BAH! Finally! I have finished the next chapter. Lord, that took longer than I had expected. Thank God it is done though, now I may breathe.
A Few Thanks
Eriksfirstlove- I truly don't mean to be evil...it just kind of happens. Sorry about the cliff hanger though, please forgive me. And I completely understand where you are coming from about the whole having to prove yourself the whole time too. It's a real annoyance. Yea, but you may thank our lovely Sumner for the marvelous work she has done as Vits.
Mademoiselle Phantom- If I could, I would hug you. I'm am absolutely serious when I say I have missed your comments, and I was overly thrilled to find you left a review. Thanks for thinking the story's becoming amazing- that was a boost of confidence. I absolutely adore your story 'Cold Unfeeling Light' and on that note I think you should update again so that we fans may marvel in your awesomeness.
shimmeringtears- You are without a doubt my favorite reviewer on the planet! I'm glad that you are enjoying the story, and remaining incredibly faithful to it. Also, you make an excellent point that all the readers should follow- I would appreciate a few more reviews every now and then (not that I don't appreciate what we get because I am always flattered by what you all say), but a few more couldn't hurt, right? -wink- -wink- -nudge- nudge- Ha, just playing. It would be very nice to have more, but I am completely honored by what we already receive. But still, thanks so much for even suggesting it. You are awesome!
surf with music- Thank you for understanding the tiring job of band camp. Don't get me wrong, I love marching band, but band camp I could live without. About the Raylan becoming Erik's slut and all that, don't worry. Likelihood is Erik will not be 'getting it on' in this story- nice, clean romance is the limit... I think. No worries though, Ray is not going to become his whore and Erik will not be turning into a pimp any time soon... as much as that would be an interesting sight to see.
Juilette Delphe- SUMNER! Are you home? Come back! I MISS YOU!
Alright, and now that I am done with that. Let the show begin!
-Olivia N.
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That very evening the Opera Populaire eagerly awaited the arrival of the world renowned opera star, Malorea Chalondra. They stood, crammed into the foyer, each one waiting with eyes glued to the entrance and with baited breath. The ballerinas crowded along the railing of the balcony, each struggling to get a better view. Carlotta, and all of her attendants, stood along the stairs, with Jacque, the male lead, and his entourage. The Patron and the Managers stood enthusiastically at the foot of the stairs, talking excitedly amongst themselves. Only Vits was sullen about the whole affair, forced to stand squeezed, next to Carlotta, who was sneering upon her. Naturally, Vits returned the look with her own death glare.
At last, the moment had arrived, at half past six. The sounds of carriage wheels echoed through the halls, as they fell silent, everyone holding their breath, waiting for her. The high pitched voice of a woman angrily complaining about this and that, to a man, who answered her in noncommittal grunts proved that she had indeed arrived.
The grand doors of the Opera Populaire opened admitting a tall woman extravagantly dressed in a bright pink dress of the utmost latest Parisian fashion, and upon her arm was a gallant gentleman in the same manner. Malorea Chalondra descended from a long line of nobility, several over her ancestors were royalty, and she held that same bearing. Her harsh blue eyes scanned the room, from the eager ballet girls just starting their careers, to the Prima Donna of several seasons who practically owned the place. Then to Patron, this man who introduced himself as Claude Burke from a family of great withstand, to the managers and owners-they were the new rich, and thus exercising their great power.
((Authoress Note: Yes, we decided to name the Patron after all. Go figure- fifteen chapters in and now he has a name.))
Overall, she was disappointed with her arrival. Within any other Opera House she would have had a large fan fair or a large ball thrown in her honor that night. But, alas, the world renowned Opera Populaire was trying to make its rebound after the disaster two years ago. She would have to settle for this weak greeting.
Her eyes at last settled upon the person who was most out of place. She nearly gasped at the nerve; they had to place her there. There she stood, her one major mistake, in all her glory glaring back at her mother. The two exchanged harsh looks, each daring the other to break away first. However, one of the managers interrupted with a polite cough. Malorea snapped her eyes to the man, and then asked in an imperial voice, "What no red carpet?"
The Patron laughed weakly, as if the singer had been joking. She had not. Claude Burke bowed deeply sweeping his hat off his head, and flourishing his cloak.
"Madame Chalondra, what a pleasure to see that you have arrived safely to the Opera Populaire," He stood up, and gestured behind him to the Managers, "These are our lovely and ever so kind, Managers: Monsieur Aloin and Monsieur Senapus."
