II. The true Distortion

Rumour had it there were trapdoors.

One shouldn't pay too much attention to rumour, but in this case Lando found that it might be advisable.

The lantern was heavy, but it was the only one with closable shutters, and this was important. Lando did not intend to be seen too early. Keeping to the rail at the side of the dark spiral staircase, he made his way downwards carefully, faded wall hangings ghostly rippling above him on cold air like the breath of an abyss. No wonder all those people believed in a ghost of some sorts, he thought, this truly was no pleasant place. But he would find the man who was hiding down there, and he would either capture or kill him.

A memory stirred, a dim image inside his head. He had encountered a man in the corridor this morning, so it seemed, but he could not quite recall him, except that he had been tall and dark-haired and had had bright eyes. Apart from that, the recollection was oddly dim, as hazy as a dream half forgotten. And yet there was a feeling of unspoken dread, a terror of which he had only witnessed the shadow…

I am the Master over every living soul here, the Lord of the Black Legion that will rise from the shadows. I am a man so evil that Hell would not take me, and instead I returned to the world of the mortals to usurp the throne of the King of the Catacombs. I am the one you mean to hunt, and who will from now on be hunting you.

Lord above.

He put it down to too much drink last night.

Lando was one of the men who prefer to stab an opponent in the back to an open duel, and yet he was not easily scared. While his companions had rather wanted to settle in with the others, he had chosen to go straight down immediately. General reconnoitring, he had told Delannay, and Delannay had not had the slightest objection. No, quite the contrary. The Head of the Council had rather seemed pleased, if one could ever call his sour expression pleased.

In the small beam of light from the mostly shuttered lantern, Lando saw that he had reached the end of the stairs. Now, there should be a wall somewhere here, after a short, narrow corridor that soon broadened, if he remembered it correctly, a wall that was not supposed to be there. A wall that could apparently be shifted aside, as LaCroix had told him.

There was no wall ahead of him, nor was there a corridor. Instead, there was a… curtain? A curtain? Now this was odd. Or maybe not, this was an opera house, after all.

Treading carefully, he tapped every flagstone with his heel sharply before he stepped on it. Maybe there were no trapdoors after all, but one had better be cautious in a black pit like this.

By the curtain he stopped, cautiously touching the heavy fabric. He had expected velvet, for reasons of drama, but to his surprise it rather felt like thick leather. This had not been on the map, he was sure. But then again, a curtain could easily be brushed aside.

As he slipped past it into a narrow corridor, a gaping maw of blackness, he smirked to himself. Phantom, I'm coming for you.

Soon the rough stone walls to either side began to move further apart as the corridor broadened. Now, there should be a wall somewhere, that wall they had all been going on about…

But wait. The corridor's direction changed. It suddenly made what might be considered a peculiar little bend, then led on into the darkness. This had not been on the map, either. Or rather, this had been behind the sketch of the wall added in pencil.

Those men who had searched this place before him had been complete idiots, he decided. There was no wall instead of an entrance, no wall at all.

Closing the lantern's shutters, he squinted into the darkness. The shadows surrounded and enshrouded him, as deep as if he had gone blind. He waited patiently, but his eyes did not get used to it. It was too dark down here to see.

How could anyone live here, in this most complete night imaginable?

There was no choice. If he wanted to go on, he would have to open the shutter again. Grinding his teeth, he did so, allowing a thin finger of light to crawl over the rough stone floor of the lowest cellar level, but even as he did so, he suddenly thought he could hear a noise, and immediately he closed it again, straining his ears. There was nothing but the almost inaudible sound of his own shallow breathing, nothing at all.

He had been imagining it, then. Maybe he should really not have drunken so much last night.

His right hand wandered down to his belt, loosening the dagger in its sheath, brushing over the long knife's hilt, then briefly caressing the pair of pistols. He had come equipped for all eventualities. Most eventualities, anyway; he had asked for a couple of small explosives but Delannay had said no. Perhaps it was risky, the man might be correct there, but what would cave in, apart from part of the lower cellars maybe? Nothing important, anyway.

