I wasn't trying to slack, I swear! D: Life's been a bit busy lately. Sorry guys, and enjoy.
Chapter 9
Max waited until nightfall to go back to the Rue Scribe, so she would not be seen by the other Parisians. She lingered in a jewelry shop until she could see the sun setting. She slipped out of the store and made her way back to the Opera House. She turned down the alley that leads to the Rue Scribe, carrying a lit lantern with her so she didn't have to make the journey down to the lake without a light. She put the 'key' into the crevice which made the stone give way and open for her. She took each step down the long staircase carefully, for she didn't want to fall because of the heavy load. The case began slipping from her fingers and fell, landing on the stairs with a loud clang!
"Curse the man who made this blasted thing!" Max hissed under her breath. She raced after it, making sure she had a good grip on the basket that carried Erik's items, and soon reached the shore of the underground lake where she found her case. She sighed at the sight of her belongings tossed across the concrete shore. Muttering inaudibly, she gathered her items and placed them neatly in her case.
She stood up straight and called, "Erik, it is I who disturb the waters of your lake. Do not send the siren." After that, she placed the case and basket in the boat before getting in it herself to row across the leaden waters of a lake which is never disturbed by wind.
Max was thankful for the light of her lantern, for she wasn't as lonely on the long trip back. She gasped when the boat stopped suddenly, and she turned to see the house on the lake. She took long breaths to slow her racing heart.
"Erik?" She called as she clambered out of the boat. She grabbed the basket and case and hurried through the door which she had seen Christine pass through on her first visit to the house. Erik was sitting at the stool, scratching in a few notes on his score of music. He looked like a normal gentleman would if he were going out somewhere, except for the mask. He was wearing a white dress shirt, a velvety black vest, a black, silky bowtie, and a black tailcoat. He was sitting up tall and straight, as if constantly worried about his composure. Max slipped into Christine's room and placed the case on the neatly made bed before returning to, what Max had guessed, the drawing room.
"Erik, I have your things." She said quietly and took a stepped towards him. Erik stopped writing in the notes and his hand flexed, bending the quill.
"Set them on the table." He said slowly trying not to loose his temper. She nodded, though he couldn't see her, and set the basket on the table. She stepped away and leaned on a wall and watched him with intense curiosity.
"Madam, your presence is quite- never mind. What else was it that you brought with you?" Erik asked as he turned to look at Max.
"What were you going to say?" She asked, ignoring his question. He sighed and shook his head.
"What was it that you brought along with you?" He asked again with more authority filling his melodious voice.
"Am I annoying, monsieur? Is it distracting having a friend of your enemy in your house?" She inquired. Erik stood swiftly and rushed towards her. He lifted a hand and held his index finger an inch away from her nose.
"What did you bring?" He asked again.
"I brought my belongings, monsieur. Surely I can't live in your house with only my dress to wear." She replied. He made a face behind the mask.
"Don't get too comfortable." He warned and went back to the organ. He began to play, barely tapping the keys so his song was pianissimo. Max left at this point, sitting on Christine's bed, staring at her picture of William while listening to Erik's music. She began to trace the outline of William's face with her finger. She was so distracted by what she was doing, she hadn't noticed that the music stopped and Erik was now standing over her.
"Who was he?" Erik asked softly, his voice sad and envious. She gasped and looked up at Erik, whose golden eyes were staring down at the man in the picture.
"His name was William. He was my husband." She replied. "Why?" She asked, curious of why it had made the impact on Erik to make him seem sad.
"He was very handsome, was he not? Where is he now?" He asked, finally looking at Max's face to listen to her talk.
Max drew in a staggered breath, tears gathered in her eyes, and began.
"He was very handsome indeed. He was kind and strong and brave. He worked in the Opera Garnier as part of the orchestra. He played the trumpet, you see. One day he was too sick to perform. It got worse everyday, and only lasted 10 days before he passed away. My guess is he was poisoned by a competitor." She whispered and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Erik handed her a handkerchief that seemed to appear out of thin air.
"I'm sorry about that." Erik said his voice suddenly indifferent. He turned and left the room, leaving Max to gaze after him in confusion.