Hi everybody,

I am sorry for no update last week, but my laptop developed a life of its own this past week. First it wanted to be "refreshed" - which meant it took like forever till it started up again and then I had to reinstall most of my software. I did have a backup of everything, but of course I had to google to find out how I could reinstall my profile on the e-mail client, where my bookmarks had ended up etc. That was last Saturday. A few days later this same laptop that months ago had refused every single attempt to upgrade to Windows 8.1 informed me that Windows 8.1 had been downloaded and was ready to install. So I did install it (i.e. watching it again for half an eternity as it installed Windows 8.1). And yesterday it suddenly begged to allow it to install Windows 10, so I did...

Well, now I have Windows 10, which is not bad, but of course the little critter was useless most of last week, which is why I could not write the next chapter until now...

Thank you all for your patience, and thank you all for reading, putting on alert, adding to favorites, and most of all, for reviewing! It is you that keep me going!

Now on to the next chapter and to what some of you may have been expecting already...

Chapter 9 – A Disaster Beyond Your Imagination

Opening night of "Il Muto" finally arrived, and this time no incidents happened that might have kept Carlotta from singing. In a way Christine was sad that she would only be playing the page boy, and would not be able to use her voice, but then, the page boy was quite a good role too, she would be able to use her dancer's skills and she would be featured that way as well. Maybe it was even to her advantage that the audience would get a chance to see that she was not only an excellent singer, but an accomplished dancer and actress as well. It probably was all for the best.

Christine was really looking forward to the performance. Rehearsals had gone well, and she was sure that the new production would be a great success. Meg had a featured part as well, as one of the Countess' servants. It would be fun!

Her good mood did not last long, though. When she and Meg went to have breakfast at the cafeteria, they overheard people talking in hushed tones about the fact that the new patron had apparently bought box 5 for tonight for his friends and relatives. He had needed tickets for a larger group at the last minute and no other seats had remained unsold at that point. Supposedly the managers had been reluctant to sell him that particular box, but the amount of money he had been willing to pay had finally convinced them.

Christine paled. Box 5! That was Erik's box. The place from where he could watch the performances. He would not be able to use this box tonight. Was he aware of that fact? What if he tried to access the box and directly ran into the Vicomte and his party? She had to warn him!

Christine was upset. If Erik could not use his box, it also meant that he would not be able to watch her play the page boy tonight. This made her somewhat nervous. Knowing that Erik was close by, watching her, always made her more confident. If she had to perform without him, she would be way more uncertain of herself and it would show.

As soon as she had finished breakfast, she therefore went to see Mme. Giry and tell her what she had just learned. The ballet mistress was not too pleased with the news either. She agreed with Christine that it would be best to warn Erik that his box would be occupied tonight.

Together the two women made their way down to Erik's lair. Erik had not expected the ladies, but his joy at seeing them soon disappeared when he heard their news.

"That blasted Vicomte!" Erik exclaimed. "He is trying to provoke me! This is a challenge!"

"You cannot know that for sure, Erik," Mme. Giry tried to calm him. "It could have been an emergency of some kind, a group of friends deciding to spend a few days in Paris and only telling him at the last minute. Of course, tickets have been sold out for days, so box 5 would have been his only chance to make sure these friends of his can see the performance. It may not have been intended as a challenge."

"Be that as it may," Erik continued, "it will make it harder for me to watch Christine and your daughter tonight, Antoinette."

"It's just for one performance, Erik," Mme. Giry retorted. "The Vicomte only bought the box for tonight. Tomorrow, you will be able to watch the girls again, and I am sure they will be just as great then as they will be tonight."

"I am not going to stay away tonight," Erik growled. "He cannot make me. My box would be more comfortable, but the rafters will be fine, too."

He turned to Christine. "I know you are subject to attacks of stage fright when I am not there. Tonight is opening night, all the critics from the major newspapers will be there. You must be at your absolute best, charm them with your talent to express yourself even without words."

He smiled and took her into his arms. "Do you really think I do not notice how scared you are right now?" He cooed to her. "Calm down, my love, all will go well. I will be there with you the whole performance."

Christine nodded, still not convinced. "But is it not dangerous up there in the rafters?" she asked. "You could fall!"

"No, I won't," Erik assured her. "I know my way around up there. I've been in the rafters hundreds of times, it's really not too different from walking around in a maze." He grinned. "And I have watched rehearsals carefully. I have a pretty good idea when some piece of scenery will have to be moved and where the stagehand doing it will have to be in order to get the job done. I will be able to avoid them. Really, there won't be any danger." He kissed Christine on the forehead. "And as Antoinette has said, it will only be for tonight."

He finally managed to convince both ladies that they had no reason to be nervous, and Christine and Antoinette returned to their own rooms to get some rest before the performance.

Xxxx

In the evening, Erik dressed all in black and donned a black mask as well. That way it would be easier for him to blend in with the dark corners of the rafters and to go unnoticed by the stagehands. The place he thought best suited for watching was a small platform near the back right corner of the stage. From what he had learned while watching rehearsals, no scene shifter would need to access that particular platform or come anywhere near. Most of their work during this particular production could be done from a similar platform in the left corner, the rest from a catwalk closer to the front of the stage.