Carlotta strode forward, ever eager to impress her better, having the nerve to even shove the Managers aside to make an appearance before Madame Chalondra.
"Our leading Soprano: Carlotta," Monsieur Burke introduced. Carlotta curtsied deeply and dramatically, with a gracious smile.
Then the moment came. The Patron turned at last, with an ever handsome smile. His hand gracefully extended towards Vits, "And of course, your daughter Chalondra Vitusia. Always a joy to have under our roof. You will be proud to know that she will be singing beside you during our production of Romeo and Juliet as the ever valiant Romeo."
The ballerinas gasped in awe; none would ever have guessed Vits's parentage. Vits, of course, had not been told of this latest news, that she would be singing. She growled deeply at the Patron, words would fly later. Vits did not want to perform on stage, she never liked it, especially while her mother was there.
Malorea nearly had the same reaction as her daughter, except she had the better breeding to not give off animal noises of displeasure, instead she deeply frowned, wondering how to get out of this predicament, without looking as if she were backing out. She and the Patron would talk later.
Claude Burke swallowed; this wasn't the reaction he had hoped for. He had foreseen a joyous reunion with mother and daughter rushing to embrace each other. However, mother and daughter were a study of opposites, where Malorea was well mannered, properly educated, and gentle; Vits was rude, calloused, and rough. Mother would hold her tongue, and graciously accept what society dealt, daughter would give vicious tongue lashings, and fight society's attempt to civilize her to death. While Vits was her father's daughter to the teeth, and Malorea had absolutely no desire to come within contact with her blood child, there was one similarity, but few bothered to look; they held the same bearing.
The bearing of descending from a line of kings, each could rule imperviously, and would-given the chance. Vits ruled the under world of the Opera House, her domain was vast though she held little true power.
Malorea was queen of the upper realm; the dancers, singers, managers, and even the audience; wherever she sang they would come. The two fought, butting heads by nature. Malorea had no wish to even admit her daughter's existence, and Vits had the same feelings for her mother, but their jobs forced them too. And thus epic battles would rise. However, at the moment there was an uneasy peace between them, the calm before the war.
The Managers gently escorted Madame Chalondra into their office to discuss certain options, and forms of payment. When she had gone the audience began to thin out, and Vits was the first to bolt. She rushed to her apartment, and slammed the door as hard as she possibly could, which nearly knocked the door off its hinges. Her hands were shaking as the fury built, tears burning her eyes, not with sadness but with the utmost hate. No one looked at her the way Malorea always did, with so much distaste, and with so little compassion. Not even the Patron was cruel enough to look at her that way.
Vits knew what her mothers had been thinking then, the woman going over in her head of how big of a mistake her daughter was, of how much she had never wanted her. She never did, even when Vits was a child in desperate need of the support of a mother, she never wanted her. Vits had only wanted to be loved. Was that so much to ask? She had only wanted to be loved!
"I hate that bitch!" She shouted in rage, the colorful side of her vocabulary beginning to be exercised as Vits stormed about the kitchen.
With her usual bad timing, Raylan walked in just as Vits language started diving into the more dangerous words and although she had entered in a haze she did indeed catch her companions attitude. "What's wrong?" Raylan asked, shaking herself from her fogged state.
Vits stopped and glared harshly at Raylan, "You didn't hear? She's here."
"Oh," Raylan shut her eyes and groaned, hinting that she had completely forgotten, "You're mother, you mean. I'm sorry Vits."
Vits suddenly lashed out, slamming the chair against the table hard, making Raylan jump with surprise. However, the furniture was well made and merely shuddered rather than shattering. Vits hissed, she had somewhat wished it had broke. "Yes," She growled viciously, "And now, I've been told I'm going to accompany her on stage as Romeo after Midsummer Night's dream. Isn't that fantastic!" Her words hissed angrily, displaying her every frustration through her tone.
Raylan shuddered, but her words were strangely unsympathetic as she said, "That's horrible."
Vits glared harshly at her, catching her roommates tone. "You can take my place," She offered, her voice bitter and cold.
"No I can't," There was soft regret in Raylan's voice and she went to slump down on the couch with a deep sigh, leaning her head back on the head rest but still watching Vits. She finally comforted softly, "You're a fighter. You'll be fine."
