Christine often wondered how Erik was faring. It had been almost three weeks since she saw him last. She didn't know if he was still lurking in the Garnier or had fled as he had before. Box five had been full during those three weeks and his presence was noticeably missing during all the shows. She supposed that was to be expected, and after what she had done she did not blame him in the least for leaving.
She still wondered why she had…kissed him.
She pondered it often and still couldn't come up with a reasonable conclusion. She hadn't been thinking at all, obviously. She entranced by the music—they had been singing a love song, after all—and anything that Erik wrote was incredibly moving. She hadn't thought when she had done it; she had just inexplicably…imprudently…irrationally…kissed him.
And how she regretted it!
If she hadn't then he would still be teaching her and they would still be working together to revise his opera. Now she was uncertain of his whereabouts, she didn't even know if he was alive! His absence in her life was a drastic change; she had seen him daily for nearly a month.
She missed being able to disappear from the world for a while. While she was in his dwelling by the lake she forgot about all her quandaries and relished the luxury of having only to think about music. The stress melted away and she was able to relax.
She realized that she did not only miss his music, but Erik as well. Even though he had been quite indifferent at the start of their new relationship, he had warmed up a little at the end of the few months. He had been so kind to her, but he also had been determined to believe that she loathed him. She wished that she would had the chance to have a friendly relationship with him, but she knew that the prospects of that were very slim.
She now had much more free time, though she would rather be occupied composing with the Angel of Music. She spent most of it making wedding plans with Meg. Her wedding date was uncertain so she and Raoul had stalled the planning, leaving time for her to advise Meg. They had very few rehearsals now, they were only scheduled if Reyer determined the performance the night before to be unacceptable. Carmen was proving to be a big hit and Firmin and Andre were discussing extending its run.
Needless to say, Christine had plenty of distractions.
But her thoughts seemed to always find time to wander to recollect the memories of her brief, but still existent, kiss with Erik. Christine had noticed that, in the very few times this occasion occurred, when she touched his skin, it was cold. Sometimes it had been frostier than ice, and others it had been only slightly cool. But when she had kissed him, it had felt like she was on fire. For those very brief two second while they were both trying to figure out what was going on, they had been standing in a raging inferno that engulfed the two of them and set them aflame.
And no matter how much she tried to convince herself that it had been wrong, it had felt so…so…so right.
She was so confused. She recalled trying to apply the right kind of longing, affectionate, passionate, emotion into one of Erik's ballads. He had told her to picture someone she loved while singing, to think of why she loved them, to sing for them. She had thought of him and his music, and the melodies that came out of her mouth had been rapturous. When she kissed him she felt like she was suffocating in Hades—but the pain brought so much pleasure.
When she pecked Raoul it was sweet and tender, but in those fleeting moments that she had kissed Erik it had felt like nothing she had ever experienced…her heart had been threatening to burst through her ribcage, her head was throbbing, her whole body engulfed in flames, and the feeling of his lips on hers had given her a sensation more penetrating than electrocution.
That, Christine knew, was not supposed to happen with your tutor.
Amelie Jardin was very skilled at planning. Before putting her schemes into action she always needed to be completely positive that they would perfectly give her the desired results. So she did not mind taking her time to perfect her arrangements. She knew if she did not take great care to do so her schemes could very likely backfire on her if there was an overlooked loophole or forgotten detail that she left out of the strategies. That is why for the next few days after she gathered her necessary information about the de Chagny's family drama she thought only of the most efficient way to convey that information to the public—without getting caught.
It proved to be quite difficult. She wanted to remain innocent but still relay the gossip herself to ensure that it was told just how she wanted it. She also wanted to make sure that it got around to Christine, her fiancé, and his family fully intact so that they could not dismiss it as a fabricated rumor and wouldn't be able to deny its verity. With all these factors to consider it was proving to be rather challenging, but she knew that it would be more than worth it once she had the spotlight.
After careful consideration she decided to tell Marie Bellerose her findings. Marie was a member of the corps de ballet, who was generally well-liked among the other rats and always seemed to know all the affairs of the occupants of the Palais Garnier. The rats, chorus girls, and other rumormongers relied on her hearsay for it was usually more or less accurate. She would tell Marie that Meg Giry had confided in her a scandal about Christie Daaé. This way the blame would be removed from her shoulders and placed on Meg's, and she would be an innocent blabbermouth who was merely fond of gossip. It would be believable, as everyone knew that Meg and Christine were close friends and confidants. And additionally it would cause a rift in the two friends' relationship once Christine heard that Meg had been the one to reveal the scandal, causing Christine even more distress. Christine had told Meg about the situation, after all, so she would have no reason to believe that Meg hadn't betrayed her.
She felt confident in the success of her ploy, and was eager to carry it out and see its devastating effects. She was sorry to hurt Christine, as she seemed like an honest and kind girl who was already going through a difficult time. But she wasn't going to let her conscience get the best of her. No one ever said this business was fair.