Erik had just made himself comfortable, when the performance began. The ouverture sounded a bit muffled from his place, since the curtain was still closed, but once it was raised, he could not complain about the acoustics. Really, this place was almost as good as box 5, if not quite as comfortable.

The first scene was over and it was time for a change of scenery. Erik looked over to the other platform, and noticed Guillaume Monniet working at the ropes. He frowned. That was odd. Buquet was the senior stagehand in charge of the rafters, Monniet only his assistant. Why would the managers let Monniet do the work on opening night, when everything had to be 110% perfect? Where was Buquet?

Erik shook his head. He would not let such a minor detail distract him from the performance, which was pretty good so far. Well, with the exception of Carlotta, of course. There was probably a very good reason for Buquet's absence. The man could be ill, for instance, or, more likely, too drunk to perform his duties, and Monniet was simply covering for him.

Erik leaned back once again and enjoyed the performance. Time flew by, they had already reached the third act, and the ballet was making its entrance. Erik stiffened. Had he heard something, footsteps? He shook his head. He must have been mistaken, there was nobody up here except for himself. Monniet would not be back for at least fifteen minutes. He had probably heard a dancer jump and mistaken that sound for footsteps up here.

He remained alert, though. It was possible, after all, that Monniet was coming back a bit earlier, that he might want to check something before he had to move the next set piece after the ballet and ensuing scene with the dancers and the Countess.

It was hard to concentrate on potential footsteps, though, with the music and the dancing and jumping going on down there on the stage. There seemed to be more footsteps a few minutes later, and when the music turned to pianissimo, as one of the dancers dressed as a shepherdess made slow, languid movements, Erik heard some breathing too, but it was not coming from the stage below, it was coming from his right. He turned and found himself face to face with Buquet. The stagehand was leering at Erik, and he held a sharp, long knife in his right hand.

Erik cursed inwardly. He should have seen this coming. This had been a set-up! Obviously the Vicomte was working with Buquet. He had bought the box so that Erik would be driven into the rafters, where Buquet would be waiting for him. But why? Why did the Vicomte want to get rid of him? Was it because, as the new patron, he wanted the theater freed from the mysterious ghost, or had the Vicomte guessed his relationship with Christine? There was no time to think, though, since Buquet threatened him with his knife.

"You thought you were so clever, Ghost!" Buquet hissed at him. "Now you will pay for having prevented me from having fun with the Giry girl! And once I'm done with you, I'll have her anyway. Maybe the other slut, too, the Daaé-girl, once the Vicomte has had his way with her."

Erik quickly assessed the situation. If he could get past Buquet, he could climb up a rope that was leading to the uppermost catwalk, and from there he could reach a hidden door that lead to the secret corridors only he knew. He was fairly certain that Buquet would not be too quick, if he followed him up the rope. He should be able to escape him then. But he had to get past him and to the rope first.

Erik watched Buquet closely. Whatever that man had planned he would have to do it within the next minute or two, for now the orchestra was rising to the final crescendo and the dance was getting ever more frenetic. If the two men up in the rafters caused any noise now, the audience would not be able to hear it over the music and the dancers' stomping feet.

Buquet made a sudden move, and Erik raised his arm to parry, while at the same time charging forward, past his attacker, towards the rope. A sharp pain hit him, as Buquet's knife cut into his upper right arm. Erik clenched his teeth, realizing too late that Buquet had feinted and moved his knife at the last possible moment to reach its goal. There was no time to pay attention to the pain now, though. He had to reach the door on the upper catwalk and get himself to safety.

Erik grasped the rope and began the ascent. A wave of pain shot through him as he used his injured arm to pull himself up, but he ignored it. He would see to his injury later, now it was of the utmost importance to get away from Buquet.

It barely registered with Erik that Buquet had been knocked down from the double impact of hitting Erik with the knife and being shoved aside by Erik. Buquet hurt his knee badly in the fall, but he was not about to let his prey escape. Too much depended on it, the money the Vicomte had promised him, the chance of becoming a hero, and little Meg naked, fighting him all the way, while he ravaged here delicious body.

Buquet picked himself up from the platform as well and reached for the dangling rope. He was not a good climber, and his knee was giving him troubles as well. He would not give up, though, his opponent was injured, too, he had seen the blood on his knife, the odds should still be fairly even. He still had a chance.

Erik finally reached the end of the rope and swung himself up onto the catwalk. That sudden movement combined with the removal of his own weight from the rope caused the rope to swing erratically, and Buquet, who was not prepared for such a movement, lost his footing and fell. A scream rising from a thousand throats reached Erik as he slipped through the secret door.

He cursed. He had wanted to avoid hurting Buquet, he had just tried to escape, but it seemed as if his attacker had fallen to his death now, and who would be blamed for this accident? No other than the mysterious Opera Ghost!

He would have to leave the Opéra Populaire now, probably Paris as well, for nobody would believe him that he had not killed Buquet, that it had been an accident. He would have to leave Christine!

