A/N: This following week is something like a hell week for me (many exams coming up) so thankfully I have pre-written chapters! It sucks though, because recently I ave been so inspired to write. As a side point, urgh, copy-pasting from my word document into FF is annoying, because it screws up my formatting (think double-spacing paragraphs) so I have to manually press "backspace" before every paragraph so the spaces between each paragraph aren't double the spacing.
Thank you to new followers/favouriters! I'm sorry I do not have enough time to name you all, but I appreciate each and every one of you.
Nikki1991: Thank you! I have so much fun describing costumes, they're certainly one of the best things to write.
Marial0789: Hehehe yes indeed… My specialty is cliffies xx
HalloweenSpell: Hehe thank you!
Lydia the tygeropean: Thank you (:
Masked Man 2: I thought having Meg talk a little to Erik might be interesting! It sets up a foundation for their future interactions. And I'm so glad you liked this chapter, I had a lot of fun writing it!
Aria of Life: Hahaha well Madame Giry had her reasons, plus now Meg knows about it! And thank you! I agree, I think Christine would have felt immense guilt over her betrayal of Erik.
Wild Concerto: Haha, it honestly never struck me to follow the costume from the musical/movie! Somehow my costume for Meg had a mind of its own. Hmm, as for Christine… she has tried bringing it up to Raoul a couple of times before, but was always discouraged by his strong response toward the Opera Ghost, so for Christine, she finds it extremely hard to make Raoul believe that the Opera Ghost is actually not a monster.
Tallen93: Buquet does end up dying in the novel! If I'm not wrong, he was the stage manager and the first one to die in the Phantom's torture chamber, found hanging from one of the trees where he hung himself after being trapped in the chamber… something along those lines. And don't worry about it the speed at which you're reading! I like reading all these sudden reviews about previous chapters, it reminds me of the older chapters! (:
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Chapter 48: Paper Faces on Parade
Paris, 1899
It had been six months since the Opera Ghost had disappeared from the Palais Garnier. Six months of uninterrupted tyranny from Carlotta had reigned, with the imperious diva being even more demanding now that she was sure that the Opera Ghost was no longer around to play his devious tricks on her. The ballet rats had gotten increasingly frustrated as they were ordered around by the fussy diva like lapdogs, and some of them even whispered behind Carlotta's back that they missed the Opera Ghost's presence.
Now the ghost stood, cloaked in blood red and stern black, before them again.
Whispers filled the room.
"It's the Phantom of the Opera!"
"The Opera Ghost is back!"
"It's him!"
"Whatever will happen to Christine Daae now?"
From his place at the top of the stairs, Erik could see the trembling managers, with their identical, shocked faces.
He smiled, though nobody could see it beneath the macabre smile of the skull mask upon his face, its fleshless lips curving to reveal bony white teeth in a frozen snarl.
He began to descend the steps slowly, a large bound book tucked under his arm.
"Why so silent, good messieurs?" He placed a hand on the railing and leaned upon the gilt surface leisurely. "Did you think that I had left you for good?"
He laughed. It was a bone-chilling, bitter laugh.
"I'm back," he said, stating the obvious. "I'm back, my dear managers. Did you miss me?"
When they remained silent, their mouths gawping, he shrugged. "I thought so, but it matters naught. I bring a gift this time, messieurs, a gift, to represent my intention to come in peace."
From where he stood, Erik tossed the manuscript at the managers, and Firmin caught it with trembling hands, staring at the brown cover incredulously. It was untitled, and he flipped open the cover cautiously to reveal the words at the top of the staves.
"Don Juan Triumphant!" Erik announced. "An opera, to be performed at this opera house, for its next production. It will be cast exactly the way I want, and performed just how I want it to. Instructions on the cast have already been written in the manuscript. I trust that my good managers will be able to follow simple instructions."
He paused and looked toward Christine, speaking coldly. "Mademoiselle Daae… do not forget; your chains are still mine. You owe me too much, and you will sing for me."
"And remember, my dear managers, there are worse things that the Opera Ghost is capable of doing." His parting statement carried an air of bone-chilling foreboding, and Andre and Firmin shivered a little.
The Red Death waved his hand, causing yet another explosion of smoke to fill the room.
When the smoke cleared, he was gone.
Numerous pairs of curious eyes turned toward the managers, who stood, clutching the manuscript, their faces an identical shade of green.
"This… the celebration is over," Firmin spluttered, before turning and striding toward the manager's office, muttering obscenities under his breath. Andre followed hurriedly behind him, running his hands through his hair in a rather distressed manner, and shooing the employees away from the scene.
"Christine!" Raoul exploded in a mix of horror, anger and fear. "Christine, what was that?"
"I…" Christine whispered, still staring at the spot where the Red Death had once stood. "I… Raoul, I'm not sure."
