Chapter 12- The Bouquet and the Rose.
Morning came and Christine's eyes fluttered open. It took her a while to notice who the two golden eyes belonged to and then she realised.
"Good morning Porsche." Said Christine, putting out a hand and running it slowly down the cat's back.
It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining and not a cloud could be seen in the sky and yet for such a nice day, Christine could not remember why she felt so miserable. Then the events of the previous night came flooding back to her quicker than Carlotta's voice pierces your ears.
That…that…AWFUL MAN! Her eyes were burning and silent tears ran down her pale face.
She looked back over at Porsche, who was stretched on her bed, flat on her back. Christine got dressed, then went over to her door, unlocked it, and went out into the corridor. She would have to avoid Bouquet at all costs.
Erik was in one of his many secret passages, this one happened to be behind a portrait that hung in the dining room; he glanced through the eye piece, surveying the table. There at the far end sat Bouquet.
Enjoying your last meal? He thought. He was ready to strike, ready at any moment to end Bouquet's life.
"Three…" He whispered. "Two…"
At that very moment, Christine walked through the oak doors. Erik stopped himself just in time. He did not want Christine to see Bouquet's corpse hanging from the ceiling.
Christine looked round and then saw Bouquet. Not wanting to go anywhere near him, she went to the furthest unoccupied seat at the table and sat down between Meg and Reyer.
"Good morning Christine." Said Meg merrily. Christine was not sure if she wanted to tell her about what had happened between her and Bouquet the previous night. She was still too shocked to have to recall the events to anyone. "Are you feeling OK?" Meg asked with a note of concern in her voice.
"I'm just really tired from the performance last night and I didn't get much sleep." Christine replied. It was true that she did not get much sleep but the performance certainly wasn't the thing that had kept her awake.
Bouquet finished eating at that moment. He got up and left. He did not remember what had happened, having been drunk.
"Oh no you don't, Bouquet!" Erik hissed and with a swish of his cape he was after him. Then he realised that he didn't have a clue where Bouquet was going, and had no way of telling either.
Think! Where would a damned stage manager go when he was off duty!? Probably to go and steal some of Christine's clothes and put them under his pillow at night. Realising that this was one of the most stupid thoughts he had ever come up with, he tried to think rationally.
After a few minutes thinking, he thought he would check the main stage. Maybe he had to get everything back to the way it was before the performance. Erik ran as fast as he could to the main theatre.
"Ah ha!" It seemed that his suspicions were correct, he saw Bouquet on the stage, struggling to take down some backdrops.
Erik crept slowly towards the stage, ducking behind chairs every so often, Punjab lasso at the ready.
And let's try this again, One… Two…
"Oi Bouquet!" He knew that voice, it was Firmin. So as not to be seen, Erik activated one of the trapdoors and slipped beneath the stage. The trapdoor had been recently oiled which meant it didn't creak and cause Bouquet to turn round. "What are you doing here man? The performance is over. At least take a little break."
"When do rehearsals for the next production start?" He asked in a very groggy voice.
"There will be a week's notice before that is decided. Come to think of it we have not even decided on a play yet…" He trailed off into thought. "Faust could be a good idea, but I'll have to speak to André about it."
"Well I shall have to get these down in good time sir…"
Well you'd better hurry up, I don't think even you can get them down in 10 minutes, as that is when you will be at the end of this noose!
Erik put his hands in his pockets. He had forgotten just how cold it was below the stage. "Ouch." He had pricked his finger on something. Taking his hand out of his pocket, he saw a rose. One of its thorns had a scarlet patch on it. He looked at his finger. For such a small thorn the cut was very deep.
Maybe I don't need the Punjab lasso…
"… and I nearly missed my cue, but I remembered just in time…" This was how it always was, the day after the performance. Meg would always enchant Christine with how she nearly forgot a line, missed a cue or didn't move over there quick enough.
"Meg!" Cut in Christine. "We've talked about his before. Nobody noticed so why do we need to talk about it?" Meg looked a little ashamed of herself. They had indeed spoken about this many times before, and on top of everything else that had happened, it was just too much for Christine.
"Where are you going?" Christine had got to her feet without Meg noticing.
"Oh… I've…um…" She was looking around for an excuse. "Got a singing lesson to go to."
That was the worst thing you could have said.
"Since when have you been taking singing lessons?" Meg asked curiously.
"A while, what does it matter!?" She said angrily. And without another word, she turned on her heels and left.
"No one to save you now…" Hissed Erik, he had dropped the lasso beneath the stage.
He was standing on one of the rope bridges above the stage, watching as Bouquet struggled to try and get yet another backdrop down. There was nobody in sight, and even if there was, they would not be able to get to Bouquet quick enough to save him.
"…………GOTCHA" Shouted Bouquet triumphantly, as one of the backdrops, nicely rolled and tied up, dropped to the floor with a little thud.