Erik did not want to think about leaving Christine. He ran and ran, he had to reach his home, he had to see to his wound, grab some money and go into hiding.

Xxxx

Everybody was screaming, and so was Christine. She had seen the body tumble down onto the stage, she had heard the fall, and for one dreadful moment she had thought it was Erik that had plunged to his death. Then she realized that the victim could not be Erik, the man that had fallen to his death was heavier set, not as slender as her Angel. But still, Erik might be somehow connected to this terrible incident, for he had been up in the rafters as well.

"Mme. Giry!" Christine screamed, when she saw her foster mother coming towards her.

"Shh," the older woman silenced her. "Not here!" The ballet mistress dragged Christine away from the stage where now a doctor had arrived to determine Buquet's death. Once they had reached the corridor leading to Christine's dressing room, Christine whispered, "Erik?"

"I know," Mme. Giry replied. "We will try to find him." They quickly slipped into Christine's dressing room, locked the door from the inside and disappeared through the mirror.

They reached Erik's home only moments after Erik himself. He had already taken off his cloak and jacket and was about to remove his shirt in order to inspect the cut in his arm.

"You are bleeding!" Christine exclaimed, pale like a freshly painted wall. "What happened?"

"It was a trap!" Erik hissed, "that blasted Vicomte! He sent Buquet to assassinate me!"

Mme. Giry remained calm. "Sit down, Erik," she commanded, "and let me dress your wound, and while I do so, you can tell us what happened, how Buquet suddenly plunged to his death and you ended up with a nasty, heavily bleeding knife wound."

Erik did as he was told and sat down. Christine blushed as he removed his shirt so that Mme. Giry could work on his wound. It was not really appropriate for her to see Erik's bare torso, but she had to admit that the sight excited her.

Erik then began his story of how he had been surprised to find Monniet up in the rafters instead of Buquet, and how Buquet apparently had asked his assistant to step in for him, so that he would be free to spy on Erik. How Buquet had attacked at the moment when nobody would pay attention to the rafters due to the loud music and stomping feet of the dancers during the rousing finale of the ballet number.

"He ha a knife," Erik continued, "it was all planned. And I was unarmed. I only could try to escape, which is what I did. But he followed me up the rope, and when I reached the platform and the rope swung out because of my sudden movement, he must have dropped. It was an accident, it was not my fault, I swear it to you! I did not want to harm him!"

Mme. Giry squeezed his shoulder to calm him. "We know that, Erik," she said. "And we believe you. I know that you promised your Persian friend not to kill a man ever again. But what of the rest of Paris? Will they believe you? Erik, you are at risk, if you remain here. You need to get yourself to safety now."

Erik sighed. "I have figured out already that I will have to leave Paris," he said flatly, looking at Christine in desperation. He would have to leave her, to be separated from her, and he had no idea, how long it would take before he could see her again.

Christine's eyes widened in shock. "Leave Paris?" she asked. "Do you really have to do that? Can I come with you?"

Erik shook his head. "The Vicomte will most probably blame me for Buquet's accident, he will make it sound as if I had attacked Buquet up in the rafters for whatever reason. He will say the knife, which undoubtedly will be found sooner or later, was mine. That means, I am a wanted man in France, charged with murder. If I get caught on my way to the frontier..."

He did not have to finish the sentence. The two ladies understood him anyway.

"You therefore have to stay here, my love," Erik continued, his good hand reaching out for Christine's, entwining their fingers. "With Mme. Giry and Meg. They will protect you until I have found a new home and can ask you to follow me."

He looked at Mme. Giry. "All of you, Antoinette. Once I have a home and make my own living, you and Meg will come as well. I want us all to be together."

Mme. Giry nodded. But now was not the time to talk about the distant future. "Where are you planning to go, Erik?" she asked.

"I got a letter from Nadir last week," Erik explained. "He has arrived in London, and he thinks this might be a good place for me. There are lots of smaller theaters there, some of them might even be in need of renovating, maybe if he acted as my front man I could find employment at one of these..."

"That sounds like a good plan,"Mme. Giry agreed. Then she turned to the situation at hand. "How do you feel?" She asked Erik. "You lost a lot of blood, will you be able to leave right away?"

"I must," Erik explained. "I will take César. If I use the Rue Scribe exit now, I can possibly slip away. They have probably not yet discovered that there is a connection between the Opéra Populaire and Rue Scribe two blocks away."

He looked at Christine. "Will you wait for me, my love? I will try my best to get settled in London and to make a home for us, but it might take a few months, maybe years. Will you not forget me in such a long time?"

"Never!" Christine threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. "Kiss me, Erik," she begged. "Kiss me once again. It might be a long time till our next kiss, but I am yours, and only yours, now and always."

Their kiss seemed endless, neither of them wanted to break contact, but finally they had to let go. "I'll write, as soon as I have reached Nadir," Erik promised, then he went to retrieve his horse César.

Mme. Giry turned to Christine. "Come," she urged her, "we must return as well, they will probably already wonder where we are..."