Vits softened after Raylan spoke, catching the sadness that lingered beneath the comfort. She had to drive herself to speak gently as she asked, "What's wrong with you?"
Raylan looked to her, a small twinkle in her eyes from mounting tears. Lord, she did not want to say this, to break her friends heart. Goodbyes were always the hardest parts of friendships, and as much as Raylan had told herself to not get attached, there was no denying how she had grown fond of the odd ball. A sharp pain wrenched in her heart as she came to realize what she had to say. Her time with Vits would soon be over.
Raylan answered honestly, her voice shaking as she fought back tears, "I'm...I'm going to be leaving you Vits. Ethan and I...we have to go."
"You're leaving me?"
Raylan shut her eyes. She heard the quiver in Vits voice, the sharp and sudden pain that even her mothers presence could not even cause. "We have no choice," Raylan sighed, keeping her eyes closed to fight back tears. She knew that one look into Vits glossy green orbs and she would fall apart.
Vits watched, confused for only a moment before remembering Ethan's reaction to her assumption. "It's because the cops found you," She stated it in a matter of fact way.
Raylan bolted upright. Her voice swiftly came out at a shrill as she stuttered, "H...how did you? How d...did you?"
"It wasn't that hard to see your stories didn't exactly match up," Vits said, relaxing now that her theory could be confirmed, "Besides, you and Ethan have too different of facial structures to be related- you two look nothing alike, with the exception of a Southern tan. A number of other things gave it away. But I'm certain nobody else noticed. I just figured it out because I spent time with both of you."
Raylan nodded, understanding how Vits had caught on, but her tone remained slightly skeptical as she asked, "And what exactly is it you think you figured out?"
Vits sighed as if she were explaining something for the millionth time over, "You two are on the run from the law. And it had to be something big, otherwise they wouldn't be chasing you over here. Most likely something involving a lot of money."
Raylan smirked. How clever Vits was, how dangerously clever. Raylan's voice came out cautious and defensive as she began to question, "Are you going to tell? You going to give us away? Give us to those damned police, just like Melanie. Don't even think about it; I wouldn't let you, do you hear me? For god sakes, I'll do whatever I must to keep Ethan safe."
Vits let Ray rant for a moment, then scoffed, "Oh, shut up. If I wanted to give you away, I would have done so by now. How many times have I had the chance to drag you to them? Besides, why would I give you away?"
"Reward," Ray said simply, "There is a lot of money on our heads, especially mine."
Vits arched an eyebrow, leaning forward to say lightly as if it were a secret, "You've seen me dance. If I wanted money, why aren't I beating the stuffing out of Carlotta on the stage? Why am I still here? Working for practically nothing? I get paid less than you, remember?"
"I don't trust," Raylan replied, her voice cold as snow, "Life has taught me not to. I have run into people like you before, grown weak to them, only to find out they had a second motive- forgive me if I find it hard to believe."
Vits shrugged. "Believe what you want. I can't change your thinking," Her tone turned serious, "But remember this, Raylan, I saved your life once. Don't expect me to save your ass again, if you refuse to open your fucking eyes and see the truth." Her eyes were cold and harsh. She meant what she said, "I don't help fools."
Raylan growled. Again her caution had turned the moment sour. "Well, you wont have to put up with this 'fool' much longer," She hissed bitterly, "I'll be out of your life soon, and then you can continue on your miserable existence, alone."
Vits nodded, her tone was measured and unemotional, "Yes. I'm sure you'll leave. And what would you like me to do about it?"
Raylan laid down on the sofa, purposely turning her back to Vits, "It's none of your concern. Just keep your mouth shut and we will have no problems. We will be gone soon." Her voice quivered from threatening tears as she forced herself to utter what she knew wasn't true, "I'm sure you can't wait."
Vits growled. Her day was going from bad to worse. She stalked into her room, and slammed the canvas sail of a curtain shut, ending their conversation on that unpleasant note.
Both had forced themselves to sleep that night. Vits had sunk into a restless sleep, tossing and turning in her hammock. Her mind filled with the memories her mother always brought with her. One replayed itself, over and over. Back to when she was eight, when her father had just died.
It was left up to her to sow his hammock shut, so he could be sent to his watery grave. She remembered the feel of the canvas, the rough hemp she used as thread for her needle. Her eyes watched the body hoping for some form of life, something to change what had happened. To bring him back. She was nearly finished, her tear filled child eyes staring so wishfully at the only love she had known, gone from her life. His hands had been folded across his chest, and she was about to cover them, when suddenly his hand reached out for her. Vits had jumped back as a child, ever hopeful. She hadn't understood rigor mortis yet, but she had kept sowing, knowing that he was dead.
