu!" Holmes said, his voice reflecting his own surprise. "I tried to warn them! I tried--"
"Holmes old boy, I must go see if I can be of any assistance!" Watson said getting to his feet.
"By all means man, go!"
My eyes strayed from the chandelier long enough to catch a glimpse of the Persian slipping out amongst the chaos. I slipped out of Box Five and gave pursuit to the Persian. We ran down several corridors until we stopped in a dark, deserted backstage area.
"Erik!" He shouted urgently. "Erik where are you!"
Taking advantage of the darkness as well as my secrecy I leapt at the Persian, managing to take him by surprise. I pinned him against a wall. "Who is Erik? What part did you play in this? Speak or die!"
"I am Erik," a musical voice said from behind me. I let go of the Persian and spun around, only to find myself face to face with those floating amber orbs from the Parisian alleyway. Something in his tone made my skin crawl and my blood run cold. "Did you like my trick with the chandelier Innocent?"
Before I could find my voice to answer him, he turned and began striding away from me at an inhumanly fast clip.
I ran to keep up with him and followed him up several metal stairs. He looked back only once and stared at me. My heart pounded even harder in my chest but I refused to allow his stare to stop my pursuit. He stopped at the edge of a catwalk and faced me once again. "Au revoir Innocent!" With that he grasped an overhanging rope and swung off the catwalk. I rushed to edge only to see him land on one several feet below.
Curiosity aroused, I also grasped a rope and leapt off the catwalk. I saw my destination, and mentally counted down until I had to release my hold on the rope. Four, three, two, one!
As soon as I let go of the rope, I realized I had miscalculated the jump by several inches. I began to fall. Frantically I pin wheeled my arms in attempt to grasp anything that would stop my wild plunge. My fingers scraped the metal of a nearby catwalk, but I could not grasp it. My hands reached helplessly into the air hoping that some miracle would intervene and save my life.
The ground was quickly rushing to meet me and I knew I was going to die. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see the swiftly approaching ground or my body break into pieces. "Dear God…" Suddenly, something closed around my arm and yanked me painfully upwards.
I heard the ripping of cartilage in my shoulder as my body was jerked upward. I started to fall again, but I stopped, suspended in mid-air. It took me several seconds to realize what had happened. Someone had seen me and managed to somehow get a rope around my arm. I grasped it with my good hand, and looked up to see my savior.
My mouth became a cotton field when I saw my savoir was none other than Erik, the Phantom of the Opera. He was clad in black, and all I could see were his amber eyes, boring a hole into my soul.
"Hello Innocent," he said, swinging the rope, allowing me to swing like a pendulum twenty five feet above the ground.
"Puh-puh-please puh-hull me up!"
Erik laughed viciously and allowed a fraction of rope to slip between his fingers before grasping it again. Despite my predicament, his actions reminded me of a cat, playing with a mouse before its death. "I don't see why I should help you Innocent. Did I not warn you never to interfere with my plans?"
I was too frightened to answer.
"Didn't I Innocent? Answer me you wretched girl!"
"Yuh-yes," I squeaked.
"Yes I thought I warned you. And yet, you still proceed to meddle in my affairs. I was not amused when you rescued the sniveling viscount from his fate." He looked down at me, his eyes filled with a sadistic gleam. "You know that falling from this height will be an extremely grisly death, don't you?" He asked swinging the rope faster. "Your body will be little more than a mass of bloody flesh. No one will be able to recognize you."
Tears of fear fell from my eyes when I realized this man wanted nothing more than to kill me. "Please, sh-show some compassion! Duh-don't let me die!"
He threw his head back and laughed. "Show you compassion? Why should I? The world has shown no compassion to me! You and that detective have been nothing but an annoyance, and now one of the hinder some bugs must be eliminated." He said no more for several minutes, allowing the rope to swing back and forth. Those silent minutes seemed like an eternity and were by far the most frightening of my entire life.
What is he going to do? He can't kill me! He's got to save me; I'm too young to die!
"Innocent, you are extremely lucky that I do not like to commit gruesome murders. The grislier, the faster and therefore the least gratifying. I like to watch my victims suffer."
"Wuh--what are you going to do?"
"Me?" He asked with mock innocence. "I am going to tie this end of the rope to this railing. Then I am going to leave and tend to more pressing matters. You, on the other hand, will hang here until you arm completely dislocates itself from its socket, causing you to loose your grip and fall to your death. In the very unlikely chance you survive, stay clear of me, for next time you will not be ask lucky."