Just as he wanted to slide the shutter open a little once again, it seemed to him that there was a dim light coming towards him, a dim, flickering light… Lando blinked hard, drawing one of the pistols. Yes, he was right this time. It was an unsteady light coming around a corner, a dancing light like that of fire. Carefully depositing the lantern on the ground, Lando pressed against the wall, raising the hand holding the pistol slowly. He should snap-cock it now, he knew it, but its soft click might warn whoever was coming towards him. However, surprise was on Lando's side, no doubt. And the other would be fully illuminated, while himself he was hiding in the shadows.

I have you now, whoever you are…

Could he already hear footsteps around the corner? He was not sure, whoever was approaching treaded very softly, just as if he knew Lando was ready to ambush him. The light increased and flickered over the dark flagstones. Yes, there were footsteps now, soft yet firm. Someone was coming towards him. Lando could feel his own heart thunder in his chest as he strained to breathe as softly as he could. Any moment now, any moment…

A man came around the corner, tall and dressed all in black, a brightly burning torch in one hand. His face was hidden behind a black mask over which hung a few strands of long dark hair. Lando's hand shot up, snap-cocking the pistol as he took aim –

Or at least this was what he meant to do, because suddenly he realized that he had not moved at all… and that the masked man had stopped and was looking directly at him. His eyes glittered eerily amid the blackness.

No! Damn this all! Lando desperately tried to move, but he could not. Something held him back, an invisible power so strong that he could not even shift a finger. Rooted to the spot, all he could do as panic began to seize him was stare at the man before him.

"Eager to see me, are you?" Clearly it was the man who was speaking, but his voice seemed to come from everywhere, a whisper from every cranny in the cold stone wall. "And too stubborn to be frightened? Though you're learning, I can feel your fear…" The lips beneath the mask shifted into what could only be called a leer. "Did they tell you what happened to those five out in the foyer last month? No? Not even that they were found dangling from the chandelier?"

Lando could almost feel the moisture receding from his mouth bit by bit, until his tongue was as dry as a scrap of leather. Five men hanging from the chandelier… Yes, this was what others had told him. It had not been in the papers, of course, but he had heard it as soon as he had entered the Opéra Populaire. Everybody knew it here. And everybody knew who had done it.

It had been foolish to come down here alone, he realized. He should have made others come with him. This murdering lunatic had dealt with five of Delannay's men at once, so one single man should present no problem for him!

"Yes," the Phantom said gently, just as if he had heard Lando's thoughts, his voice ghostly echoing in the dark corridor, "you're doomed, my friend."

Not even retreat was possible anymore, not even pressing back against the wall. Lando's limbs did not obey him any longer. He had found the man he had been hunting for, only to realize that he himself was the one being hunted.

Suddenly the Phantom was very close, towering above him. "Drop your gun," he commanded.

At once the tight grip of Lando's fingers opened, and the pistol clattered to the floor. Then his hand froze once more, in a grotesque imitation of claws ready to strike. And yet they were unable to.

And then a gloved hand grabbed his chin and yanked it up roughly. The Phantom's bright eyes found his, and at once he recognized that this was the same man mysteriously branded into his memory. They were cold, those gleaming eyes, and at the same time on fire. An icy Hell was raging in those eyes.

After what seemed like an eternity and still only was a moment, he spoke again, and his words came to Lando through a glittering, spiralling haze. "They say that I am distorted. Maybe they would speak differently if they had seen your ugly little soul."

And then, at once, the hand fell away, and Lando staggered backwards, brushing past the rough wall with his back. "Go," the Phantom commanded. "You owe your life to the woman who already saved mine. Now run, run for your life, before I change my mind!"

Lando did not even think as he suddenly regained control over his body. More stumbling than running, he made it back to the staircase and hastened back its vast spiralling length, upwards, towards the distant light. Once a black maw suddenly opened beneath him, and he would have fallen into an unfathomable abyss had he not gripped the rail and dragged himself on, away from that terror lurking in the darkness. All the time, he thought to hear a cold, cruel laughter in his head, and it chilled the marrow in his bones.