Even knowing that I didn't have my entire plan in place, I spent the rest of the night and much of the following day revisiting my opera, playing it over and over on my organ, letting my music surround me. For the first time in a long time, I felt quite whole. It was as though some unseen and benevolent God had finally taken pity on Erik.
Once I had played through my entire opera no fewer than five times, I rested my aching hands for a short time and just relishing the ambient noise of my subterranean home on the lake. The light dripping of water, the hiss and moan of wind through the tunnels. It was all so beautiful to me. How I had missed it all.
I was confident that I had put an end to the meddling of the viscomte. When I would next make an appearance, at the masquerade, I was sure I would see her there, alone, as I had instructed her. Madame Giry would have word from Christine for me within a few days, and the pesky fop would be out of the picture. And the greatest of all things, my hearing was back, and nearly as good as it had been before.
Soon, just a few more days and Christine would be mine. I would take her at the party. We would steal away from the crowd, be halfway back to my home before anybody realized her absence. Here I would keep her close by my side, where I could teach her my music, where I could teach her- perhaps- to love me. I would be so careful not to frighten the poor girl.
Days passed, but still Giry bore me no word from Christine. I had expected she would mourn the end of her relationship with the viscomte, truly no one could blame her for it. Still I liked to think she would've come back to me and my music seeking comfort. So where is she? I demanded of myself. She had not been seen since meeting me on the roof that night, though Giry assured me she was still in the opera house and that the viscomte had not been around since late in the evening of the night I'd told Christine to stop leading the boy along.
I couldn't contain the grin that spread across my face when Giry told me that he left looking quite distraught, as though Christine had told him some awful news. "But he didn't speak a word to you or MM. Firmin or Andre?"
She shook her head. "No, not a single word. Miss Daae sent for him shortly after her meeting with you, he arrived to her room nearly immediately. They spoke for almost an hour, it sounded almost like an argument- perhaps a lovers' quarrel?" she offered. I was not amused, and I shook my head slightly, urging her to get on with it. She cleared her throat and continued, "I had come to check on her and I could hear them arguing. Before I could knock on the door, I heard something smash against the floor and the viscomte stormed out, looking quite frustrated. Miss Daae would tell me nothing.
"She has taken her meals there since, and she has not come out even for rehearsals."
"Thank you, Madame Giry," I whispered, pressing a small stack of coins into her hand before I disappeared into the shadows once more. So, I thought, relieve, she merely needs more time to come to terms with her little break up. No matter. Her heart will heal and when it does it shall truly belong to me.
The remaining days that separated me from the party were spent trying to coax my hands into a less gnarled, immobile, aching mess than they were. I did everything I could think of, save ignoring my muse and resting them. My right hand seemed to be permanently fixed into a stiff claw wrought with pain whenever I so much as breathed upon the skin. No matter how I tried, even by pressing my palm against the wall or the floor I couldn't straighten the fingers but merely bend them back until the pain was too unbearable to continue.
No matter. I would still be able to command the respect I deserved, the respect my music deserved.