"We must leave this opera house at once! You're not safe here, Christine. I knew that madman was lurking about, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike once more! The gendarmes must be informed!" Raoul blustered, grasping Christine's elbow and attempting to lead her away.
Christine halted. "Raoul, please. It is not half as serious as that. I am not in any danger!"
"Safe? Safe! You're not safe as long as he is around. Christine, you know how much I worry!"
"Raoul, Raoul," Christine soothed, squeezing his forearm gently. "Raoul, can we not just wait for the managers' decision? Let us all calm down and relax, and await their thoughts about the matter. Please."
"Very well. But I shall not relent on this matter," Raoul said grimly.
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In the manager's office, Firmin sat in his chair and stewed in anger.
Six months. It had been six whole months since that blasted spectre had disappeared, and everyone had thought that he was gone for good.
It would have been best if he had disappeared forever.
His untimely appearance always managed to stir things up, and Firmin was sure he would not like what he would see under the cast list when he opened the manuscript to the opera. He almost laughed at the thought of that—a ghost composing a whole opera.
He grabbed the manuscript in his hands, almost crushing the paper within in his tight grip. His hands were shaking slightly.
All the money, all the effort, all the time poured into this opera house. He would not, could not, let the Opera Ghost ruin everything. Who was the ghost, to think that he could even have a say in the matters of the opera house? How dared he? And yet at the same time, Firmin was afraid. There had been too much talk about the opera house after Buquet's death, too many rumours, and too much bad publicity. Six months had done precious little to help the Palais Garnier recover a part of its reputation, and the customers were finally flowing in again at a steady rate. Firmin could not risk that with another big scandal.
A scandal that he was sure would happen if he denied the Opera Ghost.
He gripped the cover of the manuscript tightly, and flipped it open.
There, in clear, distinct words: Aminta, lead soprano, Christine Daae.
Andre, who had been hovering over Firmin's shoulder, anxiously waiting for Firmin to open the manuscript, let out a loud bellow, and slammed his hand on the table, pointing imperiously at the name on the paper. He jabbed in his finger at the paper, spluttering into Firmin's ear.
"It's her, it's her! I knew it; she has always been in cahoots with the Opera Ghost! Every single thing he has done so far… you know it, Firmin… it was to put Christine Daae in the lead. And now, now this! It is the same thing all over again!"
Andre started to pace the room frantically, muttering under his breath. "What shall we do, Firmin? We cannot let this production go through. If we agree to his demands, we shall never hear the end of it! The next thing we know, this madman will be running the opera house, and we will be mere puppets running to his beck and call!"
"We cannot risk anything, Andre. We cannot even begin to guess what he can do to us this time," Firmin's voice raised hysterically. "No, we have to do something about his return. Call in Christine Daae and La Carlotta! We need to have an urgent meeting the moment day breaks tomorrow."
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"This is preposterous!" A familiar, high pitched shrill came echoing from within the manager's office. "I simply cannot believe this!"
Christine stopped outside the manager's office, her hand on the doorknob. Behind her, Raoul placed his hands on her shoulders supportively.
"Do not let La Carlotta intimidate you, Christine. Everything will be fine."
Christine smiled wanly at Raoul. "Raoul… I am very grateful for everything you have done for me. But…"
"But what? Tell me what troubles you. You know I hate to see the frown upon your lovely face."
"What if he's really back, Raoul? Will I sing in this new production? Do you think the managers will agree to the Opera Ghost's demands?"
"You do not have to sing if you do not wish to, Christine." Raoul's jaw set firmly. "I will stand firm in this matter; the managers cannot force you to sing."
Oh, Raoul. His warmth and caring for her never failed to touch her heart, and yet at the same time, Christine wished, so desperately, that Raoul could see things from her point of view, and understand that the Opera Ghost was nothing that he should be worried about. It was this inability that kept their relationship from becoming any deeper; it created even more secrets between the two of them. Christine sighed wearily, and turned the doorknob.
"There she is!" La Carlotta snarled, from where she was perched upon a sofa in the manager's office, clad in her usual furs and finery. Her face was twisted into an even darker scowl today than usual, if that were possible, and the large girth of her dress took up the whole sofa. Piangi stood behind her supportively, sniffing angrily when Christine entered. In her simple, cornflower blue dress, with her brown curls tied back with a matching ribbon, Christine could not have looked more different from Carlotta.
"There she is," Carlotta shouted again. "Our precious little soprano! The lead of our new opera!"
"Messieurs," Christine curtseyed to the managers and said softly, "What is going on?"
"Well, Mademoiselle Daae, it seems you have earned yourself the lead in the newest opera we are to perform in the Palais Garnier." Firmin said snidely, waving a hand at the manuscript on his table. "I do not know how or what you did to achieve this end, but I shall throw my gauntlet down at last, Mademoiselle Daae. You have won."
