Chapter 6: Silent Panic.

The storm raged on as the carriage sped along the street, back into the heart of Paris. Thunder and lightning startled Andre with every loud rumble and sudden flash. Firmin stared straight ahead of himself at the other wall of the carriage. His face was white. Bags had begun to form under his eyes. His breathing was shallow and staggered. It was almost as if Firmin himself were near death. The Opera Ghost had affected him so immensely and the terror of the great cat was over whelming. How long had that great beast been dwelling in the Opera house without anyone knowing? Was there anything at all that could be done to be rid of it? Not without angering the Phantom but a still greater fear would be an attack by such a beast. Andre had also turned white with fear. He had gained some scrapes from the large cat but was more terrified if anyone would find out about it living withing the city.

Andre rubbed his hand together more and more nervously with every passing second. His thoughts were clouded by white and black stripes and huge glowing yellow eyes. The phantom, with one short meeting had become more frightening than ever before, because of the realisation of just how many tricks the man did have up his sleeve. To control magic, music, and just the mention of him instilled fear into people all over Paris. But now he was a tamer of animal, great beastly animals, what more could he have hidden in store. It was clear that he was able to keep these things great secrets and much travel must have been done by this man to gain such knowledge and companionship. It was obvious that they had under estimated him yet again. Was he really a man at all or some strange being able to control everything down to the wind and the rain. Was it he who has torn open the sky with the heavenly spectacle? Andre thought as another flash of lightning snapped him out of his trance. He jumped high out of his seat with a bit of a cry, his heart beating heavily in his chest.

"Secret Andre, we have to keep all of this secret," Firmin said still staring off into nothingness, "perhaps if we never speak of tonight, it will sees to exist even for us," he added his voice cracking.

"I shall have nightmare about this for the rest of my life Firmin, there is no doubt about that," Andre said a little frantically, "We've made a deal with the devil. Sold our souls. We should have just gone in search of a new fortune the old way!"

"Well the deal is done now," Firmin said calmly and looking over at Andre for the first time since entering back into the light soaked streets of the city, "we'll have to follow through now, I hope that the hard part is now finished. As long as we keep the Phantom happy and his payments coming we shouldn't have any more problems, right?" he asked seeming very unsure of the whole idea himself.

"I pray so," Andre said as the carriage stopped in front of the Opera house. Madame Giry and Monsieur Reyer stood waiting for their returned.

Andre and Firmin both stepped down from the carriage. The nights events had really affected both men. They looked exhausted, old, hunched over in the darkness of the storm. The rain poured down harsh on their backs and splashed up at their feet. Their clothing looked old, torn and soaking They were a vision of fear in themselves. Could a meeting with the phantom of the opera actually cause a man physical image to change? It seemed so in Andre and Firmin's case.

They walked slowly up the steps to the entrance to the theatre where Giry and Reyer waited. Madame Giry gasped as Firmin and Andre came into the light. The bags around their eyes were black, and their skin has lost its colour. White as ghosts they appeared in their dark travelling suits and hats. Their eyes were bloodshot, their pupils huge black disks. They were rather phantomeque in their new appearance.

"Monsieurs, you both look as though you have died yourself on your night journey," Madame Giry cried as she pulled the two of them out of the rain and into the brightly lit foyer.

Andre and Firmin said nothing, but moved hypnotically into the light. Their cloaks fell from their shoulders into a soggy pile on the floor as they continued to walk.

"Monsieurs what is the matter?" Madame Giry cried again as she and Monsieur Reyer tried to stop them from moving a long any further.

"You must tell us," Reyer said as he looked into the blank faces of Andre and Firmin, "will we have an opera?"

Andre and Firmin looked coldly up at Reyer, "yes," was their only reply.

The managers pushed on past Reyer and Giry and stepped lightly up the grand staircase, in the foyer, as they headed towards their office. No words were spoken between them. It was well into the evening hours now. The lightning still flashed outside the theatre as Andre and Firmin walked on.

"Monsieurs you look terrible, perhaps you have had enough of business for tonight. Go home, you need to rest," Madame Giry called after them.

The two men didn't stopped, the simply slugged on toward their office. Madame Giry followed after them as Reyer gave up to the rudeness of the Managers. She watched as they walked, zombie like through the dark hallways. No candles were lit, no torches burned and yet they walked on through the unrestful silence between thunder claps.

The two men stopped outside their office as if waiting for something. Madame Giry stepped closer, feeling a fearfulness around her. They both stared off into nothingness.

