Hi everybody,

thank you all once again for reading, for putting on alert, adding to favorites, and, most of all, for reviewing. I am glad you all ejoyed the previous chapter so much, but as some of you have noted, there is some angst ahead for our sweethearts, and we are entering that part now...

I hope you will still enjoy the suspense, though. Just keep in mind that I don't own those characters...

Chapter 8 – Let the audience in...

When the couple finally realized that it was time for Christine to return to the Opéra, Erik decided to take her a different way than usual, not leading back to her dressing room, but very close to Mme. Giry's rooms. He felt that they should see his old friend together and tell her about the new development their relationship had taken.

Mme. Giry was slightly surprised to see the two of them at her door, but once she noticed their beaming faces, she did not have to be told what had just happened between her two protégés. "Oh, Erik, Christine!" She exclaimed. "Is it now official? Are you engaged? I am so happy for you, both of you!" And she hugged each of them.

Then she grew serious. "Have you told Christine that you cannot get married anytime soon?" she asked Erik.

Erik nodded solemnly. "Of course, Antoinette," he stated. "I honor your requests, and I know that you are right in asking that of me. It is just..." He looked away, overcome with frustration. Several weeks had passed since Nadir had left Paris in order to find a suitable place for Erik and Christine to live, and Erik had been experimenting with several materials in order to produce a more lifelike mask that would enable him to pursue a normal career and live among other human beings, but so far neither of these endeavors had had any success.

Christine's small hand reached for his and brought him out of his brooding. "We will find a way," she told him. "Erik, I do believe it, and you must too. It may take a while, but sooner or later, we will be able to be together for all the world to see."

Erik pulled her into his arms. What would he do without her? How had he ever been able to survive without her at his side to support him and to give him strength? "I will double my efforts with the mask," he promised her. "I know that there is a way, I will just have to work harder in order to find the perfect solution, and in the meantime, Nadir will be checking out other towns. Maybe, with a bit of luck, we can leave Paris and get married in a few months."

Mme. Giry tried to bring up questions of propriety for them continuing their lessons unchaperoned, now that they were aware of their feelings for each other and were more or less engaged. She had to give in, though, when Erik pointed out that the lessons had to go on for the time being, in order to prepare Christine for the new production of "Il Muto", and that as long as they could not officially proclaim their engagement, Christine's reputation was still at risk in case somebody overheard them together if they had those lessons in her dressing room. So unless Mme. Giry wanted to accompany Christine down to his lair for those lessons,...

Mme. Giry finally relented, but not before having made both of them swear to her that they would go no farther than kissing.

Xxx

After Erik had left the two ladies, it was time for Christine to return to her dressing room in order to get ready for this evening's performance. Carlotta would be singing the part of Elyssa tonight, so Christine would only be in the chorus, but it still meant that she had to get into her costume in time.

When she reached her dressing room, which she had locked from the inside when Erik had come to take her down to his lair for their lesson, she found to her surprise the door wide open, and when she entered, she spotted the Vicomte sitting in front of her dressing table, rummaging through the drawers.

"What is going on here?" Christine asked, annoyed. "How did you get in here?"

Raoul gave her a wolfish grin. "I was looking for you and could not find you," he told her. "Nobody seemed to know where you were. And this door was locked, which made me suspicious." He raised his arms to prevent any argument from her.

"No, no, I was not thinking that you would deliberately lock yourself in with another man," he declared, "despite what I overheard the night of your debut. The good Mme. Giry swears that you are an honorable girl, so I am giving you the benefit of the doubt, but... " He paused for emphasis. "But what if a fiend had dragged you there, locking the door behind him, and was assaulting you? They say there is a Ghost on the premises, a Phantom, who preys on the young chorus girls. I was worried about you..."

"So you just forced the door open?" Christine was beyond angry. She was not quite sure what was worse, the fact that his words were an insult, insinuating that he thought her capable of inappropriate behavior with a man, or the breach of privacy, his forcing his way into her locked room and now looking through her belongings.

"And what are you doing at my dressing table?" she continued to yell at Raoul. "Have you no sense of decency at all?"

Raoul realized that he had gone too far, that Christine had a right to be angry. He needed to appease her somewhat. "I am sorry for that, Christine," he faked being contrite in order to calm her. "But you must understand. I was worried about you. Worried sick. For all I know you could have been abducted by this Phantom or by some other unsavory character. I needed to make sure you were all right."

It did not escape him that Christine slightly flinched at his mention of the resident Opera Ghost. So he had been right! She did know that entity, and he probably was right about the Phantom being her mysterious voice coach as well.

For a moment Christine had been afraid that Raoul would guess the truth about her relationship with Erik, then she composed herself again. "He can't know anything," she told herself. "He is only making wild accusations to cover up for his own mistake of forcing the door. And even if he has a suspicion, he has no proof." It was therefore best to ignore that comment of his.

