Erik was pacing. He was in his office and thinking heavily. It had been two weeks since the rumor of an 'opera ghost' circulated around. They spoke of an enchanting voice singing in the walls. Food and props going missing. Footsteps beneath the floorboards
It all pointed to an unknown factor. Erik ground his teeth and worked his jaw.
He didn't find such things pleasant.
He strained his ear for any sign of a person in the walls. He had thought he had shut up most of the entrances to the underground tunnels a few years ago.
He was pondering it when his wish was granted.
Oh.
That voice.
Logically Erik knew It was the sound of a high and clear soprano. Lacking in technical training but plenty of natural talent.
Erik was far beyond thinking logically.
It was the most captivating sound Erik had heard in his entire life.
And it was moving away.
Erik sprang into action.
He bolted over to the hidden opening to the catacombs and fumbled with the opening.
He barely remembered to close the door behind him.
He kept his footsteps quiet as he followed the voice deeper underground.
The feminine voice was singing in a language Erik was not familiar with. It had been a long time for him since that happened.
It's steady rising and falling of the music gave the performer in Erik a decent idea of what her range might be. He was itching to truly test the ability of the voice.
He wondered how a person not accustomed to the darkness could even find their way down there.
Light gently filtered in.
A sparse few candles were lit to the mouth of the underground lake. The owner of the voice struggled with the boat for a moment before getting in.
Erik could not allow her to row away.
He sprinted forth into the lake, seized the back of the boat with his hands and pulled.
His eyes met hers.
They were the color of a peacock feather, He thought.
She screamed, and it assured Erik in his assessment that she was a soprano.
He hurried to hush her.
"Wait, stop, Erik has no intention of harming you!" He scrambled. Hindsight from about twenty seconds ago was 20/20. He ought should have said something before he came barreling toward her. It was too late to change anything now.
She stopped screaming for a moment and Erik rushed to speak before she could start again.
"What are you doing down here?" He asked. For the first time in perhaps decades, he was careful of his tone.
Her freckled nose scrunched, and she adopted a look of false indignation.
"I live here." She said with confidence Erik was sure she did not truly feel.
"Really?" Erik replied, layering skepticism and sarcasm into his tone.
The girl stalled before giving a hesitant nod. Erik could near see how her fake bravado fizzled out of her.
"Erik supposes by 'here' you mean the house across the lake." Erik continued in a more conversational tone.
Pieces of this puzzle were falling into place. Erik gleefully turned them over and over in his mind as they revealed the truth to him.
"I do." She answered. She fidgeted with the dirty ripped skirt she wore. Her nimble fingers fixated on a single loose thread. Erik realized he was staring and snapped his yellow eyes back to the girls face.
She has rather lovely features he realized. He couldn't quite make out the details but her bright eyes and porcelain skin seemed to glow in the dark. He could make out the myriad of freckles and button nose.
A pretty if unassuming face hiding raw talent of which Erik had never seen.
Erik stepped forward and the girl coward into her corner of the boat.
It made Erik pause for a moment. He leaned out her space and saw her relax.
Interesting.
"Erik doesn't suppose you know who the true owner of the house is, hmm? You've never met him, my dear?"
The answer to Erik's leading question dawned in her eyes. She swallowed convulsively and her lips moved with unspoken words.
She finally gathered herself together enough to reply with moxy. "I suppose I'm speaking to him, aren't I?" She asked faintly.
A deep chuckle vibrated through Erik's chest.
He saw her thick brows draw together in worry and a thought struck him.
Warmth in his chest spread as he realized the opportunity he had.
That voice.
His to perfect and mold.
"Not to worry. Erik believes an arrangement can be made if you are willing." He stated.
Suspicion and distrust flooded her face.
She was so very easy to read. It was an endearing quality to Erik, who faced the like of malicious actresses such as La Carlotta and stony moral compasses like Nadir on a day-to-day basis.
"There is nothing I will offer you." She replied. Her nose twitched when she was anxious.
Erik noted the use of 'will' and felt his respect for the courage of this little thing increase.
"Erik sincerely hopes you will reconsider. He has no intention of harming you, miss..?"
The girl didn't fall for the bait. Her wide eyes remained watching Erik's every move. They flicked back and forth as she tried to find a way of graceful escape.
It occurred to Erik that perhaps he should be honest.
It's not a tactic he uses often and even now it leaves his skin itching to think about doing so.
