Chapter 2: Think of Me

Dark. Comforting. Those were the first things that came to mind. It was hard to see, but not to hear. There was music in this darkness. She tried walking towards it, but she was sitting in something that was teetering from side to side. Suddenly, there was light from no definite source, but enough so that she could see. She was in a boat floating through a cavern. The walls were tall and faded up and up into darkness, and where she was moving towards was cloaked in shadow.

She remembered all this, and knew what awaited her. This was the same reoccurring dream of the boat going through the tunnel to destinations unknown. Again she saw on her right the unfinished drawing, and later on her left the mask, both attached to the cavern walls. "Angel..." There was the voice. The same creepy, echoing masculine voice that aroused not terror, but longing. "Music, Dark Music…" feminine this time. And then the flash of fire.

Erika was back in her room. She sat up in her bed, more annoyed than frightened, but she felt a bead of sweat was running down her face. She wiped it off, climbed out of bed, and walked over to the wardrobe. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Her hand ran over the wood at the back, feeling for the small circular hole. After finding it, she put her finger through and slid the back of the wardrobe to the right. Cold air met her face, and Erika stepped into the comfort of total black.

She knew her dark world by heart. When they had renovated this house ten years earlier, the builders had covered up many of the old hallways and servants passages. They even closed up an entire servant's bedroom, which Erika had turned into a secret hideout in her youth. It was now where she spent most of her time. She would spend days, weeks, and once almost a month in her secret world.

At the moment, her destination was the kitchen. She was hungry, and she knew from the previous nights that there would be no sleeping now. She had to pass through her secret world on the way, and as she passed she could feel the familiarity. It was pitch black, so she took a candle off the wall where she always kept it and lit it with matches from the shelf. This she did in complete darkness. Her place was so familiar to her that she didn't even need to see. Around her, her little world unfolded. There was a piano on the wall to her left, a bookcase and, after, a door to her right, and the small bed that was pushed up against the back wall. She sometimes fell asleep there, working on music, or thinking, or reading.

As she traversed the shadowed halls, she passed through a corridor that led to her mother and Raoul's room. It obviously wasn't late, for they were talking in there gooey love language, Raoul calling her mother 'Little Lottie' and her mother soaking up every word. Yuck.

Erika moved quickly to the kitchen. She pushed on the wall and it slid quietly away. The only one in the kitchen was Ida. Ida was one of only three servants who knew of her existence. Her mother had helped Christine give birth. Erika and Ida were not friends, but they had a mutual understanding of kindness towards each other. As Erika passed by, Ida curtseyed. "Can I get anything for you miss?"

"Yes, thank you. A roll and some tea would be nice." Ida got to work. It had taken a long time for Erika to realize over the years of living in this house that the strange girl was happiest when she was working; especially in the kitchen. Ida knew where everything was all the time. Her dream, it was easy to see, was to end up as the chef for the Viscount's family. Since she had shown kindness and not disgust for Erika, it was only fair that Erika help her with her goal. Unbeknownst to Ida, Erika had put in a good word with the servants and had gotten her into the kitchen.

After fetching Erika what she asked for, and seeming a little happier than she was a few minutes ago, she paused at the doorway, as if she was going to leave but had decided better of it. "Is something bothering you, Ida?"

"Well, um, Miss? It's just that… well, you seem… a…a bit off lately. Are, I mean… are you alright?"

Erika thought for a moment. "I'm not quite sure." She straightened up. "Thank you again, Ida." Then she left back through the dark hole where she had emerged.

The dinner had done the trick. By the time Erika reached her small world, she could barely stand. She blew out the candle and put it on the shelf. Almost immediately after getting to the bad, she fell asleep.

Again, the darkness. Again, the boat down the long corridor. But something had changed. The walls were no longer unfamiliar dark stone; they were the long twisting hallways of the Hungarian Opera House. She remembered, suddenly, the man. That was it! That was the purpose of this dream, to make her remember! She felt the longing for knowledge again and knew what she must do. She had to find out who this master of darkness was. She slept in peace after that.

In the morning she made sure she was at breakfast on time. She knew that she had to be on her mother's good side if she was going to be gone for tonight (or, hopefully, the search would last a few days!). She sat up straight and ate her meal slowly, chewing and swallowing all of her meal like a lady. She could see her mother was pleased, Raoul didn't care, and Vincent and Change were there indifferent selves. Vincent had that stupid look on his face again, and Change was buried in a book. Well, what was she to expect from Raoul's children?