"Woman, come to us in the morning," Firmin said in nearly a whispered.

"The phantom must be paid," Andre added.

Madame Giry stared as the two then turned and walked into their little office. The door closed behind them and a click of the lock was heard in the silence of the night. Nothing else could be heard coming from within the office. A silence, like death, had fallen. It didn't even seem like the men had left the other side of the door after closing it. No foot steps were hears. No moving of chairs. Not even breathing could be made out as Madame Giry placed her ear on the door to try to make out anything. It was calm as sleep, interrupted only by the rumble of thunder.

What had Erik done to them? She asked herself as she stood in the darkness of the hallway. This was most strange behaviour indeed, they looked as sinister as the phantom himself. Their eyes burned red and appeared to have sunken into their heads. She had to find out and right away.

She spun on her toes, as ballerinas do, and fled back down the hall. Through the theatre she ran. Thunder could still be heard but the lighting had disappeared as the walls of the theatre became thicker and windowless. It was a dark night, dark things were happening, she could feel them and yet she ran on. Quick as she could she descended the hundreds of stairs into the darkness of the abyss beneath the opera house. She could hear water dripping in through new places, the sounds were changed from her first visit. Water rushed harsher when she came to the bottom. Filthy and swirling in the river that flowed.

Her pace quickened when the stairs were out of her sight. Why did she run so? She wondered as she continued along the path, travelling against the water. It was louder than before. It splashed up onto the walkway of the river bank. Even the air was wet and damp. She could feel it through her clothing. The bottom of her dress and feet becoming soaking wet and weighted he down. A feeling of worry, more than fear had taken over her countenance. Something seemed too wrong to affect the managers as it did. She ran on in the darkness, not knowing how far she had travelled. The sound of the water was loud and her ears rang from the noise. The water soaked through her slippers. Dampness, was thick in the warm air. Even in this underground place, the warmth of the summer had begun to penetrate. And yet she felt chilled. A great shiver ran up her spine. There was no stopping the coldness of feat and worry.

Yellow eyes appeared in the darkness ahead of her. Bright yellow cats eyes. She stopped and became dead still. Over the rushing of the water a rumbling could be heard, like a growl. She healed her breath. What beast was this and how could it come to live within the underworld of Paris. The eyes came closer and closer. She could feel the footsteps of the approaching beast over the rushing of the water. She was terrified. Was it here that she would meet her end. Closer and closer the animal came, her eyes had focussed now through the darkness. She could see the beast before her, its white strips moving, mist like, through the blackness. She held her breath as the giant cat brushed against her and walked behind her. Her eyes closed tightly, waiting for the impact of the great animal, but it did not come.

A nudge on her back pushed her forward a little, but it was a gentle push. Her eyes flew open. She looked back and there was the tiger, her head pressed into the small of her back and leading her through the dark. The head was huge and yet soft as silk. She felt another gentle nudge and she knew that the cat was trying desperately to lead her on. A warmth came over her body. This animal was domesticated. It was clear by its behaviour. It was worried and desperate. She moved on, lead by her new guide

Her steps became quick once again. The cat walked at her side. She placed one hand on its head to keep her balance on the very narrowing pathway. The animal didn't seem to mind. Her eyes were now completely focussed in the darkness, she could see before her, though the water sparkled wet and black as tar. She was nearing the wall, she knew she was, the water was foamy from the fall and soon she saw it. Below the wall, a mass, like rocks on the ground and a horse, white and brilliant in the darkness. What was it? The cat urged her on, its pace was quickening, a worried air came over it. "What is that?" she said out loud to the cat. The mass moved. The cat roared and leaped closer to the mass. It was a person, but who could it be down here in this darkness. The mass rolled over, coughing, gasping for air. The cat was frantic, trying to force the mass up off the wet ground. It was too much dead weight for the poor animal. Nothing was working. The horse stomped its hooves on the ground nervously. It too had grasped some of the fabric that encased the person on the ground. It pulled as well.

The face of the person became visible in the darkness. The eyes were shut but the look of worry and illness covered the disfigured face.

"Oh My Lord, Erik!" She cried and rushed to his side and hoisted his head off the ground and out of the water. She sat at his side holding him up and patting the water from his face with her sleeve, "something wicked has affect everyone tonight," she said looking up at the two animals.

The tiger came in closer and laid down beside Erik and Madame Giry. A silence fell between them as the water crashed around them.