Disclaimer: Don't own POTO.
A/N: Ever since the announcement that Misty was looking for minions had gone out, the Gerry had taken to trailing the Authoress about the house like a well-trained puppy. It was the only way to protect him self from the sudden wave of phangirls that descended upon the house. He tried locking himself in his room, but they found a way in. He tried threatening them with the Punjab lasso, but they simply raised their hands to the level of their eyes in response. He even abandoned his traditional Phantom garb for one of Misty's Winnie-the-Pooh nightshirts and a pair of cotton PJ pants…but apparently, he looked sexy in anything.
To ensure the safety of her beloved muse, Misty had placed the den and her bedroom as off limits to everyone, excepting her self, the Gerry, and Captain Marianne. If ever she left the den, she was sure to carry her lightsaber with her. The rest of the house—a spacious bungalow built in the mid-1930's—was given over to the minions. Captain Marianne had set up the foyer as a sort of check-in booth for all new arrivals. In general, they were well behaved, spending their time devising ways to kill certain POTO characters or swimming or singing or whatever else amused them.
"I'll be back in a minute, Gerry," Misty said, throwing on her silver cloak as she ventured out of the den. "Guard him with your lives," she told the patrol socks. They took her command the heart and instantly buried the Gerry beneath a mound of fuzzy footwear.
The Authoress traipsed into the living room, which had become minion HQ. She cleared her throat and the room fell silent, all eyes trained on the petite girl in the silver cloak. Captain Marianne took her place beside the Authoress.
"Well, thank you all for applying to be my minions. You have no idea how excited I am about this. I myself am a minion for several other Authoresses and so to have my own troop is…well…phantastic," Misty said. There was a polite round of applause.
"I have a few announcements to make. First, DO NOT SEND ANYTHING ABOUT BEING A MINION FOR ME TO MARIANNE BRANDON! She is your captain in this phic only. Outside of Phantom Companions, she has her own Authoress-ship to maintain. M'kay, second, everyone who asks will be made a minion. Just put your application in a review for Chapter 46: Erik's Saving Grace. The minions may be making an appearance in the story later on, but your have to leave the application in the indicated chapter's reviews.
"Third, several of you have asked about Gerry privileges. I'm sorry, but to put it bluntly, he's mine! Captain Marianne only maintains cuddling privileges. However, feel free to raid his underwear drawers. I may tell you that black silk boxers maintain the scent of his cologne very well."
The minions brightened at this. The Gerry, being a Phantom, heard this from the back of the house and shouted something obscene in protest. At that moment, Captain Marianne leaned in to whisper something to the Authoress.
"There's a xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx present who claims that she has been given permission to have a moment of her choice with the Gerry."
"Oh, yes, Reviwer #1000! Will xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx step forward please?"
The indicated reviewer complied. Misty scratched something out on a sheet of paper in red ink. She handed the paper to the reviewer. "Just present this to the patrol socks and you can have your Gerry moment. How you use it is up to you."
xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx gleefully skipped down the hall. There was a tense silence as everyone waited for the Gerry's reaction. It finally came when they heard a manly scream of fright and the scuffling sounds of a Phantom being glomped.
"All righty then, I've got some review replies to hand out…"
Phantom SteelWolf: Sorry, there won't be any more chat room sessions with Erik and the girls.
LiTTleLoTTe1991: As if the poor guy wasn't deranged enough, eh? Minion according to dictionary .com:
1.An obsequious follower or dependent; a sycophant.
2.A subordinate official.
3.One who is highly esteemed or favored; a darling.
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French mignon, darling, from Old French mignot, mignon.
Child of the Dark Wood: (accepts roses on behalf of the cousins) Thank you! The PMS won't last longer than the typical week…but we all know how long that seems.
xotic princess: I guess even the high and mighty Phantom gets desperate sometimes. Yes…Gerard Butler in black boxers is my happy thought. Like I said earlier, just leave your request to be a minion in chapter 46's reviews.
Music Angel no. 24601: They do cackle! I love cackling.
Nameless Waif: YES! The wardrobe! You got it. I love the wardrobe they're using in the movie…upon closer inspection I could see a bunch of scenes from The Magician's Nephew carved into the doors.
angel of mystery: Oh, I shall be most happy to give the Gerry a kiss for you.
Childofthewilderness: Thank God for modern feminine products. I can't imagine literally being on the rag.
Tian Sirki: You are so spastic, it's hilarious.
MamselleJanelle: Welcome to the phamily! We provide excellent health plans for our minions: if you get sick, the Gerry will sing to you and feed you ice cream.
xBleedingxRosesx: Welcome to the phamily! Seems like you've gotten the review thing down.
Solecito: I'm so glad you all understand the blipics…I wasn't sure if people would read that and go, "She's crazy." Though y'all probably figured that out already. EEK! If I ever do an Erik/Raoul snog session you have permission to Punjab me. Your cheese note was hysterical by the way. And, no, I never managed to open those sites. My computer is retarded.
garbage disposal: Yes, he is one lucky Phantom. (Erik nods frantically)
Ms. Cellaneous: Yeah, poor Raoul has to find a girl who hides in walls while avoiding the bug-eyed moron. That's the real trick, isn't it?
xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx: Well, hope you enjoy your Gerry moment.
