The Crystal Rainbow

An Alternate Universe – Phantom of the Opera Story

Nyasia A. Maire

© 2007

DISCLAIMER: I do not hold the rights nor did I create any characters found in The Phantom of the Opera or Phantom, nor have I received monetary compensation for writing this story.

Can you commit a sin if you perform the act with a heart full of love?
Do you judge evil by its lack of virtue or by its malevolent goal?

A Fool's Book of Wisdom

Chapter Twenty-Three – Sin

The shadows swallowed Xavier's small shape and a sinister chuckle echoed throughout the room. Jacob lost the battle with his nerves and cringed at the horrid parody of mirth.

"You may go, Jacob. Continue to keep watch over Madame Helen and her charges. Report to me in one week. I wish to know what occupies their time each day. Go! Do what you do best! And, you may just live long enough to enjoy your ill-gotten gains."

Jacob's nerves surrendered and he half-ran, half-stumbled from the boiler room, his head filled with the maniacal laughter of Xavier Balard.

Jacob Ruthven hungrily gasped in the coolness of the night air as he carefully closed the heavy metal door behind him. His fingers worked unthinkingly over the workings of the lock, which secured the door. After giving the lock a final tug to ascertain he had secured it properly, the man pulled up the lapels of his coat, nestled his head within their comforting shelter and walked quickly away from the evil that currently resided in the boiler room.

"Mon Dieu! Everything inside me tells me to run from that man as fast as I can, but each time I am near Madame's cottage, I feel something drawing me and holding me there. Perhaps, it is best if I continue my vigil. If I do not do that man's bidding, I know the next one he hires will not give a fig for anything that man plans to do to them. Xavier surely has something dreadful planned for them. Maybe I can keep them safe or at the very least, warn them. Merde! I am as good as dead just for having these thoughts. What the fuck is wrong with me? I have never before cared about the fate of those upon whom I spy. Why these people? Putain! With Xavier being the way he is, I am bound to get myself killed acting like this. I am an imbecile, a complete and utter fool. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

The distraught man unleashed his anger on a tin can lying on the ground, pulling his foot back, kicking it hard and sending it clattering into the wall of the alley. He winced at the sound it made and glanced quickly around to see if the noise attracted any attention. Seeing no one, he sighed and ran his hand through his unruly locks.

"Of all the idiotic times to grow a conscience, Jacob! Why now, damnez-le?"

And, a little voice inside his head spoke.

"You have chosen now to grow a conscience because when you are near that woman, you can feel and that is something you have never done in this life. You feel something, Jacob …."

He wanted to clap his hands over his ears, so he would not have to listen to that voice and not wishing to spend any more time on his thoughts, as he feared he would not like the answers he found, he broke into a trot and disappeared down the back alleys of Paris. He had a job to do, whether he liked it or not.

The carriage rocked and lurched as it drove over the pothole in the road. Its sole occupant attempted to brace himself, but was too late as he had been lost in his thoughts. His head thudded heavily against the hardwood frame of the door, causing the man to curse soundly. Placing his hand over the bruised spot and wincing as he examined the growing lump with his fingers, he looked out the window and to his surprise, found it was late afternoon; he had almost arrived at his destination. He slid open the partition in the roof of the carriage and hailed the driver to stop. Jacob grabbed his beaten and weathered leather valise from the floor of the conveyance and hopped out as soon as the coachman opened the door. He nodded to the man as he tossed a small bag of coins to him. Jacob turned and casually entered the Bois de Vincennes. He strolled along the path, as he followed no discernable course other than to veer his steps towards the northeast, which led him to the most heavily forested part of the Bois. He nonchalantly glanced around, making certain that no watching eyes were upon him. And, as soon as he felt certain of his anonymity, he left the path and moved silently through the forest. He followed a circuitous route as he made his way towards the cottage hidden deep in the wood. Jacob found himself often stopping and listening carefully to the quiet sounds of the forest around him. He almost shuddered as the gentle resonance of the evening wrapped him within their soft embrace.

"I always think I hear music when I come here. It is so soft, almost as if someone was playing it within a closed room with me standing just outside, but I am being foolish. It must be the wind blowing through the trees for there are no such things as ghosts. It must be some kind of trick Monsieur de Seul created to keep away inquisitive people such as me."

He caught himself before he chuckled aloud and shook his head in disgust.

"I am getting sloppy. Imagine laughing out loud here of all places. Mon Dieu! This place may not be haunted, but it certainly is strange. There! At last! There it is. Now, let us see how Madame de Blanc and her charges fare this fine spring evening."

