After all the chaos of the evening had died down Luc went to his office to rest and collect his thoughts. He didn't want to give in to those outrageous demands! But he had to admit that what he had seen had unnerved him. It had to be some sort of trick! An illusion of some kind, but when he'd conducted a thorough search for the culprit he didn't find a trace of evidence that there had been any way for this man to pull it off. He'd found no passages or trapdoors that the Phantom could have slipped through, so how had he done it? Luc didn't know, but he wouldn't be pushed around by this so-called Opera Ghost! He'd worked to long and to hard to get where he was and damned if he'd flop over for this!
The closer he got to his office the more and more confidant he became that he could endure this situation. So the Phantom had shown up and done a few theatrical tricks! He hadn't done any damage in the end and Luc didn't think he was going to be so bold again. He would not give in to this black mail! He entered his nice, formal and tidy office and to his surprise there was someone sitting in his chair. Luc squinted, it appeared to be one of the stagehands. Luc was about to angrily demand to know what he was doing there when he noticed the strange angle of the man's neck. As he moved closer he could clearly see that the man's neck was broken, he was also dressed in Luc's finest clothes. A knot formed in the pit of the young manager's stomach when he realized that this was not a random killing, when he looked at the dead man's face he realized that the poor, unfortunate young man resembled himself, sporting a similar goatee and having hair and eyes of the same color. Luc knew that this was a warning to him, a last warning to head the Phantom or he would sorely regret it.
In the corpses open mouth was stuffed a piece of crumpled parchment. With a shaking hand Luc removed it and opened it.
I expect 20,000 Franc's and for box five to be left empty.
OG
Luc nearly fell as he rushed to his desk to fill out a check for 20,000 Francs.
...
Klara was quite confused by it all, everyone seemed to know about this Phantom of the Opera but no one wanted to tell her much. Yet not a single person had ever heard of Chloe. It was as if she was the only one who had ever seen or heard the young girl. Not even Madam Giry who seemed to know more about what was going on than any one else...
"But surely someone knows of this girl!" Klara said as she sat in Madame Giry's quarters and let the older woman serve her tea.
"No one, I have seen one or two girls by that name in my time here at the opera house, but none so young as you claim this one to be, and none who match the appearance you describe," said Madam Giry taking a seat across from Klara and helping herself to a cup of tea.
"I've seen her twice now, she was dressed in the same clothes as the ballerinas here and she said that there were ghosts in this opera house,"
"Ghosts? Not just one ghost?" Madam Giry raised her thin brows and peered over her cup.
"Yes, ghosts. Some people are saying you have some history with the Phantom, would you tell me what you know of all this?" asked Klara.
"I know less than I thought," Madam Giry frowned, her wrinkled brow twisting with confusion. "I knew the Phantom, I saw him do amazing things that seemed as if they were true magic, but never before had he done anything like the disappearing and reappearing I saw at the Gala, also, the Phantom was a man when I knew him. He would be rather old by now if he was still alive, I am not one to believe in ghosts but I have never seen anyone do that sort of impossible trick before, and now you mention this Chloe. There is more to this than even I had anticipated."
"So you don't have answers for me either," Klara sighed unhappily.
"I'm afraid not child, but I know someone who might..." Madam Giry replied. "You'll excuse me dear, but I think I should write a letter to a friend,"
...
"Raoul I'm going to Paris!" Christine Daae De Chagny's tone brooked no arguments from her husband.
"Darling, please reconsider! You don't want to get wrapped up in all this Opera Ghost nonsense again do you?" The Vicomte De Chagny tried to appeal to his wife but she ignored him.
"Someone has to stop Erik! I'm the only one who knows him, I can get through to him so I'm going!" Christine insisted.
"But I thought Erik was dead," Raoul knew he was losing, but he also knew that it would be irresponsible of him to let his wife return to Paris to confront a madman and a murderer.
"The papers said he was dead but you know he's more than clever enough to have faked it," came the terse reply.
"Christine, I don't like the idea of you going back there with him! You know he's not completely sane! He might harm you!"
"Erik would never hurt me. I just need to talk to him, before things get any worse, Madame Giry said in her letter that she doesn't understand what's going on, I think something's wrong with poor Erik," said Christine.
"Poor Erik?" Raoul was incredulous, "How can you say that? After all he's done! If he's in trouble he's brought it on himself! Be reasonable!" he said, his voice cracking as it rose in pitch.
"You don't know him like I do!" Christine said sharply.
And with that statement Raoul knew he had lost, Christine would go to Paris with or without his consent. Ten years after the fact and she still seemed to have lingering feelings for her "Angel of Music" and she would not be persuaded to keep away from him.