"That still does not give you the right to open my drawers," she accused Raoul. "Have you never heard about a person's right to privacy?"

"You must forgive me," Raoul pleaded with her, once again falling back into his role of old friend. "I hoped to find some hint on where you might have gone. You see, you are an orphan, you do not have your good father to look after you anymore. As your oldest friend I therefore feel the obligation to take his place and keep you safe. I thought that maybe somebody had sent you a note, asking you to meet them somewhere, or something like that. I did not mean you any harm. I certainly did not want to upset you."

Christine sighed. She did not buy this excuse for one moment, but she had to admit that it was at least some explanation for his breach of privacy. She also knew that despite the latest development between her and Erik she would have to remain with the Opéra Populaire for the foreseeable future, and that also meant keeping the patron happy, as the two managers had reminded her only a few weeks ago.

"I see," she therefore relented, pretending to buy Raoul's excuse. "Though I don't know who would send me such a note..."

"Well, the seamstress maybe," Raoul suggested, "or your teacher?" He kept his eyes on her and once again noticed a slight blush as he mentioned the mysterious voice coach. "You do see your teacher regularly, do you not?"

"On occasion," Christine managed to say, though it was clear she disliked the way the conversation was going.

"Do you see him at his home or does he come here to give you lessons?" Raoul inquired. "I assume you are properly chaperoned during your lessons?"

Christine nodded. "Yes," she mumbled, looking down. She feared that Raoul would realize just how much this teacher meant to her if she looked him straight into the eyes.

"Well, in that case I guess everything is in order," Raoul continued lightly. "Just keep in mind that a girl has just one reputation. Once that is tarnished, she won't get her good reputation back. And make sure that I will not have to worry about you again the way I just did. Also remember that your dear departed father would not want you to stray from the right path and that I am here to look after you in his place."

Christine nodded. She was at a loss what to reply. The impertinence of the young Vicomte was unsettling. How did he, the one that always looked at her as if he were imagining her naked, dare to insinuate that she indulged in dalliances behind closed doors?

"If you will kindly leave me now," Christine finally said, looking up at Raoul again. "I have to get ready for tonight's performance."

Raoul had the good sense to fake an embarrassed look. "Of course, of course, Christine," he said, "I will leave now, so that you can get changed, my dear."

Christine smiled at him mischievously. "You could do me a favor," she told him, "and stop by at the locksmith's. After all, I do need a new lock on my door..."

Xxxx

Raoul was seething. Christine had treated him pretty poorly. How did that wench dare asking him to run errands for her? True, it was his fault that the lock on her door was ruined, but on the other hand, why had she locked that door in the first place? What was in there that she did not want anybody to see? And the way she had squirmed and flinched when he had mentioned first the Phantom and then her teacher. There was no doubt anymore in his mind that these two were one and the same person. And he also was rather convinced that this so-called Opera Ghost was also the reason why he had had no success with Christine so far. That Ghost obviously had a hold on her. Either she was that criminal's mistress or in love with him, but she definitely was under that man's spell. He would have to get her away from him if he wanted to win her for himself.

Raoul thought about this for a while. After he had learned about the Ghost's existence in the cafeteria he had brought the subject up with the managers. They had not been too forthcoming, and only after he had confronted them with what he already knew had they admitted that they did receive strange notes containing suggestions on how to improve the productions, and asking for some money in return. They did not seem to know who was behind those notes, but the existence of these little messages definitely scared them. It was unlikely that these two fools would be of any help if he wanted to get rid of this mysterious entity that he saw as an obstacle to getting his way with Christine.

The scene-shifter on the other hand, that Joseph something or other that he had overheard in the cafeteria the other day, he did not seem to be easily scared. And Raoul had not had the impression that this man would have too many scruples. Maybe that would be the man to talk to...

Xxxx

A few days later, after the performance, when Buquet was sitting in his favorite tavern, drinking one beer after the other, he suddenly found the Opéra's new patron sitting next to him at the bar.

"Good evening, Joseph," Raoul greeted, while waving at the barkeeper to get himself a drink as well.

"Goo.. Goo... Good evening, Sir," Buquet mumbled, already half-drunk. "What a... sur.. surprise to see … see you here!"

"Shhhh," Raoul put a finger on his lips to silence the big, burly man. "Not so loud. Let's sit down at that table over there in the corner. I have to talk to you. I might have a lucrative offer..."

The thought of some additional income quickly sobered Buquet. "Certainly, Sir," he said, and made his way to the table that Raoul had indicated to him.

After the waiter had brought Raoul's beer as well, Raoul whispered. "Tell me all you know about the Opera Ghost."

Buquet stared at him. "Anything specific you want to know?" he then asked. "For if I told you all I know, we would still be sitting here next week."

Raoul thought about it for a moment. "Where does he live?" he then asked. "Who is he in contact with? And, most importantly, how can we trap him?"