Third time lucky, and no count down this time.
"BOUQUET!"
Oh god you must be joking. Thought Erik. Why does the world suddenly have to revolve around this idiot!
"What is it ma'am?" He called down to the stage, where Meg Giry was standing.
"I thought I just saw… the opera ghost." She said, trembling. "I could have sworn I just saw… never mind." She turned to leave. "But like mother says; 'Keep your hand at the level of your eyes'." And with that last statement, she walked off.
The hand at the level of your eyes won't save you Bouquet.
Erik then had a sudden idea. Moving quickly and quietly, he went over to the nearest backdrop that had not been taken down.
"Hey Bouquet." He said, mimicking the voice of one of the assistant stage managers. "Don't just stand there. Come and give me a hand with this." He said, gesturing to the backdrop, making sure his face was hidden.
"Oh…sorry I didn't see you there." Bouquet said, a note of relief in his trembling voice.
"Why do you tie these things so tight?" Said Erik. "I can't remember them being so awkward."
"You think I'm going to make them loose after what happened during Hannibal rehearsals?" He sounded disbelieving that he didn't remember that incident.
"That was just a one off accident though." Said Erik. "I think you're being para…"
"That was no accident. That was the ghost." He said, trying to sound impressive, only achieving the effect of sounding like a 7 year old having a tantrum.
"What do you know about this ghost?" Asked Erik, sounding a little angry.
"Oh come on. I've told you countless times, Jacob" He obviously had no idea that it was Erik. Erik then noticed that he Bouquet smelt faintly of alcohol.
Who the hell is Jacob? Thought Erik
"Skin like yellow parchment…" He said, sounding quite menacing. "A great black hole where the nose never grew." He was obviously in his element. "And always kills with a Punjab lasso!"
"THAT'S IT" Screamed Erik. "If I don't have a bloody nose then what is this?" He said gesturing to his nose. "And if this is yellow then I would like to see what you call white." He hissed, gesturing to the rest of his face.
Bouquet turned to run, but Erik was too quick for him. He had seized him by the wrist and pulled him back. Bouquet looked as thought he was about to wet himself.
"And…" Whispered Erik in a still more menacing voice. "You were wrong on your third attempt, because for you I am making an exception to the lasso…"
Christine lay on her bed next to Porsche, stroking her sub-consciously. She wondered what Erik was doing.
Probably composing more of his Don Juan…
Maybe she would go down and see him. Well, it couldn't hurt just to visit, but what if the boat…
"CHRISTINE!" Somebody shouted through the door. Christine recognized the voice to be Meg's. It would be new gossip no doubt.
Sure enough, a few seconds later, Meg burst in through the door, her face as white as a sheet and gasping for breath.
"What is it?" Asked Christine. She had never before seen Meg lose her nerve quite like this.
"It's..." She stammered. "It's… Oh just come with me, you will see." And with that, she seized Christine's wrist and led her out of her room.
It seemed like she was leading her down to the theatre. Christine passed the spot where she remembered seeing Madame Giry talking to Erik. Well, she saw Madame Giry talking to somebody who she assumed was Erik. Why else would she not tell Christine who it was?
Meg pushed open the doors into the main theatre, there was a crowd gathered round the stage.
"Everybody get back!" It was Firmin. Apparently he was at the front of the crowd standing next to a police officer. "I said back! BACK!" The crowd slowly moved away from something.
"What are they all looking at?" Christine asked Meg.
"…Horrible" Meg whispered. "Blood everywhere." This second statement made Christine a little uneasy.
She did not care anymore, without warning she tore away from Meg, pushing through the crowd, and past a very pale toad. When she reached the front, she had to push André and Firmin out of the way until she saw…
"Miss Daae, Please don't…" André said.
"You shouldn't look Miss it's…" The rest of Firmin's words didn't reach Christine's ears. She was too shocked to hear them.
There on the floor, lay Joseph Bouquet. His eyes were wide open, and he had a look of terror in his eyes. He was quite clearly dead. Clutched in his right hand, was a blood red rose. Christine moved closer, only to be stopped by the police officer.
"Please Miss, move away." The Police Officer said in a pleading voice. She could not take her eyes off of the body, however. It didn't take her long to work out who had killed him. The rose made it too obvious. She continued to walk towards Bouquet's corpse. "Miss, I'm afraid I can't let you…" SMACK, Christine hit the ignorant officer round the face; she needed to let out her rage on something. The officer staggered back into the crowd. He did not want to get into a fight with a woman.
"Who found him?" She asked, trying to stay calm.
"It was me." Said a voice from the crowd. Seconds later, Reyer appeared through the crowd. "He was still alive when I did. There was nothing I could do though. He was obviously bleeding to death…"
"Any idea as to… as to who did it?" She asked, not needing an answer.