SimplyElymas: Sorry, Nadir is off-limits since he's in the story. Besides, you'd have to fight Meg for him.
Charlemange: (hands reviewer a pair of the Gerry's boxers) I really hope Gerard Butler never reads this. And I am most certainly making this up as I go, but thank you for the generous compliment.
aragornnme: No need to duck. I don't mind honest criticism. Usually, I'm a stickler on spelling and grammar, but when it's 2:30 in the morning, I just don't care.
Marianne Brandon: I have never been so excited about a movie in my life. Narnia is the ultimate! Aslan rocks my socks! Glad you like your new position. Hair color and physical stature would good to know. I read your profile and I love your lists of favorites.
naomipoe: I hope it isn't too late to accept your offer. Email me with the details. I'm honored to be selected, but I'd like to know more about it.
Bananas in Pajamas: Just leave out the peanut butter.
CoolGirlEmily: I am so sorry.
Savvy: Ah, my dear friend, so glad to have you back, but I told you, didn't I? I suppose the Poppins Bag might go to Number 17, Cherry Tree Lane on vaca.
Mademoiselle Phantom: You can be a minion, but I'm afraid the position of muse has already been filled. (Indicates the Gerry and Erik). Though the Gerry might appreciate some glomp-free entertainment.
Mominator: I certainly hope the couch is more comfortable than the coffin.
Shibbydm: What is a glasgow kiss?
And thanks to everyone else! Voldemort's Hikari, lady summoner2, Nota Lone, smgirl, mrs. malfoy, Gevasia, OneWhoSitsWithTheTurtles, bigPhan, psycho soprano extraordinaire, Beregond'sGirl, Rinny Leonhart Rikku, Master Darth Warious, Nadiil, Sirius Is My King.
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CECILY'S CLOSE CALL
Cecily Cheney was stomping around her office in frustration when the butler knocked at the door, then opened it to announce the arrival of Algernon Moncrieff. The young woman nodded for him to be shown in. The butler disappeared and Cecily ran to the tiny mirror hanging on the wall behind the desk and inspected her appearance, pinching her cheeks to add some color.
"Hello, my love," came Algy's voice. She turned to greet him, letting her hand be kissed and offering him a glass of brandy. He accepted and they sat in the high-backed chairs near the fireplace.
"Did you find out anything about M. Khan's past associates?" she asked eagerly.
"You know, you'd be truly irresistible if you got that excited about me," Algy said; taking long, slow sips of his brandy.
"Please, M. Moncrieff! I'm at my wit's end. Do you have any information?"
The English detective gazed at her for a moment, his cool blue eyes inspecting her as though he was trying to solve a puzzle. Finally, he answered, "Yes, I found something. You remember old Georges Proulx?"
"Yes, he was an ambassador for the royal court."
"Correct, but to be more precise, he was an ambassador to the Persian shah. He spent quite a few years out there. Anyway, I spoke with him about his experiences and he told me about an unfortunate incident some fifteen to twenty years ago, in which the chief of police in Mazenderan was arrested for helping the court magician escape from the shah's executioners."
He paused to refill his tumbler. Cecily squirmed with impatience. Algy drew the silence out, taking his time making sure the amount of liquor in his glass was just right.
"M. Moncrieff, you are very exasperating!" Cecily cried at last.
"I know, my love, but you look so lovely when you're exasperated. Don't blush now! I might think that my overtures have some positive effect on you," Algy said, giving her a rakish wink. "Georges told me plenty more stories, you know how he loves to brag about his adventures…you really owe me something for sitting through the old goat's tirades."
Cecily blushed again and laughed, a clear, sweet sound that set the detective's heart fluttering.
"Only if you managed to procure more information on Nadir Khan," she teased.
Algy's face lit up and he looked heartbreakingly sincere as he asked, "Is that a promise?"
Cecily bent her grey eyes to her tumbler, trying to avoid the gentleman's intense gaze. She thought about it a moment. Why not? It'll get the information out of him…besides…he is very charming.
"Yes, it is a promise," she answered.
Algy's mouth broke into a dazzling smile. "Excellent. Well, that is actually everything I know so far."
"What!" Cecily shot up from her chair, towering over the Englishman like a furious harpy.
"I'm jesting!" Algy cried, putting up his hands to appease her. Cecily growled and swore under her breath as she threw her self back into her chair.
Algy chuckled, amused by her puffing cheeks and angry glare. "The thing is that Nadir Khan was that chief of police. Old Georges raved about the man, saying that Khan was the most honorable Persian in all of Persia. It was all because of this business with the magician that he was held in prison for five years."
"Five years isn't too bad. Is it?" Cecily suddenly felt very ignorant, but Algy didn't betray any incredulity at her lack of knowledge.
