Cecily watched from a chair in the corner of the dressing room as seamstresses stitched and tucked madly. They always seemed to wait until the last minute to fix these things. Of course, it didn't help that Carlotta always seemed to wait until the last minute to show up. Cecily turned her head a little to the left, trying to imagine the costume in the bright lights of the stage. "Tuck up the sleeve a bit more. It will cast shadow."

The seamstress nodded and made the correction. "Do that to the rest. If you need anything, find Linnea. She'll be able to help."

Cecily trudged from the room, doing her best to ignore the pain in her knee, which had been bothering her awfully for nearly a week. The dull ache in her stomach didn't help either. She hadn't seen or heard from Erik since she had told him about Carlotta's casting, and that worried her. Erik wasn't one to let a grudge drop easily, and his mind was surely capable of concocting a truly diabolical plot.

Besides all of that, Linnea and Fabrizio were leaving early the next week for Italy. Fabrizio's family was anxiously awaiting the couple, and preparations for a grand wedding were already taking place. As a wedding gift, Fabrizio's grandfather was giving him his inheritance early: a striking vineyard near the rest of the family. Linnea had a fairy tale life before her, and Cecily smiled whenever she thought of Linnea's enthusiasm for telling the story.

But she couldn't always smile, and now she found herself on the verge of tears. She felt very much alone with Fabrizio and Linnea leaving, especially now that Erik was unreachable.

Cursing under her breath, Cecily turned the corner and ran headlong into Joseph Buquet. She hated the man so much it made her stomach curdle to think of him. Smelling his breath and standing next to his ugliness was almost too much to bear. Not bothering to hide her disregard for him, Cecily tried to push past. "Not so fast there, missy."

Cecily had had enough, and whirling around and planting her cane firmly on his left foot and leaning her weight down, she hissed, "Buquet, I swear to you on everything holy and unholy, if you try to touch me again, I will run you through."

The man's face paled a little, and he backed off, his hands raised in surrender. Something in her eyes made him think she was telling the truth, and that she and followed through on those threats before.

Feeling the remains of the rage coursing through her, Cecily plopped herself down next to the Vicomte in the front row. His face was lined with worry, and though she tried to ignore it, Cecily found herself asking what was the matter. "Nothing," he shrugged, refocusing on the last minute practices. Soon enough his thoughts found their way to other things, and again Cecily inquired. "It's just, well, something doesn't feel right. Certainly we have done the right thing, but I can't help this nagging feeling."

Despite her similar feelings, Cecily patted his hand in comfort. "It will be alright. I'm sure only good will come of this." He nodded distractedly and got up.

She wandered backstage, anxious for something to do in the hours preceding the opera. Mme Giry pounded her cane on the stage, her face unusually grim. "Madam?" queried Cecily.

Turning hastily around, Mme Giry nodded curtly at Cecily. "Do you feel it too? Half the staff feels it, and I'll be hanged if you don't, being who you are." She stopped, looked around, and continued quietly. "I tell you, his curse is on the opera, and I fear the outcome of this insistence." She turned her eyes to the shadows as if seeing something, but shook her head. "Tell me nothing is wrong."

Something was making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and Cecily bit her lip. "I can't."

"What?"

"I feel it the same as you. Something is happening, but whether it is his doing or not, I'm not sure."

Mme Giry narrowed her eyes, giving Cecily a look that read, "Of course he is. He is behind everything that happens in this place." Then she moved to correct the dancers, whom she had, in her vigilance, been watching the whole time.

"This place is getting spookier by the minute." She moved through the dark behind the last curtain, gasping when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I should rather like to speak with you, Cecily."