This one i had to change BIG time. But I'm happy that i did. (nod nod)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything of the wonderful works of Phantom.
Part Twenty:
"An Opera, I had to live in an Opera..." Erik grumbled as he disappeared into the shadows. He made his way towards Christi- no, no, the dressing room. Opening the door he was annoyed to see that the mob from before had searched through here as well. Of course, they had to find that girl, Lark. Erik didn't really know what he thought about all of that. He pushed it out of his mind, but, looking around the room he was surprised to find that he would miss the scatter-brained child. Amazing how one could get used to someone coming in and out of hallways humming anonymous, not to mention bloody penetrating, songs.
Erik opened the mirror and was extra careful to make sure it was securely closed, someone could search the room and he couldn't have anymore random visitors. His trip back was normal, nothing had seemed to change. Erik shook his head, imagine, a young girl like that, Lark, a murderer? Surely it wasn't true; she couldn't have done something such as murder. He didn't feel like going inside the house, but he might as well. "What do I know?" he asked himself out loud, entering the Louise Philippe room.
"Probably what I need to know!"
He turned sharply towards the voice that rang out; it was Madame Giry, who was standing behind the table. Interesting, she avoided Erik as much as possible these days and now here she was inside his own house. "What an unpleasant surprise." He said evenly, eyebrows rising to meet his surprise, "Madame Giry comes to visit poor Erik. Interesting, interesting, as you can see I don't usually have guests." He gestured around at the mess of papers growing around the room. Madame Giry scowled at him, "This is no time for chitchat, Erik," she said seriously, "did you hear about Monsieur Louise's murder?" Erik inspected his nails unconcerned, "I might have heard something, yes. Did that disgusting man finally kick the bucket?" Without offering Madame Giry a seat, Erik made himself comfortable in one of the chairs. "I was starting to get annoyed with that stupid man." He traced a pattern on the table's smooth surface. Madame Giry made an exasperated noise, he looked up. "Erik," she started, "did you have anything to do with this?"
Erik's eyes flashed but he kept his temper down, barely. "Of course not!" he snapped, "Jump right to conclusions, haven't you? Typical of people. You seriously doubt that someone else might have wanted to kill him?" Madame Giry stepped back a few steps, keeping the table in between her and Erik, but her shoulders drooped. "That's what I'm afraid of." She said. She took out a handkerchief, "They say that Lark had stolen something of that man's and he chased her and…and…" Erik finished her sentence, "and they think she pushed him off the rafters." Madame Giry blew her nose loudly. "I didn't do it, Madame," he told her scowling. "Yes," she said, "Yes I know that now, but what I'm wondering, Erik, is…are you hiding her?"
He stood up to his full height as his chair fell backwards, this was going too far. "I?" he thundered, "I hide someone down here? Of course not! Nobody comes down here!" Madame Giry looked positively stricken, "You could have hidden her down here…you have enough rooms..." Erik didn't let her finish. "Get out!" he yelled, pointing to the door. "But…" She started, looking abashed. "OUT!" he bellowed. Madame Giry took a step backward then left, almost running down the dark halls and exiting the dangerous house. Loud, heavy breathing filled the room as Erik stood there eyes ablaze. Turning from the door in disgust, he stalked outside the Louise Philippe room, muttering and cursing angrily under his breath.
Erik strode into the dusty kitchen, why he had it built in here he couldn't remember, he never ate. Stupid really, but you couldn't have a house without a kitchen. Opening a cupboard, he took a bottle down from one of the shelves. He shook it experimentally; empty. He cursed and reached for another, also empty. "Damn," he muttered, sweeping his hair away from his forehead. Typical that all the wine and morphine was gone right when he needed something to calm him down. About to sit down at a spindly chair he leapt back up when a small clatter echoed from one of the lower cabinets.
His eyes narrowed, probably a rodent. But, he listened and the small clatter came again and it was too big for a rodent. He took a step toward the cabinets and bent down. Putting his hands on the handles, he opened them. There nearly hidden in a pile of empty, dusty bottles was none other than Lark. She looked up at him with a tear-stained and smudged face, her eyes large, frightened, and despairing. "Are they gone?" she whispered her voice trembling.
Updated. XD
you know what helps me type? music!