However, she had always wondered if he really had been. The hand moved, reaching out for his daughter. He had reached to her, and she had denied his touch. She had already begun to shut out attachment.
Vits bolted up right, panting, in her hammock. The sudden motion upset the balance necessary to keep the hammock still. Vits gracelessly fell out of her hammock. However she wasn't entirely awake, so she bounced around her room, and into the main room. She bumped into the table, as if searching for something, muttering to herself, "He's dead. He's not coming back. He's dead."
Vits finally found the door, and walked out, still in a half daze. The lights upon the stage awoke her. It was so predictable for her mind to seek the stage, her only way of expressing what truly lay within. She looked around the room, and started to stretch to dance. Glittering water caught her eye. The stage hands had tried to wash the stage, but had left large puddles of water. Vits cursed them under her breath, and looked towards the mop to correct the issue, but she decided against it, letting the fools get what they asked for-a warped stage.
She again looked out into the audience, then up to the ceiling, which had been repaired from the chandelier's crash, and repainted with cherubs. Her eyes searched with a look of absence. She was not looking at the ceiling, but more so beyond it, towards a world that no mortal eyes could see.
"She's here, father. She's come," Vits spoke into the night, pouring her heart out to the soul she prayed would hear her, even from so far a distant, "I can't take it. Honestly, I want to run so badly. But I can't. I can't abandon my men. They... they're putting me on stage, like I'm some prize because of her. Oh, Papa, what am I going to do? I hate going on stage. But I don't have a choice, do I?"
She sighed, looking down at one of the puddles and her reflection in it. Tears coursed down her face. "She's leaving me... no, not mother. My roommate... Raylan. I didn't think I could trust anyone after you Papa, but she... she wormed her way into my heart Dad. She's so much like you, stubborn as all hell, but brilliant," Vits smiled at the memories, "I know she cares, but she refuses to admit it." Vits paused, her voice had broke. It took so much strength to continue, "I can't face them alone, Papa, I just can't. I need your strength. I need your help." Then she sang. Her voice soared from it's deepest reaches to its highest bounds, from well below a baritone's range up to an alto's higher middling range. She sang with the same passion as her dance, with the same pain and anger, the same sadness and utter loneliness. She sang for the soul who she could no longer lean on, and for steadiness that she was soon to lose.
"Hear me, Papa,
You gotta be out there, Papa. Are you near me?
You gotta be somewhere,
Can you hear me? Wherever you are, I'm waiting for your light,
Illuminate this cold and lonely night,
Stirring in my soul,
A light shining through,
But I won't see your face,
Light up again,
Are you listening?
I can't get through,
'Cause there are these nights,
when I sing myself to sleep,
I've been trying to reach you,
I don't know what to do,
and I'm hoping in my dreams that you're wherever I am,
And you'll be there until the end.
I remember everything
you taught me,
I'm crying' out, please,
Find me, I'm lost,
I fall, but I try,
I need someone to understand,
I'm lost in my thoughts of
A tragedy, a fragile soul
Caught in the hands of fate,
I've waited so long,
Wishing I was in your arms,
lying right there beside you.
It just isn't right,
I'm searching for a miracle,
I'm trying to heal,
There's more damage here than
my soul can take,
Nothing's making any sense,
All of the things that I want to say just aren't coming out right,
I don't know where to go from here.
You were the light that was leading me,
The stars guided you home,
Will they guide me?
You were the strength,
that kept me walking.
You were my hope,
You calmed the storms.
You gave me rest,
You held me in your hands,
And you wouldn't let me fall.
But now I'm running,
And I'm not sure where to go,
I've lost something I can't replace,
And I can't fix it alone.
So tears fall, and
I can't hold them back.
I can't survive,
Will you help me survive?
Who will help me survive?"
The tears fell freely as Vits stood there, letting her soul cry, as she never had. She had never let herself truly cry for her father's death. The tears she had shed upon his death day, had been because she couldn't stand to be alone, and she didn't want to give up his memory. But now, she saw she had no choice. She had to let go, to survive, to have the strength to stand up against the mother who didn't love her. And never would.