"Then let me come with you, I don't feel right about you facing him all alone," pleaded Raoul.
Christine shook her head, "No, Raoul, you should stay here and take care of things while I'm gone, I'll be alright, Erik won't hurt me,"
Raoul nodded miserably and allowed her to kiss him before she walked out the door. When she had gone he picked up Madam Giry's letter and read it.
"...The Opera Ghost had learned some new tricks in the past years, no one can explain his last feat. He appeared at one end of the room, disappeared and a mere second later re-appeared thirty feet away. It's like nothing I've seen him do before, not in all the years I've been here, please come back and speak to him, I fear things are not well..."
He skimmed the rest of the note for anything of importance before tossing it aside. Damn Madam Giry for sending for Christine, what right did the old woman have to disrupt his comfortable life after ten years? Ten years of quiet, peaceful, normal married life in the country with his loving wife and now this upstart. It was almost upsetting! Damn Erik too! This was all his fault!
...
Christine arrived at the opera less than two days after leaving her home and she introduced herself to the manger.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Monsieur Richard," she held out a delicate hand for him to shake.
Luc was in awe, the famed Christine Daae was here, at his opera house. And she was just as beautiful as all of the rumors said! Frail and delicate looking with pale skin contrasting her dark curls and her deep, dark eyes, he imagined that she'd look just wonderful on his stage. Although she hadn't said anything about singing again he couldn't imagine any other reason she'd come...until she shattered his ambitious fantasies gave him one.
"Madame Giry said that you were having trouble with the Phantom of the Opera," she said. "I came to see if I could help, I knew him from when I studied here,"
Luc found himself slightly disappointed, so she wouldn't be singing after all..."Well, if you can get rid of him," he said with a half-hearted shrug.
"I think I can reason with him if I can just talk to him, but I must be allowed to do so in private, do you understand?" Christine asked.
Luc frowned at her, he didn't much like the idea of her talking to a dangerous killer all on her own. "Are you sure that's wise? He did leave a dead man in my office, I'm sure Madam Giry told you as much,"
"She mentioned it in her letter, yes," said Christine.
"And you want to be alone with him," Luc narrowed his eyes, that didn't sound like a good plan to him.
"I know him better than anyone, but he won' t talk to me unless I go to him alone," she insisted.
Luc sighed and shook his head but a moment later he relented. "Alright, but be it on your own head, Madam, he is a dangerous man!" he said.
"I know, but I believe I can stop him, just trust me," she said. "Now, when is the nest show? I know he'll be in box five all alone, I'll speak with him then."
...
About a week after the night of the Gala, The Phantom took his seat in box five and waited for the show to start. He'd already spend some of the money from his check on two fine new suits and two equally nice pairs of boots. The purchase had been an expensive one but he thought it well worth it. His old clothes were getting so ragged around the edges and it was nice to be in style again. Just because he had to hide his face didn't mean that he had to dress like a pauper. He settled back in the velvet seat with a sigh of contentment and watched the curtain rise, it was so good to be doing something with his life again!
A sudden rustling of the curtain caught his attention. Who the hell dared interrupt him now? To his surprise it was a woman, a small woman with long, brown, curling hair and big doe-like brown eyes. She didn't seem the least bit afraid of him for she sat down in the seat right beside him, he was so startled by this behavior that he could do nothing more but sit and stare at her through the eye holes of his mask with his hands tightly clutching the armrests.
When she spoke to him he realized that his plans were on the brink of falling apart, for when she spoke she said very clearly:
"Hello Erik, it's been a long time since we've seen each other,"
Erik...if she knew that the Phantom was called Erik then this could only be Christine Daae. The Phantom knew that if he opened his mouth to speak to her then his game was up.
...
The Phantom's shock came as no surprise to Christine, after all he hadn't heard from her in ten years and had never expected to see her again. So when he didn't respond to her she wasn't at all suspicious. She leaned forward and put her hand on his, as soon she touched him though, she realized that something was very wrong.
The hand under hers was not thin, cold and skeletal, rather it was large and muscular with thick callous on the joints, looking down on it she saw that even in the dim light of the box the man's skin was several shades darker than hers. She slowly looked up to his masked face and saw blue eyes staring back at her. Blue, not yellow...
"You're not Erik..."
...
So if you're reading up to this point you must have liked the story up till now, I have a feeling that I'll either keep my readers or lose them with this little plot twist but I promise that there will be explanations later, so please just keep reading and I'd really love it if you left me your comments
Cheers
~Enos