Then, as quickly as he came, he vanished, leaving me alone in the darkness.
Always lacking upper body strength, I knew I would not be able to pull myself up. Not knowing what else to do, I screamed as loud as I could, hoping to attract someone's attention.
My shriek of terror echoed loudly. I waited several seconds, but there was no sound of running feet. My hands and arms were growing tired from supporting one hundred and thirty pounds. My grip on the rope was quickly loosening.
Watson
I rushed down the stairs that led from Box Five as quickly as possible. My medical instincts were all aroused and I all I could think of were those poor people trapped under the chandelier.
When I reached the orchestra level, the damage done was worse than I had anticipated. Stalls were completely crushed and several people were lying on the ground, some were unnaturally still and quite, others in their last throes of agony before Death would descend on them. The sight that lay before me seemed surreal and I was instantly reminded of my years serving in Her Majesty's Army as an army doctor and the carnage I saw while in Afghanistan. Pushing those macabre memories from my mind, I began tending to the injured.
I was engrossed in trying to stop a man's severe bleeding when a feeling of foreboding fell across me. I will never know what made me glance up from my work and look at Box Five, but when I did I was filled with unexplainable apprehension. I saw a tall, brutish looking man gesturing wildly to someone else. When he moved, I saw my friend, Sherlock Holmes, saw his face blanch and his legs grow weak, forcing him to grasp the railing for support. All time seemed to stop when I saw him so visibly shaken.
I finished working on the wounded man and shouted Holmes's name at the top of my voice. If he heard my shout, he gave no sign. He continued to stare at the man next to him, his face contorted in horror. He seemed unable to move, as though despite his unbendable will, he could not force his legs to accede to his wishes.
I took to my heels and within mere moments, I was standing in the curtained doorway of Box Five, watching the exchange between Sherlock Holmes and the man known as the Persian.
"There is still time," the Persian said, his words heavily accented. "You must come with me."
For the first time in our long association, Sherlock Holmes admitted uncertainty. "How do I know you are not lying? How do I know she is not already…?" His words trailed off and he shuddered.
"You must trust me sahib," the Persian said. He grabbed my friend's sleeve and pushed past me. "Hurry sahib or we will be too late!"
Instantly, Holmes's leg responded and he pushed past me and followed the Persian out of Box Five and down several flights of stairs. Paying my old wound no heed, I sprinted after my friend, trying to learn what the deuce was going on.
"Holmes," I panted when his pace slowed slightly. "What the devil is the matter?"
He stared into my face; his usually deep and penetrating grey eyes were filled with panic, reminiscent of a rabbit's eyes before a fox ends its life. "If anything happens to her Watson, I will never forgive myself. If she dies I too will die…"
Before I could question his cryptic statement, he darted off down another corridor. He stopped short and I crashed in to him.
"Holmes what the devil…" Suddenly words were no longer possible. My throat constricted with fear and Fear's cold fingers chased each other up and down my spine causing me to shudder uncontrollably, when I saw what made my friend stop so abruptly. Hanging by a rope, several feet overhead was Mackenzie.
"Good Lord!" I gasped when I saw her attempting to pull herself up. "Holmes we must do something."
"Please help me!" Mackenzie cried her voice nearly inaudible.
Her voice seemed to break the spell that held Holmes and me in place. He quickly mounted the stairs, I at his heels. My heart hammered wildly in my chest, my legs felt a though they were lead. It seemed like hours before we reached the platform from where Mackenzie was hanging.
Holmes quickly looked at the knot, which was already beginning to fray, and ruefully shook his head. "We'll never be able to pull her up using this rope."
"What are we to do?"
As an answer, Holmes lay flat on his stomach, the upper half of his body hanging over the platform. "Watson," he said over his shoulder, "make sure that rope does not break." He returned his attention to the terrified girl. "Mackenzie, I am going to pull you up. Can you hold on a little longer?"
She nodded and bravely gripped the rope tighter.
Holmes extended his arms toward her. "Mackenzie, give me your hand."
I could not be sure if she obeyed my friend's comment for I was intently watching the rope, making sure it did not snap. Eventually, Holmes managed to coax her into letting go of the rope completely.
Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, Holmes slid forward and muttered several oaths. "Watson! Watson help me, she's slipping!"
Mac
A shriek of fear escaped my lips when I felt Holmes's firm grip on my hand loosen. I heard him curse and saw more of his body hanging precariously over the edge of the catwalk. Sweat began to pour off his face and he closed his eyes in effort to summon up all his strength to keep both him and me from falling.