Tears streamed down his face, sliding behind the mask that hid his emotions, both physical and mental. He could taste their salt upon his lips. He heard the pain in her voice, and felt the sadness as it seared through his heart, ripping the old wound anew. He remembered her tearful good-bye. He remembered Christine's leaving, and the hole she had left behind where his heart had once been.
He knew the pain, the hurt, the sorrow, that Vits sang about. They were the same, the same broken, alone figures, revealing only their true feelings within the shield of the dark. He wanted to hold the eight year old child that stood upon the stage, struggling against a world that she could not win. Yet she would die fighting, because she knew no different. He could not take away the one person Vits could lean upon, the one person she had trusted. No, he would help them.
He would hide them, he decided then as he watched the broken woman crawl from the stage. His heart gave a small pain as he watched her go. Sadly, he had wished that he was the one Vits sang about, the one she trusted, the one she needed to lean on. There had been a time, and possibly still was a time when he had wanted so much to be her companion, her trusted friend. He could have been there for her, could have been her strength, for he would never leave her, he would never leave the Opera Populaire. She had not wanted him as a friend though, she thought him a monster, like everyone else. No, he would never be her friend. No, he would stay with the memories, alone in his shadows. Alone... forever alone.
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That morning Raylan was not herself, or the self that the people of the Opera House had come to believe she was. She was jumpy and unfocused, not the usual cool and sweet girl that others had grown accustom to. Her work was just as similar, the amateur seamstress practically flinging needles every which way on accident. All day she seemed on edge, her face beading with sweat and her eyes bolting about with terror at the slightest sound. Of course, no one questioned her or took pity on the shaky Southerner. The most her fellow seamstresses did was mercilessly watch her, giggling and laughing behind her back.
She hardly noticed their crude laughter, which came as somewhat of an annoyance to them. Raylan was completely absent it seemed, so absent that she had not noticed when the others had left for lunch, and she remained in the costume department, alone and dazed.
A sharp knock on the door awoke the room from its usual humdrum. The knock was brisk and impatient.
Raylan's panicked nerves caught the noise and shakily she rose, walking to the door and cautiously opening it.
Behind the door stood Madame Giry, her face tight with determination. "Ah, good it's you," She said briskly, and then strongly commanded, "Come." She turned around, and started walking away, not even pausing to see if the American followed.
Raylan for a moment was confused, but she had learned not to doubt Madame Giry's intentions and willingly trailed after her.
As Raylan has suspected, Madame Giry led her up to box five, and stepped in, carefully remaining hidden behind the curtain, and gesturing for Raylan to do so.
Raylan obeyed, doing just as Madame Giry did, to the exact move.
"Here is the Phantom's response, and instructions. I strongly suggest that you read it here. And destroy it here, lest it fall into the wrong hands," With that she reached within the folds of her dress and emerged with a box of matches, handing them to Raylan, along with the crisp envelope. She turned to leave then, pausing at the door only to say swiftly before exiting, "Goodbye my dear."
Raylan waited till Madame Giry had gone to read the Phantom's note. A few times she turned it over in her hands, examining her name written quickly and messy on the front and the odd wax seal of a skull on the back. Soon she took a seat in one of the box chairs, taking a deep, wishful breath before reading.
The note was written in the same swift hand writing, briskly saying:
Dear Mademoiselle Willoughby,
I have decided to accept your proposal. If you still plan to continue on with this idea, be prepared to leave at sundown. Seeing as I have prior arrangements to attend to, I have arranged for a guide to meet you in the Chapel. They will lead you as far as needed, and then you must continue your journey to my home on your own. Do not fret, I will be there to meet you.
Your Most Humble and Obedient Servant,
O.G.
Raylan sighed with relief, a small smile gracing across her lips. She took the note to her chest, cradling it as if it were the most precious gift she had ever received, but quickly remembered that the precious note was to be destroyed. Sadly she rose, walking to the farthest corner and placing the note upon the ground. Striking a match, she set one of the frail ends of the note into flames, then allowed the rest to catch fire as she watched it burn. She did not stomp it out until the note was black with ash, ruined, and then she put the fire out, swiftly hiding the ashes and leaving the box.
Raylan was not surprised when she came upon the stage that Ethan was there, silently awaiting her as she had requested. There were rings under his eyes; she knew he hadn't slept. They saw each other instantly and Raylan made her slow walk over.
He nodded and looked anxious, fiddling with his cowboy hat.