"Trap him?" Buquet laughed. "That won't be easy. I am sure Lefevre tried. That man is like a shadow, intangible."

"But you have seen him once?" Raoul asked. "At least I think that's what you told some ladies in the cafeteria a few weeks ago. I was sitting at a near-by table and overheard you."

"Aye," Buquet scratched his head. "That I said. And if somebody has seen him, that sure would be me. Nobody fools Joseph Buquet, Sir. Nobody crosses me either, and I do have some bill to be settled with this Ghost." He licked his lips as he thought of little Meg Giry that he had wanted to get to know in a more intimate way, when the Ghost had intervened.

Raoul grinned. "Then you are my man!" he told Buquet. "It won't be to your disadvantage if you help me get rid of him," he promised. "He is in my way, since I am sure he is the reason why the Daaé-slut is not giving me the time of day. But once he is out of the way..." A lascivious grin distorted his features.

Buquet laughed loud. "You have good taste, Sir," he told Raoul, grinning just as lasciviously as the Vicomte, "and I think you are right. The whore is most likely sleeping with that freak. How else did she get to sing Elyssa's part at the opening night of Hannibal, I ask you? Somebody must have dropped that piece of scenery on Carlotta to make her leave and it sure was not me. She must have some pretty perverted taste, though, if she can stomach such a lover." He elbowed Raoul. "I bet she likes it rough," he bellowed.

"Yes, yes," Raoul quickly interrupted him, "and I have some ideas how I can make things rough for her, but first we must get rid of the Ghost."

Buquet nodded. The idea of getting rid of the Phantom did appeal to him. If that creature were not there to protect Meg Giry any longer... The possibilities were endless. And if the Vicomte was willing to pay for his help in getting rid of the monster, the better.

"The question remains, how do we do it?" Raoul continued. "Obviously, I cannot do it alone, I need help."

"Then you have come to the right man," Buquet promised. "If somebody can help you fight that freak, it's Joseph Buquet." He suddenly remembered something. "Messieurs André and Firmin," he said, "they sure would be glad too, to be rid of him. Maybe they would be willing to give me a reward as well for helping remove that threat?" His eyes were gleaming with greed.

Raoul nodded. "Once we are rid of him I will make sure they understand what a pivotal role you played," he promised. "But first, we have to think of how we can best trap him."

Buquet thought for a while. "Maybe,..." he mumbled.

"What are you thinking of doing? Spit it out man!" the Vicomte demanded.

"In three days there will be the opening night of Il Muto," Buquet explained. "The Daaé woman will be playing the page boy. Granted, it's only a silent role, but she will be wearing man's clothes, her legs will show... " He grinned at the thought. "I bet her lover will want to see her like that, might turn him on for after the performance."

Raoul nodded. "You do have a point here," he said. "But I bet he is watching her in Hannibal every day as well, when she is wearing that skimpy slave girl outfit."

"Yeah, but he has his box to watch her," Buquet continued. "The one that is never sold, box 5. Have you not heard about that yet?"

Raoul shook his head. He had noticed that there were occasionally a few empty seats during performances and he was sure that box 5 was among those he remembered having seen empty, but he had not realized yet that box 5 was never being sold.

"Opening night is a big deal," Buquet continued. "Everybody wants to be there. The demand for tickets will be enormous. It would be a shame not to sell box 5 under these circumstances."

Raoul nodded. "I will purchase the box myself, if need be," he agreed. "But how will that help us?"

"Well..." Buquet thought about it. "If he cannot use his box as always, he will need to find another way to watch his paramour. Backstage is a good place to watch the performance, but he can't go there. Too many people are hanging around there, coming and going, waiting for their clues to go on stage, watching their colleagues who are currently on stage, seamstresses with thread and needle to help should any costume suffer during the performance, us scene shifters, the lights people, … No, he most certainly cannot watch from backstage. That only leaves one place, really..." He grinned an evil grin and looked upward to indicate what he meant.

Raoul whistled softly as understanding dawned. "The rafters," he murmured.

Buquet nodded. "The rafters," he confirmed. "And that's where good old Joseph Buquet will be waiting for him. With a sharp knife. Nobody knows their way around the rafters like I do," he boasted. "It will be easy."

Raoul grinned. That made sense to him. "If you succeed in … shall we say, neutralizing.. that fiend, I will pay you five thousand francs,"he promised, "and I will see to it that André and Firmin double that sum. There is a chance that the authorities will be willing to pay you a small reward as well for apprehending that criminal."

Buquet beamed. Money, lots of money, and finally a chance to corner tasty little Meg in a dark corridor and explore her rosy flesh in detail! He could not wait for this to happen. "Make sure box 5 is occupied, Sir," he told Raoul, "and let me see to the rest."

Raoul promised to take care of it. Now that he had a plan he could not wait to see it play out. He wished it were already opening night and the audience were entering the Opéra Populaire, milling about the foyer, rushing to their assigned seats...