After breakfast, she got out of the way. She stayed in the corner reading or sewing, (she hated sewing, but to her mother it was ladylike) never in the way but always in eyesight. They were all sitting in the front room, having some 'quality family time' when one of the servants came in. "There are guests, Sir." Erika jumped up, ready to hide in one of her many spots, but the servant said not to worry. "It's only James, miss. Nothing to worry about." James? James?! What was he doing, calling on their house? And why now? They had not heard from him for several weeks. Erika had thought something had gone wrong between him and Raoul. She sat down and calmed herself while he was shown in.

James was a handsome young man of eighteen, two years older than Erika. He had dark hair and eyes, and was one of the only people who had ever been kind to Erika. Strange, how he had always been so kind, when they met after the accident…

He smiled at Erika as he was urged to sit. Raoul asked if there was anything that he would like, but there wasn't. He was here strictly on business. Erika wasn't exactly listening, but she caught the gist of their conversation. James had found that it would be extremely financially useful to invest in the opera house, and was asking Raoul for his advice. Raoul was, after all, one of the patrons of the Hungarian Opera House. They had a long boring discussion about money and finances and other monotonous things. When their conversation was over, James wasted no time in saying his goodbyes and leaving. Erika couldn't say that she blamed him, since he knew Raoul's family almost as well as she did. She liked James. Maybe too much…

She spent the rest of the day being good and ladylike. She could tell that neither her mother nor Raoul suspected anything. When the household fell asleep, she made her move. She knew she needed to travel as light as she could, so she took the dress at she had sewn pockets into. Yes, pockets were for men, but they were so much more convenient than purses. She took a few rolls, a box of matches, and a drawing of her mother. Sure her mother was a little shallow and romantic, but Erika loved her. She also took a lantern with a candle inside ready to be lit.

Erika slunk around the back of the house and to the stables. She took one of the horses, Orpheus, and saddled him. He was a strong quarter horse that was a lovely dark brown coat and black mane and tail. Orpheus was her favorite, and she would make sure to get him back to the house.

She road quickly through the streets. It was too late for anyone to be out of door except drunks and the homeless. It took less time than she thought to get to the Opera House. She found someone wandering the streets, a boy, who was obviously a dish washer or stable boy of some sort. She asked him if he knew where the Viscount de Changy lived. He said yes. She told him to take the horse back to his house and gave him a bag of money containing 10,000 Ft. Pocket change to her but to him it was a gold mine. She knew by the look of the child that he would take the horse back. So she continued on her journey.

The lock on the door was easy to pick, she had picked so many locks before it that it only took seconds. She crept in the door and locked it behind her. The moonlight was all she needed to see for now, so she saved the lantern. Quietly she made her way to the wall where the man had disappeared. She searched for a way through. It took what seemed to be hours, but finally her hand caught on something.

At the edge of the marble wall was a small, unnoticeable hole. She slid her hand in and pushed. The wall turned completely, dumping her on the other side in total and complete black. This darkness was not like her darkness. It was full of terror. The air was ice and the floor was rock. Erika did not like this feeling of terror. But she gathered her courage and lit the lantern.

As far as she could see, there was no way back. It was a one way passage. She was on a landing, of sorts. There were stairs in front of her that led deep into the gaping undergrounds of the opera house. Erika took a deep breath. The one thing she needed now was music to give her strength. But what song? Than it came to her; her favorite aria, of course!

"Think of me, think of me fondly,
when we've said goodbye.
Remember me once in a while -
please promise me you'll try.
When you find that, once again, you long
to take your heart back and be free -
if you ever find a moment,
spare a thought for me

We never said our love was evergreen,
or as unchanging as the sea -
but if you can still remember
stop and think of me . . .

Think of all the things
we've shared and seen -
don't think about the things
which might have been . . .

Think of me, think of me waking,
silent and resigned.
Imagine me, trying too hard
to put you from my mind.
Recall those days
look back on all those times,
think of the things we'll never do -
there will never be a day,
when I won't think of you."

What Erika didn't notice as she made her decent was the figure following her. When she was out of sight, once, he sang to himself:

P: "Can it be? Can it be Christine?
Long ago, it seems so long ago
How young and innocent she was...
She may not remember me
but I remember her..."

E: "Flowers fade
The fruits of summer fade,
They have their seasons, so do we
but please promise me, that sometimes
you will think of me!"

She felt stronger now as the song echoed and swelled around her. That is, until she felt the hand on her shoulder.

Erika gasped and whirled around. She was face to face with the man from the other night. She stared at him, his dark clothes, his slick black hair, and most of all, the mask covering the right side of his face. As she worked over the familiar features of his face, she tried to fight her own intuition, but there was no doubt about it. The man who was standing in front of her was her father.