With the sound of music running through his mind, Jacob felt emboldened and he continued to draw nearer to the cottage. A light shone in one of the windows and it attracted him, much like a moth to a candle flame. As he came closer, he noticed a shadow crossing back and forth in front of the window. His logical mind knew that meant someone was in the room and he should stay away, but something in the room called to a hitherto dormant part of his soul. Something or someone in that room beckoned to him, summoned him to come and look through the window. The man slunk low to the ground and moved toward the window with the grace of a panther. He crouched below the window, gathering his courage to peek inside the room and then slowly began to stand. His back, stiff from his hunched sojourn across the yard, protested his attempt to stand straight and Jacob felt his balance falter. He reached out his hand and grasped hold of the windowsill to steady him. A current of electricity seemed to shoot up his arm the moment his hand met with the wooden frame. And, the little voice that lived deep within him cried out with joy.

"Mon Dieu! What the fuck was that?"

He pulled his hand away from the window. It felt as if he burned it. Jacob wanted to inspect his hand, but settled on simply shaking the tremors from it. The shadow loomed larger in the window and Jacob dropped to the ground, pressing his body close to the wall. Feeling as if he could barely breathe, he lifted his head and watched, as the shadow became a shape, a person. A bare, wrinkled arm stretched out to the window and pressed its hand to the glass. A red glow caught Jacob's eyes and held him entranced. A raging fire blazed through his groin, stunning him with the speed it caused his manhood to lengthen and harden. Crouching below the window became painful, but he could not move … not even if he wished to do so. His eyes locked onto the scarlet light. And then, he heard a voice. A woman's voice calling.

"Cadmus? Is that you? Are you here? Cadmus?"

Something deep inside stirred and answered the call.

"Sabratha?"

The name slipped from his lips as a tender whisper and the astonished man had to suppress a groan as the hardness of his body found its release with the utterance of that word.

"What on God's green earth is happening to me?"

The hand slowly withdrew from the glass and the crimson glow gradually moved out of Jacob's sight. He heard the woman's voice break, as if sobbing.

"Cadmus?"

Then, the light was no more and the soft sounds of the evening resumed. Jacob crawled away from the window and into the forest, where he stood. He felt confused, ashamed and disgusted with his body's sudden explosion. Wishing to clean away the rapidly cooling evidence of his release, the man began to back track to his blind where his pack hung hidden high in a tree. His hand moved to brush back his hair from his face and he froze. His fingers felt wet. He explored his face, surprised to find his face damp with his tears.

"Merde! What the fuck is happening to me?"

Helen stood, her eyes vacant, staring blindly out the window into the swiftly deepening shadows of the evening with her hand pressed against the cold windowpane. After a moment, her head tilted slightly to one side and she let out a sigh. She began to back away from the window, still holding her hand out in front of her. Her feet continued to move her away from the window, stopping only as the back of her legs bumped against her bed, which toppled her from her feet and she sat down hard on the bed.

Helen blinked once.

"What? Where? Why is my hand so cold? Diamanté? What just happened?"

Diamanté did not reply and Helen found her silence more disturbing than any of the spirit's caustic comments could ever be. Helen's hand flew to her wrist and groped at it.

"Still there …."

She sighed, relieved.

"Merci, Dieu! I do not know what I would do if I lost … wait! Diamanté? Where are you? Diamanté!"

Helen held her breath, the sound of her racing heart thundering in her ears.

"No! This cannot be! Please! Why will you not answer me? Diamanté?"

Helen felt a shudder wrack her body, but knew that her emotions had not caused it.

"Diamanté?"

The softly spoken word, coaxed and soothingly cajoled, as she allowed her voice to work its magic.

"Yes, Helen?"

Both women sighed in unison.

"What is wrong? Something happened and I cannot remember what. What I do remember is that I was pacing here in my room. I was trying to walk off my foul temper before supper. Nadir made me so furious today. And, then I found myself losing my balance and landing here on the bed. Something … no, someone …."

"Yes … someone … it was he. I felt him near me. I called out to him and …."

Helen's eyes grew wet with tears as the spirit's grief overwhelmed her. Her sorrow evident in the uncertainty Helen heard for the first time in Diamanté's voice.

"You called out to whom?"

Helen prompted after Diamanté failed to continue.

"I called out to him and I thought I heard him call my name, but it just cannot be! He was lost to me so long ago that even I cannot remember how long it has been. Years? A trifle! Decades? A pittance! Centuries? No! Millennia? Oui, it was no more than six or less than four, I believe. But, the presence I felt and the voice I heard, I could live an eternity and still know that it was he. I have no doubt for my heart will never forget the sound of his voice. Oh, Cadmus!"

"Cadmus? Who is he?"

"Were you not listening when I told the girl how I came to be in the bracelet?" Diamanté scoffed. "Cadmus was my teacher, the man I loved."