"We suspect it as a suicide." Said the officer, clearly thinking otherwise. "The cuts on the wrists suggest that they are self inflicted…"
"And the one on the throat." It was not a question, it was a statement. "Last time I looked you don't cut your throat to kill yourself."
"Miss, please just…"
"Don't make me hit you again!" She cut in, tears of rage burning in her eyes. She went over to Bouquet and knelt down next to his right hand, which was in a pool of blood.
She reached out and took the rose from it, then looked at it closely. The thorns were a deep red and unusually long for a rose. Without another moment's hesitation she got up, turned on her heels and marched back through the crowd.
"Miss!" Shouted the police officer. "Miss, I'm afraid you…" SMACK "Can't have that…"
Composing Don Juan…Composing Don Juan… She was furious. She strode down the corridor with the rose clutched in her hand, thorns pressing against her palm and cutting into her skin.
She reached out and turned the handle of her door and walked through. She wondered if Erik was right there, behind the mirror watching her.
"Which one is the damn tile!?" She cursed, but with that, Porsche moved over and put her paw on the tile. "Get out of my way!" She spat at the cat.
Pushing down on the tile, the mirror slid away into the floor. Without another glance at Porsche she stormed off down the tunnel, leading to Erik's domain. The torches were not lit. Maybe that meant he wasn't down there.
It took her a good ten minutes before she reached the lake, and she was surprised to see that the boat was still there. She got in, and began to row.
Now all I have to do is work out how to get that damn gate up.
But she was surprised yet again, as when she got there, the gate was already up…
Passarino faithful friend…once again recite the plan... hmmmmm Erik sat at his piano, once again composing his Don Juan.
"ERIK!" Came a voice from the other room. "WHERE ARE YOU? I KNOW YOU'RE HERE SOMEWHERE."
Oh great, just great, so much for keeping your promises…
There was a sudden silence. Erik decided to play something on the piano, really not knowing what he was going to say to Christine. Suddenly the door swung open.
"You…You." She stammered. Now that she was here, she hadn't got a clue what she was going to say and, to top it all off, there he was, composing his Don Juan.
"Me…Me" Said Erik, his voice emotionless and monotonic. He turned on the stool to face her. "There is no singing lesson today."
"Don't play smart with me Erik." She replied, enraged. "I think you forgot something." And with that, she tossed the rose at him, her hands bloody from the thorns.
"You need to get those cleaned up, they could be infected." A note of nervousness was in his voice now. "Wait here, I'll…"
"If you think I'm going to let you anywhere near my wrists then think again!" Something in Erik's voice seemed to infuriate her. "Why did you kill him? Steal your rose did he?"
"I may be scarred Christine but I'm not blind." He said, looking her straight in the eyes.
"So what about what he did to me, he was drunk…"
"I said, I may be scarred Christine, not blind. Drop the sword!" This was something Christine had not been expecting. "Drop it!"
"I'm not a dog thank you very much!" Shouted Christine, and with that, she unsheathed the sword she had behind her back, and brought it to Erik's neck.
"Are you going to kill me?" He asked, not one note of panic in his voice.
"You are a murderer." She stated.
"And you will be too if you kill me." He said coldly. "You've never killed a person before. Am I right?" Christine didn't say anything. "I thought so. You are not a killer."
"But you are!" She hissed back at him.
"Your point?"
Christine raised the sword, ready to strike. Now or never, she had to do it.
He kills anyone without hesitation. If you don't stop him then nobody will.
She brought the sword swiping through the air. There was a flash of light, a puff of smoke, and he had vanished, leaving Christine's sword to slice through thin air.
"As I said. You are not a killer. You could not kill me even if you wanted to." His voice echoed from all round the room. "You knew I was going to do that. If you had wanted to kill me then you would have done it sooner."
He's right, She thought. Her sword hand went limp, and the sword clattered to the floor.
Then, from behind her, a hand closed over her mouth, holding a damp cloth which smelled awful. She struggled to get free. "Don't fight it." Said a voice in her ear. She became drowsy. Whatever was on this cloth was taking effect. "I had to kill him. I did not want you running in fear from a drunken stage manager." She was feeling limp all over but she could not let him win. He was a killer…
A few seconds later she gave in. Erik lifted her off her feet and took her to the guest room. Porsche, who had somehow snuck on the boat, was right behind him.
He laid her down on the bed. It was warm enough for her to not need the blankets. After a few seconds making sure she was comfortable, he left her and Porsche in the room.
Erik went back to the music room and picked up the sword. It was the same one that she had used in the fight that they had with the skull and crossbones hilt, Christine's personal favourite.
He returned it to the armoury and then thought about going back to his Don Juan, but thought better of it. After what just happened, he doubted that he would be able to concentrate and so he went to his bedroom, and opened the door. He went to go and sit on his bed but the problem was there was already someone sitting on it…