Raylan returned the nod, her eyes focusing in on him. In a soft voice she said, "Prepare your things. Meet me here as soon as you are done- leave no traces of where you might be going. We depart at sundown."
Again he nodded. Silent tears were in his eye, but he did not say a thing. Ethan just turned around, put on his hat, and walked out of the building. From behind, half hidden within the sets, Vits watched him leave with only a slight pause before returning to work.
As Raylan watched him go her ears caught the chiming of the three o'clock bell; it would not be long until she descended to their safety...his hell. Raylan spun around, about to take off for the apartment, when her eyes caught sight of Vits. Her gaze was solemn, weighing heavily upon the friend she knew she was destined to lose. She had hoped to catch Vits's eye, but her companion was working diligently and never looked her way. After a deep sigh Raylan headed for the apartment to begin packing.
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The time passed slowly, agonizing. Vits became snappier at the end, obviously restless and irritated. She finally gave up on the day, about half an hour before the sun would sink below the horizon. When she entered the apartment, she wasn't surprised to find Raylan's bags packed.
Raylan looked up from the couch. She had been folding a few sheets of paper and casually slipped them into an ordinary envelope as she addressed Vits, saying gently, "I'm glad you're here."
Vits nodded. "Farewells are the hardest," She admitted softly, her tone grim.
"Indeed, they are," Raylan agreed grimly. She allowed silence to linger between them as she sealed the letter, rising with a sigh as she made her way around the room. Her eyes gazed longingly, sorrowfully over the apartment. She would miss this place, this warmth and belonging, but all good things always came to an end.
Again sighing she slowly approached Vits, and with a shaky hand offered her the envelope. She said softly, "You deserve to know why we are leaving you- the full story. This is for you, it will explain everything, but I have two strict orders. Do not read it until I am gone, and destroy it immediately after you have finished reading it. I... I'm sorry that this is the only way I could open up to you."
Vits nodded, "You made the move. That's what counts."
Raylan frowned, "I should have made it sooner...when we had the chance to become great friends." Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she fought them as usual. She was leaving the only kindness she had known in years, the only friend she had ever even been close to having. Suddenly, without any warning she pulled Vits into an embrace, holding her close for long enough to make a point and then releasing her. She quickly then gathered her bags and bolted out the door, escaping before her tears would show.
Vits stood there for a moment shocked. She glanced down at the letter, her companions confession, then at the clock. She didn't have time to read it. Sighing regretfully, Vits quickly set the letter on the table and then left the room, closing the door behind her.
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Raylan had met Ethan on the stage, her two suitcases in hand and his two suitcases tucked securely under his arms. They said nothing, just gazed at one another for a second, before he followed Raylan through the winding halls that had become her home, leading the way to the Chapel she had visited only once before.
Vits stood in the Chapel, watching the sun's dying light fade through the stained glass. She knew why she was here, to escort two individuals to the Phantom's lair. He had chosen her, chosen her to take them for whatever mysterious or twisted reasons he had. She had received a letter from him early that morning, in his usual mysterious manner, asking her to lead his guests to his boat on the underground lake. Perhaps he had chosen her because she was one of the rare few who knew how to find his lair.
She had actually found his home when she first arrived, by accident., discovering the hidden passage within the Chapel wall. She had taken the boat, paddling swiftly when she had heard the slightest whispers in the waters, tales of sirens returning to her mind from what her crew had once told her. When she had arrived, he hadn't been there at the time, but of course he knew about it, and she had been rightfully punished. Still, she had never forgotten the way.
Doubt filled her mind as she watched the dwindling light, contemplation on if what she was doing was right. Vits knew what lay beneath. She knew of the heaven and hell he had created, the world he had fashioned in honor of music and darkness. A world both beautiful and deadly, but it was not a world that she wished to submit her friends to. The Phantom's realm, she knew, would be far more than they had bargained for, and Vits feared that submitting them to it would doom them to a fate much worse than what the law would enforce. She would have to stifle her fear though. She never crossed the Phantom's demands, knowing full well the consequences if she did.
"Vit's?" Her name was partial question and fear as Raylan spoke it, the slap of her bags dropping from her hands stirring Vits from her thoughts. She spun about, staring her two comrades bravely in the face. Raylan's mouth was gaping, and she was struggling to say something and failing miserably. Ethan said nothing, just stood there with his mouth lolling open.
