Chapter Four: Girl of No Consequence

By: PittsBurghFuzz

I remember that fateful day clearly. It was a cold and musky day, not a day for fun and games, but for funerals and dealing with grief. My brother-in-law, Gustave had passed away.

Gustave was much too young to die, but death decided to wrap his hand's cold grip around Gustave's throat. Gustave's wife had died, giving birth to their lovely daughter, Christine. The child was nothing less than the epitome of beauty.

When Gustave died, Christine seemed different, as if part of her went to death with her father. Aftermath was that Christine' singing ability wasn't as pure as it used to be. Then, Christine decided to become a member of the ballet at the Paris Opera.

Christine was only fourteen when her father died, and yet she was more in kinship with a frightened toddler. The poor girl was frightened of everything.

Good thing she wouldn't get involved with Erik, I thought then.

A week after Christine arrived, one of the stage hands had been murdered. No doubt in my mind that Erik had something to do with it.

During my weekly journey down to Erik's lair, I knew I had to ask him about the murder.

Sure enough, I saw Erik working on a strange manuscript, called Don Juan Triumphant. It seemed that Don Juan consumed many hours of Erik's days.

I gently tapped him on the shoulder, but quickly closed the manuscript and turned around. Erik's eyes seemed annoyed.

"What is it Madeline." Erik asked, trying not to sound angry. "Have the managers sent me another note?"

"No Erik, I have to ask though, why did you do it?" I asked.

Erik rolled his eyes. "Do what?"

"You know Erik! Don't play dumb with me!" I yelled, as if I were his mother.

"Oh you mean Pierre?" Erik chuckled. "Oh that little bastard. I'm afraid he knew too much, same thing with his brother Joseph, but I'll worry about him latter. Besides, he fell into one of my many traps."

"Traps! What traps!" I asked.

"Well, certain self-defense mechanisms. It seems curiosity, not I that killed the cat." Erik simply stated.

"Well, do you have any notes for the managers?" I asked.

"Yes I do, actually." Erik took out a small envelope with his death's head seal on the back.

"Now tell them that their reply doesn't need to be sent immediately, just soon enough."

"Okay."

Erik then looked at my tired face. "Something wrong, Madeline?" Erik asked.

I sighed. "My brother-in-law passed away, and now my niece is staying with the corps de ballet."

"I'm sure this is difficult for you both. If you require my services..."

"I understand Erik. Thank you."

"Anytime, Madeline. I just need you to run an errand for me."

"What is it, Erik?"

"Tomorrow, I will leave the sum of five-thousand francs in a steel box. I want you to create a new account. What is the name of your niece?"

"Christine Daae" I told him.

"Very well then. When Christine is an adult, I will trust that you will inform her of this small sum of money. Maybe she can do something with it later, attend a school, who knows?"

"Thank you Erik."

"Please Madeline, think of it as my appreciation for your services."

I think I could tell that Erik was smiling underneath his mask.

A week later, I found that Christine only made one friend. And that one friend was my daughter, Meg. It was funny watching them play. Meg was always the spirited child with extreme ideas, while Christine was more cautious and reserved, and perhaps even gulible.

"I think we should paint on Polingy's face!" Meg suggested.

"Why? It will only make him angry!" Christine told my daughter.

"Oh come on Christine, it'll be fun."

"No thanks Meg."

Another interesting trait about Christine was that she was modest to a fault. Christine was totally unaware of her angelic beauty. She almost seemed to ignore the glances the stage hands and male actors were giving her. However, there was only one man in her heart: Raoul, the vicomte de Chagny.

"Christine, when are you ever gonna stop thinking about the vicomte?" Meg asked.

"Never." Christine simply replied.

Later thaat night, Erik was pounding on his organ, playing through the variuous tunes of Don Juan Triumphant. I came down to say goodnight.

"I see you've changed activities since I last saw you." I said sarcastically.

Erik sighed. "If you look over there, I have been accomplishing more than Don Juan." Erik pointed to a pile of random sketches.

"What are these?" Madame Giry asked.

"Oh just some sketches for an empire, of dreams."

"What is it called?"

"Phantasma." Erik told me.

"Looks incredible."

"Those are the rejected sketches."

"But Erik, they are beautiful."

Erik laughed. "They are uglier than..." Erik was about to say something but gulped.

"Well, they're bad in my opinion, so they are trash."

"May I keep them?" I asked.

"Keep them? Ha! Take them, I have no use for those, grotesque tradgedies."

"I'll see you later then?"

"Sure."