"What?" Christine cried confusedly. "I know nothing about this matter, monsieur! Indeed, this is the first time I've ever seen that manuscript! I do not have any part in this ploy."
"Then why would the high and mighty Opera Ghost cast you in the lead, of all people? There must be some reason!" Andre waved his hands frantically at her. "Specifically you, mademoiselle? The Opera Ghost has shown too much favour!"
"Christine has a splendid voice," Raoul said stiffly, placing his hands on Christine's shaking shoulders comfortingly. "The Opera Ghost recognizes that, and he has cast her in the lead. There is nothing wrong with that."
Christine was grateful for his support and his solace, but still she trembled slightly. She had not expected the managers to point the finger at her for the Opera Ghost's sudden reappearance, and she could think of no way to help her teacher and save herself at the same time.
"Well, what do you propose we do now then, mademoiselle?" Andre snapped, throwing himself back into his chair and crossing his legs. "If it is as you say, that you had no part in this schmuck of a ploy, then how shall we proceed? I will not let the Opera Ghost run my opera house again! Indeed, I have had enough! The past six months were a glorious time when we were not under his tyranny… I would hope we can have that again!"
Firmin nodded, chiming in, "If we agree to his request now, are we not implying that we will readily accede to all his future demands? That cannot happen again! Remember Buquet." He shuddered at the thought.
Christine wrung her hands in despair. "The Opera Ghost means no harm, messieurs. He simply wants his opera performed. I am but the instrument he chose. Perhaps… perhaps he will leave us alone after this incident?"
Her words sounded weak. Carlotta gave a derisive laugh at what Christine had said, and Andre merely shook his head sadly.
Firmin laughed derisively. "Fine words to try to deceive us, mademoiselle. It does not matter, for we must give the Opera Ghost what he wants—you in the role of the lead, lest we incur his wrath again."
Christine gave a cry of despair. "I will not do it, then. I cannot go through with this, and let everyone think that the Opera Ghost did all of what he did simply to put me on the stage. I refuse."
"You are contract-bound, and—"
"You do not have to sing if you do not wish to, Christine. They can't make you." Raoul cut Firmin off, glaring at him, and taking Christine's hands in his own. "We will figure something out. I will not let them force you to sing!"
There came a knock on the door suddenly. Madame Giry entered, with a piece of parchment in her hand. "Good day, messieurs. I hope I have not interrupted. The Opera Ghost appeared in the theatre and scared the ballet rats, but he left this behind and I thought it best to pass it on."
Andre marched forward and plucked the piece of parchment from her fingertips, unfolding it hastily.
Fondest greetings to you all. I have a few instructions before rehearsals start. Carlotta must be taught to act; she cannot continue depending on her usual act of strutting around the stage. Our 'Don Juan' must lose some weight—it's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age. And to Mademoiselle Daae: her voice is good, there is no doubt about it. But if she wishes to excel, and if her pride will allow her to, she will return to her teacher for future lessons.
I trust my instructions have been clear. I look forward to watching the first rehearsal.
Your obedient servant as always,
Opera Ghost
Carlotta gave a loud shriek of outrage. "How dare he! That monstrous fiend, that hideous creep… oh!"
Andre gave a groan, crumpling up the paper in his fist.
Raoul had been staring at the letter while Andre had read it in a shaky voice, with a glint in his eyes. His grasp suddenly tightened around Christine's fingers. "Wait! I have an idea."
"Oh do tell, monsieur le vicomte. We have surely run out of ideas already," Andre commented drolly.
Raoul ignored him, and moved forward to stand before the managers, a maniacal gleam in his eyes. "I have a plan to snare our clever friend at last. It will be the end of the Opera Ghost!
Andre sat up straight in his chair, a little more intrigued. "Do go on, monsieur le vicomte. Anything to be rid of this menace."
"The Opera Ghost may think that he has us in his grasp at last, but we hold the ace—we shall play his little game to the end! Christine, Christine. For if Christine sings in his opera, he will be sure to attend. But we will be prepared!"
"The gendarmes. We will call them in to wait in the wings, in the audience, anywhere.
Raoul nodded grimly. "And when he appears…"
Andre slammed the table, making a loud booming sound. "The curtain falls; his reign will end! Indeed, monsieur le vicomte, a brilliant plan! My goodness me, it could work!"
Even Carlotta looked vaguely impressed, and was nodding slowly at the idea. Raoul was pacing the room furiously, thinking through his plan, and working out the details. It could work. No, it had to work. This had gone on long enough.
He gestured to the room of people, signalling for their attention. "The Opera Ghost thinks to make us dance to his tune like a group of trained marionettes… but he plays a dangerous game, and this time we have a trump card. We will play his game, but we will win."
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A/N: As usual, please read/review/fav/follow/let me know what you think! The next few chapters will be exciting, I hope. The end is near! Have a good week ahead, lovelies (: xx hazel