Vits simply nodded, "Yes, I am the guide." Then without thought she suggested, "If you all need to leave, if he hurts you, I can get you out of here safely. Somehow, I will find a way. However, it won't be easy. I don't know what he's asking. I don't know what you promised. But I'd be careful."
Raylan nodded, her voice finally emerging bravely as she said, "I am prepared for my consequences...come, we should go- I don't wish to displease him so soon."
Vits nodded and rose, ignoring the dread that weighed heavily on her chest, "Ready?"
Both of them answered softly and full of uncertainty, "Yes."
Without wasting another minute, Vits pushed aside a hidden door, and ushered them in before closing it herself. The hall way was dark after she closed the door, but she lit a match that she had taken from someplace concealed in her clothing. Still, the small light was nothing compared to the immense darkness that surrounded them. Vits cautioned gently before traveling, "I'm going to warn you, there are rats. But if you scream, I'm under instruction to abandon you."
Raylan softly chuckled, "Rats are the least of my fears."
"Just a fair warning," Vits muttered as she lead the way through a winding and twisted passageway, saying as little as possible, making as little noise as her feet could.
Ethan trailed close behind. His steps were louder- never having learned to walk as silently as the girls had- but he tried his best to walk lightly. Eventually he resulted to tip toeing.
Behind them lay ever vast darkness, and before them, but Vits surely led the way, pausing occasionally at a few intersections. She knew the way, but even she doubted herself sometimes. She knew what lay at the end, if they took a wrong direction-death. After a long walk Vits came to halt before a greenish-blue lake, its waters murky and threatening from lack of light and with a hint of gloomy mist.
As arranged, a wooden boat awaited them upon the black shores. Vits thought momentarily about the Greek legend of souls that entered the Underworld, the realm of Hades. It is said there was a single ferry run by the boatman Charon to take the souls across the river Styx, into Hell. Funny, this scene reminded her almost entirely of that myth. Perhaps the Phantom truly was the Devil.
Vits sighed, ignoring these thoughts and spinning about to face her companions, "This is how far I go"
Ethan took to putting his and Raylan's things in the boat as Raylan spoke to Vits. "Read the note when you return. It will explain everything," She said gently, placing a gentle hand on Vits shoulder. Again tears danced in Raylan's eyes, and again she fought them back, remaining strong as she exchanged her last words, "Thank you...for everything Vits."
Vits nodded, her too remaining strong for their sakes, "Don't forget my offer. I don't think I'll be staying here much longer. But it stands as long as I'm here." With out another word she turned and walked down the passageway, her pace slow and measured, as if she didn't want to let them go. She didn't, but she had to force herself to do this, no matter how much it hurt.
With a sigh Raylan entered the boat, but Ethan paused to call after Vits. "Vits," He cried, the desperation in his voice. Would he truly never see her again? Never see her smile again? Never again feel her caress? His mind cried in fear, and he stuttered to say what he knew he felt, but knew he shouldn't admit, " ...I...I lo...thank you."
With his words, Vits paused. She knew what he meant, they all did. Her shoulders slumped as she let out a silent sob. Then she pushed herself foreword, and around a corner and on through the winding passageways. Out of view her emotions came crashing down, her world taking its final plunge. Damn him for saying that, knowing they could never be. Damn Raylan for getting close to her. Damn herself for letting herself get attached, for feeling connected. Damn them both for causing the pain she would feel of never seeing them again.
Ethan's head lowered, but he fought back the tears that swelled, forcing himself to be strong. He was thankful though that Raylan did not send him a scorning look when he entered the boat, but instead watched him with complete sorrow, hoping for him to forgive her for what she was making him do. In her eyes she begged for his forgiveness, and his courage. They both knew the dangers of the world they were about to enter, a whole new kind of Hell. They were to enter a cell, a mans demented and shadowed world, and yet their only means of survival. So with a final sigh of dread, Ethan took up the rod to guide the boat, and pushed it off the edge, beginning their journey down the river Styx, into the realm of Hades.
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Thanks everyone! Hope you enjoyed. Erik's lair scene, soon to come. Answer this for me, do the fans prefer Erik's lair to be more Leroux or Webber style, or both? And should we keep the whole Erik sleeping in a coffin thing like from Leroux's? And what else would you all like to see in his lair? Allowing you all to take part in the decision. Thanks everyone! Please review, and ciao for now!
-Olivia N.