He remembered the bewitching song she is capable of and decided it was worth the gamble.
"Your voice." He stated.
The girl stopped her searching for a way out and slowly brought her eyes back to him.
"My voice?" She repeated. She didn't bother to hide the surprise in her question.
Erik saw his opening and leaped at it.
He stepped out of the lake and into the boat.
He held his hand out to take the oar from the girl.
She stared at his hand. Her brows furrowed as she glanced back at her only advantage over him.
"Erik intends to take you back to his house. He's sure you've seen the instruments there. They will prove useful while he listens to your voice." Erik explained. It was an odd feeling, a tug in his chest almost, to explain himself to her.
He was so close.
He couldn't afford to scare her away now.
She reluctantly handed over the oar.
They glided through the water in silence.
She kept opening her mouth and closing it, her brows knitting together as she lost herself in her thoughts.
When she finally looked up at him it seemed she had found what she wanted to say.
"So your name is... Erik then?" She stated.
He gave a half bow and did not reply.
Another five minutes passed before she added. "Well, I'm Christine. Christine Daae."
Christine.
Charmont.
He had the urge to sing it. To show this little slip of a thing- Christine- what he could do.
He inhaled and sang.
"Chriiiiiiistine."
Her whole body jolted as the water beside her sang her name. She whipped her head around, her mountain of curls flying, jostling the boat in an attempt to find the source of the voice.
Erik couldn't keep this thin lips from curling when she snapped her attention to him.
"Wha- you- di-" she spluttered. He waited for her to gather herself.
"You?!" She ranged. Her fist coiled and her pale face flushed. Her endlessly searching eyes piled accusations and questions onto him.
He opened his mouth and let her see him.
"Chriiiiiiiiistiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine." He crooned to her.
Her expression changed from angry surprise to dawning wonder.
"You…" Christine faltered. Erik made eye contact and awaited her verdict. "You have the voice of an angel." She whispered in hushed reverence.
Erik blinked. It wasn't what he had been expecting her to say. The genuine smile that warmed over her face had Erik catching his voice in his throat. It was a truly flattering statement.
"Erik thanks you." He choked out. Her smile dimmed only slightly.
Christine had a gap between her front teeth. It made her smile all the more charming Erik found.
The boat hit the shore and Erik held his hand for Christine to grab as she exited.
Her hesitant acceptance of his help made something in Erik glow.
There was no time to consider it now, however.
She stood next to him and Erik had to stop himself from remarking on her size.
She was extraordinarily petite. She had a healthy enough figure for her circumstances and was very tiny.
He was cautious gripping her little hand in his skeletal on.
She walked ahead of him as he attempted to right his thoughts.
Her height didn't matter in the least. He was being ridiculous.
He lead her to the room with the organ. Given all the dust, and that everything seemed to be just as he left it, Erik concluded she didn't spend time in here.
"You've made yourself at home." He commented dryly.
Christine bristled.
"I only needed the bed and stove." She sniffed at him. She lifted her chin high and marched into the room with her back straight.
Erik covered his amusement with a cough.
He sat at his organ and looked back to her.
"Erik trusts you've properly warmed up?" He said. He assumed as much from her performance earlier.
Christine flashed from being an unapologetic sprite to a nervous performer in a second. Erik was thankful for her inability to guard her even slightest thought. Her shifting moods were changing as the sky. It would be a nightmare where they not so easy to read.
"Erik wants you to try this." He began to play and started the melody in a low voice.
Christine matched him with perfect pitch.
He encouraged her to go higher.
She easily met the challenge.
Erik could feel the excitement course through his veins.
She went higher, and higher and higher…
"Sing! Sing for Erik!" He encouraged her.
Her voice along with Erik seemed to grow more frantic.
She seemed unwilling to go beyond a c6.
She repeated the note several times.
The excitement turned into heated fury.
He knew she was capable of just a little more.
He could feel it in his bones.
So why wasn't she singing?
He lunged forward and banged out the notes on the organ.
"SING." He roared with burning fire.
There.
A crystalline e6.
It pierced the air and bounced off the walls.
Erik closed his eyes.
Perfection.
He opened them.
He looked at Christine.
She was panting heavily, clutching her throat with a look of awestruck wonder.
Erik realized he too was heaving for air.
She looked at him with a clear question in her eyes.
Did I do that?
Erik nodded.
"Now," He said, "Let us begin your first lesson."