She decided on the right morning to employ her intrigue. It was some days after the overheard conversation between Christine and Raoul, but not so late that they had already disowned Philippe. Her acting skills would need to be at their best for this performance or all of her plans would be ruined. She tried to act as calm and normal as possible and keep an impeccable façade. After giving the room a brief once over, she spotted Marie talking to a group of ballet rats as they began stretching. Reyer called all the corps and chorus girls together to rehearse act two scenes five and six which had been admittedly rather atrocious the night before. They stood in their positions as they waited for Reyer to finish his conversation with Madame Giry about the choreography. Luckily, she stood right in front of Marie.
She was about to turn around and begin her dialogue with Marie she heard a faint whisper echo around the room.
"Sweet Amelie, dare you betray your friend? Dare you be so ruthless?"
She started, eyes wide, and searched frantically around the room for the narrator of that chilling question, but she sought in vain. No one else seemed to have heard it, for they carried on with their conversations as if nothing had happened. It seemed to have issued from somewhere far behind her to her right. She assured herself that it was only her guilty conscience playing tricks on her with the help of her tired mind. At any rate, Christine was not her friend. She was only an acquaintance, more importantly a rival that she needed to get rid of. She did not feel guilty betraying such a distant consociate.
Just as her heartbeat began to return to a normal pace, she heard the voice again. This time it emanated from right behind her left ear. It was barely a whisper, so soft, so alluring, so cunning that it took all her willpower to resist…
"Heed my warning; do not go through with your malevolent little ruse. Mlle. Daaé is arranging to retire soon and you will justly earn your role then."
Amelie tried to shut the voice out of her head, determined to go through with her plan. This was necessary for a successful career. She wanted to take her spot, not inherit it when she retired. She wanted the fame that would come with outshining the famous Christine Daaé. She wanted to be the very best in France. If she waited for Christine to retire she would not get the recognition she would for for outstripping her. And what if she did not retire, after all? The voice could easily be deceiving her. Then she would be waiting for her retirement in her shadow for years while it never came.
She ignored it, and tried to ignore the cool clamminess that overcame her as well. She suddenly felt as if her legs couldn't support her.
"Heed my warning…heed my warning…"
She knew that she must speak to Marie now before that sly voice could persuade her to do otherwise. She discreetly pulled out a hairpin from where she had tucked it in her sleeve that morning and let it fall to the floor slightly behind her.
Marie stooped to retrieve it and tapped her shoulder.
"Amelie, I believe you dropped this?" she said, offering it to her.
"Oh, I believe I did. Thank you," Amelie said with a faux smile. "These wigs require so much upkeep! One can hardly keep them on one's head no matter how many pins they drive into their skull."
Marie laughed. "Very true. I can never seem to get mine to stay without slipping."
"Yes, I often have someone lend me a hand, I am frequently prone to make a botch of those types of things…Meg Giry is often a great help."
"Christine Daaé is lucky to have her as such a great friend; her wigs are even more ridiculous as the Prima Donna."
"Yes, she is. I hear she is going through a rough time right now and I am sure she is greateful for Meg's companionship…"
"Oh Really?" Marie's eyes brightened. "Poor thing," she said unconvincingly. "Do you know what…?"
"Oh yes, I heard—from Meg Giry herself—that Christine's fiancé, Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny, is in a enormous amount of trouble. Apparently his brother is a drunkard and gambled away all the family's money."
Marie seemed to be close to bursting at the mention of such juicy news. Amelie was satisfied, within an hour the whole opera house would know.
"Oh, the poor dear," Marie said. "His brother, you said? Did you catch his name?"
"Yes, I believe it was Philippe."
"Well that truly is a shame…such an influential family name, gone to waste…"
"Yes, indeed…"
"Places, ladies, places!" Reyer, shouted, pulling away from his conversation with Mme. Giry.
Amelie offered one last grin to Marie and turned around to face Reyer, unable to hide a small satisfied smile, very pleased with her impeccable acting.
"Bravissima, Mademoiselle. What a splendid little show."
That dreaded voice again! Amelie shuddered. Gooseflesh flared up on her arms.
"Do not think your misdeeds will go unpunished. I will see to that…"
She was going to be punished? A thousand retributions ran through her mind, each as terrible as the other. She began to regret telling Marie, fearing that whatever was to come would not make it worth the fame…
This was ridiculous. No one else had heard the voice; it was obviously a figment of her imagination. There was nothing to fear—except the deterioration of her sanity. She was not going to be admonished by a mere voice.
But she could not escape it. Throughout the rest of the day it continued to ring loudly in her head…
"Heed my warning…heed my warning…"
Try as she might she could not escape the hypnotic tones of the voice as it twisted those simple words into a beautiful melody—beautiful but dark at the same time.
"Heed my warning…heed my warning…heed my warning…"
She felt like she might go mad.