"Mackenzie, listen to me," he said between clenched teeth. "I cannot hold on much longer. You must give me your other hand."
I attempted to move my arm, but found it too painful. Fear, pain and exhaustion clouded my thoughts, and I could not for the life of me concentrate on what the detective was saying.
"Mackenzie, Mackenzie listen to me!"
"Holmes, please, I can't. It hurts too much," I was chagrined to hear how weak my own voice sounded.
Holmes's grip loosened even more. "Damnit!" He opened his eyes and stared at me, his own were filled with pain and fear. "Mackenzie, you said you loved me, did you not?"
His question took me by surprise. "Yeah I did."
He took a deep breath and attempted to get a better grip on my hand. "I have heard that if you love someone you also trust them completely. Mackenzie, do you trust me?"
What is he doing? "Of course I trust you Holmes."
"Then show me you trust me! Show me your trust by ignoring the pain in your arm and giving me your other hand. Let me know you are not afraid of me!"
His words had the desired effect. I couldn't disobey him. Clenching my jaw, I swung my arm painfully upwards and cried out when Holmes caught it in his strong hands.
"I've got you," he said, panting heavily. "I've got you. Watson! Watson help me old boy!"
"All right Holmes, just pull her up! I'll make sure you don't fall."
Together, and with a great deal of effort, the two men managed to pull me onto the catwalk. When I found myself on solid ground, I collapsed and began trembling.
Watson
"It's all right Mackenzie, you're safe now," I said putting my arm around the terrified girl. I drew her close to me and hugged her tightly, speaking softly and soothingly to her. I had to keep her as calm as possible so she would not go into shock. "Ssh, everything is all right, you're safe now."
I glanced up at my friend and saw him nervously shift his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes were cast downward, peering through the metal grates in the structure intently, as though the answers to his unspoken questions were to be found several feet below us.
"Mackenzie," he said his voice extremely soft. Although I could not see his face, I knew he was attempting to decipher some type of internal conundrum. "Is it possible for you to tell me what happened?"
"Holmes!" His request was outrageous! I could not, would not allow him to interrogate this young woman after such a traumatic experience. "Holmes I will not permit any interrogations! She is certainly not capable--"
"Thanks Doc, but I'm all right," Mackenzie said, pushing away from me with trembling hands. Her face was deathly white and despite her attempt to sound brave, her voice shook. "I…I just want to get down."
"In a moment," I said softly. She was much too shaken to move. I took her in my arms once again, and she rested her head against my shoulder. Knowing, full well the element of surprise, I allowed my hands to caress her back until I reached her wounded shoulder. Before she had a moment to think, I grasped it tightly in my hands, and moved the joint back into place.
She cried out in pain and my closest friend winced. "Are you quite finished Watson?" He asked, averting his eyes once again.
I nodded and released Mackenzie, who was looking at me with deep anger.
"What the hell did you do that for?" She asked, rubbing her wounded shoulder. "Don't you have any idea how much that hurt?"
"I do apologize," I said, speaking softly, "but it had to be done. Had I have left your shoulder as it was, you could have lost all ability to move it."
When my words registered in her mind, her face paled considerably. "Thanks Doc," she said, avoiding my eyes.
I forced a smile that I'm sure looked grim on my own countenance and looked at Holmes who was trembling slightly. "I daresay, I think it would be best if we leave this dreary corridor." I stood and helped Mackenzie to her feet.
"Let us leave the opera house for tonight," Holmes said. There was something in my friend's face that made my heart pound against my chest in fear. His expressive grey eyes were suddenly devoid of any light. The steel colored irises reflected a hopelessness that I have never seen him express before, a hopelessness of a man who very nearly lost his entire world and had no chance to regain it.
When I realized I was staring, I quickly averted my eyes from my friend's gaze and offered Mackenzie my arm. "Do you think you can walk down the stairs?"
She nodded and allowed me to help her stand. After steadying herself for several seconds, she allowed her trembling legs to begin the walk down the catwalk stairs.
"Holmes," I said, touching his sleeve. His face worried me.
"Yes old man?" He asked abstractedly.
"What is the matter? You look--"
"Nothing
Watson," he said impatiently.
I knew from his tone, that his
problem, what ever it may be was not for discussion. I shrugged my
shoulders and paid attention to helping Mackenzie down the stairs
safely.