"It is in Persia. Prison, or possibly a tortuous death, is a huge price to pay to save another man's life. Something tells me that this magician may be the man you truly seek to know more about."
"Are you sure?" Cecily asked.
"Yes. As chief of police and a nobleman of sorts, Khan must have had many acquaintances and friends, but he did not risk so much for any of them. Besides, Georges also told me that Khan was the one entrusted with the mission to find the magician—in Russia, I believe—and bring him to the shah."
Cecily slumped further into her chair, "That couldn't be the one. The man I'm interested in is French."
"And I was hoping you'd say English," Algy snerked.
"Really, M. Moncrieff!"
Algy laughed at her indignation. He stood, leaving his empty glass on an end table, and went to lean against the mantle. "There is a chance, Cecily that this magician was a Frenchman and was just living in Russia at the time Khan first found him."
The heiress's smooth brow creased in thought. She tried to recall some of the things she had read about Erik in The Matchmaker's Guide to the POTO Galaxy. "Yes, that's true. Did you find out anything else?"
The detective shook his tousled blond head, "No…nothing of importance. But I have been keeping an eye on Khan's activities in Paris. He frequents the Opera House almost as much as the performers. I'm surprised they don't pay him to be there."
"Oh, I know that," Cecily huffed, waving a hand about as if to erase his words from the air.
"Yes, I imagine you would know that," Algy said darkly, his tone suggestive and accusing.
The young woman's face sobered instantly. Slowly and regally, she rose to her feet, steady, steel-colored gaze trained on the man before her. "And just what does that statement mean?"
"I don't know. You tell me. I've also discovered that you are now a patroness at the Opera Populaire, Mlle. Cheney. Furthermore, I saw you attempting to speak with him following the gala a few nights ago."
Cecily stamped one foot in frustration. "I am NOT interested in Nadir Khan himself. I—"
"I know that, Cecily. And I believe it."
"Then what are you implying?" They now stood nose-to-nose, each one angry and fuming and breathing harder than they meant to. The tension ended abruptly when the office door was thrown open and the hobbits came waltzing in.
"Oy, Mlle. Cecily, we found some enterestin' thengs out aboot tha' M'sir Khan today at the Opera," Pip announced. Que spotted the two near the fireplace and quickly clamped a hand over his friend's rambling mouth. Pip struggled for a second before noticing the others. He went limp, his eyes going wide with surprise.
Giving Cecily a cruel smirk, Algernon slid away from his place between the mantle and the woman. "How are you chaps?" he addressed the servants in their native language.
"J-just fine, sir. Um…we'll just go ter th'kitchen and get drunk," Que stammered, seeing the fury in their mistress's eyes. Pip nodded wordlessly. They began to scoot toward the door.
"DON'T…move," Cecily thundered, her loud voice making the hobbits jump. She stormed to the door, slammed it shut, locked it, then returned to her desk. All the while, Algy watched her with keen interest, his icy blue eyes flickering with curiosity.
"Now, boys, will you tell me what you discovered today?" the socialite said, her voice now low and eerily calm.
Pip swallowed hard before mumbling, "Jus' tha' M'sir Khan es seeing one of the dancers, Mlle. Cecily."
"Which one?"
"Um, er…Meg somethen'," Que supplied.
Cecily brightened, "Giry?"
"Er, yes."
"Thank you, boys. You may go and get a drink from the kitchen."
"Th'door's still locked."
"Oh…well then just help yourselves to some brandy." Cecily gestured to the decanter. The hobbits happily took up the offer. "Well, M. Moncrieff, what was it you were saying before?"
Algy strode across the room, around the desk, and gripped Cecily by the shoulders, "Tell the truth, Cecily, are you trying to track down the Opera Ghost?"
All color left the girl's complexion and the hobbits snarfed their drinks.
Algy released his grip on her and smiled, "I thought so. Why in the world would you associate M. Khan with the ghost? Simply because he is at the Opera so much? Well, your servants have provided an answer to that. Nadir Khan is courting a ballerina. Now what of your ghost hunt?"
He spoke like one addressing a child. Cecily glared at him, wanting to say something scathing in return, but she thought it might be best to play dumb. She swished her skirts back and forth, pouting prettily, "Well, you know I get bored when ever I have to be in town. When we were in Perros there were some opera people there and they told some stories about the ghost. I just thought it might be fun to see if he was real."
Algy shook his head. "Those ghost stories are nothing more than the fabrications of the corps de ballet and the gossip columnists. And if he were real, it wouldn't be very safe to go after him. I'm finished here tonight, but not with you, dear Cecily. You still owe me a night out…to the opera maybe?"
The young woman gave her guest a look that could have melted ice. He winked at her, picked up her key, and let himself out the door. Only when the last of his footsteps died in the hallway did Cecily and her servants fall back into their chairs, sighing with relief.
"That was too close," Cecily said. "And something tells me he won't let it go. In the meantime, boys, I want you to spend more time talking to the dancers. Find out about any strange occurrences. Maybe I'll have you deliver a message to Mlle. Giry. She could be helpful in breaking the Persian out of his shell."