A/N:Thanks to my beta, Olethros.
Episode 2
By: Elektra
Several months earlier
Martine Robichaux followed the underground pathways into the remains of the temple. The tunnels had been dug by an archeological team currently studying here.
With a well placed spell, she had been able to hide her presence quite easily.
Martine had heard the stories of this Greek island, of what lay buried beneath it. It had peaked her interest, had led her here.
With a shovel in hand, she found the spot where she sensed the strongest presence. The archeologists would never have thought to look here. Then again, she was looking for something very different than they were.
After several minutes of digging, she knew the rest would have to be done with her hands. Kneeling on the ground, she began to remove the rest of the dirt very gently..
There It was. The object, wrapped in cloth centuries old.
She lifted It up, Its round weight heavy in her hands.
Martine carefully slid the cloth off to reveal a lovely boyish face with smooth skin, surrounded by silky golden curls. One would never think this had been buried for thousands of years.
"Wake up," she commanded gently.
Slowly, the sea-green eyes opened, blankly staring up at the woman who held It in her hands. This powerful woman had saved It from Its eternal torture beneath the ground.
Before Martine could explain her purpose, her reasons for waking It, Its soft lips parted and released a sad mournful song that would wake long-slumbering creatures from every mystical plain.
Opera Populaire – Above the Stage (present)
Erik looked down from the catwalks as the rehearsals for Jacopo Peri's Eurydice took place below him. His beloved was performing the title role perfectly, as was to be expected. Once her aria was done, she headed off stage to make room for the Corps de Ballet… minus two.
"Sorelli! Jammes!" Madame Giry shouted as she banged her stick angrily. Erik allowed a small smile to appear on his lips from his hiding place. He would like to hear the two explain to Giry why they were late.
Sorelli and Jammes ran out from backstage, tying their skirts around their hips, "Sorry, Madame," Jammes tried to explain, "But we couldn't find our skirts!"
Erik watched as Madame Giry's steely gaze froze Jammes in her tracks, "Were the two of you not wearing your leotards?" she asked.
"We… well… yes, Madame, we were. But we felt uncomfortable without the skirts, so we thought-"
"You thought you would be late for rehearsal instead?" Giry interrupted. "Not only is that disrespectful, Ladies, but you should know by now how dangerous it is not to be properly warmed up!"
Jammes bit her lip nervously. "We're sorry, Madame," she hung her head.
Foolish girls, Erik thought. They would risk Antoinette's ire for vanity. He continued to enjoy the scene unfolding before him.
Madame Giry had turned her attention to Sorelli now, "And you? You could not even be bothered to put your pointe shoes on?"
Sorelli seemed annoyed at the chewing out, but remained noticeably respectful. "Forgive me, Madame. Give me a moment here," she pulled on a pointe shoe with a hard tug, and screamed, throwing it off immediately only to reveal a bloody toe. Her eyes went wide as she cradled the injury.
"What on Earth?" Madame Giry gasped. "Someone give me her shoe. NOW!"
Meg quickly picked up the shoe and handed it over to her mother, then quickly returned to a whimpering Sorelli. Another girl grabbed the first aid kit from the wings and quickly tended to the bloody toe.
"Who did this!" Giry demanded as a few shards of broken glass were emptied from the shoe. "Who DARED to do this?"
There was no answer from the girls, all of them confused as to who or what had tried to harm one of their own.
It was then that a shape caught Erik's eyes off to the left. A man, shorter and skinnier than he, stood watching the stage. He wore a long yellow tunic, cinched at the waist with a belt, and a pair of linen red and yellow trousers beneath.
Odd clothing for this day and age, unless one was on one's way to a costume party.
Before Erik could approach the strange man, he turned his sharply pointed face to him.
"Wondeful view you have up here," he spoke nasally. "Are you the infamous opera ghost?" Erik said nothing, merely staring at the bold man before him. "Of course you are. I've heard tell of you," he laughed. "What silly tricks you play, though! Really. Hiding skirts!" He looked down his pointed nose at that. "The glass was far more entertaining, was it not?"
Erik did not seem amused. "That girl may not on my list of favourite people, but even I would not wish her an injury such as YOU have caused!" he hissed as he stalked towards the intruder. "Who are you?"
"Oh! Forgive me." The man bowed politely, his waist-length red hair – bright as fire - nearly brushing the ground, "I am known as Loki."
Erik narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Surely you jest!"
"I am a trickster, not a jester."
"You are telling me that you have come down from Asgard merely to torment the ballerinas at the Populaire?" Erik asked.
Loki stared at Erik with an unwavering smile, his silvery eyes seeming to glow with a faint light. "Well, I was sleeping until now. When I awoke, I found myself rather bored. I searched around the mortal realm for a bit to find something to amuse me and came upon this place. The stories were just so fascinating!"
"Sleeping?" Erik asked. "What awoke you, a Norse deity who has not seen the light of day for several millenia?"
A laugh echoed throughout the building, causing those on the stage to glance around - no doubt thinking it was the ghost up to no good. "You ask a lot of questions."
Erik narrowed his eyes, "You laugh now, but you will not be laughing for long!"
He moved towards the man, but with one wave of Loki's hand, Erik suddenly found himself alone on the catwalk.
Costume department
Christine stood facing the mirror as the seamstress, known to everyone as Mrs. Jessup, went about pinning pieces of material together along the young girl's body. "This is just a rough pattern, dear," she explained. "It will look much nicer when it all comes together.
She closed the last safety pin and asked Christine to turn around and give her a better look. She did so. "Oh, yes yes. That will do just fine. Goodness, you're just a tiny thing," she winked.
Christine smiled in response and turned around to look in the mirror once again, briefly wondering if she could ask Mrs. Jessup to make her wedding dress when the time came.
Before she could think on that, each and every pin on her dress came undone simultaneously, causing Christine to scream as the sharp points dug into her skin.
Letting out a startled cry, Mrs. Jessup quickly set about doing each pin up again and yanking the costume from Christine.
"I… I'm so sorry! That's never happened before!" Mrs. Jessup gasped as she grabbed the first aid kit and set about cleaning the bloody scratches that now decorated Christine's body. "Those pins are usually so reliable. They've never done that before!" she repeated.
"It's ok," Christine replied as she winced at the antiseptic. "No real damage."
"The ghost," Mrs. Jessup decided. "That's what it was! Honestly, this building needs an exorcism!"
"He wouldn't do this," Christine replied absently. "Especially not to me." Mrs. Jessup looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "Erm… not that I'm anything special," Christine said quickly. "It's just… well… he… IT… doesn't do stuff like this. The ghost, I mean."
Well, it was better than the truth at least. You see, Mrs. Jessup. I'm on intimate terms with the ghost's highly active libido. The last thing he'd want to do is hurt me or piss me off. No. Somehow Christine didn't think that would go over well.
"But, It put glass in Sorelli's shoe," Mrs. Jessup pointed out.
Christine shrugged, "We don't know that for sure. Sorelli's my friend and all, but sometimes she can rub people the wrong way," she said.
Tonight, she would face Erik at home and ask him if he knew what was going on.
Daaé-Garner Residence
Christine knocked hesitantly on the door to Erik's workshop. She usually never bothered him while he was busy, but she had questions that needed answers.
"Come in," he answered.
"Erik," Christine started as she pushed the door open, "What happened at the theatre today?"
Erik turned from his drafting table and met her eyes, "Loki."
Christine furrowed her brow. "Who?"
"Norse God of mischief. He disappeared when I confronted him."
Christine blinked quickly, trying to let that sink in, "Wait, another myth come to life? Like the Siren?"
Erik nodded, "Apparently someone is waking these… things… up."
"So the glass in Sorelli's shoes, and my pins coming undone was all this Loki?"
"Yes. But… pins?" Erik was suddenly on edge, his voice angry. "Did he do something to you?"
"The seamstress was fitting my costume and the pins all came undone at the same time. Scratched me up a bit."
"Let me see," Erik demanded.
She raised her shirt to reveal the scratches along her side and belly, "Nothing that won't heal, but it wasn't fun."
Erik gently traced his fingers over the scratches, "My poor Christine. This will not stand! I will go to the Populaire and search it top to bottom if I must."
He was about to stand, but Christine gently pushed his shoulders back, "Not tonight you won't," she said. "There's no one he can hurt there right now anyway, so let yourself have a good night's sleep first. Tomorrow the ghost can search for Loki. Does the Guild know anything?"
Erik reached out and tugged Christine into his lap, "I have informed them of the strange happenings, but they do not know how to get rid of a god, or any such creature, really." He paused a moment, "Well… unless one wants to bring about the end of the world, but somehow I think that might get a little too messy,"
Several Months Earlier
Martine caressed the disembodied head that sat before her on the table and lit candles on the ground surrounding it. "Now, my dear, we need to get you a body."
The beautiful eyes simply searched the room: back and forth, up and down. "Why am I here?" he asked in his lovely voice, for this 'head' was certainly a 'he'. "Where is my beloved?"
Martine sighed, "She is gone and I do not have any reason to bring her back. I have my own plans for you."
"I must be with her!" The lovely boyish face cried, unconcerned with what Martine was saying. "I must be with my love!"
Martine sighed in disappointment, "You do not understand. Ever since I was a child, I had heard the stories about you. I wished to see you for myself." She let out a soft laugh, "I thought I had found you once, but it turns out that heavenly voice belonged to a living corpse – complete with his own body and his own love. Your heavenly voice is the true prize I desire."
She then smiled, "Unfortunately, I cannot give you your old body back, but I do have one that is slightly used, its last inhabitant having no more use for it anymore. I do hope you don't mind, my dear."
Not bothering to wait for a reply, Martine began her spell.
Catwalks above the stage - present
"You!" Erik stormed over to the creature looking down upon the stage, "How DARE you harm Christine?"
Loki looked over at Erik, unsure what he was talking about."Who is Christine?"
"The Populaire's Diva," Erik replied quickly, not wanting Loki to know his anger was personal. "She is what makes this theatre money. To have her injured would be distressful for all."
Loki shrugged non-chalantly, "Scratches, nothing more. Pretty thing, though. I might make her one of my mistresses."
That was all Erik needed to launch himself at Loki… only to find himself momentarily blinded.
When his vision returned, he was surrounded by stone, chained to the wall.
Dressing Room
"Christine…" Meg came up to Christine as she set her bag down, "Tell me Erik hasn't taken to purposely injuring the Corps de Ballet?"
"Are you talking about the glass in Sorelli's shoe?" Christine asked. "That wasn't Erik. He'd never do that."
"Well, everyone's all paranoid about their pointe shoes now. It's started accusations and my mom is having a time trying to get everyone under control."
"If anyone can take control, it's your mom," Christine winked.
"Good point," Meg answered. "I'll see you after rehearsal."
Christine nodded and waved to Meg as she headed off. She then looked around the dressing room, very much alone now. "Erik is going to get you…" she muttered to whatever creature may be listening.
Speaking of Erik, she couldn't help but wonder where the resident ghost had disappeared to.
Beneath the Opera House
"How fun is this?" Loki asked as he stood before Erik. "The opera ghost locked up while another trickster takes over his theater. No one is the wiser, you know."
Erik did not seem impressed.
Loki tried once again to get a response, "Tell me, is your name Erik?" He asked. "That lovely blonde diva mentioned that you would get me. She sounded pretty passionate about it, too." He narrowed his eyes, "Are you sleeping with her?"
Erik refused to comment, instead opting to yank at the chains currently holding him to a rock wall. No doubt it was something Loki had rigged up on his own.
The deity before him laughed until tears fell, seeing that his prey could not get away. "Oh yes, this is much more entertaining than the time I cut off Sif's hair!
"I am glad you are taking pleasure in this," Erik hissed, "Now FREE me!"
"Why would I do that? I am having too much fun. Goodness, I've been asleep far too long. I'm not about to stop now! Besides, I am a GOD. I can do what I wish," he scoffed arrogantly.
"You are not a true god," Erik pointed out. "You sneaked your way into becoming a god. Born of two giants, were you not?"
Before Loki could respond, a voice rose up in his ears. A voice that demanded attention.
"What have you done here, Loki?"
Loki jumped and turned, trying to find the source of the voice. "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what?" Erik asked.
"Loki, are you playing tricks on the mortals again?"
Loki glanced around the deserted dusty dorms, "My Lord, it is just harmless fun," he replied innocently.
"Must I return you to the snake pit? Must your poor wife catch the serpent's venom in her bowl for all eternity again?"
"NO!" Loki sputtered, eyes growing wide. "Highness, PLEASE!"
"Why are you speaking to yourself?" Erik demanded.
Loki looked back at him, "Do you not hear my Lord Odin?"
"All I hear is you talking to yourself. Are you not having fun any more?" Erik taunted.
"Shut up!" Loki snipped childishly, his worry growing even greater. "Please, Highness… don't send me back there."
"I will do what I must, Loki. Your behaviour is growing troublesome…"
"But…" his eyes filled with fear, his tone shaking. "A voice woke me up. I heard it! This sad mournful song filled my ears. Surely you heard it too?"
Erik studied the creature before him, "What voice was that?" he asked curiously. Was there truly a voice powerful enough to wake a long-sleeping god? Did this voice wake the Siren as well?
Loki ignored Erik's question, looking around nervously, "My lord?" He called out softly. "Odin? Are… are you still here?"
"I am everywhere, Loki. I demand you return to me now, or punishment will be dealt."
Loki hung his head in shame, "Yes, my lord. Just… please… do not throw me in the serpent's pit again…"
In a blinding flash of light, Loki was gone – replaced by a very confused Christine. "What the… Erik?" she asked as she glanced over at the man currently chained up.
"I don't suppose you have a key?" Erik asked.
"Umm…" she furrowed her brow and felt something against her chest. She looked down to see the key in a rather personal place. She reached into her shirt and pulled it out. "Guess so…" she looked back at him, and smirked. "Think we should take the chains home?"
She saw a flash of excitement in his golden eyes, but he quickly covered it up. "Perhaps you should just unshackle me."
Christine laughed in response and went over to free her fiancé from his embarrassing predicament.
Once he was freed, he jumped to his feet. "Now," he said as he took her hand and led her through the darkness, "It is time for the ghost to return to the theatre proper and explain that HE was not the one playing tricks as of late."
Elsewhere
Loki prostrated himself before the stone throne, "Forgive me, Odin. I did not think such play would be looked down upon." He looked up, "After all, it is not as if we gods are strangers to fooling with the mortals," he smirked.
The large man with the long white beard looked down at him, his left eye black and empty, his right eye blazing like the sun. "Have you been gone, Loki? I did not notice…"
Loki looked upon his Lord, a little annoyed at such disrespect. Did Odin not consider his presence, or lack thereof, important enough to notice? "Highness? I heard your voice demanding I come back."
"I have been far too busy taking care of the sudden wakening of the gods in Asgard to concern myself with your taunting of the mortals. Surely you know. Your own wakening happened only a short while ago."
"But then who-"
"I do not know who you heard, but it was not me," Odin then offered a small smile. "Perhaps you were bested by one of the mortals."
"Impossible! No one bests Loki!" The mischievous god insisted.
Odin chuckled at that, "Perhaps you are not the King of tricks you claim to be,"
Loki stood up angrily, and perhaps you are not the King of gods you claim to be… he thought silently.
Without another word, Loki turned on his heel and left the throne room, rather humiliated that he had been out-tricked by a mortal claiming to be an opera